For three weeks, Kael lived in two worlds. During the day, he trained with the other Conduits in standard combat techniques, Fragment theory, and survival tactics. He learned to read maps of the Fractured Lands, studied the behavioral patterns of common Echo types, and practiced hand-to-hand combat until his muscles screamed. But every evening, after the others went to their quarters or socialized in the common areas, Kael descended to Aveline's chamber of frozen clocks for his real education.
"Time is not what most people think it is," Aveline said during their fifth session, her overlapping voices creating strange harmonies. "They imagine it as a river flowing in one direction, carrying them from birth to death. But time is actually more like an ocean. Deep, vast, with currents moving in all directions at once. Most people float on the surface, never suspecting the depths below."
Kael sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to focus on the meditation technique she had been teaching him. It was harder than any physical training he had endured. The goal was to anchor himself completely in the present moment, to feel time flowing around him without reaching out to manipulate it.
"I don't understand how that helps with the debt," he said, opening his eyes. "If I'm borrowing time when I use my power, shouldn't I just not use it?"
"That would be ideal, yes. But you will use it, Kael. In moments of crisis, when your friends are in danger, when you need to see what's coming or undo what's been done. The power is part of you now, and it will answer when you call." Aveline's wheelchair creaked as she shifted position, and for a moment her form seemed to split into multiple overlapping versions. "The debt is inevitable. What matters is how you manage it."
She gestured toward a small hourglass on the table beside her. Unlike the frozen clocks covering the walls, this one functioned normally, sand trickling from upper chamber to lower.
"Watch the sand fall. Each grain represents a moment passing. Now, think about what happens when you stop time. Where do those moments go?"
Kael studied the hourglass, then reached out with his power, feeling for the current of time around them. Gently, he created a small dilation field around the hourglass. The sand slowed, each grain taking several seconds to complete its fall.
"They don't disappear," he said, concentrating. "They're just stretched. Made longer."
"Precisely. And when you speed time up or create a time stop, you're compressing those moments or holding them static. But time itself continues outside your manipulation. The universe keeps its accounts balanced. So when you borrow five seconds by stopping time, those five seconds must be returned somehow."
"How?" Kael released the dilation field, and the sand resumed its normal pace. His Mark pulsed once, warm but not painful.
"Through your life," Aveline said simply. "Small debts are paid through natural aging. You age slightly faster to compensate. But larger debts require more direct payment. Time stolen must be given back, either through periods where you cannot manipulate time at all, or through experiences where time moves differently for you than for others. And if the debt grows too large..."
She trailed off, but Kael understood. If the debt grew too large, he would end up like her, existing in all moments simultaneously, unable to distinguish past from present from future, barely anchored to reality at all.
"The meditation helps you process small debts as they accumulate," Aveline continued. "When you anchor yourself completely in the present, you're essentially paying back borrowed time through perfect stillness. It's slow and requires discipline, but it works."
Kael resumed the meditation posture, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. The technique was simple in theory: observe each breath without judgment, feel his body's connection to the ground, perceive the flow of time without trying to alter it. But in practice, his mind kept wandering. He thought about the other students, about Calista's progress with her fire manipulation, about Damian's reckless displays in the training yard. He worried about Ronan and Martha back in the Rust Quarter, wondered if they were safe, if they thought about him.
"Your mind is loud tonight," Aveline observed. "What troubles you?"
"Everything," Kael admitted. "I'm here learning to control this power I never wanted while people I care about are still suffering in the districts. What's the point of all this if I can't help them?"
"Ah. The eternal question of those with power: how to use it, and for whom." Aveline's voices took on a different quality, sadder somehow. "I struggled with this myself, long ago. I thought if I could just master time manipulation completely, I could fix everything wrong with the world. Prevent tragedies before they happened. Give people second chances. Rewrite the worst moments of history."
"What stopped you?"
"I tried." The wheelchair creaked again. "I accumulated so much debt trying to save everyone that I lost myself in the process. And I learned a hard truth: some things cannot be fixed by manipulating time. Some changes require different tools: politics, organization, sacrifice. Time manipulation is powerful, Kael, but it's not a solution to systemic problems. At best, it can buy you moments to make different choices."
