Akari spent hours crawling through the storm, scrambling for handholds on the island’s rocky ground. Without her glasses, the world dissolved into smears of gray and blue—shapes without edges, movement without meaning.

  Why the hell had she trusted her cousins? How could she be so stupid?

  Trust had paid off with her teammates, but plenty of others had stabbed her in the back. What about Rosintar, who’d led Moonfire’s Honor Guard straight back to the Solidor’s safe house? Or Nightfang, who’d worked with Moonfire and Trask to capture her?

  This wasn’t some movie where trust and friendship came with shiny rewards. Real life was a bitch—cold and careless as the storm itself.

  She should have gone with Kalden to the Shadow Garden. She couldn’t earn a Veilcord there—or so they claimed—but she could still drain the mana beasts and become a Grandmaster.

  Here, there was nothing but wind and rain and mana.

  After several hours of searching, she stumbled upon a cave in one side of the cliff, just deep enough to block out the elements. Unfortunately, that did little for the cold. She’d been to Vordica, where the tears froze on her cheeks, but this place was different. This cold came from the mana itself—some strange aspect that fed on life and order.

  Still, a shallow cave was better than no cave at all. Akari lay on the wet stone floor, burying her face between her shaking knees and wishing for a blanket. Her fingers turned pale and numb. They might have frozen completely if not for her Cloak technique.

  Time passed like a sleepless night until she crawled toward the mouth of her cave and formed a stylus out of pure mana. She fed more mana through the rough instrument, forming the sigils for a heat ward. Silver Sight still worked without her glasses, revealing sharp lines of flowing light against the dark haze. That was enough to accurately render the sigils.

  Several minutes passed, then her cave felt more like an ordinary winter rather than a frozen hellscape.

  Why had she worn that second ring on her finger? That defeated the whole purpose of a backup. If she were smart, she would have hidden it in her shorts or combat bra. Kaito might have seen it with his Silver Sight, but a good veil could solve that problem.

  Or she could have wrapped the entire ridge in a time bubble. Then she could have rewound time when Kaito betrayed her, retrieving her lost things from the sea.

  “A time bubble wouldn’t work,” Glim said from beside her. “They would have seen you make it.”

  That was true; time bubbles weren’t exactly subtle. Akari could have surrounded the entire battlefield with enough preparation, but that would take too long. Those jade artists could have killed more of her cousins in the meantime.

  “Who cares?” Glim said. “Screw your cousins!”

  Kaito would look much better as a jade statue. Maybe they all would.

  Akari kept feeding mana into the heat ward, but that revealed a new problem. These sigils drained her mana faster than she could replace it. She didn’t know the exact formula by heart, but she doubted this setup would last more than a few days. Even her Cloak wouldn’t work forever out here.

  “You think they’ll come back?” Akari asked. “This could still be a test, right?” It made no sense to abandon her like this. Akari’s portals served as an instant win for any fight. She’d proven that against those jade artists. Not to mention transportation—she could have moved her cousins across the Storm Garden in mere minutes.

  They might not like Akari, but she was far too valuable to throw away.

  “I think they’re gone,” Glim said in a soft voice. “Clan Zell sees the world differently from us. Different from the rest of North Shoken, even.”

  Akari nodded in vague agreement. She still didn’t understand her family. Not even close.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Glim said.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I’m a Grandmaster dream artist. I should have seen what Kaito was planning.”

  Akari waved that away. “We’ve been through this. You don’t have your powers without Relia.”

  Glim shrugged a transparent blue shoulder. “I still should’ve known. I haven’t felt like myself since Elend died. Even with Relia . . . things aren’t how they should be. Elend always knew what to say. I just make people cringe and roll their eyes.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because you have to let me go. I’m a waste of mana.”

  “No,” Akari said. “Screw that.”

  “I’m just a copy,” Glim said. “My real self is back with Relia.”

  “You’re still my friend. I don’t care if you’re stupid sometimes. So am I. So is everyone.”

