Barefoot, blindfold wrapped around his eyes, Caeden slowly stepped through the Dance of the Blademaster.

  The kata had been ingrained into his mind and muscles ever since he had taken his first steps. Blocking his vision did nothing to hamper his execution of the precise choreography, but it was excellent training for [Footwork]. Especially since the ground of his swordmaster’s training area was full of obstacles, from hot coals to random clusters of stalagmites to little pebbles that Elea kept throwing in his path.

  As he neared the end of the first section, a memory flashed through his mind: his stupid, silly charge against Soren after he was baited to lose his temper. Being knocked out for his foolishness. Then, he thought of his little cousin, Tyrus, and he misstepped onto one of the pebbles.

  “Gotcha!” Elea yelled in glee.

  Caeden took a deep breath and walked backward through the minefield of obstacles, retracing his steps back to the beginning. His calves burned, his toes felt an annoying mixture of numb and raw, but he didn’t mind any of that. He did mind that he had gotten his cousin in trouble, and had humiliated himself in the process.

  The first few days he had attempted to visit Tyrus, to apologize for dragging him into that mess, he had been turned away by one of those stern, scary Maids. He was pretty sure at least one of the twins was an Assassin, but maybe he was just having one of his flights of fancy.

  She had told him that Tyr had apparently been grounded for his involvement in the conflict, forbidden from going out to play again any time soon. Strangely, that disappointed Caeden more than anything else about the situation.

  Caeden had some friends around his age, but their relationships were awkward. His status outclassed theirs, even if they were the firstborn of wealthy families or minor nobility themselves. They may suck up to him and act nice, but their smiles never reached their eyes. Sometimes they would talk among themselves, laughing, then quiet down when he approached.

  Probably they weren’t talking about him behind his back, but they sure seemed like it.

  Tyrus had been different. Father had warned Caeden that the boy would most likely have an innately high Charisma from Auntie Alana. Maybe Caeden had been bewitched, but he didn’t feel like that was the case. He’d been fascinated, and excited, sure, but it hadn’t been anything like when he was exposed to Charmers to try and build up his Focus. Even though Tyr was a runt, he had this strangely mature aura about him, like some elfin princeling that had been hit with a Shrinking Curse. There was a burning intelligence in his eyes, a maturity that other kids lacked, though he had also behaved like an excited toddler on occasion.

  For once, Caeden would be the person of lesser status in a relationship, but he could still be the cool older cousin. And he could show that, despite being lower on the totem pole, one could still be friends and offer true support without any sort of envy or giggling behind their back.

  Caeden shook his head and refocused. I’m gonna get strong, and I’m going to march up to his house, and look those big scary Maids in the eyes, and say ‘let Tyr come out to play! I’ll protect him this time!’

  He clenched his hands tighter around the wooden sword and nodded.

  From behind him came the tiniest sound of clapping he had ever heard, followed by a familiar, higher-pitched voice. “Wow, that was pretty impressive, big cousin.”

  What? Am I going crazy?

  Caeden ripped his blindfold off and spun around. Unless he actually was hallucinating, Tyr was standing a bit off to the side as if summoned by Caeden’s thoughts.

  The boy’s legs were spread wide, as if he was attempting to dominate as much space as possible despite his miniature stature. A perfectly-tailored suit added a hint of professionalism to his golden prettiness; this one was navy instead of black, with a fancy purple cravat the color of Dream mana plucked into an ornate arrangement that reminded Caeden of flower petals.

  “I thought you were grounded!” Caeden said, mouth gaping open.

  Tyr tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What? Uh…”

  “I’m so sorry!” Caeden felt all his carefully-prepared words spilling out of his mouth at once in a stumbling mess. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—”

  Tyr held up a hand. “I guess the Maids had my back on this one. Maybe I should sing for them sometime or something.” He glanced up and off to the side, then shook his head and refocused. “Anyways, that’s not true. I wasn’t grounded. I was also feeling kind of…stupid after what happened. Useless. Instead of being honest with myself and confronting how it made me feel, I kind of ghosted you. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh! That’s fine.” Caeden grinned. “What’s ‘gostid’ mean? Sounds funny.”

  Tyr gave him a weird look, as if he had expected a different response. Had Caeden not given the right answer? He didn’t think he was breaking any of the etiquette his tutors had drilled into him, even if they sometimes said he was simple and straightforward as if it was a bad thing. Maybe he expected some sort of formal acknowledgement or debate? I dunno.

  “Ghosted means…how to explain this.” Tyr frowned. “When you avoid someone because it’s awkward and you want to pretend something didn’t happen.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Caeden nodded thoughtfully. “I do that with my sisters all the time. We usually forget what we were arguing about after a good night of sleep.”

  The jingling of the bells woven into her jet-black hair announced Elea’s arrival. “I never forget!” she declared, hands on her hips. “Hey, Tyr! Hey, Garrett Hightower!”

