The Heartwood Chronicles

About a week later, most of Heartwood, it seemed, had ended up in the Shattered Valley.

Cradled between two long rocky arms, the narrow valley lived up to its name. Loose stones spread across the mouth, larger boulders among them. Deeper in, spires of rock thrust up from the valley bottom. The place was shrouded in shadows, still untouched by the weak morning light.

Amber stood upon the flat top of a rock formation the size of a kickball playing field and shivered in the cold, thin air. The currents in this place favored the Torou mages, being odd and unpredictable. Down on the valley floor, a wind moaned. The hair at the back of Amber’s neck rose. It sounded too much like a gigantic beast shifting in its sleep. She leaned against the silfyl next to her for comfort as much as warmth.

A mixed group of mages and silfyl gathered atop the rock. Lisette, Troi, and Kael all looked tough and competent, seemingly unaffected by the landscape that so unnerved Amber. Their suns, however, burned hotter than usual. Was it battle-readiness or a physical response to the bleak environment?

Whatever it was, Amber didn’t have it. She was cold and grey, sick to her stomach and regretting her promise to Master Zoya.

Who was not even here. Mistress Blunkett had accompanied their team this morning. Her hair was misbehaving worse than usual; pulled by the wind from her messy ponytail, it stuck up around her head like a spiky reddish halo. She was not, however, in her customary sportwear, and the whistle around her neck was missing. She looked incomplete.

Amber dragged her attention away from Mistress Blunkett’s appearance and tried to focus on her words.

“And here’s the map of the area…” Rocks rolled around the Mistress’s feet, rearranging themselves. Three turned bright blue, one became a vibrant red, one a violent purple.

“We’re here.” Mistress Blunkett tapped the red rock with her foot. “Each of the crystals is on a blue formation, and the end point is the purple rock. The first team to collect and bring all three of their crystals to the end point wins. Any questions?”

Lisette asked, “Have the Masters of either school placed any spells to make this run a little more interesting?”

Wind blew Mistress Blunkett’s hair into her mouth. She swiped it away, shook her head. “No. It’s up to your opponents to outrun you—or stop you. Be on your guard.”

“Can the Torou group destroy our crystals if they get to them first? Or can we destroy theirs?” Troi’s look was hard.

“That’s against the rules.” Mistress Blunkett smiled, a crescent of malice on her usually open and jolly face. “You cannot directly affect the other team’s crystals.”

Kael grinned.

“Also”—Mistress Blunkett tapped a milky-white stone pinned to Kael’s tunic—“these crystals will darken as you take damage. When they turn black, you’re out of the competition.” Amber touched her own, the stone smooth under her fingers. A complex knot of runes nestled within its pearly shell. It pinpricked when her senses grazed it.

“What’s the plan?” Lisette turned to the boys. “Break up and each go after a crystal? Can we get there faster than the Torou mages?”

“You and I could, maybe,” said Troi.

“I’m better off taking on and eliminating the competition,” said Kael. “Starting with that kid, Pod.”

Amber shivered, remembering Pod’s the ability to deprive the air of movement. Of cold and darkness and the pattern withering as it drained of vitality. Perhaps Kael was right. His magic was all heat and motion. He’d be a good foil to Pod.

“Of the two we know, Doua and Pod, the boy’s the more troublesome,” said Troi. “Okay, Kael, you’ve got him.”

“Who are the other two?” wondered Amber. “Do you know?”

Troi shook his head. “They weren’t on the participants’ list. Well, neither were we. The journeyman’s division is run differently.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” muttered Amber. She peered over her shoulder, eyes squinting against a sudden sharp glint of morning sunlight. Tiny black figures moved across rock formations—the younger students had already begun.

Tai was among them. He had astonished the Masters by buckling down and successfully passing the Magical Ethics exam in one short week.

Master Zoya was also at the starting point, along with the urbane, ever-smiling Shai Daan. Amber was glad she didn’t have to greet him this time. She’d skulked behind the other students while he announced the beginning of the tournament.

Creep.

The Headmaster was back at Heartwood. According to the other students, he didn’t leave the place much.

To her left was a tall outcrop. The Torou team was hidden from view behind it. Their magic was a distant smear to her senses, fuzzy and distorted. She couldn’t make out any individuals.

“What about Amber?” Lisette looked over at her.

“She can come with me,” said Kael, with the easy assurance of someone who loved a good fight and assumed everyone else did, too.

“No.” Mistress Blunkett shook her head. “Amber will go with Troi, as Cinbar said.”

Kael and Lisette looked at Amber, then at Troi. His expression could be best described as resigned. “That’s right. Amber can’t do what she’s supposed to back here. Or can you?”

He doesn’t have to look so hopeful about the possibility, Amber thought sourly.

The pattern in this area was strange, parts of it dense and buried deep in the rock while the rest stretched sparse and thin and unanchored in the cold air. Yet it skewed, as if something deeper in the valley pulled it closer.

“No,” Amber admitted. She’d sent ghosts ahead of her, loose and light knots of spellwork, but without knowing what to look for, they’d dispersed in all directions. Some had reached the ends of pattern threads, flapping in the air, and disintegrated. Others had followed the pattern deep into stone and become stuck. The few that returned had given her no clear information, only confused impressions of dark humps half-submerged in sheets of darker water; rays of distilled light piercing cool, shadowy chambers; a green scent, sharp and strangely familiar; thick knots in the pattern that she couldn’t tell were mage-made or natural.

She had to go deeper, see for herself, refine her search.

“There you go, then.” Dismissing the issue of Amber, Mistress Blunkett checked her cryst. “Less than five minutes to start. Prepare yourselves.”

“I’m going here.” Lisette pointed at the blue rock farthest away from their position. “Kael, you follow behind for backup, if needed. Otherwise, go for this middle rock here. Troi and Amber, you’ll be slower than us, so take the nearest crystal.”

Troi jerked his chin downward, face expressionless. Amber smoothed down the fabric of her mist cloak, familiar spells tingling against her palm, and nodded.

“If we want to win, we have to keep pressing forward,” Lisette went on. “We may have to leave people behind. Use your best judgment everyone.” Somehow, without meaning to, the four of them had gathered around the map of rocks in a loose circle, Mistress Blunkett standing apart with the silfyl and staring at her cryst.

“Two minutes,” she announced.

Amber looked down at the map and made a quick impression of it in the weave of her mist cloak. A number of ready-made spells glowed within it.

She hoped they would be enough.

