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"W e need to talk."

Raith's voice startles me as he materializes from the shadows just outside the water tower. I nearly drop my flask, glancing around to make sure no one has noticed us. Some fourth-years are arguing in low voices nearby—a pair of fires and earths, their elementals on display as tempers seem to run high.

"About what?" I ask, keeping my voice low, though I don't know why, exactly. Everybody’s attention is on the arguing fourth-years.

"Not here." His eyes—amber in the morning light—scan the tower stairs behind me. "Meet me at the eastern gate in an hour. Wear something you can move in."

I arch an eyebrow. It is a weekend, so our class schedule is light. I had been planning to find an empty room to practice pretending to be a water affinity. Sestra has been threatening some kind of exam, and I want to be ready when it comes.

"Something I can move in? Are we training again?"

"Better than training." For a moment, something almost playful flashes across his face. "I want to show you something."

Before I can ask more questions, he slips away, footsteps silent against the stone floor. I watch him go, curiosity piqued despite my better judgment.

An hour later, I'm waiting by the eastern gate, dressed in my training leathers with my practice rapier secured at my hip. The guard station beside the main gates leading outside the castle stands empty—unusual for midday—but I don't question the stroke of luck.

"They rotate guards at this hour." Raith appears beside me, seemingly from nowhere. "Usually, they stop for a game of dice before returning to their posts, meaning we've still got a bit."

"How do you know these things?" I ask. It's far from the first time Raith has known something he should have no way to know.

He offers a cryptic smile. "I pay attention."

He looks... amazing. He wears the black aspirant uniform trimmed in silver like the majority of students at Confluence, but he wears it so damn well. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Thick arms corded with muscle. And his face. Gods. Even with the majority of the left side twisted by scars, he's beautiful.

He wears his training sword across his back. By now, every last first-year knows he’s the deadliest of all of us with that blade.

"So... we're leaving the grounds?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice. Students rarely leave Confluence except under very specific circumstances. We're prisoners here in all but name.

"If you’re afraid, we could skip it." There's a challenge in his eyes, and something else—an invitation.

"Lead the way," I answer, refusing to be baited.

We slip through the gate, cross the grassy field that still bears faint signs of the divots driven by hundreds of carts arriving to drop us off after Selection Day. Beyond the field is what looks like endless forest. I expect Raith to immediately set a punishing pace, as he does in our training sessions, but instead he matches his stride to mine, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we navigate the uneven terrain.

The trees are all bare by now, providing soft footing under our feet. The air carries a cold bite as winter starts taking hold.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask after several minutes of companionable silence.

"The quarry." He pushes a low-hanging branch aside for me. "It's the most likely location for this year's Crucible."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not. But I've been making trips outside the walls since we arrived. Staff has been coming out this way occasionally. I've followed their tracks, but I haven't caught any of them in the act yet."

The casual admission shocks me. Most students wouldn't dare sneak out once, and Raith has been doing it regularly? Following the tracks of instructors and gathering information? I'm suddenly struck by how much more well-suited he is for this whole experience than I am—how of all people, I feel like the worst to be gifted with the burden and blessing of being unbound.

"You are worthy, angry human," Typhon notes. "Unrelated topic... if we find wild game, I humbly request to eat it."

"Fine. But don't make it suffer."

I sense Typhon take off, flying high overhead as he begins his hunt.

We follow a narrow game trail that winds through ancient trees, their massive trunks covered in emerald moss.

"You really think we have a chance in the Crucible? Every day, it seems like our odds get worse." I ask, voicing the fear that's been growing since my disastrous water channeling exam.

Raith stops so suddenly I nearly collide with him. When he turns, his expression is unexpectedly earnest.

"I wouldn't be training you if I didn't." His voice lacks its usual edge. "You're stronger than you think, Nessa. Stronger than any of them think."

"I failed a basic water channeling exercise yesterday," I remind him.

