Akari shifted in her chair, staring down at her hands on the metal table. Almost twelve hours had passed since the battle, and rays of sunlight speared through the room’s barred windows.

Last night had been a mess of healers, police, and interrogations, and she hadn’t slept for a minute of it. She’d tried closing her eyes in her cell, but her brain had other ideas.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. Akari sat up straighter, and her cuffs scraped against the table. Unlike ordinary handcuffs, these had no chains or hinges connecting the bands. And while most cuffs were stainless steel, these were made of impedium.

Whenever Akari cycled mana to her hands or feet, one of the four cuffs repelled it like a magnet, sending it back to her soul. This restriction might go unnoticed to someone who didn’t know mana arts. But she’d been cycling for more than a hundred days straight, and blocking her mana felt as unnatural as holding her breath. It made her want to cycle even harder. And after a whole night of this, her body felt like a wrung-out rag.

Her captors hadn’t even removed the cuffs when she slept or showered. A layer of padding protected her skin, so they weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as most restraints. Still, that only made her more nervous.

How much longer would this last?

The door opened across the room, and her foster father stepped inside. Mazren wore his usual work clothes—a button-down shirt tucked into a pair of khaki pants. A Silver badge hung from a cord around his neck, reflecting the morning sun like a mirror.

“Are you okay?” he asked with genuine concern.

Akari just shrugged.

Mazren lowered himself into the chair opposite her, and slid a cardboard Jumpstart mug across the table. “Figured you’d need this.”

“Thanks.” Akari opened the plastic lid and inhaled the steam. It smelled like Jumpstart’s regular dark roast, but she wasn’t complaining. Any caffeine was a gift from the Angels right now.

After a brief silence, her foster father spoke again. “You’re a mana artist.”

“They told you everything?” Akari guessed.

He nodded, running a hand through his light brown hair. “Read the report while I was waiting.”

That meant he already knew about the videos and the dark web. Akari had been carrying her thumb drive when they’d captured her, so she couldn’t hide that part of the story. Besides, it wasn’t technically a crime to learn mana arts, even for a Bronze like her.

“I knew something was up with you,” he said, “but I never knew it was this big. All those nights you didn’t come home. That hunting trip . . .” Another pause. “What made you want to do this?”

Akari wasn’t in the mood to bare her soul, so she just shrugged her shoulders again. Besides, did she really need a reason? The Grandmaster had said this was a basic human right, and she agreed with him.

“What else happened last night?” she asked. “No one told me anything.”

Mazren appeared to gather his thoughts for a moment. “They talked to everyone separately. Kalden Trengsen’s story matched up with yours. He says Frostblade and her friends attacked you, and you defended yourself. His retainers said the same.”

Akari gave a quick nod, feeling a surge of hope in her chest. She’d feared the police would believe Emberlyn’s story and ignore everything else. Just like the day she’d been banned from the computer lab. But if they talked to Kalden, she might actually have a chance.

“Emberlyn Frostblade even admitted to attacking you,” Mazren went on.

Akari almost spit out her coffee. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. She refused to talk at first, but her lawyer encouraged her to cooperate.”

Mazren went on to summarize Emberlyn’s interrogation. In her words, she’d been ‘testing’ Akari to see if she really knew mana arts. Things escalated from there. Emberlyn’s retainer—Kazo Shiro—had hit Akari as she retreated over the ice. Emberlyn had wanted to pull Akari out, but Alton Tusk had objected, insisting they wouldn’t get caught if they left her there.

Bastard.

Akari felt her shoulders sag as everything settled in. “They’re gonna get away with this, aren’t they?”

“Frostblade and Tusk will be fined for the damages,” Mazren said.

“Oh good, as long as they’re fined.”

“The school board will decide whether they stay in the mana arts program. Things don’t look good for Tusk on that front . . .” He trailed off and gave a helpless shrug. “But you’re right. It’s not fair. It never is with these people.”

Akari clenched her hands into fists. She tried cycling her mana, but the cuffs repelled the movement in all four limbs, sending back waves of pain.

She should have seen this coming. A Gold could technically go to prison for murdering a Bronze, but that would only happen if they’d killed her in cold blood, in front of a live audience. Anything else was too complicated for real justice.

“What about me?” she finally asked.

“There’s been some talk about pressing charges,” Mazren said. “But they’re having trouble finding a crime. You defended yourself in every version of the story. Three against one.”

Akari looked up, feeling her spirits rise again. “And learning mana arts isn’t illegal, right?”

He shook his head. “Officially, it’s impossible for a Bronze to learn. This means there aren’t any laws or precedents.”