Kael walked over to the edge of the rock and flexed his knees, suns slowly spinning to life. Lisette closed her eyes, light haloing around her. Troi stood moodily with his arms folded, but he, too, was preparing his magic.

His sword and knife were sheathed at his side. Amber felt them come alert, in that weird way magical artifacts had. Alive-but-not-yet-alive. Strong lines of single-minded purpose.

For these weapons, it was to serve their master even if they broke.

Amber clutched fistfuls of her mist cloak and drew the pattern close to her in sleek lines. Her stomach fluttered.

“And go!” The command was loud, sharp.

The contestants’ pearls flared. Lisette’s metal wings snapped open as she leapt into the air. Light flashed along them as she rose higher, wheeled, banked hard, shot across the sky. Kael launched himself into the void, rebounded off the tall outcrop, and landed on a smaller formation. He raced to its edge.

Winds, cold and biting hard, streamed around Amber. “Let’s go,” Troi said, and air swept her up and flung her into the fray.

 

The trip was short—too short. The spell Amber had practiced with Troi and Master Cinbar, a sort of silken net that reduced drag, worked well. She was practically blown all the way to the nearest crystal pickup.

Two figures were already there.

Of course.

A wave of air burst over Amber and Troi, breaking them apart. It slapped into Amber’s side, sending her spiraling away into the sky, leaving her breathless. Patterns in her mist cloak burned bright, slowing and stabilizing, just as Troi’s air magic grabbed her once more and dumped her onto the rock. The impact jarred her knees. Amber grimaced.

Troi’s landing was far more elegant, his magic stretching out in whips all around him. They clashed with sheet after sheet of air, ripping the attacks to shreds.

“Naia,” he said. “Of course it would be you.”

“That’s my line. It’s just my bad luck to be dragged into the mess you created.” The girl wasn’t fooling around. Brow furrowed, lips pursed, Naia launched yet another attack, a broad bludgeon of moisture-laden air. The edge of it, heavy and silky, washed over Amber, standing well back from the duel.

“You really should go home,” commented Troi. “You’re overmatched, and you know it. How soon until you run out of power?” His air whips snaked out, always in the right place at the right time, deflecting Naia’s spells, darting through the gaps, striking at the girl.

A sheen of sweat covered her face. The pearl on her tunic had turned grayish.

“Isn’t your friend here going to help you? Or is he just waiting his turn?” Troi’s gaze shifted from Naia to the other air ninja.

He blanched. For a fraction of a second, his suns went still, his winds dropped. A smothering mass of air rolled towards him.

Amber lunged, grabbing the pattern she’d been reinforcing, throwing up a woven barrier.

It was good enough to withstand that one attack. The barrier disintegrated as energy coursed through it, but gusts of wind pufed out harmlessly in all directions.

Naia panted, a hand pressed to her side, her pearl as grey as her face.

Troi’s hand was clenched around his sword hilt, his gaze fixed unblinkingly at the unknown newcomer.

Amber sucked in a breath.

Troi was handsome, but this Kaidan man—older than they were by a couple of years—had the beauty of classical statues in white marble. No emotion showed on his chiseled face; his dark eyes held their secrets close. His open coat was long and wide-sleeved, in shades of blue shot through with silver thread, and a long sword hung on his belt. Behind the light shielding that most mages maintained at all times, he thrummed with an ocean depth of power.

Beside this demi-god, Troi looked young and frustrated and very human.

“Naia,” said the newcomer, his glance flickering from the girl to Troi. He spoke a question, but in Kaidan so Amber could not understand it.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Troi, harsh as a crow. “Brother.” He spat the word as if it were a curse.

Brother! Amber looked from one to the other, making out the resemblance.

Troi’s brother turned his back, a crystal in his hand. He spoke again to Naia, tone dismissive.

Naia cast a worried glance at Troi, whose eyes were fixed on his brother. Splotches of color appeared on his cheeks.

Don’t, Amber begged silently. Let’s just get the crystal and move on. There it was, still setting in place on the pedestal erected by the Masters. Let’s win this thing.

“Aivaan!” yelled Troi. “Don’t you ignore me like that.” His unsheathed sword flashed into his hand. A ribbon of magic curled around the blade as he launched himself at Aivaan, almost too fast for Amber could follow.

She didn’t see Aivaan make a move, but there he was, facing Troi, his own sword flickering out. The two blades met with an explosion of air that pushed Amber back a step. Naia swayed, but remained in place.

Aivaan called over to her in Kaidan. With a nod, Naia backed away towards the edge. Her suns, quicksilver and surprisingly delicate, rippled. She lifted her arms, and a great current of air began to move in a circle around the rock formation, trapping them in.

Troi unleashed a flurry of attacks on his brother. Aivaan deflected them all with an economy of movement that reminded Amber of Master Cinbar.

“Since when do you take orders from him, Naia?” Troi shouted. “Do you really enjoy being an Irekai minion? For the Protector’s sake, think for yourself sometimes!”

Naia said nothing, her face strained with more than just the effort of the spell. The conflict between brothers seemed to weigh heavily on her.

“And you!” continued Troi, hair and eyes wild, moving like a demon, wearing himself out, the stupid fool. “Are you all right with what the elders did to Grandfather?”

Aivaan’s sword gleamed a deep blue. An icy wind screamed as it arrowed right at Troi. Troi ripped out his knife, raising both weapons up to defend himself. The wind drove him back several steps.

Aivaan said, each word precise, “I am more our grandfather’s grandson than you ever were or will be.”

Air gathered around him, ruffling his air, flapping his coat. It swirled thickly around his blade, became a vortex of howling violence. It pulled at the air currents, dragging them into itself.

Troi breathed, “The Stormsword.” Awe filled his face, quickly followed by a grim, unwavering determination. He lifted his weapons in salute. “We still fight.”

“As you will, you fool,” said Aivaan. Did he sound a little tired?

A look of pain crossed over Naia’s face. Amber scanned the pattern of her spell, a twisting river of deep blue threads and deeper blue nodes. Fluid and flowing, it nonetheless held its shape better than the darting flicks of Troi’s magic.

She saw what it was doing. Keeping them in, yes, but that was only a side effect. Its main purpose, though, was to prevent the air within the battle sphere from escaping out into the thin valley atmosphere. As Aivaan commanded more and more wind to wrap itself, spinning and whining, around his blade, it was Naia who let it in through her barrier and kept it from rushing out again.

