The words barely registered.

  Ascendrea was still trying to calm her racing heart, still trying to shake off the feeling of complete failure. The weight of those thirty unused grenades lingered in her memory like a physical thing, pressing down on her shoulders even though she'd set the sack down moments ago. Her fingers twitched toward her pocket, seeking the stone pouch, but Mara's arm was still wrapped around her waist, warm and solid and making it difficult to reach.

  She needed a minute. Just a minute to breathe, to think, to touch her stones properly and settle herself.

  But Mara's attention had already shifted.

  Those golden eyes swept across the courtyard with predatory focus, tracking the various obstacle courses with the intensity of someone cataloguing prey. Her ears swiveled forward, alert and eager, and her tail had begun swishing again—quick, excited movements that created small currents in the humid air.

  "The balance beam!" She released Ascendrea to throw both arms wide in an expansive gesture, practically vibrating with renewed energy. "Look at it! It's perfect!"

  Ascendrea followed her gaze to where a narrow beam zigzagged across a hundred feet of water.

  The beam itself was carved from pale coral, its surface polished smooth enough to catch the afternoon light. It stretched in sharp angles—not a straight line but a series of turns, each one requiring the walker to stop, adjust, pivot. The coral gleamed wet in places where previous recruits had left moisture behind, and she could see dark patches where the surface would be slick.

  Below the beam, water spread in a wide pool, maybe 5-6 feet at its deepest. The water was clear enough to see the coral bottom, which had been carved with textured patterns—not for beauty, she realized, but to provide footing for those who fell. Safety measures built into the design.

  Her stomach tightened. Another course. Another chance to fail. She was still shaking from the shooting gallery, still feeling the weight of her paralysis.

  "Come on!" Mara grabbed her wrist, already pulling. Her fingers were warm against Ascendrea's skin, the contact immediate and electric. "Let's go!"

  "Wait—" Ascendrea's voice came out smaller than she intended. "Can we... just wait? Just a minute?"

  She needed to breathe. Needed to find her stones properly, not through damp fabric. Needed a moment to settle the panic still churning in her chest. The failure in the maze sat heavy in her awareness, and she wasn't ready to face another potential humiliation.

  But Mara was already tugging, her grip warm and insistent on Ascendrea's wrist.

  "What? You'll be fine! Come on, it'll be fun!"

  "Mara, I need—"

  "The line's not even that long right now!" Mara's tail swished with enthusiasm, her whole body pulling forward with that relentless energy. "If we hurry we can—"

  "Stop!"

  The word came out sharper than Ascendrea intended. Louder. It cut through the ambient noise of the courtyard like a blade, and she felt it leave her mouth with too much force, too much desperation. She jerked her arm free, the movement too forceful, her wrist sliding from Mara's grasp with enough violence that Mara stumbled slightly.

  "Just—stop!"

  The words hung in the air like broken glass.

  Silence seemed to spread outward from them, though that was probably her imagination. Her ears were ringing, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. Her gaze darted around the courtyard automatically, searching for witnesses.

  Had anyone heard? Were people staring?

  A few nearby recruits glanced over, their attention drawn by the sharp sound of her voice. Their eyes found her—the tall girl with silver hair and angular ears, the one who'd just yelled at her companion. Then they looked away, quickly, returning to their own concerns.

  Not staring. But they'd noticed.

  She'd made a scene. Drew attention to herself. Disrupted others.

  Oh no. Oh no no no.

  Heat flooded Ascendrea's face, but this time it wasn't embarrassment—it was pure panic. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat a painful thud that resonated through her entire body. Nausea rolled through her stomach in waves, and her vision seemed to narrow at the edges.

  What had she done?

  She'd snapped. At Mara. At the one person who'd been nothing but kind to her, who'd celebrated her failures like they were victories, who'd pulled her along with such genuine warmth that Ascendrea had felt less alone for the first time in years.

  And she'd done it loud enough for others to hear.

  She'd ruined everything.

  Her hands were shaking worse now, trembling so badly that she couldn't control them. She reached for her pocket, for the stone pouch, but her fingers felt numb and clumsy. The fabric of her uniform was still damp, clinging to her thigh, making it difficult to reach the pouch properly.

  Blue, red, yellow. She needed to touch them. Needed the anchor. Needed—

  Mara had stopped moving.

  She was just standing there, looking up at Ascendrea with wide golden eyes. Those amber-flecked irises held an expression Ascendrea couldn't quite read—surprise, maybe, or hurt, or something else entirely. Her ears had flattened slightly against her head, and her tail had gone still behind her.

  This was it.

  This was where Mara would realize what a mistake she'd made. Where that bright smile would fade and she'd walk away and Ascendrea would be alone again, but this time it would be her own fault. For being cruel. For lashing out. For being too much trouble to bother with.

  Ascendrea's throat closed around an apology she couldn't quite form. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall. Her whole body felt like it might collapse under the weight of what she'd done.

  Then Mara's arms crossed over her chest.

  Her bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout, ears flattening more dramatically against her head in a gesture that was clearly theatrical. Her tail swished once—a sharp, playful movement that contradicted the exaggerated sulking of her expression.

  "Fiiiine," she said, drawing the word out in a theatrical whine that held no real anger. "Be that way."

  Then, just as quickly, her expression shifted.

  The pout vanished, replaced by that mischievous grin that transformed her entire face. Her ears perked back up, her eyes sparkled with that familiar brightness, and her tail resumed its enthusiastic swishing.

  "I'll race you to the water table!" She didn't wait for a response, just spun on her heel and bounded away, her movements quick and light. "Last one there has to carry both our packs!"

  She was... running off. Playing. Not angry.

  Ascendrea stood frozen, watching Mara's retreating form.

  Her heart was still racing, her hands still shaking. The panic hadn't subsided—if anything, it intensified in the sudden absence of Mara's presence. The warmth that had been there moments ago was gone, replaced by empty air that felt too cold despite the afternoon heat.

  She'd been cruel. She'd snapped. Mara had to be upset, had to be hurt, even if she was hiding it behind playfulness. People didn't just laugh off being yelled at. They held grudges. They remembered. They kept score of every misstep, every failure, every moment of weakness.

  "Rea!" Mara's voice called from across the courtyard.

  She was at the water station now, waving both arms over her head with exuberant energy. Her grin was visible even from this distance, brilliant and unguarded. Her tail swished behind her in excited arcs.

  "Hurry up or I'll drink it all!"

