Akari’s cousin stalked out of the ring without another word.

  Glim said.

  No sooner had Kaito left the circle than a middle-aged Grandmaster retrieved Akari’s fallen tooth and gestured for her to open her mouth. She did so, and the man replaced her tooth with a flash of bright green mana. It felt strange, but not painful. Just a sharp pressure as things fused back together.

  Akari ran her tongue over the tooth, and it seemed good as new. She’d been ready to make a portal back to Yutakai if she couldn’t find a decent healer in camp.

  Another technique healed her cuts and scrapes, and Akari thanked the healer in her best Shokenese.

  With that done, she approached the wooden throne at the arena’s opposite end. Her grandmother rose to her full height this time, which was a head taller than Akari. A silver Veilcord wrapped around her slender arms, and her tattoos extended all the way down to her exposed stomach.

  Kira put her back to Akari and walked through the wet sand toward the transparent mana wall behind her throne. Every step was graceful and unhurried, like a cat strolling down a beach. Then she raised a hand and ripped open a hole in the mana wall—at least thirty feet in diameter. The tides crashed on either side of the opening, but no water spilled through.

  “You see those islands?” Kira pointed a weathered finger through the opening.

  Akari stepped up beside her and squinted through the hole. The storm clouds churned in a massive blue vortex, and the tides rose and fell like breathing mountains. No islands, though.

  Her grandmother let out a long sigh, then flicked her hand at the distant storm. The clouds parted to reveal a golden glow amid the blue chaos. Even the tides flattened for a brief moment.

  “See them now?” she pressed.

  Akari activated the zoom function on her glasses and spotted several chunks of floating stone, dark against the setting sun. “Yeah, I see them.”

  “Good. Be a dear and take us there.”

  Akari had never shot a Missile into the Inner Sea, but she understood the basic theory. The currents would pull the technique off course, but her channels were more than capable of fighting back. Even from ten miles away.

  A portal opened on a distant stone island, then a second portal split the air in front of them. Her grandmother stepped through without comment. The wind tugged at her white hair, but not nearly as hard as Akari expected. She must be suppressing the storm with her aspect.

  “Let’s go, girl.” Her grandmother waved an impatient hand. “We don’t have all day.”

  Glim said.

  Akari said.

  ‘ ,’ Glim corrected. ‘.’

  ‘.’ Akari took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.

  The island itself was about ten feet in diameter, its rough surface slick from the tides. Several other islands floated nearby, more than fifty feet above the water’s surface. Each one spun lazily through the air, indifferent to the surrounding storm.

  The sky was a swirling vortex of deep blue, stretching from horizon to horizon. Rays of golden sunlight pierced through a sliver in the west where the clouds met the tides. Everything felt alive out here—even the air itself.

  Then Kira’s protection vanished without warning.

  The rain hit Akari’s face like a volley of frozen needles. The wind struck her like an Archangel’s fist, threatening to rip her off the island. She dropped to one knee, grasping for handholds in the smooth stone. Her fingers found nothing. No cracks, no ridges. She formed a blade of pure mana and tried to cut a hole, but the stone refused to break.

  The wind surged harder, catching her body and twisting her around. Panic flared in her channels as she Cloaked herself on pure instinct.

  Just then, a massive tidal wave loomed over the island. So tall, it blocked out the sun.

  A dome of portals wrapped around Akari’s body, but they shattered as quickly as they formed. Maybe her grandmother had broken the technique. Maybe it was the storm itself. She couldn’t say for sure.

  The water burned like liquid nitrogen as it washed over her. Her channels recoiled as the raw mana forced its way in.This continued for several long seconds until her grandmother’s Construct snapped back into place.

  Glim said.

  Akari struggled to move again. The wind and tides seemed to have a will of their own, forcing her body to shut down against her will. And this was only ten miles offshore? How bad would the Storm Garden be?

  ‘Glim asked.

  Akari replied. She got to her feet and glared at her grandmother through strands of wet hair.