Huh. How about that? The propaganda worked in her favor for once. Still, Mazren didn’t look hopeful. There must be a catch.

“But the three families want to make an example of you,” Mazren explained. “A quiet example, without a trial.”

Akari swallowed, still not sure whether to feel relieved or afraid.

He spread out his hands on the table. “If Noella and I keep you under house arrest for the next three years, you can avoid prison time, and keep your record clean.”

“And house arrest means what?” She’d heard the term on TV, but she’d never gotten an exact definition.

“You can go to school and work,” he replied. “Otherwise, you stay within a one-block radius of our house. All other appointments need to be cleared through the Martials’ office.”

Three years just for defending herself?

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Those cuffs you’re wearing”—he gestured to the table where she clutched her coffee cup—“they come with built-in trackers. That’s how they’ll know if you stay within your radius. They’ll also get an alert if you remove or tamper with them.”

Akari’s blood froze, and the impedium felt as heavy as cast iron on her wrists. “The cuffs stay the whole time?”

“I’m sorry,” he said with a grave nod. “I couldn’t do anything about that.”

“What if I refuse the deal? I get a trial, right?”

He hesitated. “Apparently, Agent Frostblade has evidence that links you to another crime. He wouldn’t say what, but it sounded serious. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Akari pursed her lips, trying to force her features into confusion.

“They can’t listen to us in here.” Mazren gestured at the door. “Whatever it is, I’ll keep it between us.”

Frostblade obviously knew about her meetings with Relia, but she’d never talk about that out loud. Not to the Martials, or to Mazren. Relia Dawnfire was the only person on this island who dared to challenge the system. Betraying her would betray everything Akari stood for.

When she didn’t answer, Mazren spoke again. “He could be bluffing. but I wouldn’t risk it. There’s no winning against Golds.”

No winning against Golds. Now more than ever, Akari felt the weight of those words in her bones. She hadn’t even responded to Sakara Trengsen’s offer, and things had already worked out in the woman’s favor.

Mazren was right. This game had been rigged against her from the start. How could you beat opponents who played by entirely different rules?

“So I’d take the deal,” he said. “It’s the best you’ll get.”

“And I can live with you for three more years?” Akari asked. “Just like that?”

His face seemed to soften with sympathy. “We were never going to kick you out.”

“That’s not what your wife said.”

He let out a slow breath. “She meant we can’t support you forever. Worst-case scenario, you can get a job and pay us rent. I’ll make sure it’s not too much.”

“No,” Akari countered. “She was pretty clear. ‘The day I turn sixteen.’ That’s what she said.”

“I’ll deal with Noella.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m responsible for you. I made you feel like you wouldn’t be safe next year. That’s why you took all these risks, right? That’s why you learned mana arts?”

Akari shrugged. He was half-right, though. Without the ticking time bomb, she might not have pursued mana arts with the same urgency. She could have approached this more slowly, pissing off fewer Golds along the way.

“We’ll figure something out,” he said. “I promise, you’ll never be homeless, no matter what happens. I’m sorry I let you think that.”

Akari narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t get it. Why are you responsible? We’re basically strangers.”

He frowned. “You’ve lived with us for almost three years.”

“Doesn’t mean we know each other.” Honestly, she was far closer with Kalden and his friends, and she’d known them a fraction of the time.

“Yeah.” He rubbed at his temple. “Guess that’s my fault, too.”

“But why?” Her voice rose for the first time. “Why do you give a shit about some orphan Bronze? You agreed to kick me out before.” She smacked her cuffs on the table, and the metallic clang reached every corner of the room. “These give Noella more reasons to hate me.”

“She doesn’t—” Mazren started to speak, but then he stopped himself.

“Why?” Akari crammed all her questions into a single word. Why did Mazren care, while Noella hated her? Why had a Silver family taken in a Bronze? Why would they help her now?

Mazren sat in silence for a long time. She’d never seen a grown man look so unsure of himself. Almost . . . afraid?

Akari bore into him with her eyes, studying his Espirian face. She was half-Espirian herself, but she’d inherited most of her mother’s Shokenese features, including her dark hair and eyes. But unlike Kalden and Maelyn, Akari didn’t have the characteristic tan skin. Her skin was paler—almost as pale as Mazren’s.

Her thoughts raced faster as she considered her initial mana count, and how she’d started somewhere in the mid-twenties. Halfway between Bronze and Silver. If her father had been a Gold, then she would have been a Silver. If he’d been a Bronze, her own mana counts would have started closer to zero.

But no . . . she was half-Bronze, half-Silver.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and chills crept up her arms.

Mazren had taken her in. He’d been civil to her this whole time, while his wife had been actively hostile. And he was sitting here now, offering her a home for three more years.