  That grin. That delighted, unguarded grin.

  She wasn't angry.

  The realization hit Ascendrea with force. The tight band around her chest loosened just slightly, allowing her lungs to expand properly for what felt like the first time in minutes. Her breathing evened out by a fraction, the ragged gasps softening into something more controlled.

  Mara wasn't hurt. Wasn't holding a grudge. Wasn't going to leave.

  Ascendrea's fingers finally found the stone pouch through her pocket, pressing against the familiar shapes. Blue, red, yellow. The weight of them helped, grounded her slightly, gave her something solid to focus on.

  But for the first time, it wasn’t her sole focus.

  Because Mara was there, waving at her, smiling like nothing had happened. Like Ascendrea's sharp words had just bounced off her without leaving a mark. Like she understood something about Ascendrea that Ascendrea herself didn't quite grasp.

  Like she was... safe.

  Ascendrea walked toward the water station on unsteady legs, her heart still racing but for different reasons now. Relief flooded through her, warm and overwhelming and terrifying in its intensity.

  She was safe. Mara wasn't leaving. Everything was still okay.

  The feeling settled in her chest like a warm weight, both comforting and frightening in how desperately she needed it to stay.

  Her hand pressed against her pocket, feeling the stone pouch through the damp fabric, but the familiar shapes didn't settle her the way they usually did. Her chest was still tight, her breathing still shallow. She kept replaying the moment—her sharp voice cutting through the air, Mara's wide eyes, the few recruits who'd glanced over with that brief, cataloguing attention.

  The coral tiles were warm beneath her boots, heated by the afternoon sun. Each step felt deliberate, weighted with the effort of moving forward when every instinct told her to retreat. The humid air pressed against her skin, thick enough to taste—salt and flowers and that ever-present alchemical tang.

  Mara was humming, bouncing slightly on her toes as she filled two cups from the station.

  The water station was a simple structure—coral grown into a functional fountain, the water fed from underground cisterns through alchemical piping. The liquid that flowed from the spout was cool and clear, condensation already forming on the cups Mara had taken from the stack. The sound of running water was soft, almost soothing, a gentle counterpoint to the activity in the courtyard.

  When Mara saw Ascendrea approaching, her face lit up with that same brilliant grin, completely unguarded.

  "Finally! I thought you were gonna make me drink both!" She thrust one cup toward Ascendrea, her tail swishing behind her. Water sloshed slightly over the rim with the enthusiasm of the gesture. "Come on, we need to hydrate before the next course!"

  No anger. No hurt. No distance.

  Ascendrea took the cup with trembling hands, feeling the coolness of the coral against her palms. The water inside was clear, still settling from being poured. She could see her own distorted reflection in the surface—silver hair, dark skin, those angular ears she tried so hard not to notice.

  "I'm... I'm sorry." The words came out rough, scraped from a throat still tight with residual panic. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

  Mara blinked, her ears perking forward with genuine surprise.

  "Oh!" She tilted her head, confusion flickering across her features like clouds passing over the sun. "It's okay, I'm not upset."

  But then her expression shifted.

  Something uncertain crept in around the edges of that bright smile, dimming it slightly. Her tail stilled behind her, the constant motion ceasing in a way that felt significant. Her ears drooped just slightly—not dramatically, but enough that Ascendrea noticed.

  "I know I can get... carried away." Her voice dropped, losing some of its usual confidence. The words came slower now, more carefully chosen. "People say I'm too much sometimes. My parents, the other kids..." She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the cup in her hands.

  She wrapped her fingers around the coral surface, holding it tightly enough that her knuckles paled beneath the fine fur.

  "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just—I get excited and I don't always notice when I should slow down."

  The admission hung in the air between them, vulnerable and raw.

  Ascendrea stared at her, something in her chest cracking open at the sight of Mara's uncertainty. This bright, confident girl who seemed to barrel through the world without hesitation—she was afraid too. Afraid of being too much. Afraid of pushing people away with her intensity.

  "No!" The word came out too forceful, panic spiking through Ascendrea's chest at the thought that she'd made Mara feel this way. "You're not—you're not too much. It wasn't that."

  Her fingers tightened around her cup, the cool coral pressing hard into her palms.

  "It was my fault. I just... I needed a minute. That's all."

  She struggled to find the right words, to explain the panic without making herself sound broken. How could she articulate that she'd just failed spectacularly in the maze, that shame was still churning in her stomach, that her mind wouldn't stop replaying every target she'd been too paralyzed to engage? How could she make Mara understand that the problem wasn't her brightness, but Ascendrea's inability to keep up with it?

  Mara's ears lifted again, that bright smile returning with visible relief. The transformation was immediate—her whole posture opening back up, her tail resuming its gentle swishing, her eyes regaining their sparkle.

  "Okay. Good. I mean—not good that you needed a minute, but good that I wasn't..." She trailed off, then laughed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. The sound was lighter than her usual laughter, tinged with relief. "See? This is what I mean. I'm already talking too fast again."

  "You're fine," Ascendrea said quietly, something in her chest loosening as Mara's smile widened. "Really. You're... I like that you're excited. About everything."

  The words surprised her as they left her mouth. She hadn't meant to say them, hadn't meant to offer that small piece of truth. But watching the way Mara's expression brightened further, the way her ears perked up with genuine pleasure at the compliment, Ascendrea found she didn't regret saying it.

  They stood there for a moment, close enough that Ascendrea could see the water droplets still clinging to Mara's caramel hair, could feel the warmth radiating from her despite both of them being soaked. The afternoon sun slanted down around them, catching the moisture in the air and making everything glow slightly golden.

  Mara's presence felt solid, grounding in a way that made Ascendrea's racing heart begin to slow. The panic that had consumed her moments ago was receding, replaced by something calmer, more settled. Not gone entirely—the anxiety still hummed beneath her skin—but manageable.

  "You know what?" Mara bumped her shoulder—gently this time, the contact brief but warm. "We make a good team. You help me think, I help you move. It's perfect!"

  She drained her cup in one long gulp, her throat working as she swallowed. When she finished, she let out a satisfied sound and reached to refill it from the fountain.

  "Ready for the balance beam? I bet you're gonna be amazing at it. You've got that whole 'graceful and careful' thing going."

  Graceful and careful.

  Ascendrea's hand found her pocket again, pressing against the stone pouch. Blue, red, yellow. But the shapes felt a little distant. Because Mara was here, smiling at her, acting like nothing was broken. Like Ascendrea hadn't ruined everything with one sharp word.