"Water channeling isn't everything." He resumes walking, slower now. "The Crucible is likely going to test more than just affinity strength. It will tests survival instinct, adaptability, clear thinking under pressure." His gaze slides to me. "You excel at all of those."

The unexpected praise warms me. "You've been watching me that closely?"

"I watch everyone," he says, but there's a softness in his tone that contradicts his words. “You’re just… more pleasant to watch than the rest.”

A giddy, girlish smile threatens to split my face, but I try to contain it as much as I can.

We walk in silence for a while, the forest growing denser around us. Sunlight filters through the bare canopy in dappled patterns, dancing across the forest floor with each breeze.

"You never talk about yourself," I say, breaking the quiet. "Not really."

"What's there to talk about?" His voice is carefully neutral.

"Your family, where you grew up, how you came to Confluence..." I study his profile. "You know practically everything about me, but you're still a mystery."

He's quiet for so long I think he won't answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost distant.

"I had two siblings. An older sister and the brother I told you about." Past tense. The loss evident in those simple words. "My brother, Gareth, was the youngest. Serious kid, always had his nose in a book." A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "He wanted to be a scholar, not a warrior."

"Were you close?" I navigate around a fallen log, noting how Raith automatically extends his hand to steady me, then lets go the moment I'm secure.

"As close as brothers can be when one is destined to lead and the other to follow." Something dark flickers in his eyes. "I tried to protect him. Failed."

Uttering the words seems to physically pain him, and part of me is sorry for asking. I can see it in the tight line of his jaw, the way his fingers briefly clench at his side. "Destined to lead?" I ask carefully.

His jaw ticks. "This is why I try not to talk about myself. Too easy to say things I shouldn’t. I'm going to ask you not to press the issue, Nessa. Forget I said it."

I start to smile, but then realize he's serious. The earnestness in his expression and... fear there wipes the amusement from my face. I nod instead. "Okay..."

He looks relieved. "Good."

"What happened to Gareth? To your siblings?"

He's quiet for a moment, clearly picking through the truth and deciding which scraps he can share. "Fire." His hand rises unconsciously to the scarred side of his face. "Betrayal."

I choose my next words carefully, hyper aware that the wrong question or statement could have his armor back up in the blink of an eye. "Is that why you're here? Did the person who betrayed you and your family come here? Or..."

"Have you told your friends about being unbound, yet?" he counters.

I flinch. The question feels like a punch of guilt. Unexpected and unpleasant. "I haven't..."

"Because you care about them. Because the knowledge could put them in danger."

I feel another stupid smile crossing my mouth. "Are you saying you care about me?"

Raith almost rolls his eyes. "No. I just dedicate the majority of my waking hours to worrying about your safety. I spend hours training you, keeping an eye on you, and thinking about you because I don't give a shit about you."

I lower my eyes, but Raith crooks his index finger and lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Of course I fucking care about you, Nessa. If that wasn't clear to you by now, I'm going to be worried about your observation skills. But we need to keep moving if we're going to get you back in time for classes."

I don't trust myself to speak, so I swallow my words and hope the way my heart flutters isn't as obvious as it feels.

We emerge from the tree line to find ourselves at the edge of a massive quarry—a vast bowl carved from the mountainside, its steep walls plunging to a relatively flat center. Ancient mining equipment lies abandoned around the perimeter, and at the quarry's deepest point, a dark pool of water glimmers in the sunlight.

"This is it?" I ask, momentarily distracted by the sheer scale of the place.

Raith nods, surveying the terrain with a critical eye. "Perfect for an elemental battleground. Earth affinities have raw material to work with, water has the pool, air has open space, and fire..." He gestures to the dry brush that dots the quarry floor. "Plenty of fuel."

I walk to the edge, peering down at the drop. At least sixty feet to the quarry floor, with few obvious paths for descent.

