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I t's a siphon.

Raith's warning comes to me almost immediately. If I see a siphon, I need to run. I can't fight it. I shouldn't even try.

I feel Typhon materializing beside me as I turn and run for the door. But a wave of purple energy flares in front of the door, blasting me back with noxious fumes that stink of sulphur and decay. The force of it slams me against the stone floor, knocking the breath from my lungs.

"We're going to have to try to fight. That's the only way out," I tell Typhon through the bond.

"Then we fight."

The slight sense of resolution through the tether worries me. I don't feel confidence. I don't feel excitement. It's more like the feeling one might have before taking a leap of faith. Before rushing toward certain death.

I turn toward the siphon that still looks like Raith, and I draw my rapier. My hand trembles slightly, but I force it steady.

I know it's not him. Not really. It's a siphon and it's taking Raith's form. It's the only explanation.

The real Raith is out there somewhere and likely headed to this very room to meet me for training. And if he wasn’t already on his way, I don’t have to ask to know Typhon will have called for him through Pyrin. But I can't count on him arriving in time.

I reach into the room around me, pulling in any elemental energy I can manage—fire from the torches, air from the currents coming from high above, water from the moisture in the air, and earth from the dirt packed in between the stones. The energy tingles through my fingertips, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.

Typhon lunges for the siphon, but a lion made of swirling purple and green energy explodes into view at the last second, pouncing and knocking Typhon away. It's huge, even larger than Typhon, even though he's the largest elemental I've seen on campus before now.

I wince as I feel his pain through our connection, the phantom sensation of claws tearing through scales and muscle. But I'm forced to turn my attention away as the massive elementals clash to my left. I have to trust that Typhon can handle himself.

The siphon taking Raith's form rushes me, sword flashing so fast I barely track it. I throw myself to one side with none of the elegance Raith drilled into me. There's no time for elegance.

I fall hard on my side, rapier clattering from my hand. I lunge for it, barely dodging another strike that smashes into the stone. The impact sends vibrations through the floor that rattle my teeth.

Come on, Nessa. You're better than this. You can fucking do this.

I grab the rapier, spin away from another strike and finally get back on my feet. I reach into the earth and lift a stone just as the siphon comes at me again, catching one of its feet. Instead of losing balance, it easily rights itself, turning the stumble into a spinning strike so strong it cracks my rapier in two when I raise it to block.

One broken half of my practice blade spins away, cutting a gash in my arm before clattering to the ground several feet away.

Shit, shit, shit.

Blood runs hot down my arm, the pain sharp and immediate.

Typhon roars, blasting a torrent of water at the void lion, which raises a purple-green shield to deflect most of the magic.

I pluck the dagger Raith gave me from my boot, but I've never trained with a weapon so small and can't possibly use it to block his sword.

Magic. Use your fucking magic.

I twist air and water together, forming a spike of ice the size of my forearm. I keep it behind my back until the siphon swings again at me in a horizontal arc. I lean back and the sword's tip misses me so closely I feel the blade-thin rush of air against my face.

Then I throw the icicle at him. There's a moment of satisfying surprise as the siphon's eyes widen and then the ice spike punches into its forehead, snapping its head back at a ninety degree angle.

I wait for its body to slump and fall lifeless, but it just... stands there, head tilted back at that unnatural angle. And then it straightens with the sound of bones cracking, and it is smiling.

Without taking its eyes from me, it grips the icicle and pulls it free from its head. Something thick and black drips from the wound, but it's not blood. Not any kind of blood I've ever seen.

And then the siphon starts to transform, shedding its disguise piece by piece.

The eyes darken to black. The mouth curves at the edges until it's monstrously large. The limbs elongate and its fingertips stretch into claw-like talons. The back hunches and the legs stretch as it lets out a low, inhuman growl.

The thing looks like something straight out of a nightmare, but what scares me more than the sight of it is the feeling passing through the bond from Typhon. It's a kind of resignation. It's a readiness to fight until his last breath, but the knowledge that death is coming for us both.

I look over my shoulder at the door again, thinking again of trying to run or force my way through the barrier, but I see something that gives me pause. The magical barrier of purple and green still guards it, but the door is blackening and turning red. Smoke billows around the edges.

Fire.

I grip my dagger tighter, my survival instincts screaming at me to run while my feet remain rooted in place. There's nowhere to run. All I can do is stand and fight.

The siphon tilts its horrific head, studying me with eyes that seem to drink in light rather than reflect it.

"What do you want?" I ask, desperate to buy time even as I catalog every potential advantage in the room.

"Bait." The word tears from its throat. "He comes. He dies."