Now if I can only take her down…

Ignoring the twin cyclones of Troi and his brother as they clashed and whirled in steel, sparks, and storm, Amber probed the pattern around Naia. Her spell was far too strong for Amber to dismantle quickly, but the wind mage at the end of her rope. A little nudge in the right direction…

Tiny knotwork spells skittered up and down the air ninja, mischievous, impish. Alarm widened her eyes. For several moments, she held herself stiff, then her shoulders twitched, hunched in. Naia doubled up, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “Ow, make it stop! It tickles.”

Amber permitted herself a smile. They never see that coming. Naia squirmed, losing her grip on her spell. It wavered, losing form, shedding puffs of air. Amber helpfully twitched a few pattern threads, and the entire spell disintegrated.

A gale blasted across the top of the rock formation, sending Naia sprawling and Amber to her knees. There was a gleam of pale sky, then a twisting curtain of darkness descended upon them all. It grumbled and roared and shrieked in Amber’s ears, blasted grit and dust into her face. Wind buffeted and flapped and rushed, pushing her aside as it funneled and compacted around Aivaan’s sword.

Electricity and magic danced along the blade, its metal showing in gleams every now and again. Troi, face dead white and slightly sick, held up his own naked blades, ready to fight to the bitter end.

Uh oh, thought Amber, spitting out hair and blinking hard. The wind had dropped, leaving her feeling like one big bruise. Her ears ached with cold and silence, and all her muscles had turned to trembling jelly.

Naia sat up, hair and clothes disheveled. “Dummy,” she called out to Amber. “That spell keeps summoning and sucking up air. The atmosphere’s going to get really thin in this valley!”

“Yeah, but can he keep it under control?” Amber shot back. The pattern stretched thin around Aivaan and his sword, tense and trembling. “Even I know that air moves into a vacuum. He’ll really have to focus to keep in shape.”

Aivaan’s mouth thinned into a slash of a line. Troi sent a brief, tired smile in Amber’s direction, leaving her open-mouthed in surprise.

The brothers clashed again in spark-crackle and wind-whirl. A shower of rocky specks pattered over Amber. She skittered backwards near Naia. “I’ll just stay back here, I think.”

“Feel free.” Naia sat with her knees drawn up, hugging them to her chest. Her suns were dim and quiet. “That was a nasty trick there, by the way. Well done.”

“Thanks.” Eyes narrowed, Amber watched as Aivaan pushed Troi back, step by relentless step. A pit opened in her stomach. I think we’re going to lose this one.

Author’s Note: Whew! This monster episode clocked in at 3,000 words, and the Chronicles as a whole is now over 50,000 words with a lot of story left to go. By the way, I think I’m going to have a lot of fun writing Naia. Enjoy, and please leave feedback! I’d love to hear your thoughts. 🙂

Amber paged through the encyclopedia, stopping every now and again to scrutinize a sketch or skim through a section.

A stack of anatomy books lay on the table by her elbow. Last night’s work in the infirmary had highlighted her woeful lack of education on the subject. Since she had always believed pattern manipulation stopped at another person’s skin, Amber had never deeply studied the way it threaded through veins, fanned into muscles, pulsed with every beat of the heart.

Last night had defied, yet again, her presumptions about magic.

Her lack of knowledge had held her back. Afraid of accidentally harming Flavius, she’d done only the most rudimentary of magic, supporting Master Kristoff as his magic threaded and stitched the boy’s worst injuries.

I have to do better. I need to know more.

 And so Amber had made her way to the library, currently presided over by a zealous underling in the Librarian’s absence. The Librarian—the way he pronounced the title always included the capitalization—was on a mission to hunt down rogue magical books.

Amber glanced up at the airy, light-filled chamber, wondering what the missing Librarian was like. So much of the bright spellwork in this place must be hers, each rune almost a music note, the whole string of them almost dancing across leather spines and pale wood. Scents lingered in the dry air—cedar, ink, and paper.

The library extended beyond this room, though. She felt the weight of those other, more dangerous books, tucked away in a honeycomb of cells. Despite their denseness, though, they didn’t drag on the pattern and give Amber a headache. The Librarian had done her job well.

Amber’s gaze swept over the other two occupants of the library. Sitting at another table, Tai was bent over a battered Magical Ethics textbook, brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Amber permitted herself a small grin.

At the main desk, Tomas raised his head from the book he’d been reading and gave Amber a suspicious glare. Gaunt and hard-eyed, hunched over in his shapeless black robe, he resembled a scraggly crow. His suns were inky blotches, splashes of power shining darkly. The occasional black stitchery that Amber noted in the library must be his spellwork.

She smiled at him, but Tomas’s eyebrows only twitched together in response. He gave a loud sniff and re-occupied himself with his book.

Amber was sure, though, that he still watched her. It wasn’t personal, she’d been told. The responsibility of running the library—or so went the common wisdom at Heartwood—weighed heavily on the assistant.

She returned to her own book, a reference volume that detailed the known flora and fauna of the continent. Kael’s words last night had piqued an uneasy curiosity in her. He really had, Ainsley assured her at breakfast, been raised by an indigenous people of the continent. Amber didn’t know much about them beyond what she’d read in breathlessly sensationalized penny dreadfuls. After collecting as many anatomy books as she could carry, Amber had pulled out this reference book.

The section on native sentient species was woefully thin. Amber stopped at a line drawing of a humanoid creature with harsh, almost avian features. The face was long and narrow, with sharply-defined bones and deep-set eyes. It was harder to tell with the shading, but the hair looked more like… feathers? Or were those scales?

Amber recalled the shell-like feathers in Kael’s hair. Eagerly, she turned to the description of the karth.

Not much was known about them. They appeared to be nomadic, but it was hinted they had settlements much deeper inland. They were friendly enough to humans in a remote sort of way. Like many species, they had melted back into the areas of wilder magic as humans colonized the coastal areas. It was assumed that their bodies had a greater tolerance for what was known as the Chaos—that swirling, ever-changing area of dangerous magic that blanketed most of the continent.

Amber nibbled at her thumbnail, deep in thought. Perhaps this explained why Kael was so strong, even my Heartwood sun mage standards, if he’d been living in the outer bands of the Chaos all his life.

What about his real family, though? How’d he end up with the karth?

I could just ask him.

Kael was easy to talk to. He’d opened the conversation in the first place. But how would she pick back up again, without looking like she was prying? So, Kael, I was thinking about what you said…

Amber rejected that conversational starter. She didn’t want to appear too eager to know his past—not after Flavius and Lisette and Troi and all the things they didn’t want to talk about.