  Besides, Akari would still run out of mana at some point, regardless of how much she conserved.

  Glim smiled at that. “But we can’t count on your cousins to come back. We need a plan.”

  “I know. We’ll think of something.”

  ~~~

  Days passed, but Akari never ventured beyond her cave. She had no tablet or cell phone. Not even a map or compass. Between that and her blurry eyes, she had no hope of finding her way back here.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  The heat ward broke on the third day, and she couldn't summon the strength to repair it. Then the storm returned in earnest, rushing into the cave like water through a broken dam.

  Akari tried reaching out to it with her Aeon soul, hoping to absorb some of its power.

  No sooner had she touched the strange mana than something slammed into her mind like a fist; every aspect in the world, thrown into a blender, shredded to pieces, and tossed back in her face. Fire and ice. Blade and Wind. Dream and knowledge. Life and death. It screamed against her senses like a thousand dying souls.

  Akari yanked her Aeon soul shut on pure instinct. She lay gasping on the wet stone floor, chest burning as if she'd swallowed molten glass. Blood ran from her nose, and she tasted copper on her lips.

  “What was that?” Glim’s voice sounded far away.

  Akari couldn't answer. Her whole body shook, and not just from the cold.

  Desperation outweighed the pain an hour later. She opened her soul again, just a crack. Chaos flooded through. Her soul became a battlefield as the aspects clashed and screamed inside of her. Her channels seized up, and she slammed the mental doors before the storm tore her apart.

  She tried a third time, then a fourth. Each attempt left her weaker than before. Her nose bled freely now, and her ears rang with phantom screams. Once, she managed to hold her soul open for three full seconds before the pain forced her to stop. She'd absorbed a trickle of mana, but it sat in her channels like a splinter beneath her skin.

  Eventually, the attempts became impossible. Her Aeon soul wouldn't open anymore—some survival instinct had locked it shut. With no escape from the cold, Akari curled up in a corner and cried like a baby. Hot tears and snot—coughing, shaking, and sobbing. The whole ugly package.

  Two weeks ago, she’d lost Elend and Irina and had her spine crushed by Ashur Moonfire. But that was over in a heartbeat. This was a crushing loneliness with no end in sight. Just pain that stretched to every horizon, from her distant past to her future.

  There was no sun. No sleep. No food or water. No sensation but the storms. She could barely feel her own body or the mana in her channels. Nothing but her thoughts, swirling through her like a fever dream without the heat.

  Talking to Glim kept her sane at first, but even that came to an end. She couldn’t tell what thoughts came from Glim, and which ones were her own. Was she imagining Glim’s voice, or was it real? Neither of them could tell anymore.

  Was Glim ever really here, or had she imagined everything from the start? Had she ever left the Archipelago? Was this all a dream?

  Than her mana stepping flowing. She’d resisted making a portal to the mainland before, clinging to some foolish hope. Now, it was too late to try. The wind found its way into her cave, lashing her like an icy whip. Her skin burned and numbed at the same time.

  She was eleven years old again, locked in Noella Frostblade’s dark basement

  She was thirteen, bound in cords of ice mana, watching her mother get strangled to death by ice Missiles.

  Then she was in Creta, stabbed in the stomach by a blade of red plasma. The heat spread through her gut. The smell of her own burning flesh filled her nostrils.

  Koreldon City, watching Valeria Zantano put a claw through Elise’s chest.

  The Palace Prime, feeling her spine bent the wrong way. Waking up to find Elend and Irina dead.

  Then she saw the future. A sea of stars, and an enemy shrouded in darkness upon a golden throne. This enemy was more than a mere Mystic. Some part of her had always known that, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it. If she did, she might lose her will to fight.

  Now, she’d already lost. Why bother denying it anymore? This was an enemy who didn’t play by the rules of this world. Someone they couldn’t face in battle. Why even bother trying?

  Her parents were Mystics, and how long had they lasted when they’d faced him in Last Haven? Thirty seconds? Ten? And all the Mystics of North Shoken had bowed to this enemy. Anyone who resisted was rotting in the Archipelago.

