Ashur Moonfire stepped through a portal into the heart of the storm. Lightning flashed all around him, and the tides rose like skyscrapers on the horizon. Two days had passed since his inauguration, and each one had been as wild and chaotic as the sea itself. Even his daughter’s funeral had been a simple affair, and he barely had any time to grieve for her properly.

Elise’s death had been his fault, of course. Ashur wouldn’t deny that. He’d told her to leave the city, but she hadn’t trusted him enough to listen. Instead, she’d chosen to fight beside her team.

And why wouldn’t she? She’d spent all her free time with them these past few months, while Ashur had been busy pursuing his goals. He’d told himself he still had time, but he’d been wrong. It only took one technique to end a mortal’s life.

Regardless, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes with Relia. He would make things right with her, whatever it took.

Ashur stood there for several long moments, alone, with the elements swirling around him. Finally, he stretched out his hand toward the eastern horizon.

“Come to me, Shakaru.” He sent his mana in a cloud around his body, lacing it with his intent. Then he opened the barrier around the island and pushed the mana outward, summoning the child of the Angels.

The tides parted like curtains sometime later, and the infamous mana spirit emerged from the darkness. It slithered closer until its massive form dominated the horizon. A pair of glowing blue eyes stared him down, brighter than the moons in the night sky.

Ashur released a spatial Missile toward the creature’s body, and Dansin Roth appeared before him an instant later. The man staggered forward on the stone island, looking about as weary as anyone could expect. He hadn’t aged at all these past few months—even his clothing and hair remained untouched by the passage of time.

Still, his eyes told the truth: this power came with a cost

Dansin’s legs wobbled, and he stretched out his hands as if he’d forgotten how to walk in his human form. For a moment, he looked like he might collapse on the island’s stone floor, but he eventually pulled himself together and looked Ashur in the eye.

“Nice speech,” he said in a raspy voice.

Ashur raised an eyebrow. “You saw it, did you?”

“Through the eyes of the spawn,” he replied.

Clever. Dansin’s spawn manifested as feral beasts in battle, and no one ever suspected them of watching and listening from the shadows. Such tactics would fail against perceptive mana artists, but that still excluded most of the world.

“You lied,” Dansin continued. “You stood up on that stage and lied to everyone.”

Ashur waved that away. “I told them the only truth they could comprehend.”

“No one with half a brain will believe you.”

“Let them whisper,” he replied. “I’m no worse than my predecessors. Besides, I intend to keep my promise. For as long as I rule, Storm’s Eye will never come within a hundred miles of Espirian soil.”

“And the other continents?”

“We’ll let them catch their breath for a while. For now, you will remain here until I call upon you again.”

“That’s it?” Dansin glared at him through weary eyes. “You promised me power.”

“I did,” Ashur replied with a curt nod. “But I never promised you your old life. That’s the cost of immortality. It means outliving your friends and family. Outliving your old world, and the times you remember. This is what all mana artists strive for.”

“Until I’ve outlived my usefulness.”

“Oh no,” Ashur said. “You’re Storm’s Eye now. It would take more than a Mystic to end your life. Even the Solidors barely scratched your hide, and it cost them everything.”

“Everything?” Dansin echoed. His voice held a hint of amusement that Ashur didn’t like. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Check the collar— the one you stole from Darklight’s vault.”

Dansin hadn’t been a part of that mission, but Ashur didn’t bother denying the truth. He reached out with his mental senses, feeling through the deepest depths of his pocket storage. Yes, everything seemed to be in order. The wards remained untouched, and all his Etherite sat in its proper place

And yet . . . something felt off. It was like staring at a long list of numbers and losing count several times in a row. This sense of security was just a feeling. An illusion.

Dream mana.

Ashur flooded the space with his power, breaking through the illusion and revealing the truth beneath.

The collar was gone.

“How?” Ashur clenched his fists and filled the island with his power. He would have broken the land itself if not for his own wards holding it together.

The other man didn’t flinch. “Darklight took it, just before you fled with your daughter.”

“How?” Ashur repeated. “No technique can steal items from a sealed space.” What’s more, he’d been watching Darklight’s team closely during that encounter, and no one had released any mana.

“Quid pro quo.” Dansin turned around, staring up at Storm’s Eye’s form as if he were seeing it for the first time. “You never told me how you seized control of this.”

“Fine,” Ashur said. “But you go first.”