Thank goodness I have a normal family.

The ones that are alive, anyway. Amber closed the encyclopedia with a final thud that made Tomas look up and frown.

She left that book on the table—Tomas has made it clear he didn’t trust anyone but himself to reshelve books properly—and scooped the anatomy volumes into her arms. Tomas checked them out with much sniffing and smoothing of pages and petting of spines. When he finally surrendered them to her, it was done reluctantly, as if he were forced to give up his own children.

“Have a nice day,” said Amber with a socially polite smile. Tomas bobbed his head in response. Tai in his corner hadn’t looked up at all during this time, so deeply was he entangled in the thorny tangle of magical ethics.

Amber left the library, her arms full of books. Within a few steps she realized she’d overestimated how much she could safely carry. The pile shifted precariously, and Amber stopped to wrap pattern threads around it.

Too late. The topmost volumes began sliding. Amber made an instinctive move with her chin and one arm to stop them falling. A hard corner bit into her jaw, a gap widened at the bottom of her hold. The pattern fluttered crazily as books crashed to the floor.

“Great, just great.” Amber muttered as she knelt down to gather books. She half-expected Tomas to appear in the corridor, waving his arms like great unkempt wings and pronouncing her unfit to check out library books.

Footsteps sounded behind Amber as she hoisted herself back up to her feet, this time securing her pile with magic.

Someone plopped a book down on the top of the pile. “You forgot this.”

“Um, thanks.” Amber leaned away from the man. He was a stranger, this Kaidan in a dark, expensive, Ravin-made business suit. She had never seen him before. Was he another one of the Masters?

The man smiled at her. His teeth were white, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. It was a charming smile, so why did it leave Amber cold?

Ah, that’s right. The smile didn’t reach his watchful dark eyes.

“Young lady,” he said, “perhaps you could direct me to the exit? I’m afraid I’m hopelessly lost in this warren.” He raised his shoulders in a slight, self-deprecating shrug.

Amber found the helplessness hard to believe. No one with that unconscious air of authority and the power behind those shielded suns could be stumped by a Heartwood corridor just meekly lying in place.

I can hardly say so, though. But I’d better not allow this guy to wander around here. “We’re not far from the lobby. If you’d follow me…?” Without waiting for an answer, she set a brisk pace lobby-wards. The Kaidan man, with his longer stride, easily kept pace with her. His skin was white and smooth, but there was a heaviness to his face. Despite the jet-black hair, she guessed he was older than he looked.

Amber rounded the last corner and opened her mouth to direct the man towards the lobby, now in sight at the end of the hallway.

Her books wobbled dangerously again. The Kaidan man steadied the pile, just as Amber hitched the heap up higher in her arms. His knuckles brushed against her chin, sending a tingle across her skin. Amber jerked her head back from that too-intimate touch.

“Careful,” said the man softly. The air darkened and wavered around him, as if infused with smoke. “Little girls like you shouldn’t take on more than they can handle.” His large, white hand still rested against the books, twin pinpoints of oily light flickered in his charcoal eyes.

Amber’s throat constricted. Implied violence hung thick in the air; almost she caught suns spin to life in dark, cyclonic twists. Like the Kaidan’s hand, the air pressed down on her, pinned her into place.

“Master Daan!” A voice, sharp and concerned, broke into the scene. Like a vapor, the menace dissipated, the aggression fled, the atmosphere snapped back into place. As the Kaidan man—the headmaster of Torou Academy—turned to Mistress Blunkett, Amber was tempted to believe she had just imagined the last couple of minutes.

“… so sorry for the mix-up… this way, please…” Mistress Blunkett fussed over Daan while the man flicked invisible lint off his immaculate sleeve.

“Not to worry, madam.” Daan favored the woman with another one of his suave, entirely fake smiles. He didn’t even look at Amber as he went off with the teacher. Mistress Blunkett, however, gave Amber a quick glance, her eyes flickering in a get-out-of-here gesture.

Mistress Blunkett, Amber realized, didn’t like the man—and was thoroughly rattled by him, too.

And so am I. Tension thrummed through her body. She was aware that her arms shook, and the nasty prickle across her jaw indicated he’d poked her with some sort of magic. The spell had completely disappeared, leaving no trace of its intent on the pattern.

I’m rattled, though Amber, and I’m angry! What does he mean by coming here? Is he trying to disable the competition? In such a ham-handed way?

No, Daan had something else in mind. Amber thought back to the last ten minutes or so. She sucked in an indignant breath.

And he made the books fall in the first place! Just so he could get close to me. The jerk! What is his game?

The cryst in her pocket chose this time to emit a series of chimes. Startled, Amber lost her hold on the anatomy texts entirely. Once more, books thudded to the floor. Amber pulled out the cryst. Red notifications crawled all over its surface.

“What?” she exclaimed out loud in the empty corridor. “Extra training sessions with Master Cinbar and Troi all week?”

With a grimace, she pressed the Accept button. Her intensive schedule would keep her too busy to ply Master Kristoff with all the questions she had.

Then, remembering the look in Daan’s eyes, his power and malice, her hands tightened around the cryst.

I need to get better. Quickly.

Because Torou has it in for me and that was probably the only warning I’m going to get.

Author’s Note: I meant to jump right into the tournament at the Shattered Valley–even started the episode there–but quickly realized I should have a transition scene to wrap up a few threads from earlier and set up the next act better. This is a shorter episode than normal and probably full of typos, for which I apologize in advance. I ran out of time to look it over. 

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. A scanty contingent of Masters sat at the head table. Both Master Zoya and the Headmaster were missing. Rumor had it that they were in talks with the Torou staff. The wilder speculation was that said talks were actually duels. Amber rejected that notion entirely.

Some of the students who had been involved in scuffles that day were back, surrounded by peers eager for details. They were all fine; Flavius was the only one still in the infirmary. Kael reported that the boy was in magically-induced sleep and stable for now.

Troi had not reappeared.

“Imperators, that’s serious business.” Lisette stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken. “I don’t know how we’d do, going up against them.”

Kael nodded. “We’d have to give it our best shot, if they come for Troi.”

“Hold on, you two!” Amber shot them both a glare. “You really don’t think you’re going to spark off some kind of war with the elite forces of Kaidan, are you? Imperators are an internal matter. You could get Heartwood—maybe the whole township of Carradia—into serious hot water if you go picking a fight with them.”