Bait? Then it knows Raith is coming. Gods. I'm not buying time for help to come. I'm doing exactly what the siphon wants. I'm luring Raith into a trap.

The door behind the barrier glows brighter, the red now pulsing like a heartbeat. Someone's trying to get in.

Raith. It has to be him.

The siphon charges again, but this time I'm ready. I step into its attack rather than away, ducking under its sword and dragging my dagger across its torso as I pass. The blade—Raith's gift—cuts deeper than I expected, leaving a gash that oozes more black liquid.

The creature howls. It whirls, sword flashing toward my exposed back?—

I throw myself forward into a roll, but I'm too slow. The blade catches me across my shoulder, slicing through fabric and flesh. The pain is white-hot and immediate, radiating outward like a brand pressed to my skin.

The siphon laughs, a horrible broken sound.

Typhon roars at the sight of my wound, abandoning his fight with the void lion to surge toward me. The void beast leaps onto his back, claws digging into scales, but Typhon ignores it, positioning himself between me and the siphon.

"You cannot stop this, ancient one," the siphon hisses. "You may have cleansed your madness, but you are still tethered to a half-trained child."

I reach inside, to that place where my power seems to gather when I need it most. The wound on my shoulder burns, but I channel that pain, using it to sharpen my focus. If I can heal myself, maybe I'll have a chance.

I press my hand to my shoulder, willing the flesh to mend. The familiar heat spreads beneath my palm, the tissue knitting together until only a thin, tender line remains. The healing drains me further, but it's worth it to regain full range of motion.

The siphon's eyes widen. "A healing manifestation… Hah! All these years and he’ll finally have what he wants.”

He? Does it mean Lorkan Grace?

I don't have time to think as the void lion abandons Typhon's back to charge at me. The ancient water dragon spins with surprising agility, intercepting it mid-leap. The two collide in a tangle of claws and teeth and elemental magic that sends shock waves through the room.

Typhon slams the lion into the ground, his massive claws pinning it as water magic pours from his maw, drowning the beast. For the first time, the void lion seems to be weakening, its struggles growing less coordinated.

My limbs already feel leaden, my lungs burning with each breath. I've channeled more power in the last few minutes than I have in all my previous training sessions combined. And I won't last much longer like this.

The door behind the barrier explodes inward in a shower of splinters and flame.

Raith stands in the doorway, his face contorted with fury, Pyrin a blazing inferno behind him. His sword is already drawn, the blade glowing red-hot.

"Get away from her," he growls, and the command in his voice is so absolute that even the siphon pauses.

Raith doesn't wait for a response. He charges as a flare of white-hot fire envelopes him and burns a path through the purple barrier over the door. Pyrin surges ahead of him in a wave of fire that crashes into the void lion, freeing Typhon from his struggle. The ancient dragon rises, injured but far from defeated, water magic gathering around him once more.

The siphon hisses, backing away from this new threat. Raith presses forward, his sword a blur of motion that forces the creature to defend rather than attack. Each strike of Raith's blade leaves a glowing afterimage in the air, the metal so hot it sears the siphon wherever it connects.

The creature's burning flesh fills the room with the sickening scent of smoke and charred hair.

"Nessa, are you hurt?" Raith demands even as he smoothly sidesteps a claw aimed at his stomach and twists, blasting a jet of fire toward the siphon with his left hand.

"I'm okay," I reply, already moving to flank the siphon.

The creature's attention divides between us, its head swiveling unnaturally to track both threats. It parries one of Raith's strikes, then spins to block my dagger thrust with its forearm. The blade sinks deep, but the siphon barely seems to notice.

"Powerful," it says as it suffers another gash from Raith's sword. "You will feed us well."

Raith says nothing as he parries, dodges, and thrusts. I do my best to stay out of the way, darting inside the siphon's guard to land blows when it's distracted by Raith.

More black blood has splattered across the floor now, making our footing uncertain on the slick substance.

The fight rages, everything happening so fast I can only process bits and pieces. Pyrin and Typhon battling beside us, the horrific monster snarling and suffering dozens of wounds but still fighting, Raith constantly putting his body between me and danger. Protecting me. Always protecting me.

"We need to end this," Raith mutters, his breathing heavy. "It's not getting tired, but we are."

He's right. My vision is already blurring at the edges, my muscles burning with exertion. Even Typhon seems diminished, his movements less fluid, his attacks less powerful. The gushing wounds seem to be making him smaller, too, as if his essence is leaking away.

Sensing weakness, the void lion disengages from the elementals and lunges toward us.

Toward Raith.

Everything slows.

I see Raith turning, his sword rising too late to block. I see the lion's claws extended, ready to tear through flesh. I see the siphon watching with those terrible black eyes, satisfaction already apparent in its twisted features.

