Kalden stood with his friends around the funeral pyre, watching the smoke drift up toward the night sky. The cold mountain air clawed his exposed skin, but he barely felt it through his Master body.

  They'd built this pyre on a small plateau outside his father's fortress. Akari held his hand in the darkness, while Zukan and Arturo stood a few paces to his left. Arturo wore a thick gray parka, and even Zukan had donned a light jacket. The mountains of North Shoken weren’t kind to Artisans like them.

  Relia stood on Akari’s right with Glim hovering at her side. Glim’s new form looked more solid than before, no longer confined to mirrors and reflections. Apparently, that restriction was a leftover quirk from their childhood—a quirk that somehow ended with Elend’s death. Now, her blue dress rippled in the wind like real fabric, and her eyes held a sorrow he’d never seen before.

  The wood crackled and sparked, sending embers spiraling upward like tiny stars. He and the others stood there for the better part of an hour, watching Zukan’s mana burn away their teachers’ bodies.

  In life, Elend and Irina could have walked through that blazing inferno without singeing a single hair. But the rules changed after death. The bodies they left behind were no stronger than Novices.

  Pain and memories crawled across the surface of Kalden’s mind, but the claws weren’t as sharp as he’d feared. He’d mentally shut down after his injuries in Creta, refusing to talk to his friends or accept his new reality. Things weren’t much better after Sozen’s death last spring. Kalden had kept fighting that day, but he’d relied on Akari to lead the team.

  This time, his mind moved straight past denial into acceptance. A result of his Master brain, no doubt. The enhanced neural pathways, the heightened processing speed—they didn't just make him a better fighter. They changed how he processed grief itself.

  The pain was still there, but it didn’t impede his judgement. He’d remained cold and calm through the fight with Ashur Moonfire. Even in that terrible moment when he watched Akari die, Kalden hadn’t stopped cycling his mana.

  If nothing else, he knew exactly how Elend and Irina felt in their last moments.

  Zukan finished the pyre with a final burst of fire mana, hot enough to burn bones in a flash. The team stayed there until the flames burnt down to embers. The wind picked up, scattering the ashes over the snow-covered valley below.

  They left the plateau along a winding stone path. His father’s fortress loomed ahead—a massive structure of gray stone built directly into the mountainside. The architecture was distinctly Shokenese, with curved rooflines and wooden beams that seemed to grow from the rock itself. Kalden had seen similar castles during his younger years, but none like this. This was the home of a Mystic.

  Eventually, they found a small gazebo nestled in one of the inner gardens. Wooden benches lined the interior, and purple orchids surrounded them on three sides, tall and vibrant despite the cold. The western side hung open, giving them a view of the pyre.

  Relia was the first to break the silence. She rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing ash across her cheek. "I never thanked you guys for coming to save me.” Several of them nodded in response. Kalden was about to reply, but she continued: “I’m sorry. This was—”

  “Hey.” Akari pointed a finger at her. “None of that.”

  “You didn’t even let me finish.”

  Akari shook her head. “We all know what you’re gonna say. But that’s all bullshit, and you know it. It won’t bring them back.”

  “It’s true.” Glim floated several inches over her own seat, hugging her knees in midair. “Elend knew this might happen when we attacked the palace. So did Irina. They chose this.”

  Relia rubbed her eyes again, and fresh tears replaced the ones she'd wiped away. "It just feels wrong. Trading their lives to save me."

  “This wasn’t a trade,” Kalden said. “This is war. War comes with risks, and we knew those risks when we attacked the palace. And Akari’s right—this wasn’t your fault. The same thing could happen to any of us.”

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  “You don’t really believe that. You wouldn’t fall for his tricks like I did.”

  “You didn’t fall for them right away,” Kalden said. “He would have spent months finding our weaknesses. Then he would exploit those weaknesses and offer us exactly what we wanted. Notice how he held back in that last battle?”

  “He you!” Relia said in a harsh whisper. “He killed everyone but me and Glim.”

  “I know, but look he did it. Your father had enough raw power to vaporize our bodies, but he left clean wounds for you to heal.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Akari rolled her shoulders, grimacing at her spine. “Mine sure as hell didn’t feel clean.”

  “He still had a plan,” Kalden pressed on. “Even when he fled the Aegis. Ashur Moonfire can fight, but that’s not his true strength.”

  Relia nodded, but she still blamed herself for Elend and Irina’s deaths. Kalden saw it in her eyes.