  Caeden looked around in confusion before glancing back at Elea. She was staring up at the sky. About twenty feet above them, a handsome young man in azure robes was levitating on his back as if he was floating on an invisible ocean. He rotated to face them, waved, and began to descend without a whisper of wind to mark his passage.

  Wow, he has really good control. Guess that’s why he used to be famous, even if he disappeared for a while with Uncle Leon and Auntie Alana.

  “Sorry, Mister Hightower!” Caeden bowed. “I should have noticed you.”

  Garrett’s silken slippers touched the ground as he landed delicately. He ran a hand through his messy hair and shrugged. “Not a big deal. No one ever looks up. And you don’t have to bow or call me Mister. I’m just a commoner.”

  “Well, I still should have noticed your shadow.”

  Garrett looked at him with renewed interest. People did that sometimes after Caeden apparently surprised them. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, kid. Anyways, I was trying to teach Tyr to fly. He wanted to stop by to see you, and I figured you would be here this early in the morning.”

  He knows my routine? Caeden was surprised that such an illustrious figure bothered to know anything about him. His own tutors often didn’t care about any of the particular details of his schedule beyond their own required lessons, and they were paid quite handsomely to pretend to be interested in his development.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He shook the thoughts away and turned back to Tyr. “You can fly?”

  Tyr grimaced and kicked the ground. “Not exactly. I’m learning to control the mana in my Core, but there’s not enough to support me flying. I still haven’t got the hang of drawing in ambient mana either. I mean, I just started trying this morning with Garrett, but still, I thought it’d be easier. Plus, it’s pretty difficult to fly. Not really a surprise I guess, but…sorry, I’m rambling.”

  Garrett cleared his throat. “What he means is, I’m lugging him around to get him used to being up in the air. Technically we were breaking quite a few laws by occupying the airspace above the Undercity, but Leon said it’d be fine. None of these guards can catch me anyways. I’m surprised you didn’t notice us coming, though, even with that blindfold. You could hear Tyr screaming for miles! Kid’s scared of heights, if you can believe it.”

  Tyr shot his tutor a dirty look and adjusted his cravat. “I stopped doing that after the first minute. Anyways, Caeden, I wanted to talk to you about what happened with that Merchant brat some more. Did anything happen? Any consequences?”

  After once more being reminded of the incident with Soren Goldtouch, Caeden frowned and focused in on Tyr’s eyes. As always, the boy’s irises were pitch-black. I kind of feel bad for him. Zero potency on his Bloodline? The chances are so low. I bet he hates it being brought up.

  Once Caeden had reported back to his house, Father had barely seemed to care about what had happened at the park. His biggest concern had been repeatedly asking whether Caeden had noticed anything weird about Tyr’s eyes during the incident. Caeden hadn’t been looking at his cousin much during that time, but Father had been insistent he recall as many details as possible.

  I don’t see anything weird with them?

  “Well, his parents were fined pretty bad,” Caeden eventually responded. “So were the parents of his friends, though Soren’s dad paid for those, too, I guess.”

  Tyr sneered. “Wow, they fined a Merchant, huh? That’s like punishing a fat kid by making them skip breakfast.” After saying that, he frowned as if expecting to be chastised, but Caeden burst into laughter. So did Elea.

  “That’s a good one!” Elea admitted.

  Mischief written across her face, she sauntered forward, hands outstretched as if she was about to pinch Tyr’s cheeks. The boy danced away with surprising speed, then continued waltzing away as Elea pursued him mercilessly. She was obviously teasing him, since Caeden knew all too well she could have caught him in a moment with her Dexterity, but Tyr didn’t seem to realize that in his desperation to escape.

  Eventually, Elea pouted and pretended like she had been foiled.

  Tyr failed to mask his pleasure at his perceived triumph, preening his hair with one hand. He wagged a finger at Elea with the other. “Easiest [Dancing] level of my life.”

  Big mistake. He would pay for that a hundredfold next time.

  “Well,” said Caeden, trying to distract Elea more than anything, even if it was hopeless. She truly never forgot anything. “It’s awesome to see you, Tyrus, but why did you come here?”

  “You can call me Tyr, Cousin Cae-Cae.” The toddler sent one more mocking glance Elea’s way before refocusing. “I’m here because a ‘heavy fine’ is unacceptable. We are going to prepare you for a round two, leading to total domination of our sworn enemies. Everyone loves a comeback story. Well, a lot of people can’t stand the hero ever losing at anything in the first place, but those people are deranged. A comeback story is the next best thing.”

  Caeden took a moment to parse through that. “We have sworn enemies?”

  Tyr slapped the back of his hand into the palm of the other. “Soren Goldtouch and his lackeys.”

