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R ector Voss paces his office with hands clasped behind his back as he watches me. He has four devices that remind me of the vessels used during the elemental trial. Each, he says, holds a great deal of elemental energy I should be able to draw from.

I pull water and fire at the same time as he instructed, try to sort of "twist" them together, and then I watch with satisfaction as steam hisses up from my fingertip. The power swirls within me, hot and cold battling for dominance until I force them to coexist like sworn enemies forced into a lover’s dance.

Voss smiles in a way instructors here rarely do. It's open approval.

The feeling is addictive, especially when I spent the last three years before coming to Confluence learning that absolutely nothing I ever did could win back the approval of my mother and sister.

The thought brings a fresh torrent of sadness to my mind I know could drown me if I let it. I hesitate a moment, then lift my eyes to Voss in a break between exercises. "Three years ago, I think I called a storm." I'm not sure why I'm admitting it, except that he might be one of the few people who could help me better understand what happened.

He pauses his pacing, then turns to face me, nodding. "Ah, yes. The four affinities often experience signs before they’re marked. Stories say unbound experienced far stronger events. Was this storm the first trace of power you felt before coming to Confluence?”

"No," I admit. I think back on a childhood full of unexplainable, odd moments that I tried my best to keep hidden.

Fires flaring. Sudden gusts of wind. Rumblings beneath the earth. And, of course, the storms…

When I could, I explained it all away, even to myself. Outside Confluence Academy, power and hints of magic were dangerous. Even a whisper of someone with power could mean masked Empire soldiers arriving at your door after dark. People with powers went missing, just like the offerings taken every year.

As far as any of us knew, they were all being taken for execution.

Now I know they were probably just brought here. And I suppose the truth wasn't so different from what we believed. How many of those taken would have actually survived? Nearly two thousand students between offerings, aspirants, and legacies arrived on the first day. By the time students reach fifth year, the class size apparently has shrunk to less than a hundred. The losses are mind-numbing.

"I imagine this storm came with a great deal of emotion. Yes?" Voss's eyes hold mine, keen with interest.

I nod my head. "We were all arguing. There was a festival that day. A stupid, silly thing, but it was a chance to dress up, dance, and just be normal for a change. To forget for a moment that I was going to grow old on fishing boats pulling nets. That morning, my father said we would be back in time for me to go. But the fishing was too good that day to pass up. He said we needed to stay as long as the nets were coming up full. And… I got mad."

Voss presses his lips together in sympathy. "And then the storm came?"

"And then it came… I was the only one who lived. It's why I volunteered to come here. My sister and mother apparently suspected I had powers all along. They blamed me for keeping it a secret. Called me selfish. Said if I just admitted I was a freak, Empire would've taken me away before I could've got them killed. Nothing I ever did fixed it, either. So that third year, I volunteered." My words catch in my throat.

"Brave,” Voss says softly.

"No… I did it because I was a coward. I couldn't bear the idea of facing them one more day. I always saw the same thing in their faces. They thought I was a monster. Then I came here and found out I really am. Unbound. If people knew, they'd look at me just like my mother and sister did. Like a monster." The words pour out of me. They’ve been building ever since I finished the unbound book for the first time.

"Only because they don't grasp what you can become."

"Isn't that the problem? Unbound can do so much harm. It's too much power for any one person. So they're right to see me as a monster."

"No, Nessa. This world of ours is… flawed." Voss's voice softens, taking on a quality I've never heard in it before. "Great individuals with the power to make change are exactly what we need. People like you. Unbound."

All I can do is shake my head. "I just want to survive this school. I want to help my friends survive. And maybe if I do that, I want to go back to Saltcrest and see if there's a way to use my influence and position to help my mother and sister. Maybe it won't mean earning their forgiveness, but I can at least try to ease their burdens.”

"I understand, Nessa. You still don't grasp what you are. What you will become. So you're still thinking small. But that's fine. There will be time, yet." His lips curve into a smile I can't quite read.

"Rector Voss?" I ask, fingertip idly running across the smooth surface of the clear sphere filled with swirling air. "Could you do anything to make sure more of us survive? Tighten the restrictions? Add Empire guards to patrol the halls? Remind students we're not supposed to kill one another anymore? Anything?" I add, hating how small my voice sounds. “It’s just that I sense something building here. Another storm.”