  Like she understood.

  Her breathing was easier now. Her hands had stopped shaking. The panic had receded to a low hum rather than the overwhelming static that had filled her head moments ago.

  "Okay," Ascendrea said softly. "Balance beam."

  Mara's grin was brilliant.

  "Yes! Come on!" She grabbed Ascendrea's hand—not pulling this time, just holding. Her fingers interlaced with Ascendrea's, the contact warm and steady. "Let's show them what we've got."

  She led her toward where the narrow beam stretched across the water, and this time Ascendrea followed willingly, her hand warm in Mara's grip, her heart beating with something that felt almost like anticipation instead of dread.

  The instructor managing the balance beam course was a wiry woman with Abysari heritage.

  Her blue-tinted skin marked her immediately, the color deeper than Kael's had been—almost the shade of deep ocean water. The distinctive gill slits along her neck were prominent, fluttering slightly with each breath she took. Her posture was rigid, professional, her uniform impeccable despite the heat. She looked up from her clipboard as they approached.

  The beam stretched behind her, impossibly narrow from this close. The pale coral gleamed in the afternoon light, its surface polished smooth enough to reflect the sky above. The zigzag pattern was more apparent from here—sharp turns that would require complete stops, careful pivots, precise weight distribution. Below it, the water waited, still and clear enough to see every detail of the textured coral bottom.

  "Assignment codes?"

  "M401 and O113," Mara announced, still holding Ascendrea's hand.

  The instructor made notes on her clipboard, the scratch of her stylus methodical and precise.

  "Standard rules: fall off, you're done. Make it to the end platform and you've completed the course." She gestured toward the beam with her stylus. "The beam is narrow and the turns are sharp—most recruits don't make it past the halfway point."

  Her gaze flicked to the wet spots darkening the coral near the beam's starting platform. Water had pooled there, left behind by previous recruits who'd fallen.

  "And watch for the slick sections. Other recruits have a tendency to make the course harder for everyone who follows."

  The warning was matter-of-fact, delivered without judgment but with the weight of experience. How many recruits had she watched fall today? How many had slipped on water left by others, their failure compounded by those who'd come before?

  Mara squeezed Ascendrea's hand once, then released it. The loss of contact left Ascendrea's palm feeling suddenly cold despite the heat.

  "I'll go first—show you how it's done!" Mara flashed a grin, then caught herself, her expression shifting to something more uncertain. "I mean... if that's okay? Do you want to go first?"

  The question held genuine concern, an awareness that hadn't been there before. She was checking. Making sure she wasn't bulldozing again.

  "No, you go," Ascendrea said quickly, grateful for the extra moments to watch. To see how the beam behaved, to study the turns, to prepare herself mentally for what she'd need to do.

  Mara bounded toward the starting platform, her movements quick and eager. She studied the beam with focused intensity, her head tilting this way and that as she mapped out the route. Her tail swished behind her in contemplative arcs—slower than usual, more deliberate.

  She tested the first few feet with her toes, pressing down on the coral to feel its texture. The surface was smooth but not slippery, designed to provide just enough grip for careful feet. She nodded to herself, some internal calculation complete.

  Then she looked back over her shoulder at Ascendrea, that brilliant grin lighting up her face.

  "Watch and learn, Rea!"

  She stepped fully onto the beam and started moving.

  It was like watching water flow.

  Mara's compact frame shifted with fluid grace, her center of gravity low and stable. Her tail extended behind her, providing natural counterbalance as she navigated the first turn. The thick appendage moved constantly, making micro-adjustments that kept her steady even as her feet found new positions on the narrow coral.

  Where other recruits Ascendrea had glimpsed on other courses moved with careful, halting steps, Mara practically danced across the beam. Her feet found placement with instinctive precision, each one landing exactly where it needed to be. Her whole body moved as one coordinated unit—arms, legs, tail, torso all working together in harmony.

  The first turn disappeared beneath her in seconds. She hit the angle, pivoted smoothly, and continued without breaking stride. Her caramel hair caught the sunlight as she moved, the tousled layers shifting with each adjustment of her position.

  "Show off," someone muttered from the watching crowd gathered near the water's edge.

  But there was admiration in the tone, not malice. They were watching something impressive, and they knew it.

  Mara hit the second turn with a laugh—that bright, delighted sound that seemed to bubble up from somewhere deep inside her. Then, without warning, she executed a cartwheel.

  Ascendrea's heart lurched into her throat.

  Mara's hands planted on the narrow beam with impossible precision, her body rotating smoothly through the air. Her tail streamed behind her like a banner, and she landed perfectly on her feet, the impact barely disturbing her balance.

  Gasps erupted from the watching recruits.

  Mara spun to face them, walking backward now with her arms spread wide. Her grin was enormous, triumphant, utterly delighted with herself. She was showing off shamelessly, and she knew it, and she loved it.

  "M401, face forward!" the instructor shouted, but there was a hint of reluctant amusement in her tone. Even she couldn't quite maintain her stern demeanor in the face of such gleeful showmanship.

  Mara spun back around and continued, picking up speed. She was clearly finding the course too easy for a straightforward approach. Another cartwheel, this one even more fluid than the first. A brief handstand that made Ascendrea's stomach drop—Mara balanced there for a heartbeat, her legs straight up in the air, her whole body inverted on that narrow beam.

  Then she was moving again, walking on her toes like she was performing rather than being assessed. Her tail swished behind her in rhythmic sweeps, and she bounced slightly with each step, as if the beam were a stage and she were giving the performance of her life.

  She was about three-quarters of the way across—farther than any recruit Ascendrea had seen today—when she hit the wet section.

  The change was instant.

  Mara's foot landed on coral that had been left slick by a previous recruit's fall. The water created a nearly invisible film on the polished surface, and her momentum worked against her. Her foot slipped sideways, her exceptional balance suddenly becoming a liability as her speed made the correction harder.

  Her tail whipped around in an attempt to save her, the appendage moving with desperate speed. Her arms windmilled, fingers grasping at empty air. For a heartbeat—one long, suspended moment—it looked like she might recover. Her body contorted, her center of gravity shifting, her feet scrambling for purchase.

  Then gravity won.

  She fell sideways, her body twisting as she dropped. She hit the water with a splash that sent waves rippling outward in expanding circles, the sound loud in the sudden silence that had fallen over the watching crowd.

  She surfaced immediately, water streaming from her hair and ears.