  Kira hummed in consideration as she made a slow circle around her. The older woman was also dripping wet, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Your body is adequate. Where did you train?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “K-Koreldon University.” Akari pushed her soaked hair back from her face, fighting to keep her teeth from chattering. She’d faced winters in Espiria that felt warmer than this.

  “No, no.” Her grandmother waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve clearly trained in nature. Where?”

  Akari drew a sharp breath through her nose, tasting salt and ozone. “My teacher sent my team to Vordica. Back when I was still an Apprentice.” Elend’s pain machine had also played an important role in her training, but Akari kept that to herself. Kaito had already mocked her use of computers and alchemy, and the others seemed to share his disdain.

  “Good,” her grandmother said. “Most Espirians would shy away from that. Perhaps Elend Darklight wasn’t a complete fool.” There was a short pause. “Tell me about Emeri.”

  Akari had spent all day imagining this conversation, but she’d never pictured it happening here, on a floating rock in the middle of a mana storm. She peeled off her wet hoodie, tossed it into her backpack, and pulled out a fresh one. “You remember her?”

  “I remember having a daughter—a time artist. I thought I lost her in the Storm Garden.” Kira’s voice was casual, as if they were discussing the weather. Probably an act.

  “She died when I was thirteen,” Akari said in a low voice. “Never even mentioned the Storm Garden.”

  “How did she die?”

  Akari shrugged. “Do you remember your Mystic advancement? The sea of stars, and the golden throne?”

  Her grandmother’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in her dark eyes.

  “It was ,” Akari said. “My parents were Mystics, but they never swore the oath. Guess Mr. Golden Throne didn’t like that.”

  Kira grunted in response. “How did they advance without swearing the oath?”

  “They left the planet first. Advanced somewhere in the Abyss. Don’t ask me how—they never told me. Didn’t even know she was a Mystic till after she died.”

  Her grandmother nodded but didn’t press for more. Just as well; Akari didn’t feel like sharing with a stranger. Even if that stranger shared her blood.

  The older woman spread out her hands. “What do you want from me, girl? Did Kenzo send you here?” Her tone was still light, but her eyes told a different story. She clearly cared about this question, and she gave it her full attention.

  Fortunately, Akari didn’t need to lie. “Kenzo doesn’t know I’m here. He wanted me to join Kalden in the Shadow Garden.”

  “And you’d rather enter the Storm Garden?” Without waiting for an answer, Kira spun toward the western horizon. Fine. There it is—the only War Garden with no borders or guards. You don’t need my permission to enter.”

  As if it were that easy.

  “I’m guessing I won’t last long on my own?” Akari asked. This wasn’t admitting weakness—just being realistic. Besides, power wasn’t enough to succeed in the War Gardens. Each clan had to follow a specific path, and those paths weren’t public knowledge.

  “Good guess,” Kira replied. “You might have my blood, but you’re still unfit for my clan.”

  Akari resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Need me to fight the rest of the grandkids first?”

  Kira ignored the comment as she stepped closer. Her eyes raked over Akari’s outfit—black hoodie, fitted jeans, and leather combat boots. Then she reached out a weathered hand and flicked the black frames of her glasses. “What’s this? Something wrong with your eyes, girl?”

  This time, Akari made no effort to hide her annoyance. “You’ve never seen glasses before?” When her grandmother didn’t reply, Akari continued. “I have myopia. Nearsightedness.”

  “I know what myopia is, girl. Why haven’t you fixed it?”

  “Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” Akari glared up at the older woman. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “I take it back,” Kira said. “Your teachers were fools, after all. Your body is strong because you pushed yourself. Your eyes are weak because you chose comfort over training.” She gestured back to the glasses. “Then you paid the price.”

  “I was born this way. My mom has the same problem.”

  “You’re saying it runs in the family?” Before Akari could answer, Kira gestured to her own face. “Where are glasses, girl?”

  “There’s plenty of science to back this up,” Akari retorted. “Sorry I don’t pray to the storms, or whatever tribal bullshit you’re into.”