“Yeah, we’d better let the Masters handle them,” said Lisette.

“Masters Zoya and Cinbar could probably take them on just fine.” Kael dug his spoon into his pudding and looked entirely too happy about the prospect.

“Kael.” Amber was having a hard time not rolling her eyes dramatically, Naia-style. “I’m sure they’ll look for a diplomatic solution first. And if they can’t find one—well, are they really going to put the entire school in jeopardy for one student?”

Both Kael and Lisette looked at her as if she’d grown two heads.

“What?” asked Amber, irritated. Sometimes Heartwood students acted as if they were the sane ones.

“If Heartwood doesn’t stand up for one of its own when it gets tough, then why are we all even here?” Lisette gestured around the room. “Look at us. We’re outcasts, misfits, orphans. We’re here because there’s no place for us in our own families, our own villages.” Her eyes were bright and her voice fierce. Kael put a hand on her arm. “No other magic school would take us, and any other place would only use and abuse us. Open your eyes, Amber.”

Lisette got up, blinking furiously. “Bathroom,” she announced. She hurried away, knocking against benches as she did so.

Amber turned to Kael and demanded, “What was that all about?”

“Bad memories.” Kael shrugged. “Sorry, Amber, it’s not my place to share Lisette’s story.”

“How about your own then?” Amber asked. “Are you one of those, then—an outcast or an orphan?”

“Eh.” Kael stretched and stood up. “You could say so, but it’s a matter of attitude, too, isn’t it? I don’t really see myself as either. Want me to get you some dessert? Chocolate cake okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he sauntered away to a sideboard groaning under a cornucopia of sweet foods.

He completely ducked my question! Now that Amber thought about it, she knew next to nothing about anyone’s past.

A door at the end of the hall opened, and Master Zoya swept in. In an instant, all eyes were on her. Conversation died immediately.

Master Zoya stood in front of the head table. Her face was tight, and her expression could only be described as fed-up.

You could’ve heard an ant crawling about in the silence that fell over the hall.

“If I can have your attention,” began Master Zoya unnecessarily. “No doubt everyone is aware of the altercations that have taken place between Heartwood and Torou students today. Those have now come to end. The staff of both schools are taking these incidents very seriously, and rest assured, appropriate punishment will be meted out. No one, and I repeat no one is to take matters into his or her own hands. Is that understood?”

Her gaze raked the room.

“Furthermore,” went on Master Zoya in that tight, brittle way, “I want everyone here to remember that we are guests in Carradia. Brawls between schools is distressing to the townspeople. When mages fight, ordinary people suffer. Don’t forget how much stronger you all are.”

Amber glanced around the room, uneasy. Every single mage here was stuffed full of magic. Their suns were strong and glowing. Even though they wore sober expressions, did they really understand how fragile normal people were?

And I’ve forgotten this as well, living among them, going off on hare-brained schemes. Amber shivered. Pattern mage or not, she wouldn’t survive a fall off a building the way a sun mage would. Her defensive magic required intentional spellwork, unlike the way a sun mage’s magic naturally protected his body.

Master Zoya exhaled. “Perhaps we have not made enough allowances for the competitive nature of you young mages.” Her expression became even more wooden. “The Principal of Torou has proposed—and the Headmaster has accepted—a friendly tournament between our two schools.”

What? Amber blinked. A surprised buzzing broke out in the hall.

Kael slipped into place next to Amber, sliding a plate loaded with chocolatey goodness in front of her. “She doesn’t look too happy about this, does she?” he said. “Eat up.”

“Why?” Amber whispered back. “Why’d the Masters agree to this hare-brained scheme?”

“To keep the peace, most likely. Torou Academy’s run by the Kaidan government—this could turn into a nasty international incident if it’s not defused. If Torou’s making a peace offering, best not to slap them in the face with it.”

Kael the diplomat? This was new. Amber was so busy being half-impressed that she missed Master Zoya naming the time and place of the tournament and most of the list of Heartwood participants.

“And the top division will be our journeyman mages against the Kaidan Whispering Winds,” Master Zoya went on. “Representing Heartwood are Kael, Lisette, and Troi.” Kael, busy stuffing his face, gave a quick wave of cheerful acknowledgment. Amber turned around and saw that both Lisette and Troi stood at the back of the hall, flanking the door. They wore identical expressions of grim determination.

Master Zoya’s gaze searched the room, found Amber. “And rounding out the team, for support, Amber.”

Amber jumped and squeaked. “Me?”

Kael turned to her with a grin. “Lucky break for you, Amber!”

Amber could only stare at Master Zoya. Has she lost her mind?

 

Zoya and Cinbar’s older son, the cheeky twelve-year-old Amber had first met in the breakfast hall, opened the door to her later that night. “Oh, it’s Amber. Here for some intensive weapons training? You’ll need it.”

Tai meant no harm—there was no malice in those laughing blue eyes—but Amber could’ve cheerfully throttled the kid. And she liked him even—he’d certainly livened up the Magical Ethics seminar Amber had taken with Mistress Blunkett. Apparently, he was the youngest student to take the class; given what she’d heard of his antics, he certainly needed it.

“Tai, are you being rude to your mother’s guest?” Master Cinbar emerged so suddenly and quietly from the gloom that both his son and his pupil jumped.

“Amber knows I’m only funning, Father,” said Tai. “Don’t you, Amber? You’re so lucky, though. Wish I was going, too.”

“Pass your Magical Ethics class first, and then we might consider you,” said his father. He tousled the youngster’s hair. “Now go to bed. It’s late.”

Master Cinbar nodded at Amber. “Zoya’s in her study. Down the hall, take a left. It’s the door to the right.”

“Ah, thank you. Good evening, Master Cinbar, Tai.” Amber followed Master Cinbar’s directions, apprehension digging a pit in her stomach. It was never pleasant to be called in by a teacher after school, especially to her house at night. What in the world could Master Zoya want that couldn’t wait until the morning?

Maybe she wants to tell me that my being in the tournament was all a mistake. Cheered by the thought, Amber tapped carefully on the wooden frame of the sliding door and entered at Master Zoya’s quiet command.

Master Zoya’s study didn’t match Amber’s expectations. For one, the room was almost entirely empty of books—and indeed much else. There was little furniture—a low table, a small writing desk, one chair, each piece carved with an elegant simplicity. A few pictures hung on the walls, painted in delicate brush strokes. Tatami mats covered the floor, and a faint scent of tea hung in the air.

