Ro slams the handle of her ax into the ground, rattling the wooden platform. "Alright, cut it out."

With a roll of his eyes, Tam releases his chokehold. Keefe collapses onto his side with a gasp. He almost had it that time, he could feel it—

"It's not working," Tam insists from above as he shakes his arms out, easing away the tension of their latest spar. "Whatever you did last time, this clearly wasn't it."

Keefe closes his eyes, trying to recall the night of the Foxfire dance. He remembers the raw terror of being inflicted on, and then he just—tapped into something.

It's hard to keep his focus when he's surrounded by the buzz of the jungle canopy and early afternoon humidity. The last time he was on this training platform was with Alvar, when Keefe had painted a moonlark onto the walls for target practice. He'd gotten in trouble with Gethen for vandalizing the training room, but Keefe didn't care.

The moonlark painting is still there, but severely worn down by the elements. Its faded colors make it look ghostly in the daytime.

He hauls himself to his feet. His linen tunic sticks to his skin, and sweat drips into his eyes. He wipes it away with the crook of his elbow.

"Again," Keefe pants, raising his fists.

Ro narrows her eyes. "Buddy. Maybe you should give it a break."

He relaxes his stance with a groan. "Come on. Just because Tam can't keep up with me doesn't mean—"

Tam spits out the water he was drinking and laughs loudly. "Nice try. I'm not falling for that."

"We're more afraid of you hurting yourself," Linh reminds Keefe. She leans against the platform railing where she'd been all morning, looking on curiously. "Although, if Tam is feeling tired, I'd be happy to step in," she adds with a cheeky smile.

Keefe blanches. "That's okay, Linh." With enough frequent breaks, he's able to keep up with Tam because they're more evenly matched.

With Linh... well, Keefe isn't sure he'd make it to lunchtime.

Ro's gaze darts between them. "Whatever. It's your funeral," she growls, then points at Keefe with a menacing purple-painted claw. "But you have to tap out once it starts getting risky."

Keefe shakes his head. "This can only work if I feel threatened. Like, Tam has to try to almost kill me."

"That shouldn't be too hard," Tam mutters.

Ro throws her hands up in the air. "Why do I even try?"

The boys settle back into position across from each other. Keefe raises his fists.

Tam makes the first move, throwing a punch that Keefe easily sidesteps. He tries again, stepping forward and landing a hit that only glances off Keefe's shoulder.

"You're going to have to try harder than that," Keefe taunts.

Tam growls and lunges forward with renewed energy, swiping and ducking when Keefe least expects it. His heart begins pumping with adrenaline as the fight grows more intense. At one point, Tam's fist lands solidly in the middle of Keefe's stomach, and he doubles back with a pained groan.

"I'm fine," Keefe says through gritted teeth, feeling both Ro and Linh go tense from across the room.

He draws himself back up, but Tam is already advancing with fists raised. Keefe kicks a leg out to keep him away. Tam jumps back, so Keefe kicks at him again.

He doesn't get so lucky this time. Tam grabs his leg, catching him off-balance, and Keefe stumbles back, hitting the platform railing with a painful thud. The impact stuns him only momentarily, but it's enough time for Tam to leap forward and slam against Keefe.

The platform shakes under their feet. Keefe fights against Tam's hold, but Tam has his forearm pressed against Keefe's windpipe, cutting off his air supply and nearly forcing him off the platform.

"Tap out," Tam hisses.

No. Not yet. Keefe squeezes his eyes shut, feeling for the connection—

"Tap out now or I'll throw you over the edge, I swear—"

Tam's emotions burn with a white-hot aura of anger and annoyance. Keefe delves deeper, ignoring his screaming lungs to focus on where Tam's skin is pressed against his own.

Tam is angry, but he's also fearful, his concern for Keefe growing as the seconds pass. But beneath it all, Tam carries with him a layer of deep, yawning sorrow, spread so thin it's almost impalpable—

The brightness of the afternoon sun disappears as hazy black shadows seep out of Keefe's hands and latch onto Tam. The pressure on Keefe's throat eases as Tam stumbles back, forced off by the murky aura.

Panting with exertion, Keefe pushes himself up and stares at his hands in fascination. The shadows are quickly fading, already melting away into the darker corners of the training room, but he can still feel their presence pulling at his fingertips, like he had dipped his hand in cool water.

Tam's eyes are wide, but he manages to sound calm as he mumbles out, "Not bad for an amateur, I guess."