"All we can really do is guess, but I think this place is where it will happen," Raith continues, coming to stand beside me. "Could be that we'll start here in the quarry itself. Like a bloodbath. Or it could be that this is the final battleground. Maybe we'll be out in the woods and have to work our way here. I'm not sure yet..."

The wind shifts, carrying his scent. I find myself greedily breathing it in, drinking in the automatic comfort it brings.

We kneel at the top of the quarry's edge in silence for a few moments before I speak. I know my mind should be on the Crucible, but I find myself picking over every word he's said since we left campus. "Does Cade remind you of Gareth? I noticed the way you were with him. It reminded me of a big brother. I thought maybe…”

He meets my gaze, and pain flashes across his face, so raw and sudden it makes my chest ache. "I see some of Gareth in Cade. Yes," His voice drops. "The kind of person that's too good for such a shitty world. And Kiera would’ve liked you. A lot.”

I frown, surprised. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re strong. Compassionate. You find a way to live in the filth of a place like this without letting it touch who you are. It’s how she was. It’s one of the things I admired so much about her.”

I bite my lip. “Thank you.”

Raith gives the slightest nod of his head, eyes shifting back to the quarry as sadness seems to take hold of him. “After they died… I swore I’d make surviving mean something. Whether I needed to be a shield or a sword, I didn’t care. I just knew I’d make absolutely fucking sure nobody I cared about could be taken from me again. Nobody. ”

In that moment, I see past the walls he's built—glimpse the depth of guilt and grief he carries. I see how the way he keeps himself aloof isn't emotional detachment or coldness. It's to protect himself from how deeply he cares. He can't bear the thought of losing anyone else, and he's terrified of opening himself to more hurt.

Before I can stop myself, I reach for his hand, my fingers sliding between his.

His skin burns against mine, the unnatural heat of a fire affinity, but he doesn't pull away. He doesn't even pull away when some of his fire starts to flow into me. With practice, I've learned to slow it substantially when I want, making the flow a trickle instead of a torrent.

The faint passage of power feels oddly intimate, like part of him is becoming part of me, temporarily joining with my essence in a quiet, private dance.

His fingers tighten around mine, just for a moment, before he gently disengages.

"There's more to see," he says, but his voice has lost some of its hardness. "There's a path down on the eastern side."

As we pick our way along the quarry's edge, I find myself watching him more closely than the terrain. There's a grace to his movements, an awareness of his surroundings that speaks of years spent looking over his shoulder. Whatever shaped him into the man he is now left scars deeper than the visible ones on his face.

"What about you?" he asks unexpectedly. "Your family. You never mention them either."

"There's not much to tell," I say reflexively. Protecting myself from the tragedy has become an instinct already—so automatic I hardly give it a moment's thought. I slow my pace, shaking my head. "Sorry. No. That's not true. Around the time I turned sixteen, I started to notice strange things would happen when my emotions ran high."

Raith gives a knowing nod. "Early signs of elemental affinity are strange like that. Sometimes the unmarked can briefly demonstrate power to rival a primal, even if they can't control it."

"I called a storm," I say as we walk. "I was mad over something stupid. My brothers and my dad were on the boat with me and I was fuming all morning. And then by the time I saw the storm coming, I couldn't stop it. Our boat got thrown against rocks and we were all flung into the waves. I tried to get to them, but everything happened so fast. I nearly drowned waiting out there on the waves hoping they'd come back up—diving as long as my breath would hold and trying to search for them.

"When I finally floated back to shore on a piece of wreckage, I was dumb enough to tell my mom and sister the truth about what happened. I guess I thought they'd understand and forgive me. They... didn't. They hated me for it. So I spent three years doing everything I could to make it right. I worked to get a new boat. I spent every day fishing to earn money like we would have if my dad and brothers were still around. I tried so fucking hard, and it never mattered."

I wipe at my stinging eyes, shaking my head and laughing at myself. "And I shouldn't feel sorry for myself."

"Fuck that. You couldn't control it. You didn't know."

