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Taly grimaced. Oops… She scratched her head with the tip of the wand. “It, uh… used to take a lot more heft to get the dummy to move. I’ll have to remember. Anyways. Your turn,” she chirped.

Aimee tore her eyes away and gave a slight nod. “Okay,” she said, mimicking Taly’s stance. Water stretched between her palms, and she kept her elbow locked, raising her arm straight overhead. And when she brought it down, stepping through with the motion—

Water splashed. The dummy didn’t even sway.

“I don’t understand,” Aimee said, crestfallen. “I did exactly what you did.”

“Yeah, except not really. You let your knees tense up and didn’t align your hips with your shoulders. It completely threw off your balance. Do it again. And this time, don’t hold your breath. Your breath is your rhythm. Follow it.”

Aimee hesitated, then squared up her feet to try again.

“Back foot staggered,” Taly said. “You need rotation, not a wall.”

Aimee exhaled, like she was praying for patience, and shifted her back foot a half-step. The whip formed in her hands. Her arm reared back.

Water splashed uselessly.

“No,” Taly said. “Your hips need to pivot with your swing.”

It took three more tries before Aimee managed to successfully keep her hips in line. Another three before she managed to feel out the timing for the snap of her wrist.

Morning stretched into the afternoon, and so did Taly’s patience.

She was ready to call it, already crafting her exit line—something gentle, maybe, about natural affinities and how splashing was a valid skill set.

Then the whip cracked like a gunshot. Water curved clean through the air and slammed the dummy dead center.

Taly let out a whoop from where she’d been lounging on the stairs. “That’s it!”

But Aimee looked less than thrilled, her brow furrowed in frustration and disappointment. “I just thought… it would do more .”

The dummy stood dripping, perfectly intact. No flex, no tilt—the whip hadn’t generated enough force to overcome the resistance in the spring.

“Yeah… That was pretty weak.” Taly shrugged. “Oh well. Just keep practicing. You can only get better, not worse.”

And with that bit of wisdom imparted, she considered herself done—absolved of any and all drunken obligations and free to go on about her day.

She turned towards the stairs.

“Wait,” Aimee called after her. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You promised to help me.”

“I promised to you help you throw a water whip, which I have now done,” Taly said, continuing up the stairs.

“Combat magic requires a basic level of strength and conditioning, and if I had to guess, I would say you’ve never lifted anything heavier than a teaspoon to very delicately stir your tea.

” Aimee rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

“If you want to ruin that poor dummy’s day, lift heavy things.

Get stronger. As Ivain likes to say, you can’t build if there’s no foundation. ”

“So, help me build.”

Taly barked a laugh. “I’m not a trainer. There are plenty of books about strength building in the library.”

“But I don’t want to just be strong,” Aimee called up to her, “I want to know how to survive.”

Something about it, maybe her tone, the edge of desperation, made Taly pause.

“If the shades break through the walls tomorrow, I want to feel like I might have at least some kind of-of… chance. And you,” Aimee said. “You know how to survive. I’ve seen it. I want you to teach me how.”

Taly paused for a long moment. She couldn’t believe she was even considering…

Despite her better judgment, she turned and came back down the stairs to stand in front of her cousin. “That’s the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Aimee’s chin lifted.

“Say please.”

Aimee’s mouth curled. “No.”

“Then no deal.” Taly turned to go.

“Okay— fine .” Taly turned around again. Waited. Aimee took a breath and then glowered through it. “ Please, oh beloved cousin, will you train me? ”

It was grating, reluctant, full of pain—absolute music to Taly’s ears.

She folded her arms. “I don’t want to hear any complaining when your ass is sore and your legs don’t work. You do what I say, eat what I tell you, and if I sense even a whisper of attitude, I’m out. Understand?”

Aimee opened her mouth, saw the take-no-shit look on Taly’s face, and grated out a muttered, “ Fine .”

“Great!” Taly said. “We can start right now. I need to take Calcifer for a run.”

“But I already ran this morning.”

“How far?”

Aimee’s chest puffed out proudly. “To the corner of Adissen and Maine.”

Surprising. Not enough to save her, but still about two miles farther than the zero Taly was expecting.

“That means you’re all warmed up then,” she chirped, enjoying how Aimee’s expression fell. “A nice, easy jog to the Swap should be no trouble. We’ll get you a pair of striders that actually fit while we’re there. I’d like to have those back before you stretch them out with your monster feet.”

Aimee scoffed. “You’re just mad because I don’t need to shop in the toddler section like you.”

Taly placed a dramatic hand to her chest. “Ow.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re not hurt.”

“Not as much as your gargantuan feet are hurting my poor, innocent shoes.”

Kato didn’t get the fuss over the Long Night. Sure, the sun was gone, but that just meant the party kept going.

It was early. Probably. Hard to tell without a sunrise to mark the day. Not that it mattered—time had blurred into a haze of smoke and booze, and Kato was already well into what promised to be a banner day.

The whiskey burned on its way down, chasing off the worst of last night’s hangover, and the mirthroot blunt between his fingers sent lazy curls of smoke into the air.

He took another drag, holding it just long enough for his head to buzz, before exhaling a stream of smoke at the mirror in front of him.

“Good morning, handsome.” He flashed himself a sharp, lopsided grin. His shirt hung open, wrinkled and barely clinging to his shoulders.

The music blared from the corner of the room—some upbeat, brassy nonsense he’d found in one of the ensign’s bunks. Perfect for his current mood of don’t-give-a-fuck. He spun on his heel, the blunt pinched between his fingers as he inhaled deeply.