Before Kael could respond, the chamber door burst open. Saphira stood in the doorway, her expression tight with urgency.
"Training yard. Now. There's been an incident."
Kael and Aveline exchanged glances, then Kael rose quickly, following Saphira back through the winding corridors. His heart hammered as they ran. What kind of incident? Had someone been hurt during training? Killed?
The training yard was in chaos when they arrived. Most of the Conduit students stood in a loose circle around two figures on the ground. One was Calista, her training clothes scorched and torn, face twisted in pain. The other was a boy Kael did not know well: Marcus, from one of the middle district families. He was not moving.
Damian crouched beside Calista, his shadows coiling protectively around her. When he looked up at Kael's approach, his expression was murderous.
"It was Malek," Damian spat. "That piece of filth pushed the drill too hard, withdrew his support when Marcus needed it. Marcus is dead, and Calista nearly followed him."
Kael pushed through the crowd and knelt beside his friend. Calista's golden Mark was flickering erratically, and her breathing came in short, pained gasps. He could see the burns covering her arms where Fragment fire had gotten out of control.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Simulated Echo attack," Calista managed through gritted teeth. "Malek said we needed to learn to handle ourselves without instructor assistance. Marcus's power failed when he needed it most. The Echo projection was too real. It actually hurt him." She coughed, and Kael saw blood on her lips. "I tried to help, but my fire wouldn't stop. It just kept burning."
Saphira knelt on Calista's other side, her hands glowing with Fragment energy as she assessed the damage. "She'll survive, but she needs medical attention now. Where is Malek?"
"Left after Marcus fell," Damian said bitterly. "Probably reporting to Master Aldric that the weakling couldn't handle proper training."
Kael felt rage building in his chest, hot and familiar. This was the system Saphira had warned him about: brutal, uncaring, designed to forge weapons rather than protect people. Marcus had been seventeen years old. Now he was dead because an instructor decided that proving a point was more important than a student's life.
"Help me get her to the medical wing," Saphira ordered, and several students moved to assist. As they lifted Calista carefully, she grabbed Kael's hand.
"Don't," she whispered. "Whatever you're thinking, don't. It won't bring Marcus back, and they'll kill you for it."
Kael squeezed her hand gently, said nothing, and watched as they carried her away. The crowd began to disperse, students returning to their quarters or heading to the dining hall. But Kael remained standing in the training yard, staring at the spot where Marcus's body had been. Someone had already removed it. The efficiency was chilling.
"He's not worth it."
Kael turned to find Damian standing beside him, the shadows around the other boy still agitated and coiling. Up close, Kael could see the tattoos covering Damian's arms were glowing faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his heightened emotions.
"Who?" Kael asked, though he knew the answer.
"Malek. I can see it in your face. You want to make him pay." Damian's voice was quiet but intense. "So do I. So does everyone who was here. But Calista's right. They'll protect him. He's one of theirs, a success story. Lower district boy who embraced the system and climbed the ranks. They love that narrative."
"So we do nothing?"
"I didn't say that." Damian glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. "But if we move against him, it has to be smart. Strategic. Not some emotional outburst that gets us killed or expelled." He paused. "There's someone you should meet. Someone who's been watching you since the Awakening."
"Who?"
"Can't say here. Tomorrow night, after your session with Lady Aveline. Meet me at the north tower's base. Come alone." Damian's shadows settled slightly. "And Kael? Don't use your time powers between now and then. Something feels wrong about today. Like we're being watched more carefully than usual."
Before Kael could question him further, Damian walked away, leaving Kael alone in the training yard with his anger and grief.
That night, Kael could not sleep. He kept seeing Marcus's still form, kept imagining what the boy's last moments must have been like. The fear, the realization that no help was coming, the pain. And for what? To teach the other students a lesson about self-reliance?
He lay in his quarters staring at the ceiling, tracking the slow movement of shadows as moonlight filtered through his window. His Mark pulsed steadily, a reminder of the power he carried. It would be easy to find Malek right now. Easy to stop time, to ensure the instructor experienced the same fear Marcus had felt. Easy to make him pay.