But what really caught Amber’s attention was how exquisitely the pattern was balanced within the room. Spells hummed at the very edge of her hearing, buried so deep that Amber couldn’t make out what they were for. From the way the pattern spread out from them, a few objects were clearly foci: a chunk of quartz, a lantern, a set of wind chimes.

Master Zoya herself sat behind the low table, set with teapot and cups.

Amber realized she’d been staring unabashedly and stammered out a greeting.

A twinkle danced in Master Zoya’s eyes, but her face was grave enough. “Please sit, Amber.” She indicated a sage floor cushion.

Awkwardly, Amber removed her sandals and padded over to sit carefully on the cushion. This put her at eye level with Mater Zoya, not the most comfortable of positions. Even her quick survey of the room had shown her, once again, the controlled power that lay within the woman.

Master Zoya poured tea, dark amber liquid steaming in the handle-less cups. She was dressed informally, in what was obviously a house robe, her hair loosely put up and held in place by a single hair stick, its handle shaped like a dragon.

Amber barely breathed, afraid to break the silence. Master Zoya took a sip of her own tea and closed her eyes, as if savoring the beverage. Amber followed suit with a cautious sip. The tea was more bitter than she liked, but there was no way she was going to ask for milk and sugar.

Master Zoya said, “I expect you have questions.”

For a moment, Amber’s mind went blank. Then, “Why did Torou Academy propose a tournament, of all things?”

“Ah.” Master Zoya placed the cup on the table, her fingers still curled around it. “Because it suits their principal’s purposes. What those are, I couldn’t tell you. Shai Daan always did hold his secrets close.”

“You don’t think it’s just to make peace, then?”

“I do not.” Master Zoya’s gaze was turned inward. “I expect it has to do with the suggested location—the Shattered Valley. Do you know of it?”

Amber shook her head.

“It’s north of Carradia, in the mountains. Serepentina claimed it a long time ago and only holds it because no one had bothered to challenge it. The Valley is”—here Zoya paused—“an odd place. It is certainly not a place for farming nor mining nor anything much else.”

“Magic, though?” Amber leaned forward.

“No more, no less than any other place on the coast.” Master Zoya’s smile was wry. “We have explored it several time. But perhaps we don’t have the right kind of sight.”

Now Amber understood her role.

“That’s right,” said Master Zoya. “I’m sending you there to watch, not fight. See what the rest of us haven’t been able to. Keep an eye on Torou’s movements. Shai Daan is up to something. I don’t need to be a mind reader to be certain of that.” Something dark flickered over her, the atmosphere in the room tightened. Did Amber catch a glimpse of her suns, dense as thousand-year-old shadows, smooth as obsidian? She couldn’t be sure.

To her surprise, Amber found herself nodding. “All right. I’ll do it.”

Master Zoya favored her with a small smile. “Thank you. I know we’re asking a lot out of you, especially since you just joined. I’m afraid I’m not the only Master who requests a favor from you tonight.”

Amber tilted her head inquiringly.

“Master Kristoff would like your assistance in the infirmary.”

“He’s back?” All those other questions bubbled up inside Amber. Finally!

“Yes, but his patient needs all his attention—and yours.”

“Flavius.” Anxiety knotted in her stomach.

“If you could do anything for him,” said Zoya gently, “we would be most grateful.” She bowed her head, the gesture humbler than Doua’s empty obeisance.

How could she say no to this woman who expected such goodness from her? “I don’t really know what use I’ll be,” said Amber frankly, “but I’ll try.”

 

Three hours later, as Amber stumbled yawning and bleary-eyed through darkened corridors in the main Academy building, she nearly tripped over Kael’s legs.

“What the–?” She peered at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” He rose to his feet and fell into step beside her. “How’s Flavius?” They reached an unlocked side door and Kael pushed it open. Gravel crunched under their feet as they crossed the courtyard in the dim white light of crystal lamps.

“Well.” Amber thought a minute. “He’s back to his human self, at least, for now. He’s no more unstable than normal.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and grimaced. She was looking forward to a soothing cup of tea, a warm-pack on her aching head, and a long sleep.

“Hmm.” Kael glanced at her. “It really does bother you, doesn’t it? Humans transforming. People having abilities far out of normal experience.’

Amber twitched her shoulders. “I’m not going to let my personal feelings get in the way of Flavius’s treatment, if that’s what you mean. I just think it’s wrong to enable his curse—or magic, or whatever you want to call it. Do you really think this changing from one form to another is healthy for either his body, his soul, or his mind? The more in flux he is, the less chance he has to just be himself.”

Kael put his hands in his pockets and stared up at the sky. The girls’ dormitory loomed above them, all its windows dark. “You may be right.”

“I know I am. I’ve seen his pattern.” Amber fumbled for her key.

“You’d call them monsters.”

“What?”

“My family. You asked me about them earlier.” Kael didn’t look at her. “I was raised by one of the native races of this continent. They aren’t humans.” A ghost of a smile flickered on his face. “They’ve been called demons before. Still are.”

Amber stared at him.

“Good night, Amber.” He sauntered away and was soon swallowed up by darkness.

Author’s Note: We are heading into the Final Act of this arc (at long last!). I have no idea how many more episodes are left, but I hope they’ll be action-packed and suspenseful. How do you like this arc so far? Feedback is super-helpful for when I edit and release the first three arcs in e-book format. 🙂

Amber couldn’t breathe.

The world had gone all shadowy, the sun a distant smudge in a greying sky. Cold crept over her body; tiny flakes of snow fell onto the sand. She struggled to pull in air, but it all seemed to have gone elsewhere.

The pattern, too, greyed, fast losing vitality. It crumbled to pieces, drifting down like ash. On the ground at her feet, the Torou boy shivered and gulped for breath.

She could barely hear him, the sound tiny in this suddenly strange world. The sea prowled the edges of it like a restless beast. If only she could reach it, if only she could gather up its magic!

A figure stepped onto the beach. A boy, thought Amber as her vision wavered. How is he doing this? The deepest stillness was wrapped around him like a dark cloak. How is he surviving this?

A flare of energy surged across the sand. It flooded Amber with light and warmth; she gasped, found she could breathe again. The greyness vanished, the frost evaporated. The sound of the sea crashed against her ears.

Kael.

The sun mage faced the newcomer, every muscle tensed, poised to attack.

The other shorter boy said, “Oops.” A sheepish expression crossed his face. He raised his hands in a placating manner. “My control over that spell isn’t very good, I’m afraid.”

