CHAPTER 19 — THIRTEEN DAYS TO BE LEGAL
The first time Lucy was allowed to touch ether again, Brenn made her kneel.
The sand was cool beneath her knees—white sand this time, packed firm near the tide line. The black sand shimmered farther inland like a dark mirror, absorbing light instead of reflecting it. Korain's sky was pale and empty, the sun suspended high and distant, unmoving.
Nark Osith stood several meters away, arms folded, silent. She hadn't said a word since they arrived this morning.
She hadn't needed to.
"Do not stand," Brenn said. "Standing invites instinct."
Lucy nodded and lowered her gaze.
Abbie sat cross-legged nearby, bouncing her knee impatiently. Adam knelt with deliberate posture, spine straight, breathing measured.
"This is controlled ether contact," Brenn said. "Not casting. Not drawing. Listening."
He paced slowly in front of them.
"Until now, all of you have interacted with ether through reaction—fear, anger, desperation, sugar. That ends here."
Abbie snorted. "That's a lot to ask."
"Yes," Brenn said calmly. "Which is why most of Wister kills people."
That shut her up.
Brenn stopped in front of Lucy.
"You will reach out," he said, "but you will not pull."
Lucy swallowed. "And if I do?"
"The Crown will remind you," Brenn replied. "Painfully."
She closed her eyes.
The ether was faint here. Thin. Like a distant hum instead of a roar. Lucy focused on her breathing, grounding herself in the physical—sand, wind, salt.
Then she noticed it.
Not inside her.
Around her.
A pressure field, barely perceptible, brushing against her skin and thoughts like static.
Her fingers twitched.
The Crown pulsed once—warning, not punishment.
Good, Brenn thought.
"Adam," Brenn said. "Explain what you're feeling."
Adam opened his eyes. "Resistance. Like pushing against water that doesn't want to move."
"Correct," Brenn said. "That is ether acknowledging you—but not accepting you."
He turned to Abbie. "And you?"
Abbie grimaced. "Like it's daring me to grab it."
Brenn nodded. "Because it remembers you."
Abbie stiffened. "That's not comforting."
"It isn't meant to be," Brenn said.
Lucy exhaled slowly. "It feels… quiet. Like it's waiting."
Brenn looked at her sharply.
"Yes," he said. "It is."
He straightened.
"Now," he said, "we talk about Wister."
Even Nark shifted her weight slightly.
"The Wister War," Brenn continued, "is not optional."
He walked toward the surf, hands clasped behind his back.
"It exists for one reason: to make illegal sorcery useful."
Adam frowned. "You mean sugar users."
"Yes," Brenn said. "Anyone who has relied on sugar—ether stimulants, enhancers, illegal drives—cannot be allowed to continue unsupervised. They destabilize regions. They fracture reality."
Abbie muttered, "So instead you throw them into hell."
"Precisely," Brenn replied.
Lucy opened her eyes. "You said it was thirteen days."
Brenn nodded.
"The first three days are survival."
He gestured toward the horizon, where the sea met sky.
"Candidates are dropped into a closed zone saturated with hostile ether ecology. Monsters. Aberrations. Failed constructs."
Adam's jaw tightened. "And resources?"
"Limited," Brenn said. "You acquire sugar, stabilizers, and mana drives by scavenging or killing."
Abbie laughed once, humorless. "Of course."
"The next eight days," Brenn continued, "are containment."
Lucy felt her stomach sink.
"Mana Madness victims," Brenn said. "Those who failed Wister in previous years. Those who overdosed and survived."
Adam whispered, "You use them as training dummies."
"No," Brenn corrected. "We use them as warnings."
Silence stretched.
"And the last two days?" Lucy asked quietly.
Brenn turned back to them.
"Candidates fight each other," he said. "No teams. No mercy."
Abbie's smile faded. "To the death?"
"Yes."
Lucy's breath caught.
"Those who survive," Brenn said, "are legalized. Registered. Bound."
He paused.
"They become Vell sorcerers."
Adam looked down at the sand. "Crew-mate system."
Brenn nodded. "No one fights alone. No one survives alone. Dependency creates loyalty."
Nark scoffed softly from the sidelines.
Brenn ignored her.
"You will not win Wister by being strong," he said. "You win by being useful."
He turned back to Lucy.
"And you," he said, "are an anomaly among anomalies."
Lucy clenched her fists. "So what am I supposed to do?"
Brenn's voice softened—just slightly.
"Learn to touch ether without letting it touch you back."
He raised his hand.
A small stone lifted from the sand—slowly, gently, trembling as if uncertain it wanted to exist in the air.
"Adam," Brenn said. "Your turn."
Adam focused.
The stone wobbled violently, then snapped upward too fast, cracking in midair.
"Again," Brenn said.
Abbie tried next—too hard. The stone exploded into dust.
Nark raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Lucy hesitated.
"Slow," Brenn said. "Do not ask it to move. Do not force it."
Lucy breathed.
She imagined the stone not as an object—but as a suggestion.
The stone lifted.
Perfectly.
The Crown remained silent.
For the first time, Brenn allowed himself a real smile.
"Good," he said. "Very good."
Lucy's hands shook as the stone settled back into the sand.
Abbie stared at her. "Show-off."
Lucy laughed weakly.
The sun dipped lower.
Training continued—controlled lifts, brief holds, forced release. No sugar. No amplification. Just discipline.
Nark watched it all without comment.
Thirteen days.
Lucy felt the weight of them settle into her bones.
Wister was coming.
And this time—
They would walk into it awake.