“Talk to me,” Irina said. “Tell me the rest of your dream.”

Akari frowned. “I don’t get it. Talking about the dream will make things better?”

The older woman spread out her hands. “Whether you’ve realized it or not, I suspect these memories have been affecting you for years. So yes, addressing them will make you a better friend, and a better mana artist.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

“Hard work breeds Artisans,” Irina said. “And insight breeds Masters. But that doesn’t mean insight is easy. On the contrary, most Artisans are just like you. They’d rather spend a thousand hours in training than a single hour with their own thoughts. ”

“I’m not even an Artisan yet,” Akari said with a nervous laugh.

“You will be. There’s no doubt about that. But the very path that takes you there can also stifle your progress.”

She furrowed her brow. “How?”

“There’s a reason we call this ‘mana arts.’ It’s the ultimate expression of creativity. And stifling the creative force is the greatest source of our misery. Fear stifles this force more than anything in the world. Fear of the past, fear of failure, and fear of the unknown. Artisans train every day, but they take comfort in the grind. At the same time, they avoid real hardship. Their minds go dead, and Mastery eludes them forever.”

Akari found herself leaning forward. She’d heard these ideas before, but she’d never truly understood them until this moment. A part of her still wanted to get up and leave. She was only an Apprentice, after all, and problems like these seemed a long way off.

But Kalden was right: she wasn’t okay. And if there was even a chance this helped, then she owed it to her team to try. Not just her team, but everyone she’d left behind in the Archipelago.

Akari shot a glance at the hotel room door. “They’re still waiting for me out there. Should I tell them to go back to bed?”

Irina inclined her head. “You’re their captain. I won’t tell you how to run your squad.”

Akari nodded, then pulled open the door. Relia and Elise sat on opposite sides of the corridor, while Kalden paced back and forth between them.

“Hey.” Akari fidgeted with her hoodie strings as she shuffled out into the hall. “We’re gonna talk some more. You should all get some sleep.”

“I can wait for you,” Kalden said at once.

“Me too,” Relia added.

Akari shook her head and stepped torward Kalden. “Please,” she said. “I’m okay now, but this might take a while. We have a match tomorrow, and we’ve already missed too much sleep.”

“I can’t maintain this technique from across the building,” Elise reminded her.

A surge of panic raced down Akari’s spine, but she drew in a deep breath. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “We’re working on it.” Then she turned back to Kalden. “Please? I can’t focus. Not if you’re all up because of me.”

Kalden hesitated, then nodded once.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Relia and Elise got to their feet, and Kalden let them back toward the other room.

Akari stepped back into Irina’s hotel room and leaned against the heavy wooden door. Several seconds passed, and she waited for the flashbacks to return. When nothing happened, she breathed a long sigh of relief. Apparently, one dose of that technique had been enough to push them back.

After that, Akari took her time refilling her water bottle in the bathroom sink, then she plopped down on the bed in front of Irina. “Why do you think I was abused?” It still felt weird to ask that question out loud, and she had to bite back a nervous laugh.

Irina blinked. “You want to know my thought process?”

“Yeah. If I look like a victim, I want to know how.”

Irina closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” Akari pressed. “Anything can trigger a flashback.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” she said. “You treat your training differently from most mana artists I’ve met. To you, it’s more like an addiction.”

“So? Is that a bad thing?”

The older woman’s mouth made a thin line. “Do you know how we define addiction in the Healing Arts Center?”

Akari shook her head. A few minutes ago, she might have retorted with sarcasm, but she already felt much calmer.

“We ask a few basic questions about the activity in question. First, does it affect your job?”

“No,” Akari answered at once. “Mana arts is my job, and training makes me better.”

“And your physical health?”

Akari hesitated this time. Her channels and muscles ached a lot more these days, and not always in a good way. Sometimes, she got so deep into training that she forgot to eat or sleep. Still, she’d always had these habits, even on Arkala before she’d discovered Elend’s videos.