His smile is sad. "Whether you realize it or not, Empire guards are already not powerful enough to stop even you first-years. It would take ten or more ordinary men to bring one of you down. And primals capable of controlling you are too busy being deployed in the war effort. No, Nessa, I'm afraid you're all quite dangerous. Too dangerous to truly control. And even if I could, these methods have been proven over many many centuries. The primals who graduate after their fifth year are sharpened blades. Absolutely deadly and nearly perfect weapons. Empire knows this, and they won't change the way we run things for fear of weakening their strongest tools."

Weapons. Tools. Deadly. None of those words are things I want to become, but what choice do I have?

"There's really nothing you can do?"

"I'm doing what I can. Right here," he says, gesturing to the vessels and then to me. "With the proper training, you'll be more than capable of protecting yourself and the ones you care about, Nessa. And whether you see it yet or not, you'll eventually be powerful enough to change things, if you wish. All things."

I frown at the odd tone in his words, but his quick smile convinces me I'm just being paranoid. And protecting the people I care about… That's at least something I actually want. Something that matters.

"Oh, Nessa, there's something I wanted to tell you…" Rector Voss says, moving to sit and lean on his desk as he watches me continue to practice pulling multiple elements at once. "You’ve perhaps heard mention of the Crucible—your final test for the first year, if you will. But you won’t have heard any details about what this test entails. That will change in a few days when your instructors will be told to share.”

I swallow hard. Another fucking test.

Voss offers a sympathetic pursing of his lips. “I can give you a bit of forward warning, Nessa. It’s not much, but it might help. This year, you’ll be sent outside the castle walls with groups no larger than five per team. I can’t share the details until the moment before the Crucible begins, but I can tell you that the winning team will all earn promotion to legacy status. I don’t think I need to tell you a prize like that will likely create fierce, bloody competition.”

My breath catches. Promoted to legacy status? Other than Bastian, the legacies might as well be untouchable to us. They seem to exist in their own, privileged bubble on campus with the best perks and the best training. It's already an open secret that they're being groomed for positions of leadership after Confluence, even among the primals. They'll be the generals. The commanders and captains.

The idea of being promoted to their ranks… it's enough that even regular students without Malakai's bloodthirsty streak would be driven to do just about anything.

"I'm afraid the legacies will be competing in the Crucible as well," Voss continues. "Most years, they win. They’re often given a task in opposition to yours, but it varies. There’s one final thing your instructors may not share," He pauses, elegant fingers folded as he regards me. "Every year, we lose quite a few students during the Crucible. Empire sees it as a way of making sure the primals who survive have what it takes to come out of a war-like situation alive."

"I thought becoming aspirants meant the academy didn't want our lives being thrown away?" A bitter taste like ash fills my mouth. More deaths. More conflict.

"And that's true. We don't want senseless murders in the halls. Pointless training accidents. But you should see the real truth of it, Nessa. We don't want these things because they eventually only reveal the bullies and the ruthless. A superior soldier can be killed when his guard is down by an inferior one. Now that we've culled the weakest, your lives will only be risked in ways that select for better soldiers. The Crucible is exactly that. It's a war game, and there will be deaths, but these deaths will serve a purpose. They will sharpen you. Hone you."

I lower my eyes, unsure what the hell I'm even supposed to say to that.

“They treat you like blades, not humans,” Typhon growls.

“Then they had better hope one of those blades never decides to turn on its master.”

“Angry human…” Typhon says, but I sense a note of pride in his tone.

Rector Voss saves me with a quick clap of his hands and a smile. "In any case. I've kept you here too long. Please," he gestures toward the door, helping me pull my chair out as I stand. "As before, I would ask that you still keep what we do here between us. For your safety, of course. But feel free to warn your friends about the Crucible. The legacies will already know it's coming, but it may be a helpful advantage for your fellow aspirants to know a few days before the announcement. You’ll have some time to gather your team in peace."

"Thank you," I say as I leave his office and step into the narrow hallway that leads back to the stairs.

