Arke leaned back loosely in the chair, voice low. "Why am I the only one who can cross into the Reverse?"
"Because the weapon's tied to the creature," Basti said. "And you're tied to the weapon. They both emerge from the Rift. Like I told you—unless you wield the weapon, you'll never fully cross. And you can't kill what's inside."
Arke dragged his hands over his face, trying to absorb it all. There had to be another way.
"Wait…" he said. "Why don't you ask the government for help? They could study this. Maybe even figure out how to stop it."
"Uh uh uh." Basti raised a finger and turned to Leev. "What's the first rule, Leev?"
"Never ask help from the government," Leev said without blinking.
Basti gave two slow nods, then looked back at Arke.
"But why?" Arke asked.
Basti leaned forward. "How many Crimson Hours do you know about?"
"One," Arke said. "Just the one six months ago."
"Wrong," Basti said. "The first happened sixteen years ago. Maybe more—but that's the first we're sure of."
He drew a slow breath.
"I was a little older than you when it hit. Twelve of us were hiking. When we reached the peak, the sky flickered red—but not like what you saw. This one was small, just above us."
"Then came the call. One by one, we heard it. And one by one we found the weapons. Found the Reverse."
His eyes clouded for a moment. Then he met Arke's gaze.
"But one of us—he didn't stay quiet. He went to the government. Showed them what we'd found."
Basti paused.
"A few days later, he vanished. Not just him—his whole family. Every relative. Gone."
"And the records?" He shook his head slowly. "Gone. Like they were never born."
Basti leaned back.
"So." He said it plainly. "Never. Ever. Tell the government."
Arke let out a deep exhale. "Okay. What should I do to wield the weapon?"
"Train," Basti said. "Daily. Starting tomorrow."
He stood and gave a lazy stretch, then waved his hand like he was shooing pigeons. "Be here at eight. Go on, scram."
* * *
The next day, after his mom dropped him and Arthe off at school, Arke let Arthe run ahead toward the gate like always. As soon as the car drove away, he flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address to Velvet Hall.
Guilt clung to him the moment they pulled away from the school. He hated the thought of skipping class and lying to his mom. But the reason outweighed everything. If he didn't do this—if he didn't train—then the people who always ran the track would die. Now, at least, he finally understood the reason behind Leev's school absence.
When Arke arrived, something felt different. The street was quiet, like the busyness of the night had finally gone to sleep.
He stepped up to the door of Velvet Hall, but before he could knock, it swung open on its own.
Arke glanced around the entrance—no one was there. And the moment he stepped inside, the door shut behind him with a heavy thud.
Another one of Basti's tricks, he thought.
Inside, it was dim—like it always looked at night, only this time, none of the spotlights were on.
On the far side of the hall, Basti sat in a chair with a cup of tea in hand.
"Oh, you're early," he said, standing and motioning for Arke to follow.
He walked up to what looked like a decorative puzzle set into the wall and twisted a few pieces into place.
With a soft click, a section of the wall slid open.
A secret room.
Basti stepped through the hidden doorway, and Arke followed.
Inside was a wide, well-lit room. As Arke walked in, the first thing that caught his eye was a massive map mounted on the wall. Several parts of it were marked—some circled in red, others in black. A few even had Xs drawn inside the circles.
He stared at it, eyes narrowing. It was a map of their city.
"What is that?" Arke asked.
"Rift map."
"Rift map..." Arke echoed. "You mean all those circles are Rifts?"
"Uh-huh." Basti raised a hand, and a magic wand slid smoothly from his sleeve. He pointed it at the map. "The red ones are Rifts with a Reverse. Which means there's also a sentient weapon tied to them."
Arke leaned in. "Wait… that's our school."
"But… how do you even know where the Rifts are?"
Basti pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and held the screen in front of him.
"Rift Finder," Arke read aloud, seeing the app's name. His brows furrowed—then realization hit. "There's an app for that?!"
"Well… you can't download this. A Redbearer developed it."
"Cool."
"Remember the story I told you? That there were twelve of us? One of us is now a theoretical scientist. He made the app. It detects the Rifts."
"So the black ones?"
"Just Rifts. Plain ones—no sentient weapons, but most of the time more dangerous. And the ones with Xs are already cleared." He pointed. "This was Leev's. He cleared his just a few days ago."
Basti opened his fingers, letting the wand slip back into his sleeve, then motioned Arke over. "May I see your marks?"
Arke showed his arm. "This morning, when I woke up, it had already spread."
"That's a good thing. It means the weapon has now bonded well with you."
He walked to the center of the room where a floor mat lay. "Sit here."
Arke moved over and sat cross-legged.
"Now summon the weapon."
Arke looked up. "How?"
"Relax. Focus your mind on where you found it. I'm guessing it's somewhere in your school."