  What was the point of a Veilcord, or a kyrin? What was the point of advancement, fancy aspects, or Aeon souls? They were children playing with toys.

  No, it was worse than that. They were apes who’d harnessed a small piece of this world’s mana and pretended to be gods.

  Mystics lived longer lives and wielded bigger techniques, but did it matter? Each generation thought they were special—the first to become true immortals. But they all died in the end.

  Just like this.

  Akari pushed the thoughts away. She’d been down this road countless times. She’d faced despair and pushed through, becoming stronger than before. This was no different.

  This storm was a single moment in her life. A stepping stone on her path to Mastery.

  That revelation meant something. Something beyond this world. Beyond victory or death or pain. Beyond life itself.

  The storm sank deep into her channels, seizing control. Her vision went dark several times, but adrenaline forced her eyes back open. Some primal part of her still resisted her own end, even without any mana left.

  Once again, her mother’s death flashed through her mind. This time, she saw the bystanders who failed to act, as if some invisible wall stood between them and the right choice.

  How many others were trapped in the Archipelago, utterly helpless to improve themselves? Even more helpless than Akari let in this moment.

  They needed someone to show them the way. She could be that person.

  With no other option, Akari opened her Aeon soul once again.

  The mana felt like hot knives in her mind and soul. Akari heard screaming and realized it was her. The memories and pain returned sharper than ever, as if the storm were pulling them back to the surface. Every past failure, sharp as blade mana. Her mother's death. Elend. Irina. Elise. The enemy on his golden throne.

  Thinking was Kalden’s thing. She couldn’t stop the memories, but she didn’t need to dwell on them. She just had to cycle.

  A fresh wave of agony ran through her channels when she tried, forcing her to let go. This pain was a warning; it would kill her even faster than the storm itself.

  But she’d already survived out here for days without a Cloak technique. She didn’t need the storm’s mana to stay alive. She just had to take a step forward. That meant seizing the power and venting it elsewhere.

  So Akari opened her Aeon senses one last time. Instead of cycling the mana, she forced it back through her natural soul, just like when she reaped her enemies’ power.

  Her soul resisted just like her channels, but this was a different sort of pain. It reminded her of the first time she’d ever sensed her mana or cycled—the pain of progress rather than impending death.

  Akari uncurled herself from the cave’s stone floor. She rose on unsteady feet and stepped toward the mouth. Without her glasses, the world was a haze of blues and grays, but she was done cowering in the shadows.

  Physically, she felt weaker than ever before. But she felt a surge of strength beneath the exhaustion and hunger. Like the second wind during a fight, when you realized you were stronger than you’d imagined.

  , her grandmother had said.

  That might work for Kira and the rest of Clan Zell. With enough time and training, they could adapt to this hostile mana and emerge stronger. But Akari didn’t have time for that. And she sure as hell didn’t have the right aspect.

  If she couldn't surrender to the storm, she'd just have to make it pay for crossing her.

  And so Akari forced more broken mana into her soul. To her surprise, her soul at the sudden surge of power. But structural mana came from the souls of living things. What was it doing out here in the storm?

  A question for another day. Akari drank in more power, breaking it down and forcing it through the portal inside her chest. It still felt like swallowing fire and ice at the same time, but it worked. Warmth returned to her muscles. The rain didn’t sting, and the wind felt more like a gentle breeze than a deadly gale.

  Her nerves screamed as the sensation returned to her limbs. Not just tinging, but genuine pain in her fingers and toes. It subsided over the next few minutes, and she felt the wet stone beneath her bare feet.

  Akari took a step forward, then another. The storm broke down in her path, serving as the fuel for her next advancement.

  Support the story on Patreon and read ahead!

  https://www.patreon.com/davidmusk