Dansin shrugged a weary shoulder. “Darklight released his mana spirit before he confronted you. The spirit sought out the Ethersmith, Lena Cavaco. She’d already bonded the shard in Creta. From there, it was just a matter of getting you while you were distracted.”

Stealing from under a Mystic’s nose? That was entirely too bold, even for Darklight. Ashur could have thwarted their efforts if he’d bonded the shard himself. But no . . . it was done, and this was still an acceptable setback.

Zeller and Trengsen might grow into threats one day, and a part of him wished they hadn’t survived the recent battle. But he’d leave the matter alone for now. Valeria Antano was dead, and Ashur’s administration had worked hard to connect her with the Aeon cultists. It would be better for the narrative if the dragon’s goals died with her.

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And Several of Ashur’s peers had taken an interest in the pair, including a certain Blade Mystic who was probably Trengsen’s father. Ashur didn’t need more enemies, especially now, so early in his reign.

Dansin turned to face him again, looking expectant.

“Some things are simpler than they appear,” Ashur told him. “Storm’s Eye is the child of the Angels, and the Angels reward their humble servants.”

“Yeah?” The other man let out a humorless chuckle. “I don’t buy it.”

“Which part?”

“The part where you’re a fanatic—a true believer, whatever you want to call it. The Angels are all dead. Either that, or they’ve moved on.”

“Some might call that blasphemy.”

A slow smile spread across the other man’s face. “I killed three Mystics yesterday. What’s a little blasphemy compared to that?”

“True.” This time, Ashur allowed himself a small grin in return. “There’s nothing quite like it, is there?” A short silence passed between them as he gathered more space mana in his palm. “We’ll speak again soon.”

And with that, he sent Dansin’s body back into the belly of the beast.

~~~

The door creaked as Irina stepped inside the deserted apartment. Storm’s Eye had destroyed their old house, but Koreldon University sat on the north end of town, several blocks from the trenches. That included all the student housing north of Chapel Street.

The apartment itself was all one room, with a small kitchen, a bed, and a modest living space in between. Everything else matched Relia’s other room from the house. Colorful board game boxes filled the shelves, and a mountain of stuffed animals filled half of the bed.

Would Relia come back for these things? Would Moonfire give her the chance? More likely, he’d send his people to collect it all at some point.

Irina’s boots clicked against the wooden floors, and the sounds echoed hollowly against the walls. She lowered herself on the bed and pulled one of the pillows close to her chest. She caught a whiff of Relia’s perfume, and her eyes burned as a thousand memories whirled around her mind.

She and Elend were never able to have children, and Relia had been the closest thing they’d had to a daughter. Now she was gone . . . kidnapped before their eyes, and locked away. Irina didn’t even know where in the world she was. It could be the prime minister’s palace in Garriland, or it could be the Moonfires’ estate in Koreldon City. It could be somewhere in Cadria or Shoken, or one of the thousands of small islands scattered throughout the Inner Sea.

Footsteps echoed behind her as Elend stepped into the apartment. He settled down beside her on the bed, and Irina rested her head on his shoulder.

“You were right,” she whispered. “We should have fought harder for her.”

“You were right,” he echoed with a quick shake of his head. “We couldn’t help anyone if we were dead.”

“At least she would have known—”

“She knew,” Elend cut in. “Why do you think she surrendered to him?”

“This is wrong,” Irina said as she squeezed the pillow. “I knew he’d get away with helping Storm’s Eye. But this? They abandoned her as a baby. You can’t just take that back.” The words poured out of her mouth in a rush, and her hands shook as they squeezed the pillow. Irina had always prided herself on her composure, but she’d never been this angry in all her life.

Elend just put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “We’ll get her back, love. I promise.”

“He’ll get inside her head,” Irina whispered. “He’ll offer her everything she’s ever wanted. Then he’ll turn her against us.”

“Relia’s strong,” Elend said.

“Espiria is strong,” she countered “Everyone knows what he did, but seeing injustice isn’t the same as stopping it.” They’d spoken about this at length with the Solidors; Ashur Moonfire was a space artist, but his real powers lay in manipulation. He’d already used that power to escape judgment for his crimes. What would happen when he turned it on Relia?

“This world’s a mess,” Elend said. “But Relia knows exactly who she is, and what matters to her.”

“But will that be enough?”

Elend squeezed her tighter, but he didn’t answer.

~~~

Akari followed the scents of garlic and ginger into the kitchen. It was late, and the sun hung low between two mountaintops, sending spears of golden light through the slanted windows. She’d always liked the sunsets here in Northern Espiria, mostly because they reminded her of home.