  And she was laughing.

  "Okay, that was my fault! Totally got too cocky!" The words came out between gasps of laughter, her golden eyes bright with amusement rather than disappointment. She shook her head, sending water droplets flying in all directions. "Would have made it too, if I hadn't been showing off!"

  She swam to the side with easy strokes, her body moving through the water with natural grace. When she reached the edge, she hauled herself out, water streaming from her uniform in sheets. Her tail hung heavy with moisture, weighted down by the water it had absorbed, and it left a trail of droplets on the coral as she bounded over to Ascendrea.

  "That was so much fun though! Did you see the cartwheel? The handstand?" Her eyes sparkled with delight despite the failure—or perhaps because of it. "I almost made it! Way farther than most people!"

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. Water dripped from her caramel hair onto Ascendrea's sleeve.

  "Your turn! Just don't try showing off and you’ll be fine."

  Ascendrea's stomach tightened as the instructor called her forward.

  "O113, you're up."

  She walked to the starting platform, each step feeling heavier than the last. The coral beneath her boots was warm from the sun, but she felt cold inside. The beam stretched ahead of her, impossibly narrow, impossibly long. The water below was dark and waiting, patient in its certainty that she would fall.

  Around her, recruits watched with varying degrees of interest or indifference. More people had gathered now, drawn by Mara's performance. They wanted to see what would happen next—would the tall Elfriche girl match her companion's skill, or would she fall short?

  Mara stood off to the side, dripping and grinning, completely confident. Her golden eyes were fixed on Ascendrea, and her expression held nothing but warmth and certainty.

  Ascendrea stepped onto the platform.

  And froze.

  Her foot hovered over the beam, but she couldn't make it move forward. The familiar paralysis clamped down—chest tightening until she could barely breathe, breath stuttering in her throat, that awful rushing sensation in her ears that made everything sound like she was underwater. The beam stretched ahead of her, and all she could see were the turns, the slick spots, the water below waiting to claim her.

  What if she froze again? What if she just stood there like she had in the shooting gallery, unable to move while everyone watched? What if the paralysis took hold and she couldn't break free of it?

  The instructor was saying something, but the words didn't register. They came to her as if from very far away, distorted by the static filling her head.

  She could feel eyes on her—the other recruits, the instructor, everyone waiting for her to move. Or to fail. Their attention pressed against her skin like physical weight, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to think.

  Her hand found her pocket automatically, pressing against the stone pouch through the damp fabric. Blue, red, yellow. The shapes were there, familiar, solid. But they didn’t feel like enough.

  She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe properly. Couldn't—

  Her gaze found Mara.

  Mara stood there, soaked and smiling, her whole posture open and warm. Water still dripped from her hair, and her uniform was darkened to near-black with moisture, but none of that seemed to dim her brightness. There was no impatience in her expression, no frustration at having to wait.

  Just that bright, uncomplicated confidence that seemed to say: You can do this. I know you can.

  Mara mouthed something—her lips forming words that Ascendrea couldn't quite make out. Maybe "You've got this" or "Don't think" or something else entirely. The exact words didn't matter.

  What mattered was that warmth. That certainty. That complete absence of judgment.

  Her chest loosened. Just slightly. Just enough.

  Ascendrea's foot lowered to the beam.

  The coral was smooth beneath her boot. It was narrower than she'd expected—barely wider than her foot—and she could feel the edges through her soles. The texture provided grip, just as the instructor had said, but it still felt precarious.

  The panic didn't vanish. It compressed into something she could carry, something she could hold alongside her fear rather than being consumed by it. As long as Mara was there. As long as she could glance over and see that smile.

  She took another step. Then another.

  "Don't think, just move," she whispered, the words barely audible. They formed a rhythm in her mind, a mantra to match her footfalls. "Don't think, just move."

  "That's it, Rea!" Mara's voice cut through the static in Ascendrea's head, bright and clear like sunlight breaking through clouds. "You're doing it!"

  Ascendrea's world narrowed to just those elements: Mara's voice, the next patch of coral, her trembling breath, the next step. Everything else faded away—the watching recruits, the instructor's clinical gaze, the knowledge that she was being evaluated. None of it mattered as much as the immediate present.

  She moved slowly, carefully, her whole body shaking with the effort of pushing through the fear. Each step was deliberate, each placement chosen with precision. Her arms spread wide for balance, and she could feel the slight tremor in them, the muscles tense with the effort of maintaining her position.

  The first turn approached.

  She stopped, studied the angle, felt the way her weight needed to shift. Her foot pivoted carefully on the beam, finding the new direction with agonizing caution. Her arms adjusted, her torso rotated, and then she was facing the new direction, stable and secure.

  She'd made it through the first turn.

  Second turn. Her legs trembled, the muscles protesting the sustained tension, but she was still moving. Still going. The beam stretched ahead of her, and she could see the halfway point approaching—a slight discoloration in the coral that marked the center of the course.

  "Rea! You're almost halfway!" Mara's voice was full of genuine delight. "Look at you!"

  The warmth in those words—that pure, unguarded pride—pulled Ascendrea's attention. She glanced toward Mara, just for a moment, just to see that smile that seemed to shine brighter than the afternoon sun.

  Their eyes met.

  And her balance shifted.

  The beam tilted beneath her foot—or seemed to, the sensation disorienting. Her weight distribution was wrong suddenly, her center of gravity off-kilter. Her arms flailed, trying to catch herself, trying to correct the mistake, but the correction came too late.

  She felt herself falling, that sickening lurch in her stomach as gravity claimed her. The air rushed past her face, and then she hit the water with significantly less grace than Mara had managed.

  The impact was jarring, the water closing over her head with a muffled roar. It was cooler than the air above, and the silence beneath the surface was sudden and complete. For a moment she hung there, suspended in the quiet darkness, before her body remembered to swim.

  When she surfaced, sputtering and disoriented, water streaming from her hair and into her eyes, Mara was already cheering.

  "That was awesome, Rea! You made it past halfway! Way farther than most people!"

  Ascendrea swam to the edge, her movements clumsy with surprise. She hauled herself out, water weighing down her uniform and making her feel heavy and awkward. She hadn't even reached the wet spot that had defeated Mara—had fallen shorter despite her careful approach.

  But she'd moved. She hadn't frozen.

  The instructor made notes on her clipboard, her expression neutral and professional.

  "Good performance, O113. Solid balance and control. You made it past the halfway point, which is better than average." She glanced at Mara, then back at Ascendrea. "M401 had the better distance today, though your approach was more controlled."

