Relia shot a glance at the nearest hallway. If she ran now, she could probably escape without getting burned. Unfortunately, Kalden stood on Kyzar’s opposite side, farther from the door.

  “This isn’t your fight,” Kyzar said to his cousin.

  “I know.” Zakiel sauntered inside the lobby. Well, it was more of a courtyard now, since the night sky was clearly visible above their heads. “I’m just here to settle a debt.”

  “A debt?” Kyzar shot Relia a curious look, as if this were all her fault.

  Zakiel’s gaze fell on Relia, then shifted to Kalden. “There was another girl with you before—a Novice.”

  Akari.

  “She’s all yours.” Kalden gestured to the collapsed section of the hotel on his right. “Her body’s buried in the rubble.” His bluff came out calm as he spoke—almost cold and indifferent.

  Typical Kalden. Would it kill you to muster up some tears?

  Zakiel dropped his techniques, and they burned by themselves in the air, surrounding his body like a multicolored halo. One was trueflame—a mix of fire and plasma like Kyzar’s aspect. The other was frostfire, which he’d probably gotten from a potion.

  “You’ve got a terrible paizho face,” the dragon said. Then he raised his right hand, and a flaming Missile closed in.

  Kalden reacted at the same time, hurling a pair of forged mana blades at the technique. In that moment, Relia knew he wouldn’t survive.

  But instead of the deadly collision she'd expected, Kalden’s blades split through the fire mana, turning it to mist in midair

  Akariel’s ashes. He really is a machine.

  By now, several dozen Apprentices had gathered around, chanting the word “Unmarked” in unison. She thought she saw Arturo’s face in the crowd, but she couldn’t be sure. They’d avoided each other ever since the battle on the bridge.

  A human form flew down from the sky, tearing between the canyon of broken hotel fragments. The ground shook as Valdez landed several paces behind the enemy Artisan. His clothes hung in tattered ribbons, and crimson streaked his face.

  “Another one?” His grizzled face broke into a dark smile. “Must be our lucky day.”

  All three Artisans sprang into motion. Relia couldn’t say who struck first. One second, they were all standing still. The next, their bodies clashed in a blur of mana.

  Kyzar closed the distance with a pair of glowing plasma blades. His cousin countered with fire and frost, and Valdez broke the flames with bursts of wind. The trio moved too fast for Relia’s eyes to follow, striking several times in a single second.

  Relia raised her own shield and ran through the fray. Kalden began forming more blades, as if he intended to join in.

  Idiot. She’d helped him advance to protect him, not so he could put himself in more danger. Relia grabbed his wrist and let him back toward the staircase.

  Zakiel leapt forward, slashing with flaming claws. The wind artist kicked off against the ground, but Zakiel hit him with a frostfire technique. Valdez’s body froze in midair before crashing into the rubble.

  Kyzar slashed toward his cousin’s face. Zakiel blocked the plasma blade on his forearm and struck low, searing his opponent’s leg.

  “Wait.” Kalden held his ground, jerking Relia back. “He needs our help.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Relia Cloaked her arm and tugged harder, pulling him toward the safety of the corridor. Kalden might be stronger now, but she had several years of experience on him.

  “Your aspect,” he said. “You can make a difference.”

  “Akari needs us more!”

  Kalden shook his head. “That dragon will come after her if he wins. Better to fight him on our own terms.” And with that, he twisted his arm free and leapt into the fight.

  Darn it. New Apprentices always thought they were invincible, even against the higher ranks. It didn’t help when they had the skills to back it up. He and Akari had apparently been champion duelists in their past lives, and Relia believed it after what she’d seen tonight.

  But he was still a sheltered boy from a rich family. No matter how hard he’d trained, he didn’t understand the consequences of real war. He didn’t realize how fast one Artisan could end his life.

  The others exchanged several more blows, and each clash seemed to shake the world. Then Zakiel stuck his claw into Kyzar’s eye, and everything froze. Kyzar screamed as he fell to his knees. His plasma blades faded to mist in his hands.

  Zakiel withdrew his blood-stained claw, slashing several more times across his cousin’s chest. Kyzar’s body shone like molten rock as he flared his Cloak, and that probably saved his life. Still, he couldn’t hold out forever, and Zakiel yanked back his clawed hand, preparing his finishing blow.

  The Apprentices all struck together, hitting the Artisan with their combined strength. Kalden charged into the center of the storm, attacking with a whirlwind of six spinning blades.