  “You train to know what’s right,” he told her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that means broadening your perspective. Trusting your friends to see the things you can’t see.”

  Relia considered that for a moment, then nodded.

  “So listen to us.” He gestured around the circle. “Not a single person here blames you for what happened. Everyone’s happy to have you back, and no one wants you to blame yourself.”

  “Least of all Elend,” Glim said. “He told me so, right before . . . ” She trailed off, glancing back at the embers on the plateau.

  “Okay.” Relia drew in a deep breath that shuddered slightly. “But I want you to promise me something.” There was another pause as she gathered her thoughts. “This whole thing with you and Akari . . . the Soul Reapers.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said before—back at the palace. I couldn’t think straight, and I really am grateful you came to save me.” She brushed several strands of red hair from her face.” But I thought about this all day, and . . . I still don’t agree with what you did. How you handled things.”

  “Which part?” Akari asked.

  “My father manipulated everyone.” Relia made a vague gesture toward the west. “The Honor Guard, Master Nightfang, Koreldon City. I get a second chance, but what about them? It’s not fair that you drained their mana to save me.”

  Kalden hesitated. Trask and his friends had attacked innocent people in the streets, including children. No matter how you looked at it, the city was a better place without them. Dain and Rosintar had conspired to kidnap Kalden’s team in the night. So had Nightfang and Chief Trask.

  They all deserved what happened to them, and Kalden had no regrets.

  But what about the Honor Guard defending the Palace Prime? Did his team have the right to take their mana? He’d never even asked that question until now. And by the look on Akari’s face, neither had she.

  Kalden let out a long sigh that misted in the cold air. For all his progress, Kalden was still just a stronger version of his past self. And as usual, even Masters couldn’t see their blind spots.

  “I mean it,” Relia said. “We can’t just trample anyone who stands in our way. Then we really are no better than my father. We’re trying to save our homes, right?” She glanced around the whole circle when she said this. “We can’t do that if the whole world is afraid of us.”

  Kalden wasn’t sure he agreed; his team planned to disrupt the status quo, and that would always bring enemies. Fear was also a useful tool. Easy to quantify and control.

  But he could still appreciate the sentiment. In some ways, this was just like the qualifying rounds back in school. He’d been ready to win the game with poison, no matter the cost. But Relia had stopped them, and the team was better for it. You could outgrow your enemies, but the right friends would grow with you.

  “She’s right,” Zukan’s voice rumbled like distant thunder. “I always thought I would challenge my cousin for control of Creta. Kill him in combat, take the throne. Now I’m not so sure. Killing the old Dragonlord won’t end the civil war. It might even make things worse.”

  “Exactly.” Relia leaned forward. “What if we’re doing what our enemy wants? Not my father—the real enemy. As long as we fight each other, nothing in this world will change.”

  “It won’t be that simple,” Kalden said. “We’ll still have enemies. Things will never be as clean as we want.”

  “I know,” she said. “Just . . . promise me we’ll do better, okay? Promise we’ll be the good guys?”

  “What does that mean?” Kalden asked. “In practical terms, I mean.”

  She considered before meeting Kalden’s eyes again. “You say you want to propel your friends forward, but you do that by crushing your enemies. “Then she turned to Akari. “You train for Mastery, but you drain other people’s power to get it. None of that sits right with me.”

  “Not like we always get to pick,” Akari said.

  Arturo cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “You fought a Mystic yesterday. I don’t care how much he held back—that should be impossible. What’s the point of all that power if you play by other people’s rules?”

  Despite everything, Kalden felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The Golds back on Arkala said something similar, but they’d used it to justify their heinous actions. This was the opposite.

  “Excellence isn’t a gift,” Zukan rumbled from his corner of the gazebo. “It’s an obligation. If you can do better, then you must.”

  Kalden glanced at the dragonborn. “Who said that?”

  “Elend did.” Zukan's expression was unreadable in the shadows, but his voice carried a note of respect.

  Relia smiled for the first time that night. “So no more wearing masks and striking in the night. No more draining mana from people just because we need it.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Glim said. “I know Elend believed in you. All of you.”

  Kalden exchanged a look with Akari, then inclined his head to Relia. “Then we’ll do better next time.” He glanced back at the snowy plateau where the last of the embers remained. The wind died down, as if the mountain itself were listening. “For Elend and Irina.”

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