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RAITH

"N essa!"

I watch her collapse into the mud, her body crumpling like a marionette with cut strings. Through our tether, I feel her consciousness slip away—not the sudden flash of stasis, but something deeper, more dangerous. A void where her vibrant presence should be.

The windborne's body lies motionless beside her, throat cut clean through, his blood mixing with the rain and mud. A necessary death. One I don't regret.

Typhon shudders, his massive form retracting slightly as the strain of unleashing his true power takes its toll. Blue essence still leaks from wounds across his scales, but the ancient water dragon curls protectively around Nessa's unconscious form, wings forming a canopy against the relentless downpour. His teeth are bared and sapphire magic seeps from between them, as if warning off any who would dare get close.

"She draws too deep," Typhon's voice resonates directly in my mind, surprising me. We've never communicated directly before. "The essence she took from the windborne... it overwhelms her."

I drop to my knees beside her, pressing my fingers to her throat. Her pulse flutters erratically beneath my touch, too fast and too weak. "What can I do?" I demand, looking up at the ancient dragon.

"End the Crucible," Typhon replies, his massive head lowering until one blue eye is level with mine. "The ceremonial blade. If you claim it, this ends. She will be weak for a time. Vulnerable. End this, Raith Hollow. It’s the only way to protect her.”

I hesitate, torn between staying at her side and the knowledge that Typhon is right. Every second the Crucible continues puts her at greater risk. “Do you have the strength to guard her while I’m gone?”

Typhon's head draws back slightly, a flash of indignation crossing his ancient features. "With my last breath," he rumbles. "She is my tethered. Mine to protect. But if this Crucible continues for too long, I fear more of the windborne will come. You must end it. Now."

I nod, trusting the ancient's word despite everything. "Keep her safe."

Movement makes me draw my sword in an instant, fire flaring in my free hand. I lower my weapon when I realize who it is.

Bastian is struggling to his feet, pristine uniform now filthy and covered in a combination of blood and mud. He is dragging himself toward us, face contorted in pain. “You have to go,” he says through his teeth.

“And leave you alone with her? Not a fucking chance.”

“Then trigger my stasis. But go, Hollow. And know this. The other legacies aren’t following orders. You won’t only face a pair of two down there. They’re working together, guarding the quarry from all sides. You’ll have to fight your way through quickly and reach the blade before the others get to you. The blade is enchanted. Touch it and you’ll be teleported back to Confluence along with everyone else who lives. Touch it, and this all ends.”

I nod my head, considering if I want to stab him and trigger his stasis token, removing the possibility of a threat to Nessa. Behind him, his air elemental stands in the rain, leaking white mist from numerous wounds. Wounds it suffered trying to save us from the windborne.

“Dammit,” I say, reaching a hand out to help him to his feet.

Bastian takes it, stands, and winces as fresh blood oozes from a deep wound on his thigh. “Hollow. There’s one more thing. The ceremonial blade has a reputation. The one who claims it never survives to graduation.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I say, walking past him into the pouring rain as thunder booms overhead. “If anything happens to Nessa while I’m gone, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

I look back toward the group of fallen allies and enemies once before heading deeper into the forest. Bodies coated in blue litter the area like fallen leaves. It’ll be up to Typhon and Bastian to keep all of them safe if any stragglers from Malakai’s group arrive. But Typhon was right. The real threat is letting this thing go on—risking the arrival of more windborne.

A flash of lightning illuminates Typhon's massive form as he mantles his wings over Nessa, sheltering her from the storm. His eyes meet mine across the clearing and he gives a deep nod.

I turn and head for the quarry, sprinting through the forest. The layout of the Crucible grounds is etched into my memory from hours of scouting the area over the last several weeks. Even through the darkness and downpour, I navigate with precision, aware that every second counts.

The lightning seems to intensify as I approach the quarry, each flash burning afterimages into my eyes. Thunder rolls continuously overhead, as if the sky itself reflects the chaos below.

Through our tether, I can still feel Nessa, though her presence is faint, flickering like a candle in a windstorm. Hold on, I think desperately, hoping some part of her can hear me. I'm coming. I'm ending this.

The quarry appears ahead, a massive gash in the earth illuminated by braziers that somehow remain lit despite the storm. Stone steps descend into the pit where, on a central dais, glints the ceremonial blade.

Lightning splits the sky overhead, giving me a momentary glimpse of the legacy defenders. Two groups. The larger of the two is at the northern entrance to the quarry. It’s the easiest way in. The most likely point of attack.