No. Not him. Not Raith.

I move without conscious thought, throwing myself between Raith and the void lion. My dagger thrusts upward, catching the beast under its jaw as its momentum carries us both to the ground. Void magic washes over me like acid, burning wherever it touches, but I don't let go.

"Nessa!" Raith's voice sounds far away.

The lion hisses and limps to the side of the siphon, joining the other two creatures.

Raith is at my side in an instant, his hand on my shoulder steadying me. "What were you thinking?"

"You're welcome," I manage, the room spinning slightly.

The siphon studies us, its head tilted unnaturally. "How touching. The fire affinity and the unbound, fighting together."

Raith positions himself in front of me, sword raised. Typhon and Pyrin flank us, both elementals obviously weakened but still defiant.

The siphon and his elementals rush us one last time. It's a chaos of bestial roars, flaring magic, and slashing blades.

We're losing. The realization settles over me with cold clarity. We've held our own longer than I would have thought possible, but the siphon is too strong, and we're only delaying our deaths.

Raith suffers a deep cut to his leg, sags, and then the siphon catches him by the throat.

"Raith!" I shout, trying to charge but the void lion puts itself between us. I try to blast it with more steam, but I've channeled too much. The elements in the room are drained and I have nothing left. Typhon and Pyrin slam into the beast, but the fight is a maelstrom of fire, water, and void magic that I can't get past.

Raith chokes, his face turning purple as black veins begin to spread from where the siphon touches him. The mark on his hand sputters and then dims. Pyrin lets out an inhuman screech, flickering like a candle in a storm.

I struggle to fight past the void lion and reach him, thrashing with my dagger and screaming in outrage as the siphon continues to squeeze Raith's neck, choking him and draining him. The lion slaps Typhon away, sending the water dragon crashing into a wall in a tumble of stones and debris.

I can feel how hurt he is through the tether, and it breaks my heart, but all I can do is keep trying to push past the beast to reach Raith. To save him.

The lion doesn't try to kill me, but it doesn't let me pass.

"I'll fucking kill you!" I shout through clenched teeth as I slash at the lion and try to get to the siphon.

And then the temperature in the room drops dramatically.

"That's quite enough," a familiar voice says from the doorway.

Rector Voss stands there, his elegant robes billowing around him despite the absence of wind. His silver-streaked hair is immaculate as always, his posture relaxed. There's nothing visibly different about him, yet the siphon recoils as if struck.

Raith falls to the ground, curling in on himself and still gasping like he's choking. I run past the void lion and slide to my knees beside him, cradling his head in my lap.

"What's wrong with him? Why isn't it stopping?" I ask Typhon through the tether.

"He was touched. The void corruption will continue to spread." Typhon is getting back to his feet at the edge of the room and shaking off rubble and dust from his wings and back. He's hurt, but okay. Thank gods.

But Raith...

"No," I whisper, a hot tear rolling down my cheek. "No." I barely even notice the siphon or void lion as they continue to back away from Voss.

Voss glides into the room, still staring down the siphon. "You will be leaving now, siphon."

The siphon takes another faltering step backward.

Why is it afraid of him? Voss isn't even a primal.

Voss smiles, the expression never reaching his eyes.

He makes no recognizable gesture, speaks no words of power. Yet the air around the siphon seems to compress, crushing inward. The creature struggles against some invisible force, its body contorting unnaturally.

"Why..." the siphon gasps, its voice strained.

"Tell your master that Confluence remains protected," Voss says pleasantly.

The siphon shrinks in on itself, its form twisting and diminishing until it resembles a malformed human shadow. The void beast whimpers and fades like mist in sunlight.

With a sound like tearing fabric, the shadow and the remnants of the void lion vanishes. The oppressive energy that had filled the room dissipates, leaving only the smell of ozone, decay, and smoke.

"Raith." The name breaks in my throat. Black veins are spreading beneath his skin, creeping outward from his throat where the siphon touched him.

Voss approaches, his expression grim as he studies Raith. "This is void magic. It wasn't allowed to fully take hold, but I fear it will kill him within the hour. His elemental is already failing." He glances at Pyrin, who has diminished to half his normal size, his flames flickering weakly.

"There must be something we can do," I say, desperation making my voice crack.

Voss glances around the room, taking in the destruction—toppled columns, shattered stone, scorched walls. "I would stay, but we're hosting guests, and my absence will soon be noted. Emissaries from Empire here to dig for reasons to bury me, no doubt," he adds with a sour twist of his lips.

