“—el.”


    Lorel stirred.


    “Lorel.”


    And then jerked awake at the sound of his name. “Wha—?” It took him a second to recognize his surroundings. School. Through the window, he could see that nighttime was already falling; though the dark was kept at bay by the soft glow of Coral.


    That was his second favorite thing about home. It was never truly dark. His favorite thing, of course, was the ocean.


    “Are you awake now?” His friend, Loch, asked, calm as ever. He had jet-black hair and dark blue eyes— and as always, held a book in one hand.


    “Yeah,” Lorel answered with a yawn, arching his back and stretching his arms. He regretted that immediately as his neck ached in protest. “Ach.”


    Loch shook his head. “It never ceases to amaze me how carefree you are.”


    “You certainly don’t sound amazed.”


    “Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, either.”


    Lorel smiled. “And your kind words never fail to make my heart flutter.” He knew how Loch worked. Other people saw his calm, understated demeanor, and assumed him to be polite— only to be surprised when he was anything but.


    That never failed to irritate him, so he drove them away.


    “What time is it?”


    Loch placed his book on his lap, spine-open and checked his holo-watch before answering. “4:45. Classes ended 15 minutes ago.”


    Lorel yawned again. “There’s still fifteen minutes to get to there. And we’re basically next door. You could have let me sleep more.”


    “I would have, but you take forever to get your act straight.”


    He chuckled. “Fair enough.” Lorel put his head back down on the desk and looked up at Loch. Though vaguely androgynous in appearance, his actions and mannerisms were distinctively masculine— if significantly more dignified.


    He kept his grades up just for the sake of it, and little more. That was impressive in itself; the curriculum here was difficult— as it was across the whole planet. Theirs was a young nation, and one whose future was fraught with danger.


    Education was important. Those who fell behind were placed in classes better suited to their needs; but the pacing remained much the same. This was one such class. Lorel and Loch were one of only ten students belonging to it.


    Despite their differences, they both valued their freedom too much. The teachers here didn’t care much what they did, so long as they learned the material. That gave Lorel the freedom to learn at his own pace.


    Which usually involved lectures from his sister.


    Loch, for his part, was just naturally intelligent. What he used his time outside of school for, Loren had no idea, nor did he care. They were friends. That was all there was to it.


    And Loch’s idea of fun was probably reading. The black-haired boy picked his book up with both hands, shutting it with a quiet snap before stowing it in his pack. It was one of his many quirks, insisting on reading physical books.


    Lorel may not have understood that itself, but he understood the sentiment. It was the same reason he never went down in a diving sphere. They were two very different things.


    “We should get going,” Loch said, picking his bag up. That was another thing that set him apart. He used an old-fashioned leather briefcase, worn from years of use. A gift from his father, apparently.


    That was hardly surprising. Quirks had a tendency to be a family thing. Lorel knew that from experience.


    “We should,” he agreed, groaning as he stood. A result of his awkward sleeping position. Unlike Loch, he brought nothing to school, save for his holo-watch.


    Their school was one of many situated atop the floating city, and together with its higher education programs, was among the finest education anyone in the universe could receive.


    It took them some time to make their way to the bottom floor. Buildings were designed to make the most of the limited space, and more often than not, that meant going up. As a result, the city blotted out most of the sun’s light; but while the lower levels had lights, they were never powered. The ambient Coral glow was more than enough.


    Lorel always found it beautiful. It was a gorgeous color, somewhere between pale blue and green. It permeated every inch of the atmosphere; strong enough to illuminate, but weak enough to make one second-guess their eyes.


    In some ways, though, the city represented what life on Torrent was like. Bright and idyllic on the surface, with a barely-repressed underbelly.


    He eyed Loch as they stepped out onto the streets. Though laconic at best, Lorel knew they shared many of their worries. He was one of the few people that Loch seemed comfortable confiding in— and that was an honor not held lightly.


    “Lorel.”


    He flinched at the sound of his name, certain Loch had noticed his stare.


    “Aren’t you worried?”


    But that quickly proved not to be the case. Or not the reason for his sudden question, at the very least.


    “… About what?”


    Loch stopped walking.


    “You know what.”


    Lorel walked two extra paces before stopping. Of course he did. They’d discussed it at length, and on far too many occasions for his taste. “Of course I am,” he said, turning to face his friend.


    “Then how can you sleep in class like that?”