Akari swallowed, finding her throat suddenly dry. When she tried to speak, she couldn’t bring herself to ask the real question on her tongue.

“You knew me,” she said, “before I came to live with you. You were looking for someone specific.”

His head moved in an almost imperceptible nod. “Sixteen years ago, I was with a woman named Emeri Zeller.”

Emeri Zeller.

Her mother’s name.

Akari closed her eyes, feeling the room spin around her. She’d prepared for this in her mind, but that did little to soften the blow.

She’d dreamt of her father since she was a child. In her dreams, he was always a powerful mana artist from the outside world—someone like Relia’s master. Maybe even a Mystic. And Akari had seen herself as the heir to some ancient clan with ancient bloodline techniques.

She’d never spoken of this dream aloud. Most days, she hardly even dared to imagine it. Even so, that spark of hope had given her the courage to go on. It made her believe the rules on this island didn’t apply to her—that she would be the first Bronze among thousands to advance to Silver.

But real life didn’t work like a mana arts movie. If this were a movie, she would have discovered her bloodline technique and saved herself from drowning last night.

Akari looked back at Mazren and found her eyes blurry with tears. She removed her glasses and wiped them dry with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Mazren said with a heavy sigh. “I should have told you this before.”

“No,” Akari said. “I get it. You weren’t so bad as a foster parent. For a real parent, though . . .” She shook her head and gave him a thumbs-down.

He winced at that, and Akari fought down the urge to elaborate. Did he know her school uniforms were the only real clothes she had? Did he know what Noella did to her when they were alone?

Saying that out loud would just make her feel like a victim, and she’d had enough of that lately. Besides, Mazren wouldn’t believe the last part. Without the scars to prove it, Akari even doubted herself sometimes.

“That’s not why I kept it a secret,” he explained slowly. “I could lose my job for admitting that publicly. Noella knows, but that’s it. No one else does.”

“I get it.” Akari rubbed at her eyes again. “Bronze shouldn’t act like real people, and they sure as hell shouldn’t sleep with Silvers or Golds.”

Emberlyn had tried to kill her for getting too close to Kalden. And they were just friends, for Talek’s sake.

Mazren stared down at his hands. “It’s too late for me to make things right, but I’m trying my best.”

Akari stared at the wall, unable to reply. She still couldn’t reconcile this man with the powerful Mystic from her dreams. And despite the evidence, a part of her refused to believe it was true.

“How’d you meet my mom?” she asked after a long silence.

“It’s complicated.”

Akari rolled her eyes. “You can tell me if it was a random hookup. Won’t break my heart or anything.”

Still, he didn’t explain, and Akari’s mind went to darker places.

Mazren must have seen the worry in her eyes because he held up his hands defensively. “No, it was nothing like that! I’m sorry, it was—we cared about each other. I even have memories of meeting her in the diner where she worked. But I don’t trust them.”

“You don’t trust your own memories?”

“It’s complicated, like I said. Those memories only showed up after I found you. It was like my mind was filling in the gaps—trying to make sense of something it couldn’t.”

Akari blinked. Mazren’s words sounded crazy, but a part of her understood his meaning. Her own memories from the last few years were clear as glass, but everything before that was a blur.

Still, a few things stood out amid the sea of chaos. She remembered her mother’s face, and she remembered her bedroom with the Midwinter lights hanging around the ceiling. She even remembered a certain neighborhood boy teaching her how to fight.

But what about the rest of her life? She could remember elementary school if she tried, but those memories felt different—almost artificial. Akari hadn’t considered that difference until now, but she agreed with Mazren. They didn’t feel trustworthy.

“So what do you remember?” Akari asked.

“Nothing specific,” he said. “But far too many feelings to fit in one night. I loved her. I know I did.”

“What about Noella?” Akari asked. “You’ve been married for eighteen years. Doesn’t take a genius to realize you cheated on her.”

“I didn’t cheat on her,” Mazren said with surprising confidence. “Or . . . maybe I did. I don’t know. I can’t imagine myself doing that, but the past is vague. Sometimes this life feels like a lie, and the truth is something I can’t see.”

Akari nodded, still clutching her coffee cup. “Then you know why I became a mana artist.”

He stayed with her until it was time to leave, then they stepped out of the police station together. Akari was glad to put that place behind her, but her cuffs weighed her down with every step. She might be leaving one prison, but this island had walls she couldn’t see.

Why fight back when the rules were rigged against her? The only solution was to leave. To think beyond this island, and find something greater.

Relia Dawnfire had offered her a chance to do exactly that. Now, Akari just had to find her.