Marcus broke another training post.
The stone cracked down the middle, split by a punch that should have been gentle. Should have been controlled. Should have been safe.
He stared at his hands. Those massive, trembling, killer's hands.
"Again," Thess said from across the training ground.
"I can't." Marcus's voice was hollow. "Every time I try to hold back, I either hit too soft to matter or too hard to stop."
"You've been making progress. Two weeks ago you couldn't touch anything without destroying it. Now you only break things occasionally."
"Occasionally isn't good enough. In combat, occasionally means someone dies."
The words hung in the air. Dylan's ghost, present even when unspoken.
Yuna watched from the sidelines. Her wings were folded against her back, stable now, steady. Third Mark made everything easier. She could feel Marcus through the CHORD, and what she felt made her chest ache.
Not anger. Not frustration.
Despair.
He was giving up.
"Take a break," Thess said. "Clear your head. We'll try again in an hour."
Marcus walked away without responding. His shoulders were hunched, massive frame somehow looking small.
Yuna followed.
She found him in the Academy's small garden, sitting on a stone bench, staring at his hands like they were weapons he couldn't put down.
"Don't," he said without looking up.
"Don't what?"
"Don't give me a pep talk. Don't tell me it's okay. Don't pretend you understand."
Yuna sat beside him anyway.
"I wasn't going to do any of those things."
"Then what?"
"I was going to ask what happened. With Dylan. Not how he died. You told me that. But what happened before. What was he like?"
Marcus went still.
"Why?"
"Because you only ever talk about the moment you killed him. Never about the sixteen years before that."
Silence stretched between them. The garden's impossible plants rustled in a wind that didn't exist.
Then Marcus spoke.
"He was annoying."
The word came out with something unexpected. Affection.
"He never shut up. Always talking, always asking questions, always following me around like a shadow. 'Marcus, teach me this. Marcus, show me that. Marcus, why are you so big?'"
A ghost of a smile crossed his face.
"He wanted to be just like me. Even after I dislocated his shoulder that first time. Even after I broke the dining table by leaning on it too hard. He never looked at me like I was dangerous."
"What did he look like?"
"Like I was his hero." Marcus's voice cracked. "His big brother who could do anything. Protect him from anything. Be anything."
"And you believed him?"
"I tried to. But I knew what I was. What I could do. I spent my whole childhood terrified of hurting people. Breaking things by accident. Hurting kids who played too rough."
Marcus looked at his hands.
"Dylan was the only person who wasn't afraid of me. So I tried to be what he saw. The hero. The protector. The good version of whatever I was."
"And then the sparring match."
"And then I killed him."
The garden was quiet. Even the impossible plants seemed to be listening.
"You've been trying to hold back ever since," Yuna said. "Because holding back means no one gets hurt."
"Yes."
"But that's not working."
"No."
"Because holding back isn't control. It's fear."
Marcus looked at her sharply. "What?"
"You're not learning to use your strength properly. You're trying to pretend it doesn't exist. Contain it. Suppress it. But that's not the same as mastering it."
"If I use it, I hurt people."
"If you use it wrong, you hurt people. There's a difference."
Marcus shook his head. "You don't understand. You can't. Your power is about connection and love. Mine is about destruction."
"Is it?"
"What do you mean?"
Yuna leaned forward.
"The void-hound fight. You used your full strength to destroy the creature. Not to hurt allies. To protect them. In that moment, your power wasn't destruction. It was salvation."
"That was different."
"Why? Because you were hitting a monster instead of a person? The strength was the same. What changed was the intention."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment.
"Dylan," he said finally. "In the gym. My intention wasn't to hurt him. I was trying to play. To connect. To give him what he wanted."
"And what happened?"
"I got lost. In the moment. In his laughter. I forgot what I was."
"So the problem wasn't your strength. It was losing yourself in the emotion."
Marcus stared at her.
"You're saying I need to stay present. Even when I'm feeling things. Keep awareness of my power even when I'm happy or angry or scared."
"I'm saying strength without awareness is dangerous. But strength with awareness?" Yuna touched his arm. "That's what makes a protector."
They returned to the training ground.
Thess was waiting, expression unreadable. She'd probably heard everything. Sound carried strangely in the Academy.
"New approach," Yuna said. "I'm going to help."
Thess raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"The CHORD. I can feel his emotions. Help him stay aware of when he's losing control."
"That's not how CHORD training usually works."
"Maybe it should be."
Thess considered. Then nodded.
"Try it."
Marcus stood in front of a new training post. Fresh stone, unmarked. His hands hung at his sides.