But a smaller group of three stands directly in front of the dais, guarding it in case anyone is brave or stupid enough to attempt to climb down the sheer cliff face. I’ll face the three, then. I notice Kienna at their head, a tall air affinity with a reputation for viciousness. Her wind wolf prowls the grounds, lurking with predatory intent.

I don't have time to hesitate or think of a better way. Every second this goes on is another chance for more windborne to be summoned.

I kick one leg over the cliff face and begin climbing down, stone and mud slick against my fingers. I squeeze tight, digging my toes into anything I can find for purchase as I descend at a reckless pace. Once I’m ten feet from the bottom, I let go, landing with a splash in the mud, forearms burning from exertion.

"Hollow," Kienna calls when she spots me, voice carrying over the storm. "We were wondering if anyone would make it this far." Her eyes narrow. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"Get the fuck out of my way or get ready to fight,” I call, drawing my sword as I take long strides toward the group of three.

She laughs, the sound brittle against the thunder. "Alone? Against the three of us?" She gestures to her companions—an earth, and a water—all legacies, all more well-trained and powerful than any students I’ve faced yet. But compared to the windborne, they’re nothing.

"Last chance." I climb the steps toward the dias, feeling Pyrin's heat intensify beside me. "Step aside, or I go through you."

"The arrogance of a fire," Kienna sneers. "Come then, if you're in such a hurry to die."

I don't wait for her to finish. I launch forward, channeling fire essence into my blade until it glows white-hot. Rain hisses into steam as it touches the metal.

The first legacy—the water—barely has time to raise his weapon before my sword cleaves through his guard. He crumples as his stasis token flares blue.

Kienna's eyes widen slightly, recalculating. She signals to the earth and they move to flank me, Kienna on one side and the earth on the other.

Under normal circumstances, I might appreciate their coordination and calm performance under pressure. But with Nessa's life hanging in the balance, I see only obstacles to be removed.

The earth legacy strikes first, summoning a spike of stone from the ground beneath my feet. I sidestep, only to meet Kienna's blade as it arcs toward my throat. I parry, the impact sending ripples of pain through my already overtaxed muscles.

Pyrin roars, engaging the legacies' elementals to keep them from overwhelming me. Through our connection, I can feel his strain, his essence depleting with each passing second.

"You're good," Kienna admits as she closes in, her air magic swirling around her in visible currents. "But you're also exhausted. How long can you last?"

Not long, if I'm honest. The Crucible has already pushed me to my limits, and I can feel my reserves of both physical and magical strength waning. But I don't need to last long. I just need to reach that blade.

I feint toward the earth legacy, then pivot at the last second, driving my shoulder into his chest. He stumbles back, momentarily breaking their formation. I capitalize on the opening, sliding between them toward the dais.

I know touching the blade will end this. All I need to do is get my hands on it.

Kienna reacts instantly, conjuring a wall of compressed air that slams into me like a battering ram. I fly backward, crashing into the stone steps with enough force to drive the breath from my lungs.

Pain lances through my ribs—broken, probably—but I push to my feet, ignoring it. Through our tether, I can feel Nessa's presence growing dimmer. She's slipping away.

No. Not like this. Not after everything.

Something shifts inside me, like a dam breaking. I've spent years controlling my power, leashing it, hiding what I'm truly capable of. But there's no point in restraint anymore. Not when Nessa's life hangs in the balance.

I draw on my fire essence, all of it, letting it flood through my veins like liquid heat. Fire erupts across my skin, dancing over my arms and chest despite the downpour. The rain evaporates before it can touch me, creating a cocoon of steam.

The legacies take an instinctive step back, eyes widening at the display.

Kienna scoffs. "You think a light show intimidates us, Hollow? We're legacies. We've trained our entire lives for this."

"So have I," I reply simply.

What follows isn't a fight so much as a calculated destruction. I move with singular purpose, each strike precise, each step bringing me closer to the dais. The earth tries to circle me, but I rush him, flames exploding from me like wings that extend and wrap in behind him, forcing him closer into the blaze of my power.

He flinches, trying to raise earth to protect himself, but my sword is faster. It cuts through the stone and his guard in a single blow, triggering his stasis and leaving me alone with Kienna.

She catches me with a blade to the back of my thigh, but I barely feel it as I whirl to face her. Through the tether, Nessa's presence has grown so faint it's like trying to hear a whisper in a hurricane.

Pyrin bellows in rage, his form swelling with my unleashed power, flames consuming Kienna’s air elemental in a rush of hissing steam.

Kienna backs up the steps, her eyes hard but not without a flicker of fear. A hint of desperation touches her words. “You know it’s cursed, don’t you? Take that blade, and you’ll die before graduation. It’s how it always goes.”

