Web of Chaos - Chapter 31: Borrowed Time

Elend sat in the hotel room, watching the shadows lengthen as evening approached. His tablet lay dark on the table in front of him, and he drummed his fingers against its smooth glass surface.

Akari was sleeping off her training session, curled up against Kalden like a protective cat. Zukan dozed on the floor by the window, and Arturo slept in the chair with his computer open on his lap.

“His body keeps fighting the healing,” Irina said from her spot beside Kalden’s bed. The golden rings of her Second Brain spun around her upper body, processing her findings. “The wound keeps closing, but the foreign mana keeps opening it from the inside. Without proper intervention . . .” She trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

“How long?” Elend asked. This couldn’t be too urgent. If it were, she would have interrupted his training session with Akari.

“Days,” she replied. “It will be worse if we’re separated.”

Glim appeared in the window, looking worried. “How can we help?”

“Advancement would be the best cure,” Irina said.

“It always is,” Elend said. “But can he advance in the next few days?”

“In theory. Assuming he finds his revelation by then.”

“No progress on that front?”

She shook her head. “You know how these things go.”

“Aye. Akari’s in the same ship right now.”

“I can buy him more time,” Irina said. “But I need the right equipment.”

“Okay. What are we talking about here?” 

“A Master-level extractor with stasis crystals would be an excellent start. Any decent hospital should have one.”

“Sure,” Elend said. “I can sneak us into a hospital.”

“Yeah.” Glim said from the window. “No one ever died from sneaking in somewhere. Just ask Dain. Oh wait—”

“Glim.” Elend shot her a stern look.

“What? Too soon?” Her smile didn’t fade. “Don’t blame me. Blame the boy who made me.”

“That boy gave you free will,” Elend said. “So I blame you both.” 

Irina cleared her throat. “I’d also need a team to help me operate the equipment. Along with one actual healer.”

Ah, that was trickier. Elend rubbed at his jaw, feeling the rough stubble there.

“The process also takes several hours,” she continued. “And they’ll be watching the hospitals for our mana signatures. I doubt we can just sneak in, even with a goodteam.”

“Any suggestions?” Elend asked.

“Yes. We need to contact the Web of Masters for help.”

“Any other suggestions?” The Web had supported Elend’s mission to save Relia, if only to take a dangerous weapon out of Moonfire’s hands. But the group would be less keen to help the infamous Soul Reapers. Especially now, after they’d killed a member of Moonfire’s Honor Guard.

“Not unless you can contact the Solidors,” Irina said.

He couldn’t. Elend had already tried calling Lena, but she’d probably discarded her phone after Rosintar’s betrayal. Angels only knew how much he’d told Moonfire or the Sons of Talek before they’d attacked the safe house. And if the other cultists were smart, they would all lie low.

“We could contact Kazalla directly,” Glim suggested. “He’s already helping us with the Palace Prime, right?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Elend turned to Glim. “Let’s start with that.” Glim leapt from the window into Elend’s tablet. His contact list seemed to scroll on its own, and the call connected after three rings.

Rodrigo Kazalla’s face filled the screen, his bald head gleaming in the dim light of his workshop. “Elend.” His deep voice carried a hint of amusement. “How’s my nephew?”

Elend glanced over at Arturo in the chair. “Sleeping soundly. How much trouble am I in?”

“You mean aside from those charges of treason, oathbreaking, and dereliction of duty?” The other man ran his thumb and forefinger through his gray goatee. “That depends on who we’re talking about.”

“The only people who matter,” Elend replied. 

“You surprised a lot of of those when you jumped ship in New Sakai. They want to know why.”

“Is this line secure?” Elend asked.

“Secure enough.” Kazalla leaned back in his chair, and Elend caught a glimpse of whiteboards covered in drawings and equations.

“One of my students needs medical attention,” Elend said. “Master-level wound. Irina can extract the mana, but she needs the right equipment.”

He grunted at that. “How soon?”

“We can wait a few days if we have to,” Elend said. “But sooner is better.”

 “And I assume you don’t want the others to know about this?”

Elend shook his head. “That’s why I called you.”

“Alright. There’s a clinic in Garriland we can use, but I’ll need to get a few more members involved.”

“Do you trust them with this?” Elend asked.