  Mara bounded over, grinning so widely that it seemed to take up her entire face.

  "See? You were amazing! And you got past halfway on your first try!" She wrung water from her sleeve, sending droplets flying in all directions. Her tail swished behind her, heavy with moisture but still moving with that characteristic energy.

  Something small and warm unfurled in Ascendrea's chest.

  She'd fallen sooner than Mara, but she'd moved. She'd pushed through the paralysis and actually completed part of the course. She'd faced the fear and hadn't let it consume her completely.

  And Mara was proud of her. Genuinely, completely proud. Not because she'd performed perfectly, not because she'd succeeded without flaw, but because she'd tried.

  "What should we try next?" Mara asked, her energy already rebounding. Her eyes swept across the courtyard, cataloguing the remaining courses with that predatory focus. "Oh! The climbing walls look incredible!"

  The coral climbing walls rose like jagged teeth against the sky.

  Seven consecutive barriers, each one more imposing than the last. They stretched upward in dark blue formations, their surfaces catching the afternoon light and holding it. Unlike the balance beam's horizontal challenge, these demanded vertical conquest—raw strength, endurance, and the kind of commitment that came from trusting handholds you couldn't always see from below.

  Ascendrea followed Mara toward the structure, their wet uniforms leaving dark footprints on the coral path. The sea-silk clung to her skin, heavy with water, chafing slightly where it had folded and gathered. Each step reminded her of her recent immersion, of the fall she'd taken.

  Around them, other recruits were scattered across various stages of attempt and failure. A boy hung halfway up the second wall, his arms trembling visibly, the muscles standing out against his skin. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his fingers were white-knuckled on the handholds. As they watched, his grip failed and he dropped into the water below with a defeated splash.

  The walls themselves were carved from living coral, their surfaces a deep blue that seemed to shift between sapphire and midnight depending on how the light hit them. Textured handholds dotted each face—some obvious protrusions that jutted out like knuckles, others subtle variations in the coral's natural formation that required careful examination to spot.

  Each wall stood twenty-five feet tall, suspended over water with gaps of several feet between them. There was no ground beneath—only water, dark and patient. Climbers had to scale the front face, transition over the top to the back side, descend to the bottom, and then make a jump across empty air to reach the next wall.

  "Look at the size of them!" Mara's tail swished with excitement as she craned her neck to take in the full height. The movement sent water droplets flying from the sodden appendage. "And we have to jump between them? This is going to be amazing!"

  An instructor stood near the starting point—a tall man of Vayore heritage. His weathered skin showed years of sun exposure, the texture roughened and darkened by time spent outdoors. His eyes were sharp with assessment, the kind that missed nothing and evaluated everything. He glanced up as they approached, his expression neutral but attentive.

  "Assignment codes?"

  "M401 and O113," Mara said, practically vibrating with anticipation. Water still dripped from her uniform, but her energy seemed completely undiminished.

  The instructor made a note on his clipboard.

  "Coral climbing walls. Seven walls of progressive difficulty." He gestured toward the first wall, the motion economical and precise. "You'll climb the front face, transition over the top to the back side, descend to the bottom, then jump to the next wall. Each wall is more challenging than the last—smaller handholds, less obvious routes, more endurance required. The gaps between walls mean you must commit to each jump."

  He paused, letting that information settle. His gaze moved between them, assessing their builds, their postures, their readiness.

  "Most recruits your age don't make it past wall three or four. This course is designed to challenge even adults. We're not expecting completion—we're assessing your approach, your endurance, and how you handle increasing difficulty."

  "What's the record?" Mara asked immediately, her ears perking forward with interest.

  "For twelve-year-olds in today's group?" The instructor consulted his notes, flipping through pages on his clipboard. "One recruit made it to the top of wall four but couldn't complete the transition to the back side—grip strength failed during the changeover and they fell. Several others have completed wall three and successfully jumped to wall four before falling."

  Mara's grin widened, her golden eyes lighting up with competitive fire.

  "Challenge accepted." She looked at Ascendrea, her expression shifting to something more considerate. "Want to go first, or should I?"

  "You go," Ascendrea said quickly, grateful for the extra moments to watch and prepare. Her arms were already tired from the balance beam attempt, and her uniform still hung heavy with water. She needed time to study the routes, to understand how the walls behaved, to prepare herself mentally.

  Mara bounded toward the first wall, her movements quick despite her waterlogged state. She studied the coral face with the focused intensity head tilting, eyes scanning, calculating. She reached up, testing a few handholds with her fingers. The coral was textured enough to grip, but smooth enough to tire hands quickly.

  She nodded to herself, some internal calculation complete.

  Then she looked back at Ascendrea, that grin that was somehow both confident and slightly self-conscious.

  "Stand back and be impressed, Rea!"

  She launched herself at the wall.

  There was no other word for it. Where other recruits had approached with careful deliberation, testing each handhold before committing, Mara attacked the coral face with explosive energy. Her compact frame moved with fluid grace, her whole body working as one unit. Her tail provided counterbalance, the thick appendage sweeping back and forth to adjust her center of gravity as she climbed.

  She found handholds and pulled herself upward with a display of natural athleticism that made it look effortless. Her feet found placement with instinctive precision, toes gripping through her boots. Her fingers closed around protrusions with confident certainty, and she reached for holds that seemed impossibly far apart, her body extending and contracting.

  Wall one disappeared beneath her in what felt like seconds. She crested the top, swung over the edge with ease—her body flowing over the coral like water—and descended the back side with the same fearless speed. At the bottom, she hung for just a moment, her tail sweeping for balance, then launched herself across the gap to wall two with a laugh that echoed across the courtyard.

  "Impressive speed," the instructor murmured, making notes. "But let's see if she can maintain it."

  Wall two required slightly more technique. The handholds were smaller here, the route less obvious. The coral surface had fewer natural protrusions, requiring climbers to find the subtle variations in texture that would support their weight.

  Mara barely slowed. She adapted on the fly, her body reading the wall like it was a language she'd always known. Her fingers found holds that Ascendrea couldn't even see from the ground, her feet discovered purchase on ridges that seemed too small to support weight. Up and over, down the back, jump across the gap.

  Wall three. This was where the instructor had said most recruits failed.

  Mara powered through it with the same relentless pace. Her arms were starting to show the strain now—movements not quite as fluid, reaches taking a fraction longer. Sweat mixed with water on her skin, and her breathing was heavier, audible even from below. But her grin never wavered, that fierce joy at the challenge still lighting up her face.

