Page 7

"Oh, yeah? That's a genius idea. I can't believe I didn't think of it." I shove him back, but there's no real force behind it.

We're passing through the courtyard when I see Serena and a pair of fire affinities huddled in the shade of a tree with Malakai and what must be his "team."

I slow my pace and then stop to stare. "What do you think that's about?"

Ambrose runs his tongue over his teeth. "Well, Serena doesn't appear to be stabbing anyone. That rules out my best guesses."

"You think Malakai is trying to make some kind of cross-affinity alliance? Is that a thing?" I ask.

Mireen shakes her head, blue eyes catching the mid-afternoon sun streaming into the courtyard. "If it's not, I think they're trying to make it one."

I study their body language, trying to pick up clues. Malakai is a mountain of muscle, carved like a statue meant to represent some hero from the stories. But the cruel turn of his features keeps him from being handsome. And his eyes... there's something missing in them. An emptiness, like there's nothing behind them but an empty pit of hatred dark enough to match his black hair.

He stands with his back straight, gesturing with controlled precision while Serena leans in, arms crossed but attentive. There's no friendly camaraderie between them—this is clearly transactional. One of Malakai's water allies keeps glancing nervously around the courtyard, as if worried they’ll be seen.

"Why would waters care about teaming up with fires?" I ask. "It's not going to help Serena if there are more water elementals to go around on Confluence Day, right? It's fucked up, but I at least understand why Malakai wants to..."

"Brutally murder fellow water offerings?" Ambrose offers. "Yes. It's totally understandable. As long as you're a heartless psychopath, of course."

"She's right," Mireen says. "Helping Malakai kill us shouldn't benefit her at all. It's suspicious as hell."

"What is?" A deep voice asks from behind, making all three of us jump.

I'm surprised to see Raith, of all people, standing behind us. He somehow looks bigger every time I see him. I'm reminded once again how unfairly attractive he is despite the burn scars on the left side of his face and body. Being this close to him… it makes my lungs feel tighter, like I have to work for every breath. I do my best not to let it show, but I’m pretty sure I’m failing miserably.

"Nothing," I say, acutely aware of the way my pulse has quickened.

"Right." Raith's big hands are in his pockets, but the orange glow of his affinity mark is visible through the thin fabric. "Nothing. That does sound very suspicious."

Instead of walking around us, he walks right through our group, bumping me with his big, stupid shoulder. I stumble back, and my fingers instinctively grasp his forearm to steady myself.

The connection is immediate and terrifying. Power surges from him into me, hot and visceral, like liquid fire flowing up my arm. I snatch my hand back, but not before I see his eyes narrow in… is that suspicion, like he's confirming something?

He takes a step back, eyes darting to my left hand where my disguised water mark shifts and twists, faint threads of silver hidden within the blue.

I quickly tuck my hands behind my back, swallowing hard.

Mireen and Ambrose are looking at us both like we're crazy.

I brace for him to ask questions I don't want to answer, especially in front of Mireen and Ambrose. Instead, his expression settles back to a controlled neutral. He obviously felt what happened, and between me channeling fire during our sparring match two weeks ago, he has to suspect… something. But what?

I decide to change the subject. “We were wondering what Serena’s doing talking to Malakai.”

His attention thankfully shifts to where she’s talking with him and his water affinities. “That’s a good fucking question.” His features harden and his fists clench before he turns from us, stalking toward the group.

I stifle a laugh when Serena sees Raith coming and practically runs away, disappearing into a hallway off the courtyard.

"Did you guys see that?" I ask, grateful for the distraction.

"The scary guy nearly knocking you to your face with a shoulder check and then you guys eye fucked for a few awkward seconds?" Ambrose asks. "Definitely saw it."

"No. Whatever Serena and Malakai were talking about, she didn't want to include Raith in it."

"I thought he was their leader, or whatever?" Mireen asks.

"Me too. Maybe it's not as simple as it looks."