“They’re no friends of Moonfire,” he replied. “Send me a list of what you need, and I’ll get things set up.”

~~~

Akari sat in the Ethereal with her father, desperately searching for her revelation. She was so close now. She’d reached the mana threshold, and she’d learned her techniques. Now, just a few words stood between her and the Master realm.

She thought of the people she’d left behind, and her promise to save them. “I train to free the Archipelago,” she said. “To make up for my mistakes.”

Her soul didn’t answer.

She thought of the injustice in Koreldon City, and the corrupt police who went along with it. She thought about it until her blood boiled. “I train for freedom,” she said. “To help people who can’t help themselves.”

Again, no answer.

She imagined taking revenge on the people who’d wronged her. She imagined helping her friends, spreading knowledge, avoiding pain. But her soul didn’t respond. As always, the ideas and words spiraled like an endless whirlpool. These were the same ideas she’d tried last time, and the time before that. She couldn’t but help feel like the next ten times would be the same.

Akari opened her eyes and saw her father sitting in the leather chair across from her. 

“When I’m stuck on a problem,” he said. “I look for the advice I’m most afraid to hear. Your answer might be hiding in plain sight.”

“How about a hint?” she said. “I’ll take anything I can get.”

“What did Kalden say when you dropped out of the Artegium?”

Akari closed her eyes and dug up the memory. “He said I was looking for reasons to justify my power.”

“So?” Her father raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Akari winced. “I really do want to save you, and the rest of the people in Last Haven. And I really did want to help Koreldon City.”

He held up a hand. “I’m not saying you don’t care about those things. Of course you do. I’m saying they might not be the primary reason you train. And maybe you’re afraid to hear that.”

Akari growled under her breath, more frustration than anger. “Then why do I train?” She didn’t really expect an answer, but she couldn’t help herself. “Seems like every answer is wrong.”

He smiled at her. “You just described the same process every Master goes through. Every phrase is wrong until you find the right one. That’s true no matter how many phrases you try.”

She understood that logically, but it still didn’t help in the moment. Some people spent decades searching for the right words. What if she was one of them? What if she was good at combat, but sucked at soul searching? What if she was like all those child prodigies who burned out in a quick flash, shrouding their futures in darkness?

“You’ll hold yourself back if you try to justify your power,” he said. “Only so much power can be justified, after all. It’s okay to want something for its own sake.” 

Akari closed her eyes, letting her mind wander to darker places. People were relying on her, and she couldn’t let fear hold her back. And so she imagined the thrill of battle. The rush of learning new techniques and advancing to new realms. The moment she’d landed that hit on Elend, when everything had clicked into place.

This time, she spoke the words in her head rather than speaking them aloud. She didn’t want her father to hear.

I train for power. Power for its own sake.

Her soul actually stirred at that, like a gust of morning wind on a still pond. Her chest tightened, and a quick surge of lightning flashed through her channels. This emotion was far stronger than the others, but it still wasn’t enough. Akari slumped back on the sofa, frustration warring with relief inside her chest. 

On one hand, those words had almost felt right. She lived for those moments when she advanced as a mana artist; everything else was just a bonus. On the other hand, tyrants and murderers were made in moments like this, and she’d almost crossed a dangerous line.

Akari would never actually betray her friends, and she would die before she let this world get worse than it already was. Then again, what if her soul knew that? What if she was destined to become some force of destruction that used people for her own gains? What if it was that or nothing?

Her father must have seen the worry on her face, because he leaned forward. “Don’t worry. No one’s ever had a purely evil revelation. Not once in all human history.”

Akari raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No one?” 

“Most people believe they’re doing the right thing,” he said. “Think of all the Masters and Mystics you know—even the ones you fought against. Dragonlord Zantano and his siblings wanted to build a better world for their people. They were rebels before they came into power, not so different from you and your friends. They just lost sight of what really mattered to them. The same is probably true for Ashur Moonfire.”

“That’s not helping,” Akari muttered. “And what about psychopaths? Or nihilists?”

He chuckled as he stared out the window. The light was changing now, growing more golden. “You won’t find many true psychopaths in the Master realm. And most nihilists became that way after they advanced.” He turned to face her. “You once said that you’d give up your power to free the Archipelago. Was that true?”

Akari thought about that for several seconds, then gave a slow nod.

“Good. As long as it’s true, you’ll never end up like your enemies.”

“But it could still be my revelation? Power for its own sake?”

“It could,” he agreed. “But your Master revelation is about why you train. It’s not about why you live.” 

“Okay.” Akari bit her lip. “So maybe I train to achieve my goals. For success . . . or victory. To become the best?” She furrowed her brow. “But those all sound so generic.”

“All revelations are the same at their core,” he said. “We train to become the best version of ourselves. There are a thousand paths to power. Our job is to find the path that no one else can walk.”

