After breakfast, Akari headed downstairs into one of the estate’s aspecting rooms. And yes, the Darklights really did keep two entire rooms for this purpose. It was a matter of pride for wealthy families, even if they only used the rooms once every twenty years.

Why did they need special rooms for aspecting? Apparently, some ambient mana conditions worked better for shaping, and you could adjust these conditions with various dials on the wall. In Akari’s case, they’d increased the room’s overall resistance.

Abstract mana types—like space and time—had less total mass than their concrete counterparts, and this made them harder to manage. Rather than flowing in a straight line, they’d follow the path of least resistance. So if a room had mana conduits beneath the floor, the energy slippage might cause your mana to float upward. These rooms had sigils to detect those imbalances and adjust accordingly. What’s more, the thicker ambient mana acted like clay, letting you hollow out paths to form a web between yourself and the artifacts.

Was it necessary? Probably not. A Mana Artist at Akari’s level knew how to compensate for ambient mana with little conscious thought. It was like walking on an uneven staircase and adjusting your footing accordingly. Still, why risk a sprained ankle if you didn’t have to? Especially in a ritual where mistakes might have permanent consequences.

Akari sat cross-legged in the center of the room, taking in the three artifacts around her. To her left sat a Space Artist’s bag, like the backpack Mazren had given her in Last Haven. This looked like a simple leather pouch to the naked eye, but it actually held a pocket dimension with several cubic feet of space inside. A Space Artist had crafted the entire bag from scratch. Not just the pocket dimension, but the stitching on the leather, and the metalwork on the buckles. This filled it with more intention than most artifacts, making it a perfect representation of space mana.

An antique watch sat on her right, with several brass dials that amplified temporal mana techniques. No one knew who’d made the original, but one fact was certain: this artifact had passed between more than ten generations of Time Artists. Each one filled it with years of mana and intention, leaving it stronger than when they’d found it.

Finally, Akari turned to the third object straight ahead, and her thoughts traveled back to her earlier planning stages.

“I know what I need,” she’d said as she walked into Irina’s study a few weeks before. “For my third artifact, I mean.”

The older woman glanced up from her computer screen and met Akari’s eyes. She’d taken charge of their aspect projects soon after Kalden’s meeting with Sozen. Not only had she studied the topic more thoroughly than Elend, but her Second Brain was better suited to running these types of simulations.

Technically, Glim could run simulations too, but she’d yawn the second you mentioned “mana ratios” or “energy slippage.” Never mind the fact that she understood these topics perfectly well.

Akari sat down and slid her Theoretical Aspects midterm paper across the lacquered wooden desk. Taking this class had been an easy way to study this subject without piling more work on her plate. Especially since the midterm project had them inventing a new aspect.

“Inventing” might be an overstatement, though. There were tens of thousands of aspects in KU’s database, and all the obvious ideas were taken. What’s more, no one expected low-level Mana Artists to make serious breakthroughs in this field, much less undergraduates. So most students just took an existing aspect, changed one piece, and gave it a shiny new name.

But it still took a shitload of research. Sure, you could swap two things and hope for the best, but that would be like baking a loaf of bread and replacing the salt with sprinkles. Only worse, because a bad aspecting ritual could cripple you for life.

Combining two aspects was even harder than changing an existing one, and Master Seathorn had specifically told them not to try this for their midterm paper. Akari was still doing it, of course. But she had several unfair advantages. Her parents had been Grandmasters, and they’d spent years proving that space and time were two parts of the same whole. Their research had also vanished with them, despite being referenced in many peer-reviewed journals.

With the Darklights’ help, Akari had rewritten many of their experiments and theories in her own words, suggesting that space and time mana could be combined to form a new type—stronger and more efficient than the sum of its parts. The paper went on to describe the specific cycling techniques to move the mana into her soul, and the ratios she would use to divide the three types.

Irina skimmed through these parts quickly, and golden mana flowed from her Second Brain to help her process it even faster. Finally, her eyebrows shot up, and she lowered the paper to meet Akari’s eyes. “Hacking mana?”

“It’s a real thing,” Akari hurried to explain. “It’s a type of craft mana.” She’d first gotten the idea when she saw Arturo Kazalla using his Second Brain to help him hack his generator. She’d reasoned that if Arturo could use craft mana that way, then someone must have made a whole aspect for that purpose.

