Nate woke before his alarm because his left hip refused to let him turn over.
He pushed himself upright and waited for the pain to settle. It ran from his ankle to the side of his waist, following every joint he had forced through Rovan’s exercise the night before.
Less than an hour of training had left him feeling as though he had fallen down a mountain.
He placed both feet on the floor. His ankles were stiff, though the usual tension around his shoulders had almost disappeared.
Nate set his feet apart, softened his knees and centered his weight. When he guided a small current of energy into his left ankle, his calf tightened immediately.
Pain struck behind his knee.
He caught the edge of the desk.
"Great."
A knock came from the door.
"Nate?"
His mother entered before he answered. She was already dressed for work, her dark hair tied behind her head. Her eyes moved from his hand on the desk to his bare feet.
"You used your Skill."
"It only showed me the exercise twice."
"That wasn’t my question. How many times did you try it?"
Nate straightened.
"Nine."
She stared at him.
"The first few barely counted."
"They counted to your joints. Sit down."
"I’m fine."
"Nate."
He sat on the bed.
His mother knelt and checked his ankle, pressing carefully along his calf and the back of his knee.
"Tell me if anything feels sharp."
"It’s mostly stiff."
"That means you stop before it becomes sharp."
She rotated his leg. When her fingers reached his hip, Nate flinched.
"There. You forced the movement."
"I followed the exercise."
"You followed someone else’s exercise."
Rovan’s longer legs, wider shoulders and years of training made an exact imitation impossible. Nate had understood that in theory. It had not stopped him from trying.
His mother rose.
"Memory-based physical Classes are dangerous in a very boring way. They convince people that understanding a movement means their body can perform it."
"My body almost did."
"Your body nearly damaged its knee."
She picked up the damp shirt he had left over the chair and threw it at him.
"Your Skill gives you information. Your body still has to earn the result."
Nate pulled the shirt away from his face.
"I know."
"You know this morning. Yesterday, you learned it nine attempts too late."
She headed for the door.
"Gentle movement today. Don’t circulate energy through that knee until the stiffness is gone."
"Yes, Doctor."
"I’m a rehabilitation specialist."
"That takes longer to say."
"It also took longer to qualify for."
The door closed behind her.
Nate tested the ankle rotation again without using energy.
It moved slightly farther than it had the night before.
His phone vibrated on the desk.
A message from the Royal Field Academy filled the screen.
His scores from the two-year regional program had earned him a provisional recommendation months ago. A functional awakening was the final requirement for admission.
The Resonance Array had failed to confirm it.
PROVISIONAL CLASS: KINETIC RECALL
STATUS: FUNCTIONAL MANIFESTATION PENDING
Candidates with stable combat, support or technical Classes had received final approval. Nate’s recommendation would remain suspended until he completed an additional assessment.
ASSESSMENT SCHEDULED IN THREE DAYS
FAILURE TO DEMONSTRATE A FUNCTIONAL CLASS WILL RESULT IN THE WITHDRAWAL OF YOUR ACADEMY RECOMMENDATION
The tests covered movement reproduction, circulation, mobility and weapon handling.
The armored train to the capital departed the following morning.
If Nate failed, Ethan would leave without him.
He carried the phone downstairs.
His father sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and several news pages projected above his tablet. Every one of them showed Ethan and Mara.
One headline called them the Returned Pair. Another placed their faces beside paintings of Aldren Marr and Serah Vale.
His father closed the projections when Nate entered.
"That bad?"
Nate put the academy message on the table.
His father read it while his mother stopped packing her lunch.
"They can’t withdraw your recommendation because their machine failed," she said.
"They’re giving me another test first."
His father reached the final page.
"Three days."
"It’s a basic evaluation."
"You say that like you’ve already passed."
"I passed harder tests during preparation."
"With a Class you understood," his mother said.
She picked up his temporary medical card and examined it again, as though the explanation missing from Nate’s words might appear between the printed lines.
His father returned the phone.
"Can you demonstrate Kinetic Recall?"
"Yes."
"Then show them."
"It isn’t that simple."
"Nothing is simple once someone puts it in an official letter."
He took another drink of coffee.
"Three days is enough."
"For what?"
"To make them regret asking you to prove it."
Nate looked at him.
His father lowered the cup.
"That sounded more convincing in my head."
"It wasn’t terrible."