We've already lingered too long in the courtyard, though, and I don't need to give Instructor Sestra more reasons to hate me, like showing up late to class. I give Serena's retreating form one last look, then shake my head and hurry toward the southern wing, trying to ignore the lingering warmth where the power I took from Raith still fills me.

Whatever is happening between Serena, Malakai, and the others, I'll have to figure it out later. Right now, I have to survive channeling class without revealing that I'm a fraud.

* * *

"You'll all need to do better than this," Sestra's voice cuts through the dark and dusty classroom. I'm with a group of other first-year water offerings, and our task is to conjure a ball of water above our palms and hold it.

The room is filled with long tables and various containers of water. True water affinities are like vessels, apparently, constantly filling with water essence that allows them to channel water from nothing or interact with existing sources of water.

Most students can already manipulate water to produce floating balls of liquid that hover and shift above their hands. The more talented can even conjure water from thin air in smaller quantities. Everybody but me is progressing each day.

I still can’t even get the containers of water to move, let alone draw it to my palm and shape it.

"It seems some of you likely needn't even worry about Confluence Day," she says, lips curling down at the corners as she watches me struggle. "As I seriously doubt you'll survive to see it. And if you do, your poor grasp of elemental magic will mean no elemental would even consider tethering you."

Confluence Day. Everything here at school revolves around it, and we're told multiple times a day how fast approaching it is. We're told we'll be tested and assessed by the elementals of our affinity, but nothing more than that. Most often, we're reminded how many of us will die before the day even comes. Sometimes, on cheerful days, we’re reminded that many of us will also die during Confluence day.

At some point, the constant threat of a horrible death loses a little bit of its sting. All I can do is wake up each day, struggle, and do my best to survive. The real challenge is not letting my fear for the people I’ve grown to care about petrify me. Mireen, and even Ambrose. I worry more about something happening to them, and most of my motivation to improve is driven by wanting to be able to protect them.

I stare at my palm where the disguised water mark ripples faintly beneath my skin. My fingers tremble with effort as I try to coax even the smallest drop of water to rise. Nothing happens. The silver threads hidden beneath the blue wave pattern seem to mock me—a constant reminder that I'm an impostor.

Sweat beads on my forehead with effort, but nothing I try seems to work. Sestra's instructions are all for true water affinities, not... whatever I am. Unbound. The word the elementals used still echoes in my mind at night. It's like trying to force a key into the wrong lock—I have power, I can feel it churning all around me like a storm-tossed sea, but I can't access it through the methods she teaches. I can’t find out how to bring it into myself.

Every failed attempt is another risk. What if my mark shifts during class? What if the silver shows through while everyone is watching? I clench my fist, forcing the panic down. I can't afford to show weakness. Not here.

And I also can't afford to experiment with my powers for risk of showing what I really am. I'm stuck between two impossible choices, stagnating in a place where stagnation is as good as a death sentence.

Until we survive Confluence Day and tether an elemental, we're hardly more than trash here. Somehow, I've got to find a way to at least make it until then. How the hell I'm going to tether an elemental when I don't even have a normal affinity, though, is beyond me.

"Will channeling get easier once we tether an elemental?" a girl beside me asks, almost as if her own struggles have brought her mind to the same place as mine. Her forehead is beaded with sweat as a sphere of clear water above her palm shudders and finally collapses with a splash.

Sestra drifts through the room, severe features always making her seem to calculate and judge. She has skin so light it's nearly white, with shockingly blue eyes and markings that signal her status as a primal. Even though she's tethered to an elemental, I've never actually seen it. Apparently, that's rather common, as elementals can choose to reveal themselves or not to mortals.

"Will it be easier to perform a simple magical trick when you've tethered an elemental?" she asks, voice deceptively sweet. "No. Because if you can't even do this, no elemental will deem you worthy of the primal tether."

"What happens if we don't tether an elemental on Confluence Day?" Mireen asks.

Unlike me, Mireen has already shown a talent for channeling, which means Sestra hates her less than the rest of us. Otherwise, I doubt she'd even answer the question.