    He snorted. “As if you can call that a class.”


    Loch’s blue gaze turned withering.


    “Alright, alright,” Lorel said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He turned his gaze upwards, towards where the jungle of metal and glass stood. “I just don’t think there’s any point in worrying about it.”


    “Why not?”


    He looked back down at Loch. His features were tense.


    “Do you have a way off this planet?”


    Loch shook his head.


    “And if you did, would you want to leave?”


    Another shake of the head— but more hesitant this time, Lorel noticed.


    “There you have it. If your mind is already made up, what’s the point in worrying about it?”


    Loch seemed to relax as understanding took over his expression. “I see.” He sounded thoughtful. “I never thought of it like that.”


    “You’re too complicated,” Lorel said with a grin. “It’s why we get along so well.”


    The black-haired boy raised one eyebrow. “Are you calling yourself simple?”


    His grin widened. “What’s wrong with being simple?”


    Loch shook his head. “I envy you, sometimes.”


    “And besides,” Lorel continued, “isn’t that why we’re here?” He jabbed a thumb at their destination.


    Officially, it was called the Development Facility For Hydrokinetics, or DFH, but everyone who saw it just called it “the facility.” It was a large, cylindrical building with too many floors— and windows— to count. How could they not?


    It was also one of the only buildings that went down, into the ocean below. The others of its kind were, of course, the other facilities.


    “I guess you’re right.” Loch closed his eyes, and Lorel knew he was mentally filing their conversation away for later.


    “We should get going.” Lorel turned on his heels and made for the door. Better to be early than late. The lobby floor was blindingly white, as if perfectly sterile. It was the one place on Torrent that he hated.


    The doorway terminal read their holo-watches as they stepped in. They knew the way even without directions, heading for the single-person elevators that lined each wall.


    “See you on the other side.”


    He raised one hand, not even bothering to look at Loch as they took adjacent elevators. It was little more than a small glass capsule, barely big enough to hold a single person. Much to Lorel’s chagrin, there was still more than enough headroom.


    His holo-watch automatically entered floor 1238. He leaned back against the smooth glass with a sigh, fighting the urge to drift back to sleep. Fast as it was, the journey down would still take several minutes.


    The next thing Lorel knew, he woke with a jolt as the elevator jerked to a halt. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, having bashed it against the interior. After taking a moment to recover, he stepped out.


    This part of the floor was little more than a hallway, nearly too narrow to fit him comfortably. This far down, there was no sunlight, but that mattered little. The glow of Coral was stronger, here, staining the grey walls a calm bluish-grey.


    A door stood all the way to the left, at the end of the hallway; a slab of black set into the grey. Lorel stepped slowly towards it, gazing out the left-hand wall as he walked down the narrow pathway.


    The waters of Torrent greeted him. He could see the city’s other three facilities reaching down from above. Each was a pillar of shimmering light within the blue-green luminescence of Coral.


    If Lorel were on the other side of the building, he would have seen sunlight streaming down into the water, but from here, the city above blocked out all else.


    The door slid open soundlessly as he touched it.


    “Lorel.” A familiar voice greeted him. “It’s good to see you again.”


    Doctor Strella sat at the center of the room. He had sandy hair, dark brown eyes, and wore a simple white coat. That was one of the few things that stayed the same no matter where you were. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Supposedly, anyways. It wasn’t as if Lorel had ever been off-planet.


    “It’s good to see you too,” he responded. Those words were no lie— he’d known the middle-aged man since his early teenage years. Floor 1238 was his twelfth assignment, but always under the watch of Strella.


    The doctor was taller than a Lorel by a good bit, though the distance between their heights shrank further every year. A number of floating terminals hovered around him; Strella closed them with a flick of his wrist, save for one. “I’m sure you know the drill by now,” he said with a wry smile.


    The room was grey, and unlike the hallway, had no natural light. Its lights were the same calm, quiet grey, as opposed to the loud white of the lobby. Rather than a solid wall, the far one was just a curtain of water.


    The floor bore a circular groove, cut into a perfect circle. A small layer of water was trapped within.


    Lorel dropped to one knee, reaching out with one hand as he did so. Spread out like this, it looked like the carving held quite a bit, but it was shallow; holding barely enough to wet the tip of his finger.