"If I hadn't been mad that day, they would?—"

"People get mad, Nessa. Fuck the Empire for making people think powers are something they need to hide. Maybe if you weren't worried about being captured in the night for showing your abilities, you could've learned to control it. It's not your fault."

I look away from him, nodding even though I know I'm not letting his words through my walls. "Yeah. I know."

Raith cups my face, turning me toward him. His touch sends another wave of fire passing into my skin that pools and curls inside me until it feels like he's touching me all over. I know my cheeks are burning, but I can't stop the transfer of energy this time. "It's not. Your. Fault, Nessa."

I hold his eyes, and somehow I feel his sincerity passing through his touch, too, almost like a shadow of the way emotions move through my tether with Typhon. I know he means the words down to his bones.

"I think... I'm worried if I believe that, it'll mean I'm not paying for what I did. That I'm letting myself off the hook."

"You volunteered," he says softly, and I can see the realization dawning on him. "That's why. You were punishing yourself."

I can't meet his eyes anymore. Hearing it aloud makes me feel silly and foolish for it. "They were happy to see me go."

"They don't know what they lost," Raith says quietly.

The simple statement catches me off guard. Before I can respond, he stops, raising a hand in warning. His entire demeanor shifts, tension radiating from every line of his body.

"What—" I begin, but he places a finger against his lips, then points toward a clearing ahead.

Two figures are approaching—one tall and imposing. The other is a familiar silhouette that makes my throat tighten. Bastian and... I don't recognize the older man, but I do recognize his ornamental uniform. He's an air primal, and a high ranking one at that. There's also an uncanny resemblance between him and Bastian.

The primal has blonde, nearly white hair and regal features. He's similar height to Bastian and a similar build. I can’t be certain, but I would be shocked if I wasn’t looking at Bastian’s father.

Raith pulls me behind a massive fallen tree, his movements silent as shadow. We crouch together, hidden from view but close enough to hear their conversation. His arm wraps around me, protective and strong as he pulls me against his body. I do my best not to get distracted by the pleasant contact, focusing on the faint conversation I can barely make out.

"—wasting my time with these reports," the primal says, his aristocratic voice sharp with impatience. "I need something concrete, Bastian. Something worth reporting."

"I told you, there's nothing definitive yet." Bastian's voice lacks its usual arrogance, sounding almost defensive. "But the instructors found another body last week. That's three this month."

"Another burned out mark?"

"Yes," Bastian says.

Beside me, Raith goes utterly still. His hand finds mine in the shadows, squeezing in silent warning.

"The implications of a siphon on campus are dire," the primal says with a disappointed sigh. "But it may ultimately serve our purposes all the same.”

"Father, there's something else." Bastian's voice takes on an urgency I've never heard from him before. "You need to use your influence to call off this year's Crucible."

The man folds his arms, scowling. "Call off the Crucible? It has never been done."

"Malakai and Serena are forming a small army. They're making alliances across affinities. I'm worried it's going to be a bloodbath this year."

"It typically is, Bastian. You know this better than most."

"How do you think the tri-emperors will react if half the first-year class ends up dead before graduation? Possibly more?"

His father scoffs. "That won't happen. The majority of students will rush for the objective. Only a few small skirmishes will play out. There will be ten dead. Maybe twenty at most. This has gone on for centuries, Bastian. It's almost always the same."

"Something's different this year. I can feel it. You have to call off the Crucible. With the Council's influence, you could?—"

"Absolutely not." His father's voice turns glacial. "The Crucible proceeds as planned. The sponsors have paid, the observers will arrive soon, and you will perform as expected. I've already arranged to have your performance observed more closely to ensure you will be on the right track after you graduate your fifth year. This is critical, Bastian. Not just for you, but for me as well. You will disgrace me if you fail to?—"

"People will die." Bastian's voice rises slightly. "Far more than usual. Malakai has almost all the earth affinities allied to him. He's got half the waters or more and as many airs. And Raith Hollow has almost the entire first-year class of fire affinities following him like he's some kind of commander. It's not going to be a chaotic series of skirmishes, father. It's going to be a full-out war. One side against the other. It'll be a bloodbath."