“I’m aware of that,” Irina replied. “I have a fair bit of craft mana in my own aspect.” She flipped back through the stapled papers before letting them fall back on the desk. “This tells me how, but it doesn’t tell me why.”

“Yeah,” Akari said. “Figured I’d run it by you before I wrote it all down.”

“Alright, I’m listening. How does hacking tie together with space and time?”

Akari drew in a deep breath and explained how hacking was part of her identity. She’d always been a rebel, and she’d always enjoyed learning on her own. This had gotten her into trouble before, but she’d also used it to her advantage.

Thousands of Bronze on Arkala had sought to learn Mana Arts, but most of them had failed. Her hacking had helped her stand out and get Kalden’s attention. It helped her access Elend’s videos on the dark web, and it helped her escape the Martials’ impedium cuffs.

Even today, it helped her gain small advantages in Grandmaster Raizen’s class.

Irina gave a curt nod as if she’d expected this. “Unfortunately, your soul doesn’t care about your memories. Your brain builds an identity based on your experiences, but your soul cares more about your actions. So tell me—how does your experience as a hacker affect your Mana Arts? Not your perception of the techniques, but the techniques themselves. More importantly, how does this mana type integrate with your spacetime aspect?

Akari sat up straighter in her seat. “I see spacetime mana as hacking the universe itself. I’m bending the rules in ways that most aspects never will.”

Irina’s lips curled up in amusement. “I suppose I’ll ignore that impossible statement and say it’s the thought that counts.”

Akari nodded.“Most Space and Time Artists play support roles. They set traps, make equipment, or transport for their teams. I want bolder, stronger techniques.”

Irina gave a thoughtful nod. “Fair enough. An aggressive approach might suit your style better.”

“And it ties back to the way I learn,” Akari pressed on. “There are no Spacetime Artists right now. That means I can’t just read the techniques in a book or learn them from a teacher. I’ll have to reverse engineer them from other aspects—take them apart and figure out how they work. That’s exactly what hackers do.”

The older woman gave another amused smile. “You know, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk. Did you practice that?”

“What?” Akari glared at her. “No.” She had practiced it, actually, out on the pier where no one could hear her. But she wasn’t about to admit that out loud.

“I’m sorry.” Irina held up a hand. “That was rude of me. It’s a well-reasoned argument, and I’d be happy to help you.” She glanced back at the paper. “Have you run this by Master Seathorn?”

“Maybe …”

“And?”

Akari glanced around the room, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “She called it messy and foolhardy.”

Irina’s smile returned. “Did she give you an alternative to the hacking mana?”

“Yeah, she mentioned spacetime-focused knowledge mana.”

Other academics had already proposed the idea of spacetime mana, and they’d created artifacts to represent this idea. In hindsight, Akari’s parents had probably intended for her to go this route. It had the highest chance of success, after all.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

But if Akari played it safe, she’d just lay the groundwork for some bold student down the line. In other words, she’d be a background character in someone else’s movie, which sounded depressing as hell.

Elend must have agreed because he hadn’t even mentioned this during their talk in his office.

Irina nodded. “Seathorn’s approaching this from a purely academic perspective. If ten thousand students tried your proposed aspect, then only one of them would succeed. That makes the idea a failure in her eyes. But you’re not trying to add this to some high school curriculum. It only has to work once.”

Akari’s attention snapped back to the present as she focused on the artifact in front of her. When she’d first suggested hacking mana, she’d expected to get some piece of computer equipment from a famous hacker. Maybe even a keyboard or a mouse. But Irina explained that computer hackers had no reason to imbue their tools with mana. Even if mana made the computer more durable, that wouldn’t change the end result.

So instead of a computer, Irina bought her a set of lock-picking tools that once belonged to a famous Espirian thief.

The first artifact was a long, thin pick, designed for probing the tumblers in a lock. Several tiny sigils were etched on the stainless steel surface, and these sent information directly into the user’s mind.

Next was a set of tension wrenches for applying just the right amount of pressure to hold the lock in place. These took in knowledge mana, adjusting their angles and rotations based on the user’s intention.

But the most impressive tool was the Master Key, made of shimmering silver metal that almost glowed in the light. Closer inspection revealed hundreds of intricate sigils etched into its surface—far more than the pick or the wrenches. This key used craft mana to sense the shape of the lock and adjust its own shape accordingly. In the right hands, it could open any lock. Ancient or modern, large or small.