"You'll be trapped in the elemental plane. The rift between worlds opens briefly once each year. The only way back is with the tether of an elemental. To put it quite simply, tether or die."

For just a moment, something seems to drift behind Sestra’s eyes—a shadow of memory or perhaps grief—and her fingers absently trace one of the blue markings on her forearm. Then it's gone, replaced by her usual stern expression as her eyes sweep over the class. "Which is one reason I push you all so hard. The elemental plane shows no mercy to the unprepared."

“Tether or die, huh?” Mireen whispers. “If I get stuck on the elemental plane, I’m going to find the cutest elemental and befriend it. We’ll go on adventures together. It’ll be great. Who says I have to die?”

“If there are any giant rat elementals, I’m sure you’ll be in paradise.”

There's a sound of rushing water to my right. I look up suddenly, along with the rest of the class.

Malakai has conjured a long, twisting line of water that sprouts from his palm and has started whipping from side to side as it grows like some kind of tentacle.

"Cut off that spell," Sestra commands, her voice sharp with warning. "Spheres, Malakai. Spheres are the assignment, not?—"

Malakai's eyes slide to the guy beside him—a burly East Coaster named Lorne. For a split second, I see the calculation and malice in Malakai's eyes.

Oh shit.

I'm standing before I know it, eyes wide and heart hammering in my chest.

Malakai is pretending he can't control the spell, even as I see the water sharpening into a blade-like shape.

I make it three long steps toward him, but I'm not fast enough.

One moment, the blade of water is whipping left and right. The next, Lorne is gripping his throat.

Blood trickles between his fingers as he stands, his chair scraping on stone and falling sideways. The sound echoes through the suddenly silent room.

There are gasps and a few screams as Lorne falls to his knees, eyes bulging. A gurgling sound escapes his throat as he tries to breathe through the blood. He reaches out, fingers grasping at the air, before collapsing face-first onto the stone floor.

A pool of crimson spreads beneath him, inching across the floor toward my boots. I freeze, unable to look away from the growing stain. My heart hammers in my ears, drowning out the chaos around me. I've seen death here, but the casual cruelty of this murder makes bile rise in my throat.

Malakai is barely attempting to look shocked or remorseful. He makes a few half-hearted excuses about how it was an accident, but his eyes scan the room, watching our reactions. When they land on me, I see a flicker of something predatory, and I quickly look away.

The whole ordeal only takes moments. Lorne is dead. The body is taken away, and class resumes, as if there isn't a pool of drying blood on the floor in the center of the room we’re all supposed to pretend we don’t notice.

Everyone is afraid to show fear here. Afraid to look weak. To look like a target.

An unpleasant blooming of shame rises up in me. Yes, I stood. Yes, I took steps toward the chaos. But what did I do after it was all said and done?

I looked away from Malakai, afraid of being next.

We all did, and I feel a sudden, burning hatred for this place and what it's turning us all into. I slowly take my seat again, eyes on my disguised mark.

The only indication Primal Sestra gives of noticing or caring about the "accidental" murder is the slightest tightening around the corner of her mouth.

"Let this be a lesson," Sestra says after a moment. "In battle and war, you will be expected to continue performing your task, even when faced with horror. Show me how you can all press on in the face of adversity."

My stomach churns as I stare at the dark stain spreading across the stone. Just minutes ago, Lorne was alive—breathing, thinking, hoping to survive this place like the rest of us. Now he's gone, hauled away like refuse, and we're all expected to continue practicing water manipulation as if nothing happened.

I look around at my classmates. Some are pale, hands trembling as they try to focus on their water spheres. Others have already adapted, eyes forward, determined to be among those who survive. But it's the third group that chills me—the ones watching Malakai with something like curiosity and even admiration in their eyes.

He's showing them another way to excel here. Why compete with your peers when you can simply eliminate them? Brutality and cold-blooded murder win out. Those who strike first have the advantage, and Malakai is putting together a team of killers just like himself.

People who will kill us