Amber stared. He had nearly killed everyone on this beach, and that’s all he had to say? Troi made a sharp movement, then restrained himself. He had gone a greyish white, and his wounds were stark against the paleness.

“Get good,” said Kael, “before you use it again.” His face was the sternest Amber had ever seen it.

“Quite so,” said the boy mildly. Like his magic, he was odd. His features were distinctly Kaidan, but his complexion darker, like milky coffee. His hair was light and curly. He wore a grey open-fronted tunic, belted at the waist, sleeves rolled up to his elbows; wide-legged trousers; and sandals. “But you know, I can’t have you further damaging these students.”

He indicated the prone or gently moaning air ninjas. Seven Torou Academy students, all worse for the wear.

One of them raised his head out of the sand and snarled at the newcomer, “Stay out of this, ksai.” Amber didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded particularly nasty. Troi knelt and looked at the younger boy in the eye. “You’re not any better, kid.”

“And you are a blot on the family name,” hissed the air ninja in the sand. Amber was sure this was the Torou student who’d called her a trophy girlfriend. She decided she didn’t like him at all. “How dare you prance around with our family heirlooms?”

“Because Grandfather willed them to me, coz. You jealous?” Troi raised an eyebrow. “I’m happy to duel you for them. In about a month, when you can hobble about again.”

The other boy drew in a breath to retort.

Amber whipped around. She felt another presence coming—strong suns, air magic, but distinctly feminine.

A Kaidan girl landed on the beach in a flurry of winds, her clothes and hair fluttering artistically. Amber’s hair blew into her mouth. Yuck.

“Pod!” she scolded the part-Kaidan boy. “Don’t go charging off and throwing around weird spells on your own. And you, Shou.” She glared at the unlikeable boy still lying in the sand. “You’ve already made a mess of things. Let your elders deal with it now.” Apparently, she had plenty of ire to spread around—or else, she just liked scolding people indiscriminately.

Troi got to his feet. Annoyance flickered over his face. “Naia. What are you doing here?”

Kael’s eyes widened at the name. Amber noticed how carefully he stepped out of the picture and came to stand next to her.

“What’s going on?” Amber whispered.

“Just watch,” Kael whispered back.

The girl put one hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows. She was not exactly beautiful, but there was something striking about her all the same, with those high, broad cheekbones, dark long-lashed eyes, full lips, and curvy figure. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s time for you to stop playing around, Troi, and come back home.”

“Did you instigate all this, Naia?” Troi gestured at the beaten air ninjas. “Roughing up Heartwood students to lure me into the open?”

“Oh, please, Troi. When do I need to skulk around you? No, Shou did this all on his own.”

Shou spat blood-stained sand out of his mouth. “This is an Irekai matter. Kentai needs to stay out of this.”

Amber’s eyes widened. Even she had heard of the Irekai family of Kaidan. I had no idea Troi was a member of a First Family.

“Unfortunately, Kentai is very much part of all this,” said Naia with a sigh. “What this dolt does reflects on us, too. After all, I am engaged to the idiot.” She gestured towards Troi, in case there was any doubt as to which idiot she referred to.

Whaaaat? Amber mouthed the word at Kael. He shrugged.

This was becoming more and more like a melodrama.

“A promise made between our families when we were just children.” Troi bit out the words.

“And binding on us as members of First Families,” Naia shot back. “Great Sea, Troi, are you seriously renouncing your name? In front of all these witnesses?” She swept her arm to indicate the whole beach, as if cliffs and curious seagulls were as much witnesses as the dozen or so people. “You know what will happen if you do that.”

Troi’s eyes narrowed. “Are you here to threaten me, Naia?”

“I’m attempting to talk some sense into you.” The girl sighed again, put her hands on her hips, and looked up at the sky as if asking for heavenly guidance. “As is my duty.”

Amber tilted her head towards Kael and whispered, “She sure is—dramatic.” She could see how the usually cool, collected Troi would have a personality clash with the flamboyant Naia. Even her gestures were flashy, and her clothes, though practical for an air ninja, were brightly colored and decorated.

“We should stay out of this, Amber,” Kael whispered back.

“Agreed.” Even that powerful mage, Pod—and what was that magic?—and the other Torou Academy boys were staying quiet and still, like good little mice, stares flickering between Naia and Troi. Shou, now ignored, scowled.

“You have no duty towards me, Naia,” Troi said. “Like Shou said, this is an Irekai matter. Go home and find someone else to fix.”

Naia rolled her eyes. “I wish I could go home. But I figured I owed your family this favor. Because, you see, if I hadn’t come, then the Imperators would have. This is your last chance, Troi.”

Troi’s fists clenched, then slowly, deliberately relaxed. “They would’ve gone that far.”

“Will go that far, if I don’t return to Kaidan with you.” Naia spread out her hands. “So, which is it to be? Remember that your decision affects more people than just you.”

“Ah, I see. You’re worried about your own reputation being sullied. I knew this would come back to Kentai honor above all else for you, Naia.”

Naia raised an eyebrow. “Kentai honor is not such a fragile thing, Troi. I was thinking about your mother and sisters. Your school here and your friends. Do you really intend to drag them into this?”

Troi was silent for a long time. Then, “No. I do not.”

Amber stifled a gasp. Naia’s shoulders visibly relaxed. Kael’s expression didn’t change.

“Then you’ll come back with me,” said Naia.

“No.”

Naia jerked her head up. She gave Troi a startled look, then shook her head. “You fool. All this because you’re in a rebellious phase.” Her brows drew together. “Do you honestly think you’re the only youth to chafe under authority? We’ve all been there, you know, at some point or another. But at least the rest of us are willing to compromise, instead of burning all the bridges that connect us to our families and our histories.”

“Naia,” said Troi with scathing patience, “spare me the bit-part lines from a second-rate drama. You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you don’t know what’s happened between me and Irekai.”

“If this is about your grandfather…” Naia began.

Troi’s hand flashed to his sword. Anger blazed in his eyes. For one wild moment, he looked like he was about to sweep Naia’s head off her shoulders with his blade.

To her credit, Naia faced him unflinchingly. The air around her and Troi stirred ominously, currents prowling between the two.

“Don’t even go there,” Troi growled.

“You can’t keep hiding from the truth forever, Troi.” Amber admired Naia’s nerve, but the girl really didn’t know when to shut up.