    As his flesh came into contact with the tranquil surface, it flowed upward, clinging to his flesh like a second skin. He could feel the sensors held within; rigid specks of metal scattered within the soft, supple fluid.


    “There’s more than usual,” Lorel observed off-handedly, molding the water into a glove that shrouded his hand.


    “Just so,” the doctor answered with a nod. “And your other… capabilities?”


    Lorel raised his other hand at that, poking the watery glove with his finger. Instead of sinking below the surface, it stopped short. This process was always hard to explain, much to the chagrin of his sister.


    He knew the scientific explanation of what he did, of course, but explaining how he did it was another matter entirely.


    Water was gentle and malleable, but only to a point. If struck hard enough— or at the wrong angle— it was stronger than any wall. He could just… convince it to act like that.


    His sister, of course, was not satisfied with that answer.


    Another window popped up in front of Strella. His eyes flitted up and down its length before closing it. “It appears your abilities continue to improve.” With a flick of the wrist, he sent the data to Lorel’s holo-watch.


    Lorel half-smiled. That was a good thing, to be sure, but the reason behind those improvements was anything but.


    “I’m curious. Has anyone ever lost their…” Lorel trailed off, unsure which term was most apt.


    “… Abilities?”


    In the end, he borrowed Strella’s words.


    “No,” the doctor answered with a shake of the head. “But there’s a first time for everything. This all stems from an abundance of caution. Now, if you would—”


    Lorel willed the water to flow back into the shallow groove. It settled in smoothly, its mirror-like surface unmarred by even the faintest of ripples. Not a single drop was out of place.


    “I see you’re as impatient as ever,” Strella said flatly, but he was unable to keep the smile from his face.


    “I have something to do after this.”


    “Oh?” The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Another dive with your sister?”


    Lorel nodded. “What?” He asked, noticing something off in his demeanor.


    Strella said nothing for a moment, his expression mired with uncertainty. “We were born into a chaotic era,” he finally said. “Be careful.”


    “Is that a reference?” Lorel asked, raising one eyebrow.


    “To… what?”


    He shook his head. “Never mind.” Something from one of Loch’s books. Lorel took a moment to settle his thoughts. Despite his calm outward demeanor, those eight words from Strella had sent his pulse racing.


    “I know, doc,” he finally said. “But there’s nothing we can to about it.” He buried his unease under those words. “The ocean is my home.” Lorel grinned. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding a secret off-planet back channel?”


    Silence settled around them— and then Strella’s shoulders relaxed as the tension bled away. “I’m sorry your generation has been burdened with such a heavy future.”


    Lorel just shrugged. “We all have our part to play.” His parents played theirs, and his sister would have one to play in the future. He would play his— so long as he was able.


    Strella smiled sadly. “I hope the day you rue your birthright never comes.”


    Lorel shook his head vehemently. “It never will.” He knew that as certainly as his own name.


    The last few holo-windows closed. “You know the rules, yes?”


    He nodded once. There were only two: no permanent injury— including death— and ability-based attacks only.


    “Then go on ahead.”


    Lorel nodded again, stepping past Strella— and through the man-made waterfall. He held his breath as he broke through the curtain. There was no real need for that, but as it turned out, human instinct was hard to suppress.


    Or at least, that was Loch’s theory.


    The facility before him was really more arena than anything scientific, in both purpose and shape. Its waterfall fell from a smooth, single-piece mirror that ringed the entire arena. And though he couldn’t see through it, Lorel knew scientists and military officials alike were watching them closely.


    Eight other figures stood spread out across the circular structure; three boys and five girls. Their intent with that was obvious enough.


    Not that he cared.


    He wasn’t even sure what their names were.


    A small layer of water, just barely thicker than before, lay spread across the entire floor. It held Lorel’s weight as he stepped out towards the center. That was a habit he’d built over the years; a small trick, but a useful one. Just as before, he could feel the sensors spread across its meager form.


    Where…?


    He grinned as Loch stepped into the room. The water rippled under his feet as the dark-haired boy made his way over. His bag, notably, was absent.


    “Took you long enough,” Lorel japed as his friend stopped just a few paces away. “Don’t tell me you’re actually getting worse.” He grinned, unperturbed as Loch’s dark blue gaze turned withering.


    “Enough of your jabs,” Loch said with a sigh.


