Morning came too quickly. Kael woke to the sound of rain against his window, a rare occurrence in Valcrest where weather was usually controlled by Fragment manipulation. The rain meant one of the Weather Conduits had failed to maintain their assigned patterns, or more likely, had decided to let nature run its course for once.
The training grounds were muddy when Kael arrived. The other students stood in loose formation, their training clothes already soaked. Calista was back from the medical wing, her arms still wrapped in lighter bandages but her expression fierce. She caught Kael's eye and gave a subtle nod. Damian stood near the back, his shadows coiling restlessly despite the early hour.
And there, at the front of the group, was Malek.
The instructor looked the same as always: hard-faced, with the compact build of someone who had grown up fighting. His Mark was visible on his neck, a black pattern that resembled thorns. He surveyed the assembled students with obvious contempt.
"I understand there was an incident during my absence," Malek said, his voice cutting through the sound of rain. "A student died because he was not adequately prepared for the challenges of Conduit life. This is unfortunate, but it is also instructive. The weak die. The strong adapt. Which of you will be which?"
Kael felt Calista tense beside him. The casual dismissal of Marcus's death, the complete absence of responsibility or remorse, was stunning even by the Tower's brutal standards.
"Today's exercise is simple," Malek continued. "You will spar in pairs. No Fragment abilities allowed. Pure hand-to-hand combat. First blood ends the match. I will be observing to assess your technique and conditioning." His eyes swept across the group and landed on Kael. "Varen. You'll spar with me first. Let's see if the time thief has learned anything useful."
The other students moved back, forming a loose circle. Kael stepped forward, his heart rate accelerating. This was not a coincidence. Malek knew about last night somehow, or suspected something, and this was his way of testing Kael's loyalty and resolve.
"No Fragment abilities?" Kael confirmed.
"That's what I said. Or are you already so dependent on your borrowed time that you can't fight without it?"
Kael removed his jacket and took a fighting stance. He had been in plenty of fights growing up in the Rust Quarter, though usually against other foundry workers over food or space or perceived slights. He was not trained, not really, but he was quick and he knew how to take a hit.
Malek moved without warning, his fist driving toward Kael's face. Kael barely dodged, feeling the displacement of air as the blow passed within an inch of his nose. He countered with a low kick aimed at Malek's knee, but the instructor shifted his weight and the strike glanced off harmlessly.
"Pathetic," Malek said. "Is that how they fight in the Rust Quarter? Like children?"
He pressed forward with a combination: jab, cross, hook. Kael blocked the first two but the hook caught him on the side of the head, sending him staggering. His ear rang and he tasted blood. First blood. The match should be over.
But Malek did not stop. He advanced, raining blows on Kael's guard, driving him backward through the mud. Kael blocked what he could and absorbed the rest, protecting his head and ribs as best he could. The other students watched in silence, no one willing to point out that the match should have ended already.
"You think you're special because you got a rare Mark?" Malek's voice was venomous as he continued the assault. "You think the Tower will protect you? You're nothing. Just another lower district rat who'll be dead within a year."
Kael's vision blurred. He could feel his Mark heating up, his power responding to his distress, offering him an escape. All he had to do was reach for it. Stop time for just a second, create an opening, turn the tables on this bastard who had killed Marcus and was now trying to kill him.
But using Fragment abilities was forbidden in this exercise. If Kael broke that rule, Malek would have justification for whatever punishment he wanted to inflict. It was a trap, and Kael could see the calculation in Malek's eyes. The instructor was trying to provoke him into using his power.
So instead of reaching for time manipulation, Kael changed tactics. He stopped trying to block and defend, and simply dropped low, diving forward into Malek's legs. It was graceless and desperate, but it worked. Malek toppled backward into the mud with Kael on top of him.
For one brief moment, Kael had the advantage. He drove his elbow toward Malek's face, putting all his weight behind it. But Malek was faster and more experienced. He rolled, reversing their positions, and suddenly Kael was the one on his back in the mud with Malek's hands around his throat.
"Weak," Malek hissed, squeezing. "Just like your mother. She died weak too, didn't she? Wasting away in some hovel while you watched?"
The words penetrated through Kael's oxygen-deprived haze. Malek knew. About his mother, about the circumstances of her death. Which meant he might know about the experiments too. Might even have been complicit in them. The rage that flooded through Kael was different from anything he had felt before, white-hot and all-consuming.
His Mark blazed to life, and without conscious thought, Kael reached for his power.
Time stopped.
The world froze around him. Raindrops hung suspended in mid-air like crystal beads. Malek's face was locked in a snarl, his hands still pressing on Kael's throat but no longer moving. The other students were statues, caught mid-breath, mid-blink.
Kael shoved Malek off him and stood, sucking in air. His throat ached where Malek's hands had been. He could feel the debt accumulating already, a weight settling across his shoulders, but he did not care. The debt was worth it.
He looked at Malek's frozen form and felt the urge to hurt him, to make him suffer the way Marcus had suffered, the way his mother had suffered. It would be easy. In stopped time, Malek could not defend himself. Kael could break bones, could end this permanently.
But Calista's voice echoed in his memory: It won't bring Marcus back, and they'll kill you for it.
And Saphira's warning: We can't afford to lose you before you're fully trained.
And his own realization from last night: Killing one person won't fix anything.
With tremendous effort, Kael stepped back from Malek's frozen form. He took several deep breaths, feeling the time stop straining against his will. He could not hold it much longer. Already the edges of the freeze were starting to flutter, reality trying to reassert itself.
Kael grabbed Malek's collar and dragged him several feet to the side, positioning him so that when time resumed, the instructor would be off-balance. It was petty and would not change the outcome of the fight, but it was something. A small act of resistance that would not get Kael killed.
Then he released the time stop.
Reality snapped back into motion. The rain continued falling. Malek stumbled forward, suddenly finding his target gone from beneath him. He caught himself before falling completely but looked disoriented for a moment.
Kael was back where Malek had left him, on the ground with mud soaking through his clothes. He made it look like he had just managed to wriggle free during Malek's moment of imbalance. The instructor's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but there was no way to prove what had actually happened.
"Enough," came Saphira's voice. She strode into the circle, her expression thunderous. "The exercise was first blood, Malek. That should have ended two minutes ago. Or have you forgotten the rules you set yourself?"