  Zakiel dropped his cousin and raised a protective dome. Mana clashed with blinding light and deafening thunder. He lashed out with his own techniques, and a bloodbath followed. Apprentices died screaming, even faster than the Martials back on Arkala.

  Relia added her attacks to the barrage, but only her pure mana. She didn’t dare use her aspect with so many others around.

  Kalden moved with impossible grace as he fought—more like a Master than an Apprentice. And it wasn’t just his body. His mana flowed around him at impossible angles, controlled by his mind rather than his channels.

  That should have been impossible at this level. Maybe a small part of his aspect was still buried away, deep In his soul.

  Zakiel tried to charge Kalden several times, but Kalden always slipped away, using the rubble as cover. Kalden’s reflexes were slower, but he seemed to predict the Artisan’s moves before he made them.

  All the while, the remaining Apprentices kept up their assault, draining the Artisan’s mana as he focused on Kalden. Relia almost dared to hope this would work.

  Zakiel must have sensed the same thing, because he stopped chasing Kalden and raised another shield around his body, holding the Apprentice techniques at bay. Then he retrieved a vial from his belt and drank it in one swallow.

  “Run!” Relia shouted to Kalden. “Get out of there.” She didn’t know what Zakiel had planned—but it must be an answer to Kalden’s technique.

  Kalden just stood there in his fighting stance, his face a stoic mask.

  The frostfire left Zakiel’s hands, swirling around his body in an elaborate pattern. The ground froze around his feet, and white mist gathered inside the dome.

  A Ritual technique.

  Rituals were a mix of Circuit and Construct techniques, and they let mana artists use their aspects to dominate their surroundings. She’d seen Elend do this before, but she’d rarely seen it from an Artisan. It was possible, but it normally took far too long to form. Even then, the mana was spread too thin to damage most opponents in their own realm.

  Unfortunately, it was perfect against weaker opponents.

  Relia shouted at Kalden again, but he didn’t listen, and she couldn’t grab him through that whirlwind of blades.

  Zakiel dropped his fiery dome, and the white mist lashed out at the surrounding Apprentices. Their bodies froze where it touched them, then the ice shattered into chunks of red limbs.

  The mist hit Kalden’s blades, and they snapped like brittle iron. Realization finally shone in his eyes, but he was too late to retreat. The mist spread to his outstretched hands, freezing around them.

  Kalden screamed as the ice erupted in white flame, taking off his right hand at the wrist. His left hand fared better, but he still lost several fingers as he staggered back.

  Arturo emerged from the crowd, holding a device in his left hand, pushing back the mist with blasts of invisible mana. He held a blade in his right hand—the same one they’d stolen from the Grevandi Artisan.

  “Hey!” Relia emerged from her cover to draw Zakiel’s attention. He threw a flaming Missile toward her, but she deflected it with a quick shield.

  Arturo seized the distraction and swung his blade at Zakiel’s neck, just as Akari had done in Costa Liberta.

  Zakiel spun around like a whip, swiping a claw across Arturo’s right leg. The boy staggered forward, and his weapon clattered to the ground.

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  Several more Apprentices attacked, but Relia didn’t watch the outcome. Instead, she Cloaked her legs and raced toward Kalden. She put his arm over her shoulders, forced him to his feet, and ran behind a pile of stone rubble.

  “I’m okay,” he said as she set him down.

  “You’re not okay!” Relia pressed her hands to the stump of his right arm and filled it with life mana.

  “I’ve lost limbs before.”

  “In school matches!” she snapped back. “This was real.” Tears clouded her eyes as she forced more mana into the wound, draining her reserves. “I can’t fix this. I can’t regrow hands or fingers.”

  Kalden blinked down at his missing hand, seeming to notice it for the first time. His gaze shifted to his other hand where he’d lost his thumb and forefinger.

  “It’s okay,” he said again. “Someone can.”

  He still didn’t get it. He still thought this was a game.