“I’m healthier now than I’ve ever been,” she replied.

“Your mental health?” Irina asked.

Akari wouldn’t be here if her mental health were perfect. But no one could prove that overtraining had caused this problem.

“Training makes me happy,” she said. “I was a train wreck back in the Archipelago, when I didn’t train at all.”

Irina nodded. “And your personal relationships?”

Once again, Akari suppressed a wince. She’d specifically missed opportunities to spend time with Kalden and Relia. Not to mention her performance as team captain. Then again . . .

“Training brought us together.”

“I see,” Irina said after a short pause. “I think you have your answer.”

Akari narrowed her eyes. “Is that a trick?”

“A trick?” she replied. “You think I’m the one omitting information here?” There was a short pause while they stared at each other. “I notice you’re only sharing the positives with me. Is that because there are no negatives?”

“Damnit,” Akari muttered. “I hate knowledge artists.”

“Out of respect for your intelligence,” Irina said, “I’ll assume you’ve identified the issues yourself. That leaves one possibility—you’re making excuses, which happens to be the final sign of addiction.”

“Fine.” Akari threw up her hands. “I overtrain. But Elend told me this before. So did Kalden. I don’t see what it proves.”

“The root of addiction is pain,” Irina said. “The same pain haunts you today.”

Akari crossed her arms and stared at her own reflection in the dark TV screen. They sat that way for several long moments until Akari realized it was probably her turn to speak.

Fine, have it your way.

She still doubted whether this would actually help. She’d just invented a new aspect, and she planned to have at least two new techniques by the end of the year. Her creative force was not stifled. And it definitely wasn’t stifled by some stupid dream that she’d just had. But she’d already committed to seeing this little therapy session through. Besides, she’d just claimed to be a fighter. She couldn’t run from conflict now.

Akari’s knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists on her lap. “My foster mother in the Archipellago . . . Her name was Noella Clifton. She used to hit me when her husband was gone. She was a healer, so she could erase the damage like that.” Akari tried to snap her fingers, but they were shaking and sweaty, and no sound came. “She threatened to call the police if I ever fought back. She was a Silver, and I was a Bronze. Her word against mine.”

“You were in a bad situation,” Irina said in a soft voice. “There’s nothing else you could have done.”

“I’m over it,” Akari said with a shrug. “I mean—If anything, I’m glad it happened.”

Irina frowned at that. “You’re saying it’s okay that someone hurt you?”

“No” Akari said. “But addiction comes from pain, like you said. That pain made me stronger.” Her fists shook as the memories rose back to the surface of her mind. “All the other Bronze got bullied in school. The Silvers and Golds tried to bully me, too, but I fought back. I knew whatever they did, Noella could do way worse.”

Akari gritted her teeth. “All the other Bronze accepted their fate. But not me.” She pointed vaguely toward the east. “I got out. They were too weak to fight back. Everything that happened to me made me stronger.”

“And what about your mother?” Irina asked. “What about all the other abused children who didn’t escape? What about the soldiers who died while you freed my husband from prison? What separated you from them?”

Akari closed her mouth. The answer was luck, of course. She’d only met Kalden and Relia by pure chance. The same was true for Jared, Viv, and everyone else who’d died in that last battle on Arkala.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“And what if your enemy made the same argument?” Irina pressed. “What if that Mystic sent people to the island prison for their own good? What if he let your mother die to make you stronger? Was that right?”

Akari flinched back, and fresh tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Not for her mother, but for the sort of person she was becoming.

“I’m sorry.” Irina looked away. “That was too far.”

“Guess you weren’t kidding about being a shitty therapist,” Akari muttered. In many ways, talking to Irina was like talking to Kalden. Once they saw the path to victory, they would push forward at any cost.

“What happened to you was wrong,” Irina said. “And there’s nothing you could have done.”

Akari crossed her arms. “I could have thought of something.”

“You did. You found help, and you escaped the island. But you could only do that when you found the opportunity. You’re a resourceful young woman, Akari. If you could have escaped sooner, you would have.”