Unfortunately, “the right hands” meant a skilled Mana Artist with the right aspect and months of training. Akari wouldn’t be using the Master Key anytime soon, but it still worked for her ritual.

~~~

Kalden followed Akari downstairs, pausing in the doorway where she sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Good luck,” he told her.

“You too,” she said with forced confidence.

Kalden turned around and entered his own room across the hall, taking his place in the center. After his first talk with Sozen, Kalden had feared that blade mana was his only path forward. And even after several hours of research, he hadn’t found anything to contradict his brother’s words.

Aspects couldn’t be changed. Hundreds of Grandmasters had tried over the centuries, and they’d always failed. What hope did a seventeen-year-old Apprentice have of solving this problem?

Irina didn’t have an answer for him either, and she was an expert in this field. Even a full day after his meeting with Sozen, they were no closer to a solution.

But then Elend popped his head into the dining room and said, “Hey, what about Maelyn Sanako?”

Irina glanced up from her laptop. “Who?”

“Maelyn Sanako,” Kalden echoed. Chills broke out over his skin as he realized the implications of Elend’s question. “She was my friend on Arkala … a Restoration Artist.”

“A Restoration Artist on Arkala,” Elend replied, “but a Gravity Artist in Last Haven. Don’t tell me you forgot about her. She was the whole reason we knew your aspects could be changed.”

“What?” Irina said. “You never told me that.”

At least she had an excuse. Kalden had actually dueled Maelyn in Last Haven, but he’d thought nothing of it in his dreams. Back then, they hadn’t known their Mystic attacker was working with such tight restrictions.

“How?” Kalden asked. “Gravity and restoration are two completely different aspects.”

“They’re different,” Irina agreed, “but they use the same basic parts.” She began typing on her keyboard, then she brought up a page from KU’s aspect database. “They both use force and knowledge mana as their primary components. Only the ratios and intentions are different.”

Kalden let out a long breath as he sank back in his chair. “That proves it then. We can adjust blade mana’s ratios to make a new aspect.”

Now, seven weeks later, he was about to put that theory to the test.

A Shokenese sword sat directly in front of him—one of the artifacts Elend had ordered early in the year. Naturally, this weapon had belonged to a clan of Blade Artists, passed down for generations. It was easily good enough to rival Clan Trengsen’s artifacts from his first ritual.

A black and white crowns board sat on Kalden’s left, with all the pieces arranged in their starting positions. An old general’s map on his right, depicting a battle from the Shokenese Rebellion.

Unlike Akari’s artifacts, these had no special properties or built-in techniques. Rather, these resulted from previous attempts to create new aspects. Aspects like the one he sought to make today

The groundwork had been laid, but no Mana Artist had ever accepted the call until now. No doubt they’d seen these as too restrictive compared to ordinary knowledge mana.

For Kalden, this was his only choice. His soul had already been aspected with metal, destruction, craft, and knowledge. He couldn’t erase those, but he could adjust the ratios to become something different. Not a soldier or a general, but something in between.

~~~

“Nervous?” Elend asked as he strode into Akari’s room.

She shrugged. “Already done this once.”

That wasn’t true, of course. The old Akari had been fearless during her first ritual, too young and stupid to realize the danger. She’d never believed that one mistake could ruin hundreds of lives. She'd never believed that her parents could be stripped of their memories and their power, or that her mother could be killed on some dark city street.

The old Akari hadn’t known that hundreds of these rituals failed every year.

But things had worked out for her these past few months. Not only had she gotten into the Artegium and reached Apprentice early, but she and Kalden were finally together.

With all that in mind, it almost seemed like she was due for some bad news. She knew that was a fallacy, but that didn’t stop her stomach from churning, or her palms from sweating.

“Don’t worry,” Elend said. “Irina and I have overseen hundreds of these things. No one’s ever messed up on our watch.” He glanced down at her time artifact. “No pun intended.”

“Thanks,” Akari said with a brisk nod.

He leaned down and patted her shoulder. “Deep breaths, lass. Just like your meditation training. Movies make these scenes things all dramatic, but they’re actually quite boring. If there’s a problem, we’ll see it coming hours in advance.”