  She crested the top of wall three, descended the back side with slightly more caution than before, and made the jump to wall four with confidence that was just beginning to show cracks.

  "She's fast," someone in the watching crowd said. More recruits had gathered, drawn by the spectacle of someone actually making progress. "Faster than anyone today."

  Wall four was significantly harder.

  The handholds here demanded both technique and real strength. They were smaller, spaced farther apart, requiring longer reaches and stronger grips. Mara's speed finally started to cost her. Halfway up the front face, her hand slipped on a hold—her fingers failed to close completely, the grip strength she'd been expending catching up with her.

  She caught herself, her other hand tightening on its hold with desperate force. Her body swung slightly, momentum threatening to pull her off. But she readjusted, her tail sweeping wildly for balance, and she kept climbing.

  Three-quarters up, her arms were visibly shaking. The muscles trembled beneath her fur-covered skin, exhaustion written in every line of her body. Her breathing came in ragged gasps now, each exhale audible as she pushed upward.

  She made it to the top through what looked like sheer determination. Her fingers closed over the edge of wall four and she hauled herself over, her whole body trembling with the effort. This was where the previous record-holder had fallen—right at this transition point, when exhausted arms had to support the entire body weight during the changeover.

  But Mara's fingers held.

  She made it to the back side and started down. The descent was clearly a struggle now—her movements careful and uncertain in a way they hadn't been before. Her arms trembled with each grip, fingers white-knuckled on the handholds. She had to stop twice to shake out her hands, clinging to the wall with visible effort while her fingers recovered enough to continue.

  Her breathing was labored. Each exhale came as a gasping sound, her lungs working hard to provide oxygen to exhausted muscles.

  When she finally reached the bottom of wall four—still hanging from the coral, toes pointed toward the water far below—she paused. Her chest heaved with effort, her ears drooped with exhaustion, her tail hung low. She looked spent, wrung out, pushed to the edge of her physical capabilities.

  But she looked across the gap at wall five.

  The fifth wall was noticeably more difficult than the previous ones. The handholds were even smaller, the surface smoother, the route less forgiving. It stood there like a challenge, waiting to see if she had anything left.

  Mara's jaw set with determination.

  She swung slightly, trying to build momentum for the transition. Her body moved in small arcs, gathering energy for the jump. Her fingers released the coral—

  Her exhausted arms had nothing left.

  She barely got any distance before gravity claimed her. Instead of the graceful arc she'd made with previous jumps, she dropped almost straight down, her body having no power left to propel itself forward. She fell into the water with a definitive splash that sent waves rippling outward in expanding circles.

  She surfaced immediately, gasping and shaking out her arms. Her face showed frustration for the first time—not at failure, but at her body's limitations. She tried to pull herself out at the edge, but her exhausted arms couldn't support her weight. Her fingers slipped on the wet coral, unable to grip properly.

  She hung there for a moment, frustrated, before the instructor reached down and hauled her up onto the coral. His grip was strong and practiced, lifting her with ease.

  "Completion of walls one through four!" the instructor called out, his voice carrying across the courtyard. He made detailed notes on his clipboard. "Time to bottom of wall three: fastest today. Overall endurance: strong but pace management needs work."

  Mara sat on the coral edge, catching her breath. Her ears were still drooping with exhaustion, her tail lying flat and heavy behind her, but even through her fatigue, that grin was beginning to return.

  "That was incredible!" She shook water from her hair as she approached Ascendrea, her movements slower than usual but still animated. "Your turn! I think I went too fast—definitely should have paced myself better. But wow, that was fun!"

  Ascendrea's heart was hammering as the instructor called her forward.

  "O113, you're up. Same rules. Take your time—steady climbing often beats speed on these walls."

  Take your time.

  Around them, other recruits had stopped to watch—word had clearly spread about Mara's performance, and now they wanted to see what the tall Elfriche girl would do. Would she match her companion? Would she fall short? The attention pressed against Ascendrea's skin like physical weight.

  The instructor pushed out a plank to allow her to approach the first wall, her mouth dry. The textured coral handholds seemed smaller from up close, the height more daunting. Twenty-five feet straight up. Then over. Then down. Then a jump across empty space. Not insurmountable, but far enough to fall. Far enough to fail spectacularly in front of everyone watching.

  Her hand found her pocket, pressing against the stone pouch through the wet fabric. Blue, red, yellow. The familiar shapes helped, but her chest still felt tight.

  "You've got this, Rea!" Mara called from the water's edge, having finally caught her breath. Her voice was hoarse with exhaustion but still bright with encouragement. "Just don't overthink it!"

  Don't overthink it. Right.

  Ascendrea reached up and grabbed the first handhold.

  The coral was textured enough to provide good grip, solid beneath her fingers. The surface was cool despite the afternoon heat, the material holding its temperature in a way that felt almost alive. She found a foothold, tested her weight—felt the coral accept her, steady and unyielding—then pulled herself up. The instructor removed the plank.

  Another handhold. Another foothold.

  The movement was deliberate, methodical—each placement chosen carefully before she committed her weight. She didn't rush. Couldn't rush. Her mind worked through each decision: Is this hold stable? Can it support me? Where does my foot go next? How do I distribute my weight?

  Wall one was the easiest, with obvious holds and a straightforward route. The protrusions jutted out at regular intervals, almost like a ladder carved into the coral. She climbed with careful precision, testing each grip before trusting it, keeping her breathing steady. In, out. In, out. The rhythm helped, gave her something to focus on besides the height growing beneath her.

  When she reached the top and looked down the back side, something loosened slightly in her chest. She'd made it up. The first wall was behind her—or would be, once she descended.

  The transition over required careful thought. She had to swing one leg over the edge while maintaining her grip, then shift her weight to the other side. Her arms protested the sustained effort, muscles already feeling the strain. But she made it, her body moving with controlled precision rather than Mara's explosive grace.

  She descended the back side slowly, each handhold found and tested before she released the previous one. Her feet sought purchase on the coral, finding ridges and protrusions that supported her weight. At the bottom, she hung for a moment, gathering herself.

  The gap to wall two waited.

  She studied it—maybe four feet of empty air over dark water. Not far, but far enough. Her arms were already tired, and she'd only completed one wall.

  She swung slightly, building momentum. The motion felt foreign, her body not accustomed to this kind of movement. But she'd watched Mara, had seen how she'd used the pendulum action to propel herself forward.