  Her grandmother laughed at that. “You think your way is better?”

  “Everyone thinks their way is better. They’d change their minds if they didn’t.”

  Kira gestured down at her own clothing. “I killed a shiraga to take this skin. I skinned the creature and worked the leather myself. I also built the tent I sleep in. Killed the food in my stomach.” She gave Akari’s outfit another long, disapproving look. “Who made your clothes, girl? Who killed your food? You don’t even know, do you?”

  Akari crossed her arms. “Feel free to get to the point soon.”

  “What is science?” Kira asked. “Humor me.”

  Akari gritted her teeth and stared at her grandmother for several long seconds. “Observations and experiments.”

  “Whose observations? Whose experiments?” Kira stepped closer, and Akari could smell the storm on her. “You didn’t test your eyes yourself. You didn’t read the research. You just believed what you were told.”

  “From two centuries of experts.“

  “ Tell me, girl—what did the experts say when you were trapped in the Archipelago?”

  Akari closed her mouth.

  “They had their observations,” Kira continued, circling her now. “Their experiments. Their conclusions. And where would you be if you’d listened?”

  This lady was surprisingly well-informed for someone who lived in a tent. Kenzo claimed the other Mystics knew about the Archipelago, but he hadn’t shared the extent of their knowledge.

  A look of triumph flashed in her grandmother’s dark eyes. “Sounds like you do whatever suits you, girl. You say your way is better, but you’re the one shivering and squinting right now.”

  “Maybe,” Akari said. “But we both know I could’ve beat Zell Kaito if I wanted to. And he’s a total hypocrite with those healing tattoos.”

  More importantly, her mother had reached the Mystic realm, while Kira’s other two sons were still Grandmasters. But Akari had kept that argument to herself; no sense pulling her mother back into this argument unless she absolutely had to.

  “You’re a competent fighter, that’s true.” Kira gestured toward the western horizon. “But can you beat the Storm Garden? Can you bond a kyrin and fly into the Uzumato?”

  “What’s a kyrin?” Akari asked.

  Her grandmother pointed upward as a pack of creatures soared above the island. They looked like dragons, but leaner—built for speed rather than power. Their scales were the deep blue of storm clouds, with patterns of white that looked like frozen lightning.

  “Those are kyrins,” she said. “Every Corded in Clan Zell is a kyrinshi—a kyrin rider. We bond the creatures for life—display their patterns on our skin.” She gestured to her face markings for reference. “We need their help to enter the Uzumato.”

  “But what about the other clans?” Akari asked. “They don’t bond kyrins, but they still get Corded in the Storm Garden.”

  Kira shook her head in disgust. “They built pathways through the storm to keep their young Masters safe. Stairways that lead straight underground.” She gestured out at the western horizon. “Do you see any bridges here, girl?”

  “No,” Akari said.

  “That’s because Clan Zell follows the path of our ancestors. We endure true hardship, and we emerge stronger than Shirin or Kazaru.”

  Lano Kazaru held the Iron Helm, so things weren’t as clean-cut as her grandmother pretended. Even so, having her own storm dragon sounded way too awesome to pass up.

  “How do I bond a kyrin?” she asked.

  “That’s a clan secret, and you’re not part of my clan. Not yet.”

  Akari let out a long sigh. “You’re saying I need to bond one, but you won’t tell me how?”

  Her grandmother shrugged. “You’re the one who showed up here unannounced.” Then she cocked her head to the side, giving Akari a long look. “You really want my advice, girl?”

  “Of course.”

  “Enter the Garden empty-handed.”

  “What? Like . . . no weapons?”

  “,” her grandmother repeated the phrase more slowly, as if explaining a simple concept to a slow child. “No equipment. No food or water. No glasses.” She paused, studying Akari’s reaction. “You can learn the way of the storm, or you can pay the price.”

  Support the story on Patreon and read ahead!

  https://www.patreon.com/davidmusk