Elend eventually dimmed the lights and left her alone. Then, after another minute of deep breathing, Akari sent her mana out toward the artifacts.

~~~

Elend waited with Irina outside the ritual rooms. Several hours had passed since they’d begun, and both of the kids were progressing smoothly.

Even with his Grandmaster senses, Elend couldn’t normally make out the intricacies of another person’s soul. But with so much mana flowing in those rooms, the patterns came to life like torches against the night.

Akari had condensed the space portion of her soul down to forty-five percent. She’d also brought in her time and craft components, and begun synthesizing the space and time together.

Kalden had also made substantial progress in his own room. He'd spent the first hour cycling pure mana, getting his soul into a malleable state. Then he'd adjusted the ratios by pulling on the right artifacts at the right times.

To call these feats impressive would be an understatement. But then, Akari and Kalden had one advantage that most Mana Artists lacked. They’d already gone through this ritual once. This—combined with months of training—let them build stronger foundations than anyone else in their class.

“I’ve never seen anyone like her,” Irina whispered.

“Huh?” Elend turned to regard his wife. “You mean Akari?”

She nodded. “Her soul drinks the space and time mana like a sponge.”

“That’s hardly a surprise,” he said. “Her parents spent years preparing her for this moment. She spent her whole childhood with them, surrounded by their ideas and their artifacts.”

“The same is true for most of the Artegium’s students,” she countered.

“And this is different?” He’d already noticed the ease at which she pulled the mana, but Kalden was doing the same thing across the hall. Both the kids were well-suited to their aspects, and it showed.

“Look at the density of her soul,” Irina said. “She’s pulling far more mana than she should be able to. Even for a determined Apprentice who’s been born to this. It’s like she’s undergone ordinary exposure training, multiplied by a hundred. This would be like a Water Artist who spent years beneath the ocean, never surfacing once for air. With a foundation like this, she might actually achieve her goals.”

After a brief pause, she met his eyes. “She’s not the only one.”

Elend nodded. He’d already told Lena as much before they’d dropped her off in Vaslana.

“You obviously have a theory,” he said. “Care to share?”

“Many theories,” she replied. “And it’s too soon to narrow them down. In the meantime, you should tell me more about that island.”

~~~

Akari opened her eyes after eight excruciating hours. She pivoted her head around the circle and found all the artifacts drained—not a drop of mana in their reserves.

Her soul ached, but it was nothing like her advancement to Apprentice. That had been a rush of pure power and pain, followed by tears, screaming, and intense relief. This was more of a dull, drained feeling. The way her back might feel if she’d lifted weights with bad form.

Akari ventured further with her mental senses and found a second source of mana there. This was far deeper than the shallow pond she felt when she drank a space potion. This was more like a tree, with its roots deep in the spiritual realm, and its branches stretching out through her channels.

Akari cycled this new source of mana. Somehow, it felt both lighter and more powerful than ordinary space mana. She shot the Missiles from her palm, but they didn’t react to her shaping commands. That was fine—everyone had warned her it would take weeks to get used it.

The mana faded to mist around her as the techniques broke apart—semitransparent clouds of pale silver and gold. A perfect blend of her parents’ mana types.

Space and time.

Tears sprang to her eyes—a rush of emotions she’d held back until after the ritual was complete. She thought of her mother in that moment. She was still gone forever, but now Akari carried a piece of her in her soul. Not just her mana, but her dream of a new aspect.

She thought of her father next. He was still trapped on Arkala, stripped of his power and living a lie. But she was one step closer to saving him. That goal still seemed impossible, but she’d made it this far.

Akari uncurled her sore legs and reached for a water bottle outside the bounds of the circle. Finally, after another minute to compose herself, Akari climbed to her feet and stumbled toward the door.

Kalden opened his own door across the hall, and his face showed the same relief she felt.

They turned to face the Darklights, and Irina nodded once. A sign that everything looked well. Elend and Relia each got up from the sofa, and Glim hovered in a nearby mirror.

“Let’s see the aspects!” Relia said.

Akari conjured another burst of spacetime mana. It wasn’t much of a technique, but Relia and Glim still cheered for her.

They all turned to Kalden next, and he released his own aspected mana from his palms. Like Akari’s, this was raw and unshaped. But the color was unmistakable—blood red, teeming with destruction.

“Have you thought of a name for it?” Irina asked him.

Kalden nodded, and his lips curled up in a satisfied grin. “Battle mana.”