    “Fine, fine.” Lorel held his hands up in mock surrender. That, of course, only served to irritate his friend further. “Same as always? Ten rounds?” He glanced around the room. The other eight, having noticed their bickering, had already ceased their own activities.


    “Look!” Lorel raised his voice, now that there was space between them. “They’re here to watch you lose!” Even with the distance between them, he could see Loch’s shoulders sag as he sighed.


    This was another of the higher-up''s machinations, but one that he participated in readily. His rivalry with Loch was a highlight of life here on Torrent. And this was their first time assigned to the same floor.


    Lorel was determined to make the most of it.


    Two streams of water rose from the floor; they coalesced in each of his friend''s outstretched hands. “Ready?”


    It was Lorel’s turn to sigh. This was one of the reasons Loch never won their bouts. He always insisted on doing things correctly. Whatever that meant. “Ready whenever you are.” The moment the words left his mouth, Loch dashed forward.


    He closed the distance in seconds, sweeping both of his weapons in a wide, horizontal arc.


    Even as they closed on Lorel, he marveled at them. Loch was his better when it came to fine detail, there was no doubt about that— but that was yet another reason for his constant loss.


    Water was infinitely malleable; limited only by the imagination of its user. Chaining it to such concrete forms only served to cripple it.


    Still.


    They were beautiful.


    He waited until Loch was in arm’s reach. A curtain of water rose from the floor; drying it for a mere instant before more flowed forth to replace it. The two blades cut through it with ease, but two steps took Lorel through the watery veil and to his friend’s side.


    He grinned as Loch’s eyes widened in surprise—


    “Surprise!”


    — and swept his legs out. Loch went toppling down, kicking up a spray of water. His weapons dissipated as he fell.


    “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our deal,” Lorel said mockingly. “One win, and I owe you a meal! Not that it really matters.”


    “I really hate that expression of yours,” Loch sighed as he righted himself. He wore a scowl on his face, and he was soaked, having burst through the veil of water. “But no matter how many times I see it, I always fall for it.”


    Lorel laughed. “One of the perks of being simple is that you don’t really care what people say.”


    “So you say.”


    “Sorry, which one of us just went toppling?”


    His friend audibly sighed. “I did.”


    “Ready for round two?”


    Loch nodded. He clutched his hand to his chest for a brief second, and when he pulled it away, the water followed. It peeled away as a single sheet, gathering in his hand just as before.


    He opted for a single blade this time. It was wider and longer, and unlike the ones from before, was complete with a swept guard. Having calmed, his dark blue eyes were as tranquil as the waters of their home.


    Lorel struck first, this time. He summoned no weapon of his own. Really, that was the best weapon against Loch: uncertainty. He saw it grow in Loch’s eyes with every step he took.


    At the very last moment, Loch raised his blade to counter—


    And Lorel reached out, dragging his fingers across its glass-like surface. Four things happened nearly all at once.


    First, he wrested control away from the other boy.


    Second, he forced the blade to flatten and spread out into a single wide sheet.


    Third, he increased its surface tension. Not enough to hurt Loch, but enough to push him backwards.


    Lastly, Lorel caused the thin layer of water beneath his own feet to erupt.


    The result?


    He sailed up and over the other boy’s head. The sheet of water trailed behind him for a moment— and then crashed into Loch.


    He fell backwards in an almost comical manner. This time, he stood up immediately.


    “You’re distracted,” Lorel said slowly. Taking control had been far too easy. “Something wrong?” That was a genuine question.


    Hesitance crossed his friend’s face.


    “… Later.”


    He nodded once.


    Nothing more needed to be said.


    Their third bout lasted just over two minutes.


    The fourth, more than ten.


    By the fifth, Lorel was forced to create his own weapon. The basis of his construction was a staff; taller than he was, and just wide enough to fit comfortably in his hands. Holding something made of water was an odd thought, to be sure, but any Tidal could do that. Few others could increase surface tension as much as he.


    For all Lorel knew, he was the only one.


    In many ways, their choice of weapon and style of fighting were polar opposites. Loch was precise and controlled; relying on his reaction time and pattern recognition to weather the assault. He formed a second weapon at times, and at others, a shield or barrier.


    And he adapted quickly. Technically speaking, using their powers outside of the facility was strictly forbidden, but that rule was overlooked more often than not. Crime on Torrent was rare, and violence even rarer.