  The sounds of battle faded behind them, and a shadow loomed against the wall as Zakiel approached.

  ~~~

  Akari huddled in her hiding place as the battle waged below. She’d tried making her way down, but several Grevandi patrolled this floor and guarded the staircase.

  She shifted her sleeve and checked her mana watch for the hundredth time.

  0/73.

  Kalden had survived the fall, but she couldn’t copy his trick.

  And even if she did get down to the lobby . . . what then? Would she join the fight? Even with full mana, she couldn’t scratch an Artisan. She’d gotten lucky in Costa Liberta, but this guy was on full alert, fighting dozens of opponents from all sides.

  She’d be the weakest person there, without a doubt. Even Kalden had advanced again, while she’d hardly gotten any stronger these past few weeks.

  Deep down, she and her past self had always shared this secret fear. They’d both struggled to get stronger so they didn’t fall behind.

  For all that, they weren’t the same person. Dream Akari had parents who loved her, but Real Akari had spent years of her life alone, with no friends or family to speak of. Even Mazren had been an empty shell of his former self.

  In hindsight, that was a fitting punishment for what she’d done. She’d helped Ashur Moonfire destroy Last Haven and send its people to an island prison. Every Martial she’d killed on Arkala might have been a civilian from her sect, brainwashed by some massive technique.

  She’d sent them to that prison in her quest for power, and then she’d killed them in her escape.

  Focus.

  Feeling sorry wouldn’t help her friends. It wouldn’t help her parents, or all the other people she’d wronged. It was too late to save her mother or the Martials she’d killed. But Mazren was still trapped in that prison, along with thousands of others.

  Advancement was the only way to save them.

  The battle continued, and mana flew through the canyon of broken hotel fragments. Her friends struggled without her, and she’d give anything to be down there with them.

  Her past self would have disagreed, of course. She would have ran away and lived to fight another day.

  There are worse things than dying, Kyzar had said earlier that night.

  That’s it.

  Reptilian voices echoed farther down the hall as the Grevandi approached.

  After weeks of searching, the revelation finally kindled inside her soul, rising to her lips. The words felt wrong to say. Nonetheless, they’d been true at one point in her life.

  Her past self never would have admitted this truth aloud. Now, it was her only path forward.

  “I’d do anything for power,” she whispered. “Even betray the people I love.”

  No sooner had the words passed her lips than the mana flowed through her soul. But this felt nothing like the euphoric rush she’d felt at Silver. This mana felt tainted, staining her channels as it moved through her.

  Memories struck her mind, along with a rush of bittersweet emotions. She remembered her childhood, and the days before she’d become a mana artist. She remembered her parents and the simple life they’d tried to give her in Last Haven. Back then, she’d never understood why two Masters would turn down a life of power and fame.

  Now, as she glanced around the ruined battlefield, the answer was clear.

  The memories filled every corner of her mind, and she felt her past self there as well, threatening to seize control. It felt natural to slip back into her mindset; they’d always been the same person, after all. She’d lived these past few years in a haze of weakness, and that weakness made her soft. But—

  No.

  Akari pushed her past self back. She was stronger in this moment than she’d ever been before.

  “I’ll do better,” she said, “I’ll make up for what I’ve done.”

  She thought of Last Haven—not just the sect in the Espirian mountains, but the island prison it had become. She thought of the thousands of people she’d trapped there.

  In that moment, she understood why Elend had surrendered to the Martials and worn those cuffs. She understood why Relia had been reluctant to fight them. They’d all been victims. Yes, they’d done terrible things, but so had she.

  I’m coming back for you.

  She remembered the dark form in the sky above Last Haven. Akari might be responsible for betraying the sect, but that man had pulled the trigger. She didn’t have a face or a name. She only had six unheard syllables, and an aspect that could wipe people from existence.

  I’m coming for you, too.

  The footsteps grew louder as the Grevandi approached. Akari took several deep breaths, calming the memories that flooded her mind. She’d spent hundreds of hours training, refining her techniques against the best Novice duelists in the world.

  What were a few thugs compared to that?

  Finally she glanced down at her mana watch.

  555/555.

  Gold.

  Akari smiled as she stepped out of her hiding spot, armed with nothing but a dagger.

  Four Apprentices loomed in the corridor. Two of them stood within ten paces of her. The other two held up the rear.

  Akari cycled her mana as she strode toward them, taking in every detail of the scene. The left dragon was covered in small, silver shavings, marking him as a metal artist. The right dragon’s channels shone with a molten hue beneath his green skin, and he wore fire-proof armor..

  Kalden’s backpack lay on the ground behind the first two, along with two grenades in the side pockets.