Akari shrugged, then took a few minutes to gather her thoughts. Her body felt suddenly cold, but a warmth settled around her a few seconds later, like a warm hug. Was that a knowledge mana technique? It must be. It felt too real to be her imagination.

“There’s more,” Irina said. “Isn’t there? You told me about the Archipelago, but these dreams came from your old life, back in Last Haven.”

Akari gave a shaky nod. Talking about the Archipelago hadn’t been too bad. She’d been abused—so what? She could whine about it, or she could move on.

But this . . . Talek. Why was this so much harder?

“You know how the island mixed everyone around?” Akari asked. “It was like some big algorithm, dropping us all in different slots. My real dad became my foster father. He forgot he was married to my mom, and he practically forgot about me, too.”

Irina nodded.

“Well . . . I saw my foster mother tonight, in the dream. Except she wasn’t Noella Clifton this time. She was Noella Frostblade. Emberlyn’s mom.”

“And she hurt you,” Irina said. “In the dream?”

Akari squeezed her empty water bottle. “She was pissed about Emberlyn’s scar, but she didn’t say anything at first. She just drove us back to her house. Then she locked me in her basement and took Emberlyn to the hospital. I don’t know if Emberlyn knew about it or not. But when she got back . . .” Akari trailed off, then shrugged a shoulder. “It was just like in Last Haven.”

The memories all came back in a rush after that. They’d always been there, of course. As sure as her own reflection when she passed a mirror. A part of her had known this ever since that first dream of Emberlyn on the playground. Still, she’d ignored the memories, as if that could make them go away.

“I think she healed the damage afterward,” Akari said. “I never told anyone about it. Not even my parents. It felt like a bad dream, then I just . . . I don’t know. I forgot about it. I kept my distance from Emberlyn. Said whatever I could to make her stay away.”

Akari wiped another tear from her eye, studying the floor, then the dresser, then the TV. “It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”

“It’s not stupid,” Irina said.

“But it’s not like she seriously hurt me. Just a few cuts and scrapes, then it was done. Worse things happen to people every day.”

“That doesn’t make it right. Yes, soldiers die on battlefields, but you weren’t a soldier, and that wasn’t a battlefield. How old were you? Twelve?”

“Eleven.” Akari stared down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them on her lap.

“We’re more susceptible to trauma at that age. It’s why children are kept from serious combat training.”

Akari didn’t reply. She’d already known that, of course. But that only made it worse. The fact was, some children endured far worse traumas without letting it break them. What if this proved she was too weak to be a Mystic? The thought was stupid and illogical. Even so, it lingered in the back of her mind, just like the dream itself.

“I know it doesn’t feel better right away,” Irina said. “But you’ve made progress. Twenty minutes ago, you were in denial.”

“The denial wasn’t so bad.” Akari muttered. She’d had been the victim in her dream, but what about Emberlyn? Emberlyn had been her first real friend, long before Relia or Kalden. The other girl had reminded her of her mother, and what happened between them. Akari couldn’t deal with that, so she’d pushed her away. Then she’d spent the next few years terrorizing her at school, just to make sure she got the message.

Emberlyn had turned the tables in the Archipelago, but even that had been Akari’s fault. Not only had Akari started their feud in their old life, but she’d betrayed Last Haven and sent them all to that place. And that place had reflected reality. They’d lost their memories, but all their emotions had remained, deep below the surface.

“Why’d Elend make me the captain?” Akari blurted out. For Talek’s sake, he was supposed to be the expert on human nature. Why hadn’t he seen this coming?

Irina shook her head in defeat. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“He never told you?”

“He told me to trust him, and I do.”

“But why couldn’t he just explain it to you? Or me?” Before, she’d assumed this was all about impressing the Solidors. Now, after today’s defeat, she had her doubts. Elend’s training had been brief, and it certainly hadn’t made her a good captain. Not to mention all the other bullshit with her dreams—a problem he’d caused with his Construct. She was clearly more mentally unstable than most of her teammates, and he must have known that.