The phone vibrated again.
Ethan was calling.
Nate accepted and walked into the living room.
Ethan appeared wearing a grey medical shirt, with several sensors attached to his neck. The room behind him had white walls and no windows.
"You look terrible," Ethan said.
"You’re wearing a tracking collar."
"It measures energy."
"That’s what they told you."
Ethan glanced toward someone outside the camera.
"I have five minutes. How’s your Class?"
"Kinetic Recall. It helps me reproduce movements I’ve observed."
"That suits you."
"Why?"
"You spent two years correcting my footwork."
"Your footwork needed correcting."
"It still does. Stand Before All threw me across half the testing room yesterday."
Nate smiled.
Ethan did too, though the expression faded quickly.
"They accepted me into the Crown Program."
"I saw."
"I didn’t mean—"
"I know."
"They said your result is under review."
"I have an evaluation in three days."
"I can speak to the academy representative."
"No."
"Nate."
"I’ll pass it."
"You earned that recommendation before either of us awakened."
"And I’ll keep it without First Banner asking them to admit his friend."
Ethan went quiet.
Nate heard the words again after speaking them. They sounded worse aloud than they had in his head.
"I know you’re trying to help," he said.
"Do you?"
"Yes."
A door opened behind Ethan. A woman in military uniform entered the room.
"Mr. Ward, two minutes."
Ethan ignored her.
"You don’t have to prove everything alone."
"I’m not alone."
The officer stepped closer.
Ethan lowered his voice.
"Pass the evaluation."
"That’s the plan."
"And don’t take the train without me."
"You’re the one being held in a secured building."
"I’ll find a way out."
The officer reached for the screen.
"Whatever happens," Ethan said, "we still go together."
Nate remembered the promise they had made in the awakening chamber, before officials and cameras separated them.
"Together."
The call ended.
A presenter’s voice drifted from the kitchen. Nate returned to find Ethan and Mara displayed side by side above the table, although the recordings had clearly been made in different rooms.
"The return of First Banner and Last Standard may signal a new era for the kingdom," the presenter said. "Historians are already comparing them to Aldren Marr and Serah Vale—"
Nate switched off the projection.
His father looked at the empty space.
"I was watching that."
Nate took an apple.
"I’m going to train."
His mother looked at his leg.
"Gently."
He nodded and left before she could add another condition.
The public training ground behind their apartment building was empty.
Nate placed six marker discs across the concrete, arranging them into a change-of-direction course used throughout the regional program.
He had run it hundreds of times.
His best result was 14.8 seconds.
Nate warmed up without energy until the stiffness in his hip eased. Then he focused on Posthumous Disciple.
The misty training yard returned around him.
Rovan began the same sequence, but Nate ignored the speed this time. He watched how the hunter relaxed each joint before the current reached it. The energy followed the movement rather than forcing the body to obey.
When the Echo released him, Nate’s balance felt wrong. His own legs seemed too short and his shoulders too narrow after occupying Rovan’s body.
He waited for the sensation to fade.
Then he moved to the first marker and started the timer.
His opening step was slow. He turned too carefully at the second disc and almost stopped before the third.
15.6 seconds.
He reset the timer and pushed harder.
His hip tightened near the fourth marker, forcing him to correct his footing.
15.1.
Still slower than before his awakening.
Nate sat on the concrete and caught his breath.
Rovan had repeated the exercise slowly before adding speed. Nate had watched him do it twice and ignored the lesson both times.
He stood and left the timer untouched.
For the next twenty minutes, he walked through the course, allowing each step to travel from his foot through the ankle, knee and hip before guiding the current higher.
The circulation broke near his waist during the first attempts. When he widened his turn, his shoulder tensed. When he relaxed his shoulder, he lost balance.
He adjusted the movement until it began to fit his own body.
Only then did he activate the timer again.
Nate passed the first two markers without stopping. At the third, he lowered his weight and let the turn travel through his hips. His rear foot followed before his shoulders finished rotating.
He crossed the final marker and checked the screen.
14.7 seconds.
One tenth faster than his best result before awakening.
No instructor had seen it. There was no applause or official waiting to record the improvement.
Nate smiled anyway.
In three days, he would have to convince trained examiners that Kinetic Recall was real.
He returned to the first marker.
Before then, he needed to learn how to imitate Rovan badly.
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