  She released the coral and jumped.

  For a heartbeat she was suspended in empty air, her stomach lurching with the sensation of falling. Then her fingers caught the first holds of wall two, her grip closing around the coral with desperate force. Her body swung slightly with the impact, but she held on.

  She'd made it.

  The holds were slightly smaller on wall two, requiring more grip strength. But Ascendrea's approach remained the same—methodical, controlled, efficient. She wasn't burning through her energy reserves the way Mara had. Each movement was purposeful, each rest point calculated.

  She paused halfway up, shaking out one hand while the other maintained its grip. Her fingers were starting to protest, the sustained pressure making them ache. But she kept going, kept breathing, kept finding the next hold.

  Up and over. Down the back. Jump across.

  Wall three.

  This was where most recruits failed. The instructor's words echoed in her mind: "Most recruits your age don't make it past wall three or four."

  She paused at the bottom of wall two, hanging there while she studied the route across the gap and up wall three. The third wall was more challenging—the holds required real technique now, proper weight distribution and body positioning. The coral surface was smoother, the protrusions less obvious.

  She mapped out her path mentally before making the jump. That hold there, then that one, then shift weight to the left foot while reaching for—

  Her mind worked through the sequence, finding the most efficient route. Only when she had a plan did she swing and jump.

  The climb was harder. Her arms were feeling the strain now, the muscles burning with sustained effort. Fatigue crept in at the edges, making each pull feel heavier than the last. But she kept moving, kept breathing, kept finding the next hold.

  Near the top, she had to make a longer reach than she'd prefer. The next handhold was farther away than she'd calculated, requiring her to extend her arm fully. Her height helped here—those extra inches allowing her to span a distance that might have stopped someone shorter.

  Her fingers closed around the hold, and she pulled.

  She crested the top of wall three and allowed herself a single moment to rest. Her arms trembled slightly, her breathing coming harder now. Sweat beaded on her forehead, mixing with the residual moisture from her earlier fall into the water.

  But she'd made it. Wall three. Farther than most recruits went.

  She transitioned to the back side with careful control and began her descent. Each movement was slower now, her body conserving energy for what came next. When she reached the bottom and hung there, preparing for the jump to wall four.

  "Strong performance," the instructor called out. "Efficient route selection, good pacing. Wall four when you're ready."

  The sound made her skin prickle with awareness, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

  Wall four. Significantly more challenging—a real test of technique and endurance.

  Ascendrea looked across the gap at it, her arms already tired, and felt doubt creep in. This was where the previous record-holder had made it to the top but fallen during the transition. This was where Mara's arms had started shaking visibly.

  She should stop here. Wall three was respectable. Better than average. She'd proven she could do it, proven she wasn't completely incompetent. Stopping now would be sensible, would conserve her strength, would prevent her from failing spectacularly in front of everyone.

  "Come on, Rea!" Mara's voice cut through the doubt. "You're doing amazing!"

  Ascendrea looked toward the sound. Mara stood at the water's edge, still dripping but grinning, her whole body radiating encouragement. Those golden eyes held complete faith, complete certainty that Ascendrea could do this.

  That warmth. That belief.

  Ascendrea made the jump across to wall four and started climbing.

  The climb was significantly harder. The holds were smaller, the route less forgiving. Her fingers protested with each grip, the muscles in her forearms burning with sustained effort. Her palms were starting to sweat despite the coral's coolness, making her grip less certain.

  But she kept her movements controlled, kept her breathing steady, kept choosing the most efficient path even as her body screamed for rest. Each handhold was a small victory, each foothold a step closer to the top.

  Halfway up, she had to stop and shake out one arm while clinging with the other. The watching crowd had grown—more recruits gathering to see if she'd make it. Their attention pressed against her awareness, but she forced herself to focus on just the next move.

  Her fingers found the next hold. She pulled. Her feet found purchase. She pushed.

  Three-quarters up. Her arms were shaking now, the same visible tremor she'd seen in Mara's. The muscles quivered beneath her skin, exhaustion making each movement uncertain. But she was so close. So close to matching what Mara had done, to proving she could do this.

  She reached for the next hold. Pulled. Reached again. The top was right there, just a few more moves away.

  Her hand closed over the final hold at the crest of wall four, and she hauled herself up. For a moment she just clung there, breathing hard, arms trembling violently. Her fingers were white-knuckled on the coral, her whole body shaking with exhaustion.

  This was where the previous record-holder had fallen—right here at the transition point.

  She had to keep going. Had to make it down the back.

  The transition over the top took its toll. Her shaking arms barely supported the movement, her muscles screaming in protest as she shifted her weight over the edge. But she made it to the back side, her fingers finding new holds, her body moving with desperate determination.

  Then she looked down and reality hit—she still had to descend. Still had to make it to the bottom.

  The descent was brutal.

  Each movement was agony, her grip barely maintaining its hold on the coral. Her fingers felt like they might give out at any moment, the muscles cramping with exhaustion. She paused twice to shake out her hands, breathing hard, fighting through the burn that radiated from her forearms into her shoulders.

  The coral seemed to blur beneath her, her vision narrowing to just the immediate—this hold, then that one, then the next. Her world had collapsed to just the wall, just the movements, just the desperate need to keep going.

  But she made it down. Made it to the bottom, hanging there with arms that shook so badly she could barely hold on.

  She'd done it. Matched Mara's performance. Completed the full circuit of wall four.

  "Excellent work, O113," the instructor called up, his voice carrying clearly across the water. "That ties for the best performance today. You successfully completed what defeated our previous best. Wall five when you're ready—but no shame in stopping here."

  No shame in stopping.

  Ascendrea looked across the gap at wall five. Her arms felt like water, heavy and useless. Her fingers barely responded to commands, the muscles so fatigued that even maintaining her current grip was a struggle. Sweat dripped from her forehead into her eyes, stinging.

  She should stop. She'd already matched the record. Proved she could do it. There was no need to push further, no need to risk failure after such a strong performance.

  But she looked down at where Mara stood watching.

  Soaked and grinning, her caramel hair still dripping, her golden eyes fixed on Ascendrea with that unguarded pride. Those amber-flecked irises held complete confidence, complete faith. She believed in Ascendrea in a way that Ascendrea had never believed in herself.

  And somehow, impossibly, Ascendrea found herself swinging to build momentum.