There was a thump, like the sound a boot would make connecting with something solid—probably the wall. “ C’mon, man, ” said a muffled voice from the room next door. “ Some of us are trying to sleep. ”

Sleep was for the weak and the boring. And it was almost roll call anyway. The Gate Watchers barrack would soon be humming with activity.

Kato caught his reflection in the mirror—shirt hanging open, hair a mess, and a wild energy crackling off him that even the blunt couldn’t dull.

“You look good,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair with theatrical flair. “Not smart. Not clever. But damn, do you look good.”

He spun again. The whiskey bottle in his other hand sloshed with each step.

“What’s the phrase?” he mused, tapping the bottle against the mirror. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…” He trailed off with a bitter laugh, spinning away from the glass and throwing back a long drink. The liquor burned.

He was spiraling. The signs were all there—loud, messy, with no fucks left to give. Just like the gossip rags liked it.

He should’ve been smarter by now. He always trusted the wrong people. It was a pattern, a Shardsdamn curse he couldn’t seem to break.

Maybe his instincts were just rotten, wired wrong from the start. How else could he explain this constant need to bleed from the same wounds over and over? How many knives had to be handed out and subsequently buried in his back before the lesson stuck?

It wasn’t just bad luck. It couldn’t be. No one failed this consistently without something being fundamentally broken.

A throat cleared behind him.

“Holy shi—” Kato stumbled back. “Damn it, little brother. You move quieter than a debt collector from the Sunken Purse.”

Standing in his doorway, Skye merely arched a brow, eyeing the bottle of whiskey in his hand. The room reeked of mirthroot. “Looks like we started early today.”

Kato waggled the bottle in offering. “Want some?”

Skye gave a curt shake of his head. “Maybe after breakfast.”

“Suit yourself.” Kato spun again, nearly losing his balance but not his grip on the blunt, taking another deep pull.

He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and turned slightly, pulling his shirt open to admire the ripples of hard-edged muscle.

“Look at this,” he said, giving his abs a slap.

“That’s what happens when you go a week on nothing but whiskey and spite. Call it the Kato cleanse.”

The music swelled, each note building upon the last. Kato’s eyes lit up as he pointed toward the crystal radio. “Wait—wait for it,” he said, holding up a finger for emphasis. “This part? Absolute perfection.”

It rose and rose, the music practically shouting, Feel something, damn it!

And Kato did. He threw in a spin for good measure, moving with the careless precision of someone who had long since abandoned the concept of shame.

Hips swaying, feet tapping, he launched into an improvised routine—half-dance, half-defiance, all energy.

As the melody peaked, he glanced at Skye, only to find him standing there, arms crossed, his expression teetering between amusement and outright disbelief.

Kato paused mid-spin, whiskey bottle swinging lazily from his fingers as he spread his hands. “What?”

Skye shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just… sometimes I look at you, and I see Taly. I find it… unsettling.”

Oddly enough, that made him feel better. “You know, I think I’ve got a blonde wig around here somewhere. I could really lean in.”

“Why do you have a blonde wig ? ”

“It’s better if you don’t ask.”

The music suddenly cut off with a sharp pop , followed by a faint whiff of burnt ozone. Sparks flew from the crystal radio in the corner, glowing briefly before fizzling out.

A muffled voice floated through the wall. “ Fixed your volume problem .”

Skye leaned against the doorframe. Where Kato’s eyes were smudged with dark circles, his brother’s looked disgustingly bright and rested. His hair was combed instead of sticking up in wild peaks. “Why don’t you just move into the townhouse already? We have plenty of empty bedrooms.”

Kato scoffed. “And have to listen to the sound of you and your lady love consummating your moral superiority day in and day out? No, thank you.” He gestured broadly with his blunt, sending a trail of smoke curling into the air. “I value my personal space.”

If Skye arched that damn brow any higher, it was going to take flight. “More like with proper privacy wards, you wouldn’t be able to inflict yourself on anyone.”

“ Amen, my brother ,” another voice added, low and grudging, filtering through the barracks’ paper-thin walls.

“Oh, you’ve got opinions?” Kato said, banging on the wall as loud as he could. “Well, guess what? I’ve got noise. How do you like that, huh?”

A chorus of muffled groans echoed from the other side.

He turned back to his brother. “What are you even doing here? Did you set an alarm just so you could come judge me at sunrise?”

“Kato, if I wanted to judge you, I’d do it from a more comfortable position. Like my bed. Which, for the record, had better company in it than what I left it for.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know—you’re getting laid. Spare me the smugness.”

“Ivain gave us a job. And no, it doesn’t include you spiraling—literally and figuratively.”

“Hardy-har-har.” Kato turned back to the mirror, flexing abs that didn’t care about judgmental little brothers.

“Seriously, you are a walking cry for help. Is this still about Kalahad?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Kato flung his arms wide, the ember of the blunt glowing faintly as it dangled from his mouth. “Now, get to the point—what’s this oh-so-important mission, and do I need to be sober? Because that’s going to be a dealbreaker for me.”

In answer, Skye pulled a folded-up slip of paper from inside his coat. He didn’t say anything at first, just let the quiet drag as he unfolded it with deliberate slowness.

“Great,” Kato muttered. “Cryptic silence. My favorite.”

Skye straightened the paper with a snap and held it up.

“Well, would you look at that...” Curiosity officially piqued, Kato took one last drag on the blunt before leaning in.