The hyperspace tunnel was the only place Kael felt safe, yet it was also where he felt the most useless.
While Valerius spent hours in the ship's gym—which looked more like a medieval torture chamber with holographic targets—and Elis ran diagnostic checks on the ship's ancient sensors, Kael sat in the mess hall, staring at a bowl of reconstituted protein mash.
"You're brooding," Elis's voice chirped. Her hologram appeared on the table, sitting cross-legged next to his bowl. "It's a very 'main character' look, but it doesn't help with the hunger."
"I'm not brooding," Kael said, poking the grey goop with a spoon. "I'm thinking. Valerius thinks I'm a 'brawler.' Ignis thinks I'm a battery. What if I can't be anything else?"
"You just 'blinked' a sixty-thousand-ton cruiser three miles to the left without turning us into a strawberry smoothie," Elis said. "I'd say you're doing okay. But if you want to be more than a battery, you should probably go to the Training Deck. The General has been waiting for forty minutes."
Kael sighed, pushed his bowl away, and headed for the lower decks.
The Training Deck was a massive, circular room. The floor was made of a specialized kinetic sand that could harden or soften instantly to prevent injury. In the center stood Valerius. He had stripped off his heavy plate armor, wearing only a sleeveless tunic that showed arms like gnarled oak branches, covered in scars.
In his hand, he held a wooden practice sword. He threw a second one at Kael.
Kael caught it—barely. It was heavy. Much heavier than it looked.
"A wooden sword?" Kael asked. "Against the Vorthax? I thought we were going to work on the glowing-blue-hand stuff."
"You cannot control the fire if you do not understand the hearth," Valerius said, his voice echoing. "You rely on your 'magic' because you are afraid of your own weakness. But magic is a resource. If it runs out in the middle of a fight, you are just a boy with a fancy bag. I will teach you to be a warrior who happens to have magic."
"Fine," Kael said, squaring his shoulders and holding the sword out like a club. "Teach me."
Valerius didn't speak. He moved.
He was a blur of grey and brown. Before Kael could even blink, the wooden sword caught him across the ribs.
"Oof!" Kael collapsed into the sand, gasping for air.
"Balance is wrong," Valerius said, his face expressionless. "You are leaning into the future. Stay in the present. Again."
Kael scrambled up, his face flushed with embarrassment. He swung the wooden blade with all his strength. Valerius simply stepped two inches to the left. The momentum of Kael's swing carried him forward, and Valerius gave him a gentle tap on the backside with the flat of his blade, sending Kael face-first into the sand again.
"Comedy gold," Elis's voice came over the intercom. "I'm recording this for the archives. I'll call it 'The Starborn's Face-Plant'."
"Shut up, Elis!" Kael spat out a mouthful of sand. "He's too fast! How am I supposed to hit him?"
"Don't look at me," Valerius said, circling him like a wolf. "Feel the room. The Starborn gift isn't just about shooting fireballs, Kael. It is about Connection. You are connected to the ship. You are connected to the Cube. You are connected to the atoms in the air."
Valerius lunged again.
This time, Kael didn't look at the sword. He tried to do what he did in the nebula—he looked for the current.
The world slowed down. He saw the shift in Valerius's weight. He saw the muscle in the General's forearm tighten before the strike. Kael didn't swing; he just tilted his body.
The wooden sword whistled past his ear, missing by a hair.
Valerius's eyes widened slightly. A small, wolfish grin touched his lips. "Better. Now, find the rhythm."
For the next hour, the deck was filled with the clack-clack-clack of wood on wood. Kael was still being hit—frequently—but he was starting to see the patterns.
"Enough," Valerius finally said, lowering his sword. Both men were drenched in sweat. "Now, the Spark. Draw it out, but do not release it. Hold it in your palm like a dying bird."
Kael closed his eyes. He reached into that cold, deep well inside him. The blue light began to leak from his pores. It felt like needles under his skin.
"It... it wants to go," Kael strained, his hand shaking. "It wants to explode."
"Patience," Valerius commanded. "If you let it explode, you waste 90% of the energy. Compress it. Make it small. Make it sharp."
Kael focused. He visualized the blue mist becoming a marble. Then a needle.
Suddenly, the air in the room grew heavy. A low, rhythmic thumping started.
"THE BOY LEARNS FAST," Ignis's voice rumbled. "BUT WE HAVE ARRIVED. THE SANDS OF ZUL-KARAK ARE BENEATH US."
Kael's eyes snapped open. The blue light in his hand vanished. "The Desert of Lost Time?"
"The first coordinate," Valerius said, grabbing his armor. "The Archive of the Ancients is buried there. If we want to find the Dragon-Ship's missing sister, we need the map hidden in the tomb."
"Missing sister?" Kael asked. "There's another ship like this?"
"THERE WERE SEVEN OF US," Ignis said, and for the first time, Kael heard a trace of sadness in the dragon's voice. "I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO STILL SINGS. THE OTHERS... THEY ARE SILENT. OR CAPTURED."
"Then let's go find some answers," Kael said, feeling the weight of the wooden sword in his hand. He didn't feel like a master yet, but for the first time in his life, he didn't feel like a scavenger.
"Elis," Valerius called out. "Scan for life signatures. If the Vorthax know about this archive, they'll have a garrison waiting."
"Scanning now," Elis said. Her voice went cold. "I have bad news. I'm picking up thousands of signatures. But they aren't Vorthax."
"Then what are they?" Kael asked.
"They're... sand. The signatures are coming from the sand itself."
End of Chapter 6