  “Oh, right. How am I supposed to beat them? They’re over twice my age. By the time I reach the Second Gate, they’ll have reached the Third. And then they’ll have Classes, so it’ll be even worse.”

  “Garrett is going to soften them up first.”

  “I’m not,” the illustrious Mage interjected quickly.

  “I’m going to send Mindfiends to haunt their dreams until they slowly go insane and become empty husks.”

  “You can do that?!” Elea exclaimed.

  “He can’t.” Garrett thought about it for a second. “Hopefully.”

  Ignoring the Mage, Tyr pointed at Caeden. “You’re going to become an unstoppable killing machine that will make them regret ever having crossed your path.”

  Caeden frowned. “I’m going to become a machine?”

  Tyr clapped his hands together and took a deep breath. “We are going to shamelessly exploit every possible resource to turn you into a legendary spellsword. The first step is beating up some children without any mercy. Of course, I’m going to be a superior Mythical Swordmage and you will be walking in my shadow the rest of your life, but my crumbs will be more than enough for you.”

  Caeden leaned his upper body back a bit and scanned Tyr up and down. “Are you sure? You’re so tiny, though.”

  Tyr clenched his fists, his pale face turning beet red.

  Okay, it’s really funny to tease him.

  “You can’t be serious.” Tyr swiped his hand through the air like it was a savage blade. “I’m going to—"

  “Where’s your swordmaster, Caeden?” Garrett interrupted.

  Caeden grimaced. “Well, he usually has me practice and review what we did the previous lesson on my own for the first two hours.”

  “And how long are your lessons?”

  Caeden smothered the reflexive urge to defend Blademaster Soluro. “Three hours,” he answered in a subdued voice.

  Garrett sighed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what are your main affinities? You don’t have to give me the exact numbers.”

  Caeden thought about it for a moment, but there was no reason to keep it a secret. It was mostly a matter of public record. “I have major affinities in Metal, Lightning, Air, and Water. Minors in Holy, Sanctuary, and a few others that I can’t do much with. It’s okay, don’t worry about me—"

  Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose. It looked like he was attempting to contain his temper, then he failed spectacularly. “Give me a minute.”

  He began to stomp across the training grounds toward the metallic pagoda where Blademaster Soluro and his true disciples were still sleeping in. At first, only a slight wind trailed behind each footstep, kicking up plumes of dust. By the time Garrett reached the pagoda, a small hurricane had kicked up around him, swirls of aquamarine Ocean mana rotating about him within gale-force winds.

  Tyr rubbed the palms of his hands together, a villainous grin creeping across his face. “I’ve never seen Garrett crash out before. He must like you, Cae-Cae. I always figured he was a Pacifist, but maybe not. Or maybe he's just a really bad one.”

  “YOU CALL YOURSELF A BLADEMASTER?” Garrett howled over the hurricane winds. “A TUTOR TO THE HOLLAN FAMILY? I REFUSE TO CONSIDER YOU MY PEER. COME OUT HERE!”

  Blademaster Soluro stumbled out of the pagoda, half-dressed in his faded war uniform, his midnight black blade in hand. The morning sun gleamed off his bald head. His clothes flapped about in the wind as he stepped outside, and he was forced back a step toward the entrance.

  Bloodshot eyes widened as he caught sight of Garrett Hightower. His lips moved, but his words were lost to the wind.

  “I STRIP YOU OF YOUR TITLE OF TUTOR. CAEDEN HOLLAN IS NOW MY RESPONSIBILITY. I CAN NO LONGER ABIDE TO WATCH HIS TALENTS BE WASTED.”

  Tyr nodded in approval.

  Blademaster Soluro, however, appeared to have had enough. His two prime disciples, Lucian and Demos, peeked out through the entrance of the pagoda. Emboldened by their presence, or perhaps attempting to save face, Soluro lashed out with his sword.

  A concentrated arc of Dark and Metal mana swept out from the revered warrior’s weapon. Caeden clenched his fists, hoping that Garrett wasn’t about to be bisected for his insolence, but the energy projection only sliced through the periphery of the roaring cyclone before deflecting skyward.

  A moment later, Soluro was swept up into the expanding hurricane. The winds carried him upward, spinning him about at terrifying speeds. Not enough to truly harm the man, but his sword was torn from his hands and sent flying across the training ground. A blademaster allowing himself to be disarmed was the ultimate humiliation. Well, Caeden thought so, until the man’s clothing was also stripped from his body and sent flying. That had to be worse.

  At least Garrett had the decency to cloak the man’s nudity with a coating of Ocean mana. Caeden couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of his lazy, uptight instructor flailing about despite his attempts to maintain his dignity.

  Tyr was pointing and slapping his thigh, crying from laughter, while Elea just nodded and shoved candied walnuts from her pocket into her mouth. She offered one to Caeden and, after a moment of hesitation, he took it.

  Okay…maybe with their help, I can actually get my revenge…