"Then ensure you're not among the casualties." His father's tone allows for no argument. "Alliances form and break every year. This is no different. And if it is a disaster, the Council will simply use it as an opportunity to remove Rector Voss ahead of schedule."

"Malakai isn't just looking to win. He's hunting. And whatever he's after?—"

"Enough." His father cuts him off. “Malakai’s actions serve a purpose, just as the siphon does. War is never comfortable, son. It’s never pretty. It’s about making the best of the situations you’re given, and we can use this. We can use all of it.”

“What do you mean his actions serve a purpose? Surely the?—”

Their voices fade as they move deeper into the forest, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Raith and I remain frozen in our hiding place, his hand still wrapped around mine.

"That was..." I struggle to find words.

"Dangerous," Raith finishes for me, his expression grim. "I don't think he would have let us live if he knew we overheard."

"Why would they want Voss removed?"

"Not sure. But I wouldn't repeat that to anyone if you value your life. He admitted to knowing a siphon is here and is planning to let it continue killing. Same with Malakai. Whatever he wants, it’s not in our best fucking interest. We can be sure of that much."

We rise slowly from our hiding place, both of us scanning the surrounding forest for any sign of Bastian or his father.

"Do you think Malakai or Serena could be the siphon?" I ask suddenly.

"I'm not sure. It's why I'm watching everyone."

"Bastian seemed genuinely concerned," I say, still processing what we've heard. "I'm so used to seeing him calm, collected, and in control."

"People wear many faces here." Raith's expression darkens. "Trust none of them."

"I trust you..." the words slip out of me like an admission, even though it’s not the first time I’ve told him.

There's something like pain in Raith's face, but he nods. "You shouldn't. But we need to head back. We've been gone too long already."

As we make our way through the forest, a new awareness crackles between us—shared knowledge, shared danger. Raith walks closer to me than before, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings, one hand never far from his blade.

We reach the eastern gate just as the sun begins its descent, slipping back onto Confluence grounds unseen. The castle rises before us, its spires gleaming in the late afternoon light. From this distance, it looks beautiful, majestic—impossible to imagine it harbors a predator hunting students from within.

Raith pauses before we return to the main grounds, his hand catching my wrist. "Be careful, Nessa."

"I will." I meet his gaze directly. "You be careful too."

There's a softening around his eyes, a tension in his jaw that wasn't there before. For a breathless moment, I think he might say more, might finally stop holding himself back so much around me.

Instead, his fingers brush lightly against my cheek, a touch so brief I might have imagined it. "Meet me tomorrow. Same time, training room. We have work to do."

Then he's gone, melting into the shadows of the castle as if he were born from them, leaving me alone with questions I'm not sure I want answered and a growing certainty that surviving the next week might be the greatest challenge I've faced yet.

"Not a single worthy prey in the entire damned forest. Squirrels and lizards. Pah! I demand a true hunt!"

"Typhon, not right now."

I feel resignation through the tether as I sense him soaring through the air high above. He rarely flies, so I feel a sense of awe as I look up and see his wings spread wide and his serpentine body twisting through the air as if he's swimming. Soon, I’ll need to train with him like Raith said. I’ll need to learn to ride on his back and fight while mounted. Anything less would be a terrible waste of the potential we share.

The blue of his body catches the light like reflections on the water so he sparkles high above, wings nearly translucent as he passes across the sun.

A swell of pride and comfort fills me.

Maybe the dangers are many here, but so are my allies. Typhon, Raith, Mireen, Beck, Ambrose, and maybe even Bastian. They're all ready to fight with me against whatever comes, and I can't imagine anyone else I'd rather have on my side.