"The track."
Basti nodded.
Arke closed his eyes and tried to picture it.
"Imagine yourself at the track," Basti said, pacing slowly around him. "Picture the weapon. Exactly how you saw it. Now imagine walking toward it… slowly reach out and pick it up."
A long pause.
Arke opened his eyes. "I think nothing's happening."
"Keep going. Don't stop until you feel a slight movement of air in front of you."
Minutes turned to an hour. An hour turned into hours. Still nothing.
"Nothing is happening," Arke said, frustrated.
Basti knelt beside him, one knee down, fingers resting on his chin.
"Something's holding you back."
Arke's brows drew together, trying to grasp what he meant.
"What's on the track that's holding you back…" He paused. "No, no, no. Who?"
Arke flinched slightly, pulling back just a bit.
"You lost someone on the track?"
Arke lowered his gaze to the mat, then shook his head. "Not exactly on the track."
"Go on."
Arke exhaled, eyes still fixed downward, his hands fidgeting. "The day of the Crimson Hour, I was running on the school track. I was supposed to meet someone…"
"Someone special."
Arke nodded once. "I was always like that—so occupied when I'm running. I lost track of time. When I finally reached her, the Crimson Hour hit. A metal beam pinned my legs. That's what paralyzed me. And she… she died that day."
"That's tragic."
"That's what's holding you back. They're all connected."
"You love the track, but you hate the Crimson Hour. And the Crimson Hour took her from you. The weapon—comes from that same place."
"I'm sorry to say this, but you have to heal. You have to let her go."
He tapped Arke's shoulder, then stood. "Let's take a break. Wait here—I'll go get us lunch."
After lunch, Arke's training continued, but he still wasn't able to summon the weapon.
The same held true for the next two days.
On the fourth day, following the same routine—waiting for a taxi after his mom's car left—a voice called out.
"Hey, former champ."
Arke turned. It was Yarih.
"What have you been up to?" she said. "Haven't seen you at training for three days."
She eyed him up and down. "And it looks like you're skipping class."
Arke's eyes widened. "No—no, I was just about to go in." He pointed lamely toward the school gate.
She raised a brow. "I saw your mom drop you off right there. Front of the gate."
Then she crossed her arms. "And now here you are. Across the road."
"Huh? No, I just got… confused," Arke mumbled. "Let's go."
He pulled out his phone to message Basti and started crossing—when he felt a sharp yank on his collar. A horn blared as a car whooshed past, missing him by inches.
"You trying to go back to a wheelchair?" Yarih said flatly.
"Sorry," Arke muttered. He looked both ways, then crossed more carefully.
Yarih walked beside him, arms folded. "Hmm. I've got it figured out."
"What?" Arke glanced at her.
"You're skipping class to meet someone," she said. "A date."
"What?" His eyes widened. "No!"
She gave a smirk. "Relax. I won't tell Coach."
She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "So who's the girl?"
"I told you, it's not a date." Arke hesitated. "And… I already want to get over her."
The words slipped out before he realized.
Yarih suddenly stopped, raising a finger toward a nearby classroom door. "This is mine."
Arke nodded. She went inside.
As the door closed behind her, Arke groaned under his breath.
"Crap, Arke… why'd you even say that?"
An hour later, during break, Arke sat alone at a table. He pulled out his phone and, keeping it low under the table, started typing a message to Basti—explaining why he'd missed the training.
Someone sat down across from him.
Arke looked up. It was Yarih.
"Just some advice," she said. "You said you want to get over her. Then don't leave her hanging. She deserves to know."
Arke paused. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
Yarih raised a brow. "What's funny?"
"You misunderstood," Arke said.
Then his expression sank. "I need to let her go… she passed during the Crimson Hour."
Yarih blinked, then leaned back. "...Oh. I didn't know. Sorry."
"So… that's why you've been off lately?"
Arke didn't answer.
"If she were still here, what would she say to you?"
It hit a spot. Arke knew Rizz that well. She had always been there—supporting him, never angry, even when he was late because he'd been too caught up in running.
And deep down, Arke knew exactly what she'd say if she could speak to him now:
"Wield that weapon."
Arke looked at Yarih with a faint smile. "Thanks. I think I need to go."
Yarih nodded and went back to her food.
Arke walked off slowly—then broke into a jog, and finally a run, his legs finding rhythm again as he headed for the track.
It felt different this time. As if he'd finally realized what he needed to do.
The track was quiet, empty. No one was training yet.
He stepped onto the center lane—the same spot where the sentient weapon had first appeared.
The air shifted.
A red mist began to swirl. And then, the dagger materialized, floating in place.
He raised his hand, fingers curling around its hilt as a surge of energy rushed through him.
He met the weapon's gleam with a steady gaze and spoke to it directly.
"Let's clear the Reverse."