Yuna positioned herself behind him, close enough to touch, and opened the CHORD connection fully.
His emotions flooded through her. Guilt. Fear. Grief. Determination. And underneath it all, so buried he probably didn't know it was there:
Love.
For Dylan. For the team. For the person he wanted to become.
"I can feel you," Yuna said softly. "All of it. The fear, the guilt, everything. But there's something else too. Deeper."
"What?"
"The reason you're so afraid of hurting people. It's not because you're a destroyer. It's because you care too much to watch them break."
Marcus's breath caught.
"Dylan didn't die because you're a monster. He died because you loved him so much you forgot to be careful. That's not evil. It's human."
"The result was the same."
"The result was tragedy. But the intention matters. And your intention was never to harm."
Marcus raised his fists.
"Guide me," he said.
Yuna closed her eyes. Focused on the CHORD. Felt Marcus's emotions like currents in water.
"Hit the post. But stay with me. Stay aware."
He swung.
The fist connected. Stone cracked.
"Too hard," Yuna said. "You felt the anger surge. Dylan's face flashed through your mind. You pushed too much."
"How do you know that?"
"I felt it. Try again. This time, when the anger comes, don't push it down. Just notice it. Let it exist without controlling your action."
Marcus reset. Swung again.
Another crack.
"Closer. The anger was there but you didn't feed it. You just didn't compensate for it either. Try pulling back ten percent while acknowledging the emotion."
Again. Again. Again.
Each time, Yuna fed him information through the CHORD. The emotional spikes that preceded power surges. The grief that added force. The fear that made him either too weak or too strong.
On the twentieth attempt, his fist connected with the post.
It didn't crack.
Marcus stared at his hand. At the post. At Yuna.
"I... I hit it. And it didn't break."
"How did it feel?"
"Like... like I was there. The whole time. Dylan came up, but I didn't disappear into it. I just... felt it. And kept going."
"That's control. Real control."
Marcus hit the post again. Solid impact, no damage. Again. Again.
His hands weren't trembling.
Thess stepped forward.
"Twenty controlled strikes in a row. That's more than you've managed in two weeks." She studied him carefully. "The combination of CHORD feedback and BEDROCK awareness. Interesting. I've never seen that approach before."
"Is it Third Mark?" Marcus asked.
"Try something harder. Hit the reinforced post. Fifty percent strength, controlled."
A different post stood at the edge of the training ground. Magical reinforcement made it nearly unbreakable. The target for advanced students.
Marcus walked to it. Yuna followed, maintaining the connection.
He planted his feet. Raised his fist.
"Dylan," Yuna said softly. "Think about him. Not the death. The life. The annoying little brother who thought you were a hero."
Marcus's jaw tightened. His eyes glistened.
He swung.
Fifty percent. Controlled. Aware.
The post shuddered. A hairline crack appeared, exactly where his fist landed. Precise. Intentional.
Marcus stared at the crack.
"I did that. I chose to do that. Not my power running away from me. Me."
"Third Mark," Thess confirmed. "Kindled. Your strength is stable now. Controllable. Part of you instead of something you have to fight."
Marcus turned to Yuna.
His eyes were wet. Not from grief this time. Something else.
"Thank you," he said. "For making me remember he was more than how he died."
"He was your brother. He deserves to be remembered for who he was."
"He would have liked you." Marcus's voice was thick. "He would have said you talk too much and ask too many questions. And then he would have followed you everywhere."
Yuna laughed. "Sounds like you."
"Maybe." Marcus looked at his hands. Steady now. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing."
That evening, Marcus found Yuna on the roof.
The three moons were bright overhead, casting silver-gold light across the Academy.
"I've been thinking," he said, sitting beside her. "About Dylan. About what you said."
"And?"
"His death will always hurt. I'll never stop wishing I could go back. Change what happened."
"I know."
"But I think... I think he'd be angry if he knew I spent the rest of my life punishing myself. He'd want me to use what I am. Protect people. Be the hero he always thought I was."
"You already are that."
Marcus shook his head. "Not yet. But I'm going to be. For him. For the team. For everyone I can save with these hands."
He held them up. Massive. Powerful.
No longer trembling.
"Protector's hands," Yuna said.
"Yeah." Marcus almost smiled. "I think I finally believe that."
They sat together in comfortable silence. The stars burned in colors Earth had never seen. The Academy hummed with quiet power beneath them.
Two insufficient people.
Two Third Marks.
One hundred thirteen days remaining.
And for the first time, Marcus felt like he might actually survive them.
[END CHAPTER 16]