As soon as the door closes, Raith seems to unfold from the shadows at the far end of the corridor. I notice the hard angles of his face and the tension in his jaw, the careful way his eyes scan me as if checking for injuries.

"You came," I whisper.

Raith waits for me to approach before he speaks. I find myself noticing how his breath slightly quickens when I move closer.

"Surprised?" His voice rumbles low in his chest.

"After last night… I guess I thought?—"

"That was a mistake," Raith says quickly.

I give a jerky nod of my head, even as a stab of pain punches through my chest at his words like a blade between my ribs, sharp and precise. "Yeah. I know."

"Good."

We head down the stairs single file with Raith in front because the stairs aren't wide enough for us to walk side by side. At the bottom, a few students pass in either direction, but nobody pays me much attention. Raith, on the other hand, is already known as the most deadly first-year aspirant across all affinities. Girls look at him with open lust. Guys look at him with envy and respect.

At best, they look at me with anger, because rumors about his "interest" in me have been spreading since the first week on campus. Some look to laugh because my elemental is a flying fish. Others occasionally ask me about the events at Mirror Lake, but those rumors are mostly old news, now, replaced with more recent events.

"Nessa…"

I lick my lips, heart suddenly racing just to hear my name from his mouth like a spell that only he knows how to cast. I feel like I'm leaning into him, drawn toward his warmth. Toward his heat. For a heartbeat, Raith's eyes drop to my lips, and the corridor seems to narrow until there's nothing but us. Then footsteps echo as another pair of students approaches. Raith steps back abruptly, expression shuttering closed.

"I told you it would be dangerous to know… certain things about me," Raith says. "But there is something I can tell you. Something that might be more dangerous to keep a secret."

I try to hide the disappointment I feel as I lean back, dragging my eyes up from his mouth. Right. Truths and secrets. These things are more important than talking about the kiss.

The fucking kiss that feels like it tipped my entire world sideways.

No big deal.

“Humans,” Typhon mutters in my mind.

"Okay." I tell myself I shouldn't be watching the way his hands move as he speaks, shouldn't be remembering the sensation of his fingers against my skin. But my body doesn't seem to care what I should or shouldn't do.

"Do you remember that night on the castle walls? You had a nightmare. We heard instructors talking about deaths. They mentioned siphons.”

"Rings a bell…" I say, as if I haven't thought about every single encounter with Raith on near repeat like a favorite song I can't stop coming back to.

"Siphons are real."

Words from the unbound book float into my memory unbidden: "Many common pieces of folklore and stories told to small children can be traced back to unbound and their unique manifestations. Old tales of vampires, for instance, are believed to be an unbound who could feed on blood for strength. Some say stories of siphons can be traced back to Lorkan Grace and his wife Milena.”

"How would you know that?" I whisper. Even seeing mentions of siphons in the book and hearing the instructors whisper about them hadn't quite convinced me. Somehow, the words coming from Raith finally make it hit home with an uncomfortable chill like a breeze carrying the stench of graves and rot on an otherwise clear and sunny day..

Siphons.

They're the things of children's tales. Stories to scare kids who try to sneak out of their house at night. Shapeshifting beasts who could suck their soul out through their ears, twisting it up and slurping it down like strands of spaghetti.

Surely the truth is less… that.

“Did you already know about this?” I ask Typhon.

“I know many things. Things you need not concern yourself with as you focus on your studies here in school. If relevant, I shall share them when the time is right.”

I decide that is a conversation I'll dig into with my prickly water dragon later, letting it drop for now.

Raith has been hesitating. Before he speaks, I can tell he's not going to tell me how he knows about Siphons. "Look… I just need you to know they're real. Okay? And most importantly, I need you to know there's at least one of them on campus right now. It's likely posing as a student or a member of the faculty. And it has already started killing. So I want you to make sure Typhon is always ready to protect you."

Typhon lets out a low, audible growl I know only I can hear. Right now he's pacing in circles around Raith, his long, serpentine body dragging as he forms a ring around us. He’s either not showing himself to Raith, or Raith is doing an inhuman job of not looking frightened.

"I think Typhon is ready to protect me at all times, whether I tell him to be or not."

"Good," Raith says. He seems to relax slightly, broad muscular shoulders slumping slightly as if he's letting out a great deal of tension. "Good," he says again more softly.