  The metal artist raised his hand, and his mana coalesced into a silver blade.

  Her mind ran through the possibilities. Four against one. If she tried to dodge or block their attacks, they’d overwhelm her within seconds. If she ran, they’d chase her down and get the same result.

  Akari could probably outclass them in terms of raw skill, but she couldn’t punch through their Cloaks with her own mana.

  She’d just have to get creative.

  The metal artist threw his blade, and it flew horizontally toward her throat. Akari put herself between the two dragons at a ninety-degree angle, forming a shield of densely packed mana, no wider than her hands.

  The silver blade ricocheted off her shield with a flash of light, spearing the fire artist in the chest.

  One.

  She rushed past the fallen dragon, putting herself between the metal artist and his two friends. If these were trained soldiers, they would have raised their shields and boxed her in. But the Grevandi didn’t fight as a single unit; two of them panicked and hit her with a storm of flame. Akari raised a shield and dropped to her belly, letting the fire pass over her and hit the metal artist in the chest.

  Two.

  She rolled to the side and blocked two more attacks with a flash of mana. Then she grabbed Kalden’s pack, pulled the pin on one grenade, and rolled it between her attackers.

  She followed with a pair of Missiles as she leapt to her feet and ran for the gap between the hotel fragments. Her instincts screamed a warning an instant later. She glanced over her left shoulder and saw the same grenade flying straight toward her.

  Mana flashed from Akari’s hand as she knocked it back toward her attackers. The blast shook the floor as she ran. Her ears rang like a tea kettle, and her vision swayed.

  For all that, it barely slowed down her attackers. Akari rounded the corner near the drop off, and their thundering footsteps followed.

  She pressed her back to the wall, and her hands shook as she reached into Kalden’s pack and pulled the pin on the second grenade. She’d messed up the timing before, and she couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  Finally, she raised her free hand and formed a wide Construct, parallel with the floor. Three minutes ago, she never could have managed a precise feat like this. But her two selves were one now, including her mana shaping skills.

  The first dragon charged into her Construct, and it clotheslined him at the neck. The second dragon skidded to a halt, and she dropped the grenade on the floor between them.

  Akari shouldered the pack and leapt off the ledge an instant later, flying above the battlefield. She barely fell three feet before she stretched out her hands and launched two Missiles into the air. The force of her mana threw her back onto the floor below, and a blast shook the ceiling.

  Three?

  The surviving dragon copied her trick, leaping over the canyon and pushing himself back toward the open corridor.

  Akari lashed out with a pair of Missiles, and they broke against his armor like water balloons. His feet landed on the precipice of broken concrete, looking about as steady as a mammoth on a tightrope.

  She threw another Missile at his face, which he deflected as he regained his balance. She followed with a kick to his solar plexus, and he leaned back just in time to catch a stray blast from the battle below.

  Her opponent screamed as the flames climbed his back, but he pulled Akari down with him as he fell.

  Oh, shit.

  They flew toward the floor together. The dragon clutched her boot with one hand, using the other to throw a Missile at her face. Akari tried to block, but she couldn’t do much at this range, and the fire struck her vest and helmet.

  The air left her lungs in a rush, and the impact cracked her visor. She kicked off from her opponent when his back struck the ground.

  Four.

  Then, by some miracle of raw instincts, she flipped through the air and landed on both feet like a cat.

  Everything lay in piles of rubble with two halves of the hotel looming above them, and clouds of smoke veiling the night sky. Relia and Kalden sat on the floor across the room, half-hidden behind a fallen pillar. The enemy Artisan—Zakiel—approached with slow determination.

  Akari cast aside her broken helmet and pulled Kalden’s pack off her shoulders. She found one potion still intact, and she chugged it without reading the label.

  The mana flowed into her soul, but the number on her watch didn’t increase. Weird. What kind of potion was this?

  “Hey,” a familiar voice rasped. “Shokita!”

  She spun to see Arturo lying on the ground, surrounded by a dozen bodies. He bled out from a long wound across his stomach, but he held up a familiar blade—the same one they’d taken in Costa Liberta.

  Akari accepted the weapon by the hilt, and Arturo nodded once.

  “Charged it for you,” he said through several ragged breaths. “Should be good for one hit.”

  Good enough. She’d already killed one Artisan with this blade. Why not a second?

  Akari drew in a long breath as she approached her opponent. She’d been hoping to take him by surprise, just like before. But he spun away from Kalden and Relia at the last minute, shifting his golden gaze on her.

  Their eyes met, and his scaly lips pulled back in a grin. “There you are.” He fell into a fighting stance, and a blade of red plasma formed in his outstretched hand. “Let’s see how you fare in a real fight.”