“My lady, my lord,” Pod broke in mildly. Everyone turned to him, Naia stormy, Troi cold, the rest relieved. Amber didn’t know how he dared to interrupt but was glad someone had broken the atmosphere of impending violence around Troi and Naia. “This may not be the best time and place to settle a private matter. Perhaps we should deal with what’s before us for the moment.”

Troi’s brows snapped together as he surveyed Pod. Then realization crept into his eyes. To Amber’s surprise, he bent his head in a quick gesture of agreement and respect.

“I’m done here,” he told Naia. “You want to help? Get these”—he gestured at the Torou boys—“off the beach and back to the Island.”

Troi stalked away, hand on the hilt of his sword, winds eddying about him like a tattered cloak. “Come on, Kael, Amber. Let Naia take care of the trash. I wouldn’t want her to have come all the way here and not have a chance to be useful.”

Naia just rolled her eyes again.

 

Another surprise awaited the trio when they arrived at Heartwood, Troi working off his emotions with a savage pace and Kael and Amber straggling behind.

Actually, Amber admitted to herself, I’m straggling. Kael’s only keeping me company.

Several Torou Academy boys were lined up in the courtyard, facing Heartwood’s main entrance. Amber recognized the three who had attacked Flavius, the injured boy held up by his friends. All of them looked worse for the wear. Lisette stood in front of the doors, arms folded and expression fierce, ready to guard the school all by herself.

The Torou boys were accompanied by a tiny figure. A child? Amber wondered.

But no, it was a girl about Amber and Lisette’s own age, dressed in the same sort of drab clothing Pod had worn. On her, though, they matched her austere beauty. Fully Kaidan, the girl had delicate features, lustrous hair, and soft, dark eyes. In addition, she wore tall wooden sandals and a straw hat with a grey chin-strap. Her sleeves were long and wide, and she bowed deeply with her hands tucked into them.

“We deeply regret,” she was saying as Amber and the boys came within earshot, “what these unworthy boys have done. Please forgive the trouble they have caused. They are young and too much indulged.” Everything about her was correct, from the depth of her bow to the politeness of her diction.

The boys in question didn’t look at all sorry. Most of them wore expressions varying from sullenness to hostility.

The girl straightened, stepped aside, and spoke to them, “Tender your most abject apologies, younglings.”

One of them began, in a whine, “Why do we have to…?”

A flash of magic, a slash of air, quick and savage. The boy winced. Bleeding lines, in the shape of a Kaidan character, scored his cheek.

It had happened in an eyeblink. The pattern vibrated gently in the aftermath.

The girl hadn’t moved at all. Her hands still in her sleeves, her back still straight, she spoke once again, without varying her tone. “Apologize.”

A shiver ran down Amber’s back. Kael’s mouth was tight, Troi’s expression stony. Lisette’s hands had dropped; she stood poised as if to attack. “We don’t need coerced apologies.”

The Kaidan girl ignored her. She looked at the boys with eyes that showed no pity, no anger, nothing that could be called emotion.

The pattern around her was drawn tight, full of strands like fine wires. Wires that were metallic, delicate, almost invisible, and incredibly complex.

The Torou boys fidgeted, giving each other sidelong glances. The one with the bleeding cheek stood staring straight ahead, eyes bright and mouth bitter. Then he knelt, touched his head to the ground, and said, “I am eternally ashamed of what I have done. I throw myself on your mercy.” His voice was edged with acid.

Belatedly, the others followed suit, kneeling awkwardly, their voices a ragged chorus.

Looking sick, Lisette made an impatient gesture for them to get up. “All right, all right. I’m not the one you need to apologize to, but for my part, at least, all is forgiven. I can’t speak for the others, though.”

The Kaidan girl’s brows twitched, just a little. Was there the tiniest suggestion of a crease on her smooth brow? “You are not satisfied?”

She looked quite capable of requiring the Torou boys to flagellate themselves right in front of the school. Amber caught Lisette’s eye and mouthed an alarmed, Say it’s all right! at her.

“It’s all right,” said Lisette hastily. “Let the Masters decide what will happen next. There’s nothing you can do anymore. You may leave, with my acceptance of the apology.”

The girl bowed again, perfectly correct. “My deepest apologies for taking your time with such unworthy boys as these.” She turned to them. “Now you will return with me to Torou.” Her tone was still even, but Amber would’ve cheerfully walked into a lion’s den than go anywhere with that tiny Kaidan girl.

“Wait!” Lisette called out. “Who are you, if anyone should ask?”

“This humble mage is Doua of Haava.” Again the bow. “But I am not worthy for you to remember my name, my lady.” She waited, holding the obeisance.

“I’m not a—” Lisette stopped, uncharacteristically flustered. “Never mind. Please, do go on.” Her tone was just a little too eager. Amber well understood.

She also wanted the unnerving Kaidan girl as far away as possible.

The four Heartwood students watched Doua shepherd her charges, taking small, careful steps in her wooden shoes.

Kael spoke for all of them. “Scary! I think I prefer Naia.”

“I hate to say it, but I do, too,” said Troi. “That was one of the Whispering Winds—she and the boy down on the beach.”

“Who are the Whispering Winds?” asked Amber. “You mentioned them before.”

“They’re the elite youth of the various training academies. They’re the ones who’ll become Kaidan’s topmost battle mages—or undercover operators.” Noting Amber’s blank expression, Troi explained, “They’ll be Imperators.” He looked at Doua’s distant figure. “I don’t know what she and this Pod are doing at Torou, though. Neither of them went there.”

“Her control,” said Lisette, “is something I’ve never seen before. I had no idea anyone could shape air blades like that.”

Kael and Troi both looked solemn.

“She’d be hard to beat in a fight,” Lisette continued. “May the Protector ensure we don’t come to that.”

“But she apologized,” said Amber. “It should be all over, right?”

Kael and Lisette looked at Troi. Tiredly, he said, “It’s a face-saving gesture. Don’t read too much into it.” He brushed past Lisette on his way to the door and called over his shoulder, “I’m going to see the Headmaster now. Don’t come find me for a while.” The events of the day seemed to suddenly weigh heavily on him.

Amber, remembering what Naia had said about Imperators, felt a shadow fall over her. What’s he going to do? she wondered.

Author’s Note: Three new characters this time! Fun fact: Naia was the only new character introduced in the first draft of this. I added Pod and Doua because I wanted to show off more specialized air ninja skills. All three are fun to write, so expect more of them. I hope you enjoyed this episode!