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9

P assages from the book Bastian gave me have run through my mind on repeat all morning like a desperate prayer I can't stop reciting. The book is currently hidden beneath my mattress, leaving me to poke and prod the ideas in my mind instead.

Even my increasingly terrifying nightmares of a beast in dark waters hunting me can’t dim my excitement. Not today.

"Unbound are vessels. Empty chalices waiting to be filled. The paradox of flesh—to be nothing and everything at once. In their emptiness, they promise both creation and destruction."

After weeks of being left to probe in the dark for answers about what I am, I'm finally getting scraps of truth. Even if most of the passages are vague and often unclear, they're starting to stitch together to form a fuzzy picture about what it means to be unbound.

Last night's reading did provide one clear, undeniable insight, though. An insight I should be able to use. All this time, I've been trying to pull water from within myself. It's how our instructors teach us to channel, and it's the way I hear everyone else talking about what it feels like. But that's not how my affinity works. The unbound don't generate power; they borrow it. They take it.

"Draw from the world around you," the book had said. "Elements exist in all things—the moisture in air, the heat in stone, the gust of wind, and the spark in friction. The unbound can coerce these elements where others command. The unbound can pull them, shape them like a conductor shapes music from instruments."

Which explains why I've been failing so spectacularly. I've been trying to play the damn instrument when I should have been directing the orchestra.

"Nessa!" Mireen's voice snaps me back to reality as she not-so-discreetly breaks apart stale bread and sprinkles the crumbs beneath her bed. "We're going to be late for weapons training. Again. I could pretend to be you, but my ass isn’t nearly big enough to pull off the disguise."

I'm braiding my hair, so I toss her an amused glare over my shoulder. "I’m almost ready. And your boobs are too small, too. You forgot that part.”

She tosses a dirty training top at my head in response, and we both laugh. If nothing else, Mireen is an expert in finding ways to make me smile or laugh, even when my thoughts are at their darkest.

I make sure my braid is tight and my training weapon is strapped to my belt before I get up to leave.

If I rule out the ever-present possibility of death, then weapons training has already become my favorite part of the day. I’m neither the strongest, biggest, or even the fastest of students here. Fighting unarmed puts all those deficiencies on full display. Without a weapon, I’m hopeless.

My only talent there is an ability to endure pain and punishment, meaning I tend to tap out and yield much later than other students. But I’ve taken to the rapier right away.

Sure, I still take blunted weapons to the face, arms, and stomach more times than I'd like, but it's all in the name of training. And so far, I’ve been able to avoid getting matched against any of Malakai’s people.

But today is open for challenge matches, which means the danger level is amplified. A lot.

We reach the eastern training room just as Instructor Blackstone is pairing students for sparring. As usual, the training room smells like sweat with the faint scent of copper—no doubt from recently cleaned blood.

Blackstone's eyes sweep over us, narrowing when they land on me.

"Thorne. You've been challenged by Davrin today."

I freeze, my blood turning to ice. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear I can hear the echo.

Davrin. One of Malakai's soldiers. Built like a mountain with eyes as dead as a shark's.

Our instructors are careful not to show anything resembling mercy most of the time, but I think I sense a flicker of something from Blackstone. Maybe it's the knowledge that Davrin is almost certainly planning to use this challenge match to kill me.

I look at Mireen, Ambrose, and Beck. All of them have gone shades of white. But then Blackstone continues pairing up the challenge matches, revealing that we've all been challenged by Malakai's people today.

Shit, shit, shit.

We share a wide-eyed panicked look, and then we're ushered into our training rings. Each of us faces death, and I already know my heart will break if any one of us doesn't make it.

This isn't random. Malakai's been watching me since yesterday's hallway confrontation. This is his answer—a not-so-subtle attempt to remove me from the equation. Worse, he's targeting my friends because of me, too. The guilt crushes down on my chest like a physical weight, making it hard to breathe.

This is exactly why I’ve stopped myself every time I’m tempted to confide in them about my unbound affinity. All my precautions and one moment of carelessness in class yesterday put our lives in danger.

Beneath the fear and worry, I feel something else. Something hot and prickly. Something like rage.

Fuck Malakai. Fuck the people who want to turn this place into more of a horror show than it has to be. Fuck them for wanting to kill. For targeting us because I had the nerve to speak up in class.

A cold calm settles over me. A strange confidence. A sense of determination that I will not let this be the day that anybody I care about dies. Not today.

Davrin collects his practice sword—a heavy, two-handed affair that could crush my skull with a single blow, blunted edge or not. His lips curve in a smile that doesn't touch his eyes as he takes his position across from me. I draw my practice rapier, feeling its familiar weight settle in my palm.