    Lorel spent nearly every spare moment practicing— but something rarely worked against Loch more than once. That was the advantage of an analytical mind: figuring out how to respond to scenarios was easy. Especially ones that he’d seen before.


    For that reason alone, Lorel rarely put any real thought into his actions, instead opting to simply take whatever action he thought best. That was really his philosophy in life.


    It was easier that way.


    His choice of weapon was an extension of that. Its shape was merely a foundation; something made necessary by the ever-shifting nature of combat. He could change its length and width at will, as well as its form.


    At times it was a spear, at times a sword; and at others still, a shield or whip. The whip was Lorel’s favorite. It was like wielding a formless blade. The staff was his second.


    He knew it likely seemed odd to the onlookers— who watched from a safe distance— but no matter their vigor, there was no real danger. That was another reason behind the sensors’ presence.


    And, more importantly, this was an integral part of their friendship. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought.


    Their eighth clash came to an end as Loch mis stepped—


    That won’t work again.


    — and then nearly won the ninth.


    Loch’s blade widened and then curved as he slipped under it, coming within a millimeter of striking his side.


    He’d miscalculated.


    Barely.


    Lorel swept a curtain of water up from below, catching Loch’s neck with it and violently bringing the other boy down.


    “That’s new,” he said, gasping for breath.


    “I figured it’s about time I adapt,” the other boy growled.


    Lorel laughed and wiped the sweat from his brow before offering Loch a hand. “It’s past time you adapted,” he said with a grin, “but better late than never.” He pulled Loch to his feet.


    I’ll have to end it quick.


    He had one last trick remaining. He’d been saving it; if not for Loch’s apparent distraction, he may have already lost.


    As his friend turned back to face him, Lorel focused on the thin layer of water underneath his feet. He’d practiced so much that it was practically second nature, but the technique itself was one part of a whole.


    Just as in their second bout, the water erupted; but forward instead of upward.


    Lorel shot forward.


    It was hard to control. Really hard to control. He imagined it was like trying to ride a greased treadmill while wearing roller skates— though he doubted anyone had ever actually tried to do anything of the sort.


    It was the same sort of thing they did with skimmers; just with a person instead. And it turned out that keeping balance on legs as opposed to a board was much trickier. He’d fallen right backwards the first try.


    And even now, all he could really manage was to remain vaguely on target.


    Oops.


    That was all Lorel had time to think before he crashed into Loch. Their constructs melted away as the sensors trapped within split them apart. Loch caught himself with a cushion of water.


    Lorel, for his part, fell face-first after colliding with his friend. “Oww…” He dabbed his nose with his sleeve; it came away bloody.


    “What the fuck was that?” Loch asked incredulously.


    Lorel grinned as he pinched his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. Hearing Loch curse for the first time made all the practice worth it. “It’s my loss.” His voice came out somewhat nasally.


    “The hell it is. I—”


    “It is,” he insisted, cutting Loch off. “You saw it yourself. I can’t control it. And without it, I would’ve lost. Probably.” For a moment, Lorel though Loch would continue to protest— but his shoulders relaxed after a few moments.


    “A tie, then,” he said. The billowing water behind him fell back down with an audible splash.


    “Alright. Just… let me stop bleeding and we can get out of here,” Lorel said sheepishly. Two drops of blood fell from his nose as he raised his chin, disturbing the still surface below and sending veins of red snaking through the water.


    He glanced around. The others, realizing the spectacle was over, split into their own groups; two pairs and one group of four. Lorel turned his eyes towards the upper ring and waved with one hand. Messing with the higher-ups was his second favorite thing about these visits.


    Even if he couldn’t see them.


    “Alright.” Loch flopped down unceremoniously, the still water clinging to his form. “Sparring with you is exhausting,” he said dryly.


    Lorel snorted. “How do you think I feel? Nothing ever works against you twice. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to come up with something new every single time?”


    “And yet you keep winning.”


    He shrugged and pulled his hand away. Satisfied that his nose was no longer bleeding, Lorel strode over to Loch and leaned over to offer him a hand. “If it’s a tie, what are we supposed to do about our deal?”


    The other boy grabbed it without hesitation. His grip was firm, and his skin warm and smooth. “Nothing. A tie is a tie. I didn’t win.”


    Lorel shrugged. “If you say so.” He pulled Loch to his feet. The other boy was surprisingly heavy, considering his slender build. “Let’s get out of here.”