Wait a second . . .

She took a closer look around the kitchen. This wasn’t the cultist’s safe house. This was her old home in Last Haven.

A dream? She answered her own question a second later when she glanced back outside the window. The horizon faded to a violet mist beyond the sunset. The sky was violet too, and the stars shone brighter than any she’d ever seen.

Still, this was far too lucid for a dream, and Elend’s technique had faded weeks ago. What’s more, this moment didn’t feel like a memory. She was in her Artisan body, and she had total control of her thoughts and movements. If anything, this felt more like that dream with her father, the day he’d taught her personal displacement.

And of course, her father chose that exact moment to step around the corner. He wore the same blue button-up shirt he’d worn from their last talk, but his face looked a few years older.

Akari blinked at him, and a shiver ran down her spine. “Dad?”

He nodded once as he closed the distance.

“How?” Her voice shook as she gestured around the kitchen. “How are we here?” Before, she’d had to brute force her way past Elend’s technique. But this had been totally effortless, as if she’d just stumbled into the scene by accident.

Her father smiled at her. “Being an Aeon has its perks, Mana Storm. For one thing, they’re much better at lucid dreaming.”

“So this is all in my head?”

“It is, but our last talk really happened. When Last Haven was attacked, I left a piece of my soul inside you. I was preparing for a moment like this—a time when you might need my help.”

Akari drew in a deep breath, letting the words wash over her. “Glim told me . . . wait, do you know who Glim is?”

“I can see any memories that your subconscious is willing to share.” He grinned again. “And don’t worry, I put safeguards in place to prevent any mistakes.”

Akari nodded. She had more questions about that particular technique, but those could wait until later. “Glim said that a Master couldn’t do this. Not even a Grandmaster. She said that the techniques wouldn’t last this long.”

“And Glim was right on both accounts, but we weren’t just Grandmasters.”

Akari blinked. “We?”

The front door opened on its creaking hinges, and a woman joined them in the kitchen. She was Shokenese, with a slender build, and black-framed glasses.

“You’ve done well, Mana Storm.” The woman gave her a warm smile, and her voice was like a favorite song she’d almost forgotten. “But you’ve been slacking on your temporal techniques this year. I think it’s time we change that, don’t you?”

“Shit,” Akari muttered. “You’re . . .”

The woman’s brow furrowed at that. “Language, young lady!”

Akari ducked her head at the rebuke. “Sorry, Mom.”

Emiri looked pleased at her reaction, but a hint of amusement touched the corners of her eyes. “You really have grown up, haven’t you?”

Mazren nodded in agreement. “Maybe we should let her say bad words, after all.”

Akari glanced back and forth, and tears clouded her eyes. She was finally with her parents—both of them. And this wasn’t some flashback where she watched her past self from the backseat of her mind. Her parents could actually see her as an Artisan, and she could see them in return.

But at the same time, this moment would never happen in real life. It couldn’t. Her mother had died on Arkala, and not even time mana could change that. She knew it, and her parents knew it, too.

Her body shook and she bowed low at the waist. “I’m sorry,” she told her mother. “For what happened to you—for what I did—everything . . .”

Emiri stepped forward and pulled her into a crushing hug. Akari squeezed her back, savoring the feeling, knowing in her heart that it could never last.

“We had enemies long before you were born,” her mother said as she stroked her hair. “We knew what we were getting into. You didn’t.”

“It was still my fault,” Akari said. “I should have listened to you.” Her body tensed up like a coiled spring. “I should have known.”

Her mother shook her head, still stroking her hair. “It doesn’t matter if you were a Novice or a Mystic. It doesn’t matter if you knew the whole story, or just a small piece of it. We love you more than all the power you’ll ever wield, and far more than any mistake you could ever make.”

Akari couldn’t imagine loving anyone that much, not even Kalden. But in that moment, she knew. She knew this had to be her real mother, and not some figment of her subconscious.

Emiri finally pulled back a few seconds later, placing a hand on Mazren’s arm. “Now, time is short, and we have work to do. I might be dead, but your father needs someone to rescue him from a certain island.”

“I do,” he agreed.”Our attacker kept me on a tight leash, but he wasn’t counting on you.”

“So . . . ” Her mother turned to face her again. “Are you ready to learn about the other half of your aspect?”

Akari wiped the tears from her eyes, then a slow smile spread across her face. “Hell yes.”