"I’d ask how you’re so sure, but I already know you won’t tell me. So can you at least teach me how to spot one of these siphons?

"They'll look and sound like normal people. In most ways, they are. But they're almost like… anti-primals. They can't channel their own magic, but they can feed on it. And their appetite is bottomless. A siphon can drain people and elementals down to nothing. You won't know you're looking at one until it's too late."

The only time I've ever seen Raith come close to looking scared was that first day when I made fire grow from my fingertips. But there's fear in his eyes as he talks about siphons. A deeper, more animal fear than anything I've seen on his face before.

It makes my blood run cold.

"What do they want?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. They strike against both Empire and Red Kingdom. Whoever or whatever they're loyal to, it doesn't seem to follow political lines. But whatever it is they want, it leaves corpses in its wake. If the instructors were talking about bodies and siphons, it means they found a drained body. The affinity mark on the body would be burned out. Anyone who knew what they were looking for would know for certain. That means they're here, Nessa. So promise me you'll be careful."

“Why are you only telling me now?”

His expression hardens. “Because I had to do some digging to confirm it. And… now I’m sure. There’s one here at Confluence. So fucking promise you’ll be careful.”

"I will. But if these things are striking Empire and Red Kingdom, why doesn't everybody know they're real? I grew up thinking they were just children's stories."

"Better to let people think they're just fanciful things. Then those in power don’t have to admit there’s an enemy they can’t control. An enemy they can’t stop. Sometimes, the best way to maintain power is to create an illusion that it’s untouchable. They’re not. And the siphons are very real. So be careful, and trust no one.”

"What if I trust you?”

He licks his lips, eyes falling for a moment. “Then I’ve failed at keeping as much distance as I should.”

He looks like he's about to turn to leave, so I reach instinctively and touch his arm. That familiar tendril of flame flows from him and into my fingertips, swirling inside me like a pleasant summer breeze.

"Raith… there's something Voss told me. We're all going to have to participate in some kind of Crucible. Like a final test before we graduate the year."

He says nothing, but something in his expression makes me think he already knows. Once again, it's another layer of mystery. Another secret.

Everything about him screams danger, yet somehow that only makes the pull toward him stronger like a moth to flame, knowing it will burn but unable to resist the light.

"You knew?" I ask.

His eyes fall. "The Crucible is a poorly kept secret in some circles. But yes. Groups of five. That means you, Mireen, Beck, and Ambrose will probably talk about recruiting a fifth. But don't do it."

"Why, because of the siphon? Don't you think that's a little paranoid? If this siphon has been on campus all year, they could've killed me a dozen times over by now."

"We can't pretend to understand why they're here. Unless we know the 'why', we can't assume you're safe from them."

I tilt my head. "All of this… following me around campus and lurking in the shadows. Helping me train weapons… Telling me about the siphon… is it all just because of what happened on Confluence Day? Am I really supposed to believe that?"

If eyes are windows to the soul, Raith's are blacked out and covered by thick curtains. He blinks, then grips my arm softly. "I would tell you more if I knew it wouldn’t put you in danger. I mean that," Raith says, his tone hard. "Malakai will come for your team during the Crucible. You can be sure of that." He speaks like it's a simple warning, but I can feel the concern beneath it.

And then he's gone, fading into the dark shadows of the corridor ahead and leaving me with the warmth of his power still swirling inside my body like embers nestled beneath my skin. That, and about a thousand questions.

Raith speaks with absolute certainty about things no former offering should know. Each revelation only deepens the questions of who he really is—and why he's chosen to share these secrets with me.

I should be terrified of all the things he won’t tell me.

Instead, as I watch his shadow disappear around the corner, I realize something that scares me far more than siphons or the coming Crucible.

I'm falling for him. I'm falling for someone who is desperately trying to tell me not to—to warn me that he's dangerous. I can try to grip tightly to those warnings like handholds, clinging to them like lifelines. But I'm still slipping toward the edge and toward the point of no return little by little.

Gods help me. Every instinct I have is telling me not to. Even Raith himself seems to be telling me not to. But I’m still falling for Raith fucking Hollow.