Someone begins clapping politely. Keefe turns around, his triumphant grin faltering when he sees who the newcomer is.

"I'm impressed," Vespera praises, her lips curled into a thin smile. Despite the heat, she's wearing a dark robe with a deep hood, shielding her pale face from the sun. "You're making wonderful progress, Keefe. I'm glad the other night wasn't just a fluke."

Keefe sighs as he adjusts his hand wrappings. "Can we help you, Lady Vespera?"

"Oh, don't let me interrupt just yet." Vespera assures, waving a dismissive hand. "Please, carry on."

Keefe glances questioningly at Tam, who shrugs back at him. "I guess so," Keefe concedes, and they settle back into their starting positions facing each other.

"Are you not going to let Miss Song have a turn?" Vespera pipes up curiously.

Keefe grits his teeth, knowing that's not a question. "Fine." He jerks his head towards Linh. "You up for a round?"

Linh's eyes brighten. She smooths down her loose-fitting tunic and skips over to take Tam's place on the training floor.

Keefe takes a deep breath as Ro counts them down. As soon as the all clear is given, Linh darts forward, quick as a whip.

He spins to avoid her, narrowly missing her first blow, but she manages to snake behind him, delivering a solid kick to his lower back. Keefe stumbles, lashing out with a hand to catch her, but she's too fast, weaving in and out of his defenses before he can react.

His limbs feel sluggish and unresponsive, like he's moving underwater. Linh lands another punch, followed by a well-timed kick, and then he's hurled to the ground.

Keefe pushes himself up on his elbows but Linh's knee lands on his stomach, pinning him down. He tries to shove her off, but she only presses him further into the floor.

As much as it hurts, Keefe hones in on the sensation of her knee digging into his gut. He can feel the thrill of adrenaline pumping through Linh's veins, sharp and hot. She's also concerned by how much she's hurting him, but it's mostly overshadowed by a building sense of triumph.

Keefe holds onto that connection and pulls, and suddenly the air around them thickens, choked with humidity. Out of nowhere, water floods the space between them, exploding outward like a popped balloon and shoving them apart.

Linh glances down at her drenched clothes with open-mouthed awe. "You pulled water out of the air," she exclaims. "That took me ages to learn."

"It's not something he learned, Miss Song," Vespera points out. "It's something you learned. Keefe is simply borrowing your ability."

Ro shakes her head in disbelief. "With all due respect, Lady Vespera, that is... freaky."

Keefe holds his palm out, and the water puddling on the floor around him lifts into the air at will. In spite of himself, he cracks a smile. He'd always wanted to be a Hydrokinetic when he was little; it was a dramatic, flashy ability and nearly opposite the Empathy he'd inherited from his father.

"And very useful," Vespera adds. "Linh, Tam, Romhilda, please leave us. I need to speak to Keefe alone."

Keefe watches sullenly as they leave the training platform via the rope ladder. He's never liked being alone with Vespera; without everyone else's emotional auras to act as a buffer, the empty, emotionless void surrounding her eats away at Keefe's energy like a blood-sucking mosquito.

Vespera hands him a bowl and a knife. Before he can make a noise of disapproval, she announces, "This is the last sample we'll be needing from you."

Keefe raises his eyebrows as he takes the knife from her. "Really?"

"Indeed. The serum is nearly ready." Vespera smiles again.

He doesn't think he's ever seen her look so pleased. It's unsettling. To distract himself, he slides the knife across his palm. Blood wells out of the wound, and he lets it drip into the bowl.

"Your mother is something of a genius. It has been an honor watching her bring my vision to life."

"I guess she did make me," Keefe jokes half-heartedly.

"You have fulfilled her legacy wonderfully," Vespera says. "And now the rest of us can reap the benefits. This is a great honor for both of you, Keefe."

A shallow red puddle has formed at the bottom of the bowl. He obediently hands the bowl back. "How do you know it will work this time? The serum."

"It will."

"But when the first Lodestar—"

"Brant was merely a prototype of the Lodestar Initiative," Vespera interjects, her blue eyes flashing. "The serum he took was highly concentrated. It would have driven anyone mad."

Keefe falls silent.

She tilts her head, studying him. "Keefe, you have the privilege of being gifted with these abilities since birth. You helped us develop a safer serum. What happened to Brant won't happen again."

He grimaces. "Right."

"You are the only true Lodestar." Vespera's face softens a fraction. "Don't mess it up."