I scan my eyes around the large training room. Nobody is paying the waters any attention. The airs are sparring and dealing with challenge matches, too. The fires are fighting in organized pairs, with Raith's large form easily visible from this distance. The earths are fighting as well.

Nobody is coming to save you, Nessa. Nobody is going to save your friends.

And nobody is watching… the realization makes me smile, just slightly. No audience means that maybe—just maybe—there’s something I can do.

I only have moments, so I work quickly. I reach my senses into the room around me, searching for elemental essence the unbound book said I should find. I feel only traces, but I desperately urge them inward, pull them inward by force. And it works.

It’s not the sudden rush of power I feel when touching other affinities, but it’s something. It’s a candle flame instead of an inferno, but it’s better than nothing.

I draw in as much as I can of each element, slowly building a reserve of magical energy in my core.

"Begin!" Blackstone calls, and Davrin charges, throwing himself into a deadly horizontal swing that will cleave me in half if I don’t move.

I dance to the side. The practice blade whistles past my ear, disturbing the air enough to ruffle my hair. I dart forward, landing a quick thrust against his shoulder before retreating out of range.

"Lucky," he growls.

Maybe it was. But if I'm going to survive this, I need more than luck.

I also don't have the luxury of only worrying about myself. I glance to my left and see Mireen using her matched daggers to deflect heavy blows from Kira, another of Malakai's student soldiers.

Desperately, I use the air essence to command a small column of air to blow into Kira’s face. To my shock, it actually works.

Kira squints, flinching in surprise as a gust ruffles her hair. Mireen takes the opportunity to dart inside Kira's guard and press a dagger to her neck, earning a yield.

I hear the whistle of steel slicing through the air, but it's too late.

I turn, eyes wide as Davrin's greatsword slams straight down into the place between my shoulder and my neck.

The blow crumples me to the ground, rapier clattering from my hands. Pain explodes through my body like shattered glass, every nerve screaming in protest as darkness edges my vision.

Fuck. I need to survive my own match if I want to help. Survive, Nessa.

But even as Davrin readies for another strike, I hear Ambrose grunt with pain.

I clench my teeth, reach for my rapier, and roll away from Davrin's next strike at the last second. My fresh injury burns with agony at the movement, but I ignore it.

I get to my feet, desperately looking for a way to buy enough time to try to help Beck and Ambrose, but Davrin is advancing again. He's driving me back with measured swings that leave no opening to get inside his reach and use my smaller rapier. I'm losing ground, my back inching closer to the outer edge of the training ring. Once I'm cornered, his superior strength will end this quickly.

The unbound book's passages flash through my mind. "Elements exist in all things. Elements draw magical essence. Essence that waits to be commanded, to be controlled."

I drop low, dodging another swing, and press my free hand against the stone of the training yard floor. Concentrate. Feel.

There's earth energy here—cool, solid, steady. I inhale, drawing it up through my fingertips, feeling it flow into me like water soaking into parched earth. The sensation is intoxicating—like the first gulp of air after being underwater too long, like finding something I never knew I was missing.

Strength seeps into my muscles. Not much—just a trickle—but I feel suddenly more grounded, more stable. When Davrin's next blow comes, I parry it aside instead of dodging, the impact vibrating up my arm but not overwhelming me.

His eyes widen in surprise, and I use that moment to strike.

My rapier is a blur, darting in faster than before, landing three swift touches to his chest and arm. Now it's Davrin being driven back, his face twisted in confusion and growing anger.

"What the fuck?" he snarls, swinging wildly.

I duck and turn just in time to see Ambrose using the quarterstaff he chose to parry blow after blow from Krete, a greasy-haired water who wears a permanent scowl and worships the ground Malakai walks on. I try to reach into the air like I did to help Mireen, but there’s none left inside me. The small gust I used to help Mireen must have exhausted my reserves.

Ambrose lands a crushing strike to Krete's outer knee, sending the bigger man to the ground without my help.

I spot Beck easily overwhelming his opponent, landing two-handed strikes with the axe he uses. The blows are so hard that his opponent's swords are knocked from his hands.

And then Davrin is on me again, aiming a diagonal slash that will crack my neck if it lands.

I slip under the blow, touching the ground again as I roll. This time, I deliberately pull more energy—not just strength, but something else.

The stone beneath my fingers seems to ripple for a heartbeat.

Davrin steps forward, ready to bring his blade down on me as I come out of the roll, but his foot catches on a suddenly uneven paving stone. He stumbles, balance lost for a crucial moment.