“In my experience,” Irina said, “the simplest answer is often the truth. In this case, I think he’s guiding you toward what he considers a perfect outcome. And to share that outcome would reduce the probability of its success.”

That definitely sounded like Elend. She could even imagine his smug face as he explained to her how he’d known all along.

“What do you think it is?” Akari asked. “None of his long-term plans matter if we lose tomorrow’s match.”

The older woman considered that for a moment. “Being a leader requires certain skills. Skills that have nothing to do with mana arts, strategy, or tactics.”

“Right. A bunch of stuff I suck at.”

Irina didn’t argue that point. “I suspect Elend wants you to learn those skills quickly. He made you the captain so you’d be forced to adapt.”

“Great.” Akari rubbed at her temple. “I don’t think it worked.”

“No. Not yet. But this isn’t over.”

“You gonna make me beg for some real advice?” She met Irina’s eyes, blinking back waves of exhaustion. She couldn’t stop crying before, but now her eyes felt overly dry. “How do I stop being a train wreck and do the right thing?”

Irina considered that for a moment. “If I were you, I’d start with Elise Moonfire.”

Akari blinked. “Did you forget what she did before?”

“I’m aware.”

Akari jabbed a finger toward the hallway. “She’s done nothing to redeem herself since then. She still spies for her parents. She practically admitted it.”

“Yes, but why should she give her loyalty to you? What have you done to earn it?”

“Nothing, but that’s my point. We’ll always be enemies.”

Irina nodded absently. “I shared a room with her these past two days. She sat on this bed most the time, studying and training by herself. Then, before your team meeting, she dressed up and did her makeup as if she were going to a party. She looked genuinely excited.”

“So? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Elise Moonfire wants to be your friend.”

“Then why’d she betray us?”

“She made a mistake. Like you did with Emberlyn Frostblade. Do you remember how terrible you felt that day when you hurt her? Do you remember the tears of joy when she forgave you?”

Akari crossed her arms and looked away. “Why’s this my fault? She betrayed the whole team. They’re all pissed at her. Not just me.”

“Kalden and Relia are angry, yes. But it’s out of loyalty to you. Think about it. Relia is a forgiving person by nature, and Kalden is too pragmatic to jeopardize your team’s success. They see this as a choice between you and Elise, and they chose you.”

“So what? Should Elise and I go get our nails done? Would that make me a good captain?” Apparently, sarcasm was like pressure in a bottle. You could only contain it for so long.

Irina gave her a knowing look. “ I won’t tell you what team building activities work best for your squad.”

“We still would have lost today,” Akari said. “Team building wouldn’t change that.”

“No college team in history has a perfect record.” There was a short pause. “Have you tried to be there for all your other teammates? To give them what they need?”

“I try . . .” Akari slumped her shoulders. “But it all feels fake. Like I’m playing a part in a movie.”

“There’s an easy solution for that. Stop focusing on yourself, and focus on them.”

Akari shook her head. “You should be telling Kalden this. He actually wants to lead.”

“I know. But the Solidors don’t want Kalden. They want you. Besides, we already talked about your addiction to training. It’s not enough to cut back. You need to fill that void with other meaningful activities. Otherwise, you’ll end up right back where you started.”

Akari couldn’t argue with that. Elend had already tried to make her reduce her training last summer. She’d followed his plan to the letter, then she’d slid back down the hill, ignoring every piece of advice he’d given her. Worst of all, she wasn’t advancing any quicker than she had last summer, and she definitely wasn’t happier.

“Do I have to tell anyone else about this,” Akari asked. “About Noella, I mean.”

“Do you want to tell your friends?”

Akari shook her head. “Can’t explain why.”

“I understand,” Irina said.

“Really? ‘Cause that makes one of us.”