But Calista's words echoed in his mind. It would not bring Marcus back. And more importantly, it would accomplish nothing except satisfying Kael's anger. The problem was not one cruel instructor. The problem was a system that produced and protected people like Malek.
Somewhere around midnight, Kael finally drifted into uneasy sleep. His dreams were fragmented and strange. He saw Marcus alive and laughing, then dead. He saw Malek's face twisted in a dozen different expressions. He saw Aveline sitting in her wheelchair, except she was young and whole, standing in a burning city while reality fractured around her. And through it all, he felt the weight of accumulated time pressing down on him, a debt he did not yet understand.
The next day's training was subdued. Marcus's death hung over the group like a shroud. Even the instructors seemed affected, their usual harsh demeanor tempered slightly. Malek, notably, was absent. Saphira taught most of the classes herself, and she was gentler than usual, especially with the younger students who had witnessed their first death.
During a break, Kael visited Calista in the medical wing. She was sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped in bandages that glowed with healing Fragment energy. The burns had been severe, but the Tower's medical Conduits were skilled. She would recover fully within a few days.
"You look terrible," she said when she saw him.
"Didn't sleep much."
"Neither did I. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him." Calista stared at her bandaged hands. "I should have been faster. Should have controlled my fire better."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I know that intellectually. But emotionally?" She shook her head. "This place is poison, Kael. They're turning us into killers and calling it training. How many more people have to die before we're considered properly educated?"
"I don't know. But Damian mentioned something last night. Someone who wants to meet me. Someone who's been watching since the Awakening."
Calista's eyes sharpened. "Be careful. Could be a test. The Tower likes testing loyalty, seeing who'll break under pressure."
"Or it could be someone who feels the same way we do about this place."
"Maybe." She shifted in the bed, wincing slightly. "If you go to this meeting, watch your back. And Kael? Whatever they offer you, whatever they promise, remember that everyone here has an agenda. Even the people who seem to be on our side."
That evening, Kael went through his session with Aveline as usual, though his mind was only half-present. He performed the meditation exercises mechanically, answered her questions about his debt management with rote responses, and counted the minutes until he could leave.
Aveline, of course, noticed.
"Your anchor is slipping," she said halfway through the session. "You're not fully present. Your consciousness is drifting between moments: here, but also thinking about what comes next, and what happened yesterday. This is dangerous, Kael. This is how debt accumulates without you realizing."
"I'm sorry. I'll focus better."
"No, you won't. Not tonight." Aveline studied him with those unsettling eyes that seemed to see multiple timelines at once. "Something is pulling at you. A choice that needs making. Go. Make your choice. But remember: every path you take closes other paths forever. Time manipulation lets you see possibilities, but it doesn't let you live them all."
Kael left the chamber feeling oddly dismissed but also relieved. He made his way through the Tower's corridors to the north section, a less-used area where older architecture met newer additions in awkward joints and seams.
Damian was waiting at the base of the north tower as promised, his face half-hidden in shadow.
"You came alone?" he asked.
"As requested."
"Good. Follow me. And try not to react to what you see."
Damian led Kael down a narrow stairway Kael had never noticed before. It descended deep below the Tower's main levels, into sections that felt ancient and forgotten. The walls here were rough stone rather than the polished crystal of the upper floors. Fragment-powered lights were sparse, leaving long stretches of shadow.
After several minutes of descent, they reached a heavy door marked with symbols Kael did not recognize. Damian knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice more. The door swung open silently.
The room beyond was larger than Kael expected, roughly circular, with a dozen people already gathered. Most were around Kael's age, fellow Conduit students he recognized from training. But there were also a few older faces, including one that made Kael's breath catch.
Saphira stood at the far side of the room, her arms crossed, watching Kael with an expression he could not quite read.
"Welcome, Kael Varen," said a woman Kael did not know. She was perhaps thirty, with dark hair and sharp features. What stood out most was her left arm, or rather, the absence of it. Her sleeve was pinned at the shoulder. "My name is Morgan Reeves. And we have much to discuss about the true nature of the Azure Tower and the Fragment Council that controls it."