My rapier finds his throat before he can recover.

For a moment, I think how easy it would be to press it deeper and punch through his throat. To end him. That might send a message to Malakai and his soldiers to leave us the hell alone. The dark thought slithers through my mind like poison, tempting and terrifying all at once.

But it's only a thought. That's not who I am.

That’s the line I can’t cross. The difference between his people and me.

"Yield," I say, voice steady despite my racing heart.

For a terrible moment, I think he'll continue fighting anyway. His eyes burn with murderous intent, and the muscles in his thick neck cord beneath my blade.

"Yield," Blackstone repeats from the sidelines as he drifts toward our match, his tone making it clear this isn't a suggestion.

"I yield," Davrin finally spits.

I lower my weapon, taking a step back. The borrowed energy drains from me quickly, leaving me light-headed and slightly nauseated. Not free, I realize. I've taken something that must be returned. The balance must be maintained.

I release the excess energy back into the stone. I release the warmth I gathered from the torches and the water saturating the air, feeling it flow from me like water finding its level.

Even with the energy gone, I'm tired down to my bones. Whatever I did took something from me. Something that will take time to recover, I imagine. And it's something I'm going to have to avoid using at all costs moving forward.

If anyone ever sees I can manipulate elements other than water, I'll be exposed. If Bastian's first warning hadn't made the danger of exposure clear, the book has. People used to know and fear what I am. They used to hunt us down because they were terrified of what we could do if allowed to live.

Mireen is at my side a moment later, fingers probing the place where Davrin's blow landed. She produces a small vial from her pocket, uncorking it. "Found some juniper leaf growing just outside the castle walls. We used it back home for pain." The salve smells of mint and something sharper as she dabs it on my skin. The pain eases immediately.

I lift a brow. “We’re not supposed to leave the castle walls.”

Mireen leans closer, smile conspiratorial. “Tell that to the cute guy who insisted on ‘ravaging my perfect body in nature.’” She shrugs. “In any case, he knew when we could sneak out. The sex wasn’t anything special, but now I can stretch my legs from time to time.”

“You’ll have to tell me more about this mysterious guy later.” I give my shoulder an experimental rotation and find the balm works amazingly well. “And thank him for me.”

"Impressive footwork, Thorne," Blackstone says, interrupting us. There’s a hint of surprise on his face. "Perhaps you've been paying attention after all."

From across the training area, I feel Malakai's eyes boring into me, cold and calculating. He's standing over the dead body of a girl who is bleeding from a horrible wound to her neck, eyes wide and unseeing.

“By the four elements, Malakai… Again?” Blackstone grumbles as he notices, leaving us to head toward the dead body.

“Got carried away. My mistake,” Malakai says, voice devoid of all emotion.

I watch Blackstone dragging the body from the room, hating how I can already feel myself normalizing all the death. Maybe that’s the most horrifying part of life at Confluence. I can look at a corpse and feel sadness, but not shock. I can feel the selfish relief of knowing I’m not one of the dead. Neither are my friends. Four of us lived when Malakai wanted us dead. It’s harder than it should be to feel the appropriate emotions for the ones who didn’t live.

But if I gave every death here its proper respect, I’d never come up for air. That’s what this place is doing to us. It’s teaching us to keep moving forward, no matter what surrounds us. No matter what hells we’ve just passed through.

The dead girl will join the pile of corpses in the back of my mind—the ones that drift into my thoughts every night and linger like haunting ghosts, a grim backdrop to the recurring nightmares of being trapped in the water with the thing that hunts me.

Davrin and Malakai's other soldiers join together in a small group, several of them glaring occasionally in my direction.

Mireen looks at Malakai’s people and then back at me as she gives me a shoulder to lean on. "You know this means trouble, right? Malakai is probably going to dream of playing jump rope with your intestines tonight.”

I shoot her a look.

She smirks, then lowers her eyes. “Sorry. But you know I’m right. In spirit at least.”

All I can do is nod my head, because she is right. I've just painted an even bigger target on my back. And now the bull's-eye is bright red.

"That was quite the display," a familiar voice comments.

Bastian stands nearby, observing the training session with arms casually folded across his chest. His legacy uniform is immaculate as always, making our sweat-stained training clothes look even more pitiful by comparison.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, immediately suspicious. Other than the instructors, he's the only non-offering in the whole room.

"Observing," he replies smoothly. "As I told you. It's one of my assignments here."

His eyes drop briefly to my left hand, then back to my face. "I see you've been doing your reading. That's good."

With that cryptic note, he walks away.

"Okay," Mireen says, tilting her head. "What was that about?"