“I’ve seen your movie collection,” Irina said. “You’re drawn to movies with a certain narrative. Movies with wish fulfillment, and an all-powerful hero. Nothing in the world can truly hurt her, and every setback only makes her stronger. You want people to look at you that way. Maybe you even see yourself that way, too.”

Akari snorted. It sounded so stupid when you put it into words. But she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t true.

“But there are certain perks to living in a story,” the older woman went on. “It’s easy to focus on the hero’s achievements, and ignore the people she hurts along the way. Real life is different. Besides, Kalden already knows. I’m quite sure of it. And Relia knows exactly how hard life can be. You’re only human, and I think they realize that better than you.”

Their conversation dwindled down over the next ten minutes. Rather, it grew more one-sided as Akari’s adrenaline faded. Eventually, Irina sent her back to her own room with a promise to continue their talk when she was ready.

Akari stumbled out into the hall and found Kalden and Relia asleep on one side of the door. Kalden was sitting up in a dignified way with his head resting on the wall. Meanwhile Relia was sprawled out on her stomach, taking up half the corridor, and using Kalden’s legs as a pillow.

She glanced to her right and saw Elise curled up on the other side of the door, resting her head on her hands.

No wonder the flashbacks hadn’t come back earlier. Elise had never actually left. In fact, she’d probably been calming Akari’s thoughts this whole time, giving her the strength to go on.

Akari knelt beside the other girl and shook her by the shoulder. Elise’s blue eyes flicked open, and she glanced around.

“Hey,” Akari said. “Thanks for holding the technique.”

Elise nodded as she propped herself up. Then she pulled out a small mirror from her bag and checked her hair. For Talek’s sake. As if they hadn’t all spent two days together in a frozen wasteland.

Akari cleared her throat, and Elise put the mirror away. “I think it’s safe to drop it,” she said.

“Oh.” Elise frowned. “Are you sure? I can—”

“I’m sure,” Akari said. “Everything’s good now.”

Elise hesitated for another second, then she closed her eyes and concentrated. Akari felt a wall collapse in her mind, but nothing broke through. She’d already faced these memories with Irina, so they couldn’t hurt her anymore.

They sat there in silence for several heartbeats, and Akari shot a glance over at Kalden and Relia, who were still asleep. She drew in another deep breath as she turned back to Elise. “You said you were looking for a training partner. Did you ever find one?”

Apparently, dream artists could only practice certain techniques with an opponent who could actively resist them. Elise was skilled enough to fool most Apprentices, but she struggled against anyone from a higher rank. She’d asked the team for help a few weeks ago, but they’d all politely refused.

“Nope.” Elise put up a show of casual indifference. “Still looking.”

“What about me?” Akari said. “I resisted your techniques during the qualifying rounds, so I figure—”

“Yes!” Elise interrupted. Then she paused, and took a second to clear her throat. “I mean, yeah. I think that would help the team a lot. If my technique had worked on Hightower today, that might have saved my squad.”

Shit. Akari hadn’t even thought of that. Elise had brought it up during the meeting, but no one had honestly expected an Apprentice to fool an Artisan. But in hindsight, that made little sense. Elise’s technique had worked against that dragon in Vordica. That proved that skill mattered more than raw power when it came to dream mana. Elend had proven the same thing in Creta, when those cuffs had reduced his power.

Once again, Akari had been so focused on herself that she’d ignored the assets right in front of her. What if she’d trained with Elise sooner?

Akari blinked and realized she’d been spacing out for the last few heartbeats. “Great,” she said. “I’ll text you when we get back, and we’ll find a time.”

“Great,” Elise echoed. “Um—what made you change your mind?”

Akari almost shrugged and bit back her cheesy response. But then she remembered Irina’s words from earlier. Not everything was all about her, or how cool she looked. “We’re teammates,” she said. “I’m choosing to trust you.”

Elise nodded, and her smile was surprisingly earnest for a sociopath. It must have been contagious, but Akari returned it despite the long night. And in that moment, she felt more like a true leader than she ever had before.