Akari tried focusing on those feelings of success in her mind’s eye. Some of them felt like a step forward, but the resonance felt weaker than before. She tried focusing on the things that made her unique, like her spacetime mana and her hacking. She imagined herself losing her power and going back to the Archipelago as a prisoner rather than a savior. She even tried focusing on the contrast between those ideas.

As usual, nothing worked. It all led back to power in the end, but power itself wasn’t enough.

“Akari,” he said in a soft voice. His form flickered slightly, just like her mother’s had in their last meeting. At the same time, the edges of reality seemed thinner, and she could almost see the violet mist pressing against the windows.

She let out a long breath. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

“It is. I’m sorry.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and she clasped her hands on her lap. “Any last words of advice? 

He considered that for a moment. “I think you’re still focusing too much on your past.”

Akari clenched her hands into fists. “The Darklights said not to run from the past. I mean—what was the point of all those dreams if I shouldn’t focus on them?”

“The past only has one purpose, and that’s to launch you forward into a better future. It got you into the Artisan realm, but it won’t make you a Master. Cut ties with it and move on.”

“Sure, but what’s that actually mean for my revelation?”

“Who were you before the mistakes and the trauma?” he asked. “What were your very best traits? That’s the core of who you are.”

The scene shifted, and Akari found herself standing in the kitchen of her childhood home. Mazren stood on one side of the room in his blue button-up shirt. Emeri stood beside him with her black-rimmed glasses, white blouse, and floral skirt. The golden light caught the edges of everything, but the walls grew thinner as violet mist closed in around them.

“How much longer?” Akari asked them. 

“Minutes,” her mother said. “Maybe less.”

Akari’s throat tightened, and chills ran up her arms. She’d known this was coming for weeks. But as usual, knowing didn’t make it easier. She wasn’t ready to lose her parents on top of everything else.

Emeri stepped forward, taking Akari’s hands in hers. They felt warm and solid, despite the collapsing dream. “You’re ready. You’ve learned your techniques, and you’re close to your revelation.”

“I wish you could have met Kalden,” Akari said. “Not just through my memories.”

“I met him back in Last Haven.” Emeri squeezed her hands. “Don’t worry, I approve.”

Mazren grinned, moving to lean against the counter. “Personally, I think you could do better if you shopped around some more.”

Akari felt a nervous laugh escape her lips. No one else in this world would put up with her, and they all knew it. “I wish . . .” She trailed off, unable to fit so much emotion in so few words. There was too much to say, and no time left to say it.

“I’ve seen all the best parts,” her mother interrupted gently. “Through your memories. That hit you landed on Elend. The way you fought those Honor Guards.” She shook her head. “You’ve already surpassed what we could do at your age.”

“Wish I were that good with revelations . . .”

“The words will come at the right time,” her father said. His voice carried a strange echo now, as if he were speaking from far away. “You can’t force it any more than we can force this moment to last.”

The light in the kitchen dimmed slightly. Akari felt the dream starting to fray at the edges, like fabric coming apart at the seams. They fell into a comfortable silence, and she tried to memorize every detail. The way her father leaned against the counter. How her mother adjusted her glasses when she was thinking. These little things she’d taken for granted before Last Haven fell. She might see her father again someday, but she would never see both of her parents together. Not like this, anyway.

The walls grew more transparent, revealing violet mist beyond the house. The ceiling began to dissolve, revealing a sky with unnaturally bright stars.

“It’s okay.” Her mother squeezed her hands tighter, and her eyes glistened behind her glasses “You have my techniques, my hopes, and my dreams. Hold on to those, and I’ll never really be gone. Hold on to those, and I’ll consider my life a worthy sacrifice.” She leaned forward, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed the top of Akari’s head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Akari said. “Both of you.” The words felt strange on her tongue. She didn’t say them often, not even to Kalden But if not now, then when?

Mazren stepped forward and put an arm around her shoulder. “Guess I’ll see you soon, kid. Try not to level any islands on your way to rescue me.”

“No promises,” Akari managed.

He winked at her as he stepped away. The kitchen was almost completely gone now—just the three of them standing in a bubble of fading reality.

Then they were gone, floating away like dust caught in an unfelt wind. Like dandelion seeds carried away on a breath. The dream shattered around her. Not violently, but with a soft sigh. The kitchen, the house, the last remnants of her childhood—all of it dissolved into violet mist,

Akari jolted awake in the hotel bed. Kalden’s arm was draped over her waist, and she could hear Zukan’s quiet breathing from across the room.

She stared at the ceiling, waiting for the tears to come. Her eyes burned, and her throat felt tight, but the tears wouldn’t fall. She’d been dreaming of her parents every night for the past few months, living on borrowed time. But the end had come so suddenly despite their countless warnings. Just like the first time she’d lost her mother.

Akari pressed closer to Kalden, drawing comfort from his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breath. She closed her eyes then. Not to sleep, but to hold onto the memory for as long as she could.