"You're just going to leave us here?" I demand, anger flaring hot and bright. "How can you?—"

"There's nothing that can be done for him. The siphon won't return for now, so you have nothing to fear on that count. Just... take your final moments with Raith. And come see me tomorrow. We have much to discuss." Voss strides out of the room, walking over the remnants of the blown in door. He regards the open doorway with a faint grimace, then disappears from view.

Typhon moves to my side, exhausted but still alert. "You will need to try to heal him. It could work. It could cleanse him."

"I don't know how," I reply, panic rising as the black veins continue to spread. "I've only ever healed myself."

"I’m too weak to help you as I did during Confluence Day. If you form a tether with him, it would be easier. The tether carries energy of its own. You could use this energy to fuel the healing. Use it as a pathway to draw out the void.”

I look down at Raith's paling face, the black veins now spreading across his jaw and down his chest. His breathing is shallow, each exhale weaker than the last.

Pyrin whimpers, his form diminishing further as the fire mark on Raith's hand grows fainter.

I can't let him die. Not like this. Not when he came to save me.

"How?" I ask Typhon. "What do I do?"

"An oath," Typhon replies. "Tether yourself to him as you tethered yourself to me. It will only be a one-way tether, so not nearly as strong or complete. But it could be enough.”

I take Raith's hand, the one marked with the fire symbol, and press it against my chest over my heart. His skin is cold, the warmth that always seemed to radiate from him nearly gone.

"Raith," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I swear this oath to you now. I swear I'll do everything I can to help you. To protect you like you've protected me." The words come from somewhere deep inside me, pulled forth by instinct and desperation. "Your life is my life. Your fight is my fight."

For a moment, nothing happens. Then I feel it—a faint vibration between us, like a thread being pulled taut.

The thread grows stronger, more defined, like a slender cord linking us together. It's nowhere near as solid as the tether between Typhon and me—more like a single thread compared to a woven rope—but it's there, pulsing with potential.

I place my hands on either side of his neck where the siphon touched him, calling forth my healing power. It's harder than healing myself, like trying to pour water uphill, but I push through the resistance.

The black veins resist, clinging to Raith's flesh like parasites. I can feel them fighting me, trying to burrow deeper. But something has changed with our connection. I can sense his life force now, feel how it's intertwined with Pyrin's, see how the void magic is eating away at them both.

I don't just push at the corruption. I reach through our new thread-thin connection, anchoring myself to the core of who Raith is, and then I pull. I pull it from him the same way I draw in his fire when we touch.

The void magic is reluctant at first, clinging stubbornly. Then it begins to flow, sluggishly at first, then in an ever-increasing stream. It pours from Raith into my hands—a thick, oily substance that burns wherever it touches.

I gasp at the pain, but I don't let go. I can't.

"Don't let it linger inside you," Typhon warns. "Direct it away. Quickly."

I do as he says, channeling the corruption away from both of us and into the stone floor where it hisses and evaporates like dark sludge. But there's so much of it, far more than I expected, and each passing moment drains more of my strength.

The thread between us quivers but holds, growing slightly stronger as more of the corruption flows out of him. I can feel Raith now, sense his essence—all fire and determination and hidden depths.

"Stay with me," I whisper, as much to him as to myself.

Finally, the last of the corruption leaves him. The veins fade from his skin, and color returns to his face. His breathing deepens, steadies.

To my shock, the scars that have always twisted half of his face grow bright white and begin to dissolve, not completely gone, but far more subtle than the twisted valley of flesh they were before.

"Hmm," Typhon rumbles. "You took the time to make cosmetic improvements. Was this for your benefit or his?"

"Shut up, Typhon. I have no idea what I'm doing, but..." I run my fingertips down Raith's left cheek, which is now only faintly rippled with scar tissue.

It's almost hard to look at him like this, but I feel a pang of guilt.

Those scars were part of him, and I had no right to change them. I can only hope he understands I didn't know what I was doing.

Pyrin's flames grow brighter, his form solidifying as the connection with Raith strengthens once more.

I sit back, suddenly lightheaded. The room tilts alarmingly around me. I've never channeled so much power for so long. And the void magic left some sort of mark inside me that makes my body feel like it weighs a thousand pounds and clouds my thoughts.

"Nessa?" Raith's voice is raspy but strong. He sits up, reaching for me as I sway.

"I'm fine," I try to say, but the words come out slurred. "Just... tired."

The last of my strength leaves me. I pitch forward, and the world goes dark.

I feel Raith catching me, his arms strong and warm around my body as consciousness begins to slip away. And somewhere, just at the edge of my awareness, a thin thread pulses between us—delicate but unbroken.

Through it, I feel something warm and foreign, as if it's coming not from my own body but from his.

It's protective. It's warm. It's caring. It's so fierce it nearly takes my breath away, because if I didn't know better, I'd say it feels like love.