  Her body moved before her mind could catch up, the pendulum motion building. Her arms screamed in protest, her fingers threatening to give out. But she kept swinging, kept building, kept preparing for the jump.

  She launched across the gap.

  Her fingers caught the first holds of wall five and she started climbing before she could think about it. Her mind had gone quiet, that constant stream of worry and doubt silenced by exhaustion. There was only the wall, only the movement, only the next hold.

  The holds were smaller, harder to grip with exhausted hands. Her fingers ached as they closed around the coral, the muscles in her forearms burning like fire. But her height advantage helped—she could reach holds that others might have struggled to span.

  One handhold. One foothold. Don't think, just move.

  Her breathing came in ragged gasps, each inhale a struggle against burning lungs. Her arms screamed in protest with every pull, the muscles pushed far past their normal limits. But she kept going. Methodical. Controlled. Finding the most efficient path even as her body begged her to stop.

  Halfway up wall five. Farther than anyone else had gone today.

  Her left hand slipped.

  The hold—slick with her sweat, smaller than she'd calculated—escaped her grip. Her fingers scraped against the coral as they lost purchase, and for a terrifying moment she hung by just her right hand, her body swinging in empty air.

  Panic spiked through her chest, sharp and immediate.

  But her right hand held. Her fingers, despite their exhaustion, maintained their desperate grip on the coral. She caught herself, her body swinging, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her temples.

  She found another handhold with her left hand, her fingers closing around it with shaking determination. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she didn't stop.

  Three-quarters up. The crowd below had gone quiet, watching. She could feel their attention, but it seemed distant now, less important than the immediate reality of the wall.

  She could see the top now. Just a few more moves. Just a little farther.

  Her arms were beyond exhaustion, beyond pain. They moved on pure willpower now, on something deeper than muscle and bone. Her fingers found holds through instinct rather than conscious choice, her body knowing what to do even as her mind struggled to keep up.

  One more hold. Pull. One more. Pull.

  Her fingers closed around the final hold at the crest of wall five. She pulled herself up, arms trembling violently, and got her elbows over the edge. Then her torso. Then she was there, clinging to the top of wall five, her cheek pressed against the coral as she gasped for breath.

  She'd made it.

  The sound of applause erupted from below.

  "Wall five!" the instructor's voice carried up, shock evident in his tone. "O113 reaches the top of wall five! New record for the twelve-year-old assessment group!"

  Ascendrea hung there, trying to process what she'd done. She'd gone farther than Mara. Farther than anyone. Set a new record.

  But looking down at the descent ahead and the gap to wall six beyond that, she knew she had nothing left. Her arms were done, completely spent. The muscles felt like they'd been wrung out, every last bit of strength extracted and used. She tried to shift her weight to begin the descent and her grip started to fail, her fingers unable to maintain their hold.

  She let go.

  The fall was long enough to think—to register the rushing air, the sensation of gravity claiming her, the water approaching below. Then she hit the surface with a splash that seemed to echo across the entire courtyard.

  When she surfaced, gasping and completely spent, the cheering crashed over her.

  Too loud. Too many voices. Everyone was looking at her, watching her, seeing her.

  Her arms were too exhausted to swim properly. She treaded water weakly, her chest heaving, and the panic that had been held at bay by pure physical exertion came flooding back with devastating force.

  What had she done? Why had she kept going? She should have stopped at wall three, succeeded without standing out so much. But no—she'd had to keep climbing, had to go farther, had to make herself the center of attention.

  Everyone was staring. Everyone had seen. She'd made herself visible in the worst possible way.

  Maybe she could just... stay here. Let the water take her. Sink down where no one could see, where the weight of all those eyes couldn't reach her. That would be easier than climbing out, than facing all that attention, than—

  "Rea!" Mara's voice cut through the spiral.

  She was already in the water, swimming toward Ascendrea with powerful strokes. That brilliant smile was visible even through the water streaming down her face, her golden eyes bright with joy.

  "You made it to wall five! You beat everyone! You beat me!"

  Mara reached her and Ascendrea realized she'd been sinking slightly, her exhausted body barely keeping her afloat. Her arms couldn't support the swimming motions needed to stay above the surface.

  Mara's arm wrapped around her immediately, strong and sure despite her own recent exhaustion. Her grip was warm, solid, an anchor in the water.

  "Come on, let's get you out," Mara said, her voice gentle but determined. She began guiding Ascendrea toward the edge, her body supporting both of them through the water.

  Ascendrea wanted to resist, wanted to stay hidden in the water, but her body was too spent to fight. She let Mara guide her, let that warm presence pull her toward the edge where the instructor was already reaching down.

  The instructor's hands were strong as he helped pull them both out. His grip was professional, efficient, lifting them onto the coral with practiced ease.

  "Outstanding performance, O113," the instructor said as he helped her onto the coral surface. "Exceptional endurance management and route selection. That's the best performance we've seen from a new group in years."

  Ascendrea collapsed onto the coral, chest heaving, unable to respond. Every muscle trembled with exhaustion, her body completely spent. The coral was warm beneath her, heated by the afternoon sun, and she lay there feeling its solidity, its unyielding presence.

  All those eyes still on her. All that attention focused on her like a spotlight she couldn't escape.

  Why did she do this to herself?

  Mara was there, dripping and grinning, throwing her arms around Ascendrea despite both of them being soaked. The contact was warm and immediate, Mara's body pressing against hers with unabashed affection.

  "You're amazing!" The words came out breathless, full of genuine awe.

  Other recruits were approaching now. More attention. More eyes. More voices offering congratulations mixed with awe. They clustered around her, their faces showing varying degrees of admiration and curiosity.

  "That was incredible—"

  "How did you—"

  "Wall five! No one's beating—"

  Ascendrea sat there, overwhelmed and exhausted and wanting to disappear, while Mara celebrated her success with enough enthusiasm for both of them.

  Her hand found her pocket desperately, pressing against the stone pouch through wet fabric. Blue, red, yellow. The familiar shapes helped, grounding her slightly, giving her something to focus on besides all those watching eyes.

  But it wasn't enough. Not for this.

  Today had been too much—too many people, too much attention, too many moments of being seen. The stones helped, they always helped, but they couldn't carry all of this alone.

  Mara's arm around her shoulders. Mara's excited voice in her ear. Mara's presence—solid and warm and real.

  Together with the stones, it was enough to keep her from completely falling apart.

  And that realization—that she needed both now, that the stones alone weren't sufficient anymore—was almost as terrifying as all the attention.