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance and probably missing by a mile. "Legacy business, I guess?"

The rest of the training session passes in a blur of sparring matches and drills. With the challenge matches over, the immediate threat of death is gone.

Still, I can feel Malakai's attention never wavering, his gaze a constant pressure between my shoulder blades. More than once, I catch Serena watching from the fire affinities, her fire-marked hands clenching and unclenching like she's imagining them around my throat.

By the time we're dismissed, my nerves are raw, stretched thin by the constant vigilance. The brief victory against Davrin feels hollow now, overwhelmed by the knowledge that I've only made my situation more precarious. Malakai will see our survival as a personal insult. If we weren’t already at the top of his hit list, we will be now.

"Weapons away, first-year waters," Blackstone calls. "And for those who haven't yet heard, the water trial begins at dawn two days from now. Report to the eastern shore of Mirror Lake. Wear something suitable for swimming. No weapons will be necessary."

A chorus of nervous whispers erupts around us. Mirror Lake is the vast body of water at the edge of campus, its depths rumored to be bottomless in places. What kind of trial awaits us there?

I see other combat instructors relaying similar messages to the other affinities. The airs burst into nervous whispers. The fires look to Raith, who only nods and seems to calm them. The earths take the news with stoic acceptance.

"Mirror Lake?" Beck joins us as we exit the room, his sandy hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. "That can't be good."

"Why not?" I ask, though I'm already certain I won't like the answer.

"Tucker talked about it once before they—" Beck says, lowering his voice. "Apparently, there's some kind of beast that lives in it. He said students get eaten every year by the thing. Swallowed whole."

"If the monster eats me, I hope I give it indigestion. I’ve been told I’m very spicy," Mireen says with a too-bright smile that earns a confused stare from Beck. I'm starting to get used to her macabre sense of humor—maybe to even appreciate the touch of lightness it brings in otherwise dark moments.

I can see why people who are surrounded by death would make a habit of it.

Ambrose appears on my other side, still sweaty from exertion.

"Tell Beck he's full of it, please," I say to Ambrose. “He says there’s a monster in the lake that eats students. Swallows them whole.”

"She's right, Beck," Ambrose says. "It doesn't swallow them whole. It drags them to its lair in the deepest section of the lake. At least that’s what I heard."

"Thank you both for that incredibly comforting information," I mutter. My insides go tight at the thought of the lake. At the question of what could be waiting in its depths. The similarity to my recurring nightmare isn’t lost on me, either, but I try my best not to think on it.

We part ways to clean up before classes, but as I turn toward the water tower, a hand grips my arm, pulling me into the shadow of a stone archway. I whirl, ready to fight, only to find myself face to face with Raith.

In the darkness, his eyes catch what little light remains, reflecting it with an unnerving focus that makes me wonder if he can see straight into my thoughts. "What did you do in there?" he demands, voice low and rough. Even from the brief touch, I feel a hint of the fire essence I pulled from him, dancing and twisting within me with the promise of power.

"In where?" I ask, hoping the innocent act might work.

His grip tightens slightly. "Don't. I saw what happened with Davrin. The stone moved."

Fear grips my heart. It claws up my throat like a living thing, threatening to choke me. If Raith noticed, who else might have? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." His eyes search mine, looking for lies. "You pulled energy from the stone. I felt it. Just like you pulled fire from me that first day. You need to be far more cautious. Anybody could’ve seen.”

The revelation hits me like a punch to the gut. He felt it? How? And why does he care if people see?

Before I can respond, his expression shifts, something like reluctant concern flashing across his features. "Malakai has friends among the third-years who help with the trial. They'll likely tell him where everybody enters the lake. That means he'll know where to find you."

I blink, thrown by the warning. "Why tell me this? How do you even know for that matter?"

He turns to leave, but I catch his wrist, the contact sending another surge of warmth into my body. "Why are you helping me?" I press.

His jaw tightens, eyes dropping to where my fingers circle his wrist. "Maybe I'm just saving you for later," he says finally, the words held together by tension and something unspoken. The electricity between us is practically visible, crackling in the air like static.

I don't believe him for a moment, but he pulls free and strides away before I can push him for more.

All I'm left with is the warm memory of where our skin touched. That, and the knowledge that Malakai is probably going to use the trial to hunt me down and kill me. Unfortunately for him, I'm starting to see I'm not nearly as defenseless as he thinks.

And if he wants to come after me when I'm literally surrounded by water? Well… I might actually have a chance to make him regret it. A dangerous smile forms on my face—for once, I don’t feel like prey waiting to be slaughtered. I might finally have teeth of my own.