"I've been cursed my whole fucking life," I reply, advancing on her.

Her air magic condenses around her blade, extending its reach to twice its normal length. It slices toward me in a glittering arc, faster than most eyes could track.

But I see it. I've been training for this moment since I was old enough to hold a weapon. I sidestep, pivoting inside her guard, and drive my elbow into her sternum with enough force to lift her off her feet. My free hand sprays an inferno of fire across her body. I see the blue light flash through the flames and cut off the spell.

The quarry falls silent except for the relentless drumming of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. Magical flames still burn in several areas, hissing and refusing to dim despite the rain.

I turn to the dais where the ceremonial blade awaits—a simple thing, really, for all the blood spilled over it. A length of polished steel with an Empire crest on the hilt.

I climb the steps, each movement a fresh agony for my battered body. My hand closes around the hilt, and I feel a pulse of ancient magic respond to my touch.

The moment I lift it from its resting place, the world around me erupts in blinding light. Magic surges, disorienting and powerful. When my vision clears, I'm standing in the central courtyard of Confluence Academy, the ceremonial blade still clutched in my hand.

One by one, I see the air distort and twist as other students appear around me. The stasis has lifted, and they’re all disoriented, straining to get back to their feet or staring wide-eyed at the courtyard in confusion.

The Crucible is over.

Instructors move among the students, cataloging survivors, treating the wounded. There will be questions about the dead windborne, about what happened in the forest, but those can wait.

Only one thing matters.

"Nessa," I rasp, desperately scanning the courtyard for her. "Where is she?"

I push through the crowd, ignoring the thick-voiced congratulations, the hands that reach for me, the voices calling my name. Through our tether, I can still feel her, but it's weak, dangerously so.

And then I see her.

She's lying on her side and Typhon hovers over her in his flying fish form. The disguise is probably useless, though, as I’m fairly sure half the school saw him raging as a massive dragon during the Crucible.

I drop to my knees beside her, reaching for her hand. It's cold, too cold.

I gather her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. "Nessa," I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. "Come back to me. Please."

Our tether pulses faintly, a fragile thread connecting us. I pour everything I have into it—my strength, my heat, my essence. If I could trade places with her, I would do it in a heartbeat.

"Take what you need," I tell her, knowing that somewhere, somehow, she can hear me. "Take all of it."

For a terrifying moment, nothing happens. Then I feel it—a subtle shift, a drawing sensation as her unbound nature responds to my offering. Fire essence flows from me into her, guided by our connection. Before going for the blade, she was too weak to take anything. Now she’s at least taking scraps—magical sips of my power that begin slowly and grow more desperate with each passing second.

I give and give until I'm lightheaded, until Pyrin whines in alarm.

Her eyelids flutter, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The tether between us strengthens, vibrating with renewed life.

"Raith?" she murmurs, eyes still closed.

"I'm here," I tell her, relief making my voice crack. "I've got you."

"So much power," she whispers. "Too much."

"I know. But you're stronger than it is. You control it, remember? Not the other way around. Focus on me," I say, guiding her face toward mine. "Just me."

Her eyes finally open, finding mine with effort. "Did you...get the blade?"

A laugh escapes me, half relief and half disbelief. "Yes. The Crucible is over. We won."

"We won," she echoes, a ghost of a smile touching her lips before her eyes close again, this time in simple exhaustion rather than dangerous unconsciousness.

I lift her carefully, mindful of her injuries and the strain her body has undergone. "I'm taking her to the healer," I tell Cade, who found me and waited silently with the other fires.

As I carry her through the parting crowd, I hear the whispers and see the stares. Most will know about Typhon now. They’ll know Nessa Thorne is tethered to the most powerful elemental on campus. Some may even suspect she’s no simple water affinity. They’ll talk about how she took on Malakai and Serena and won.

I see Beck, Mireen, Ambrose, and Brunhild all gathered. They give me a nod of thanks and acknowledgment as I carry Nessa away. Brunhild and Beck even help move some gawking students out of our path.

Whatever comes next, I think Nessa’s days of being underestimated are over. But none of it matters right now.

The only thing that matters is the woman in my arms and the quiet miracle of her survival.

Rector Voss watches from the edge of the courtyard. Waiting.

I think of the stasis tokens and the lives they saved. The countless students who survived because of the deal Nessa struck. The fucking deal that means Voss is still expecting to take her to those ruins.

But not tonight. Tonight, she needs to rest.

I press a kiss to her forehead, feeling her unconsciously lean into my touch. "You're safe now," I murmur, not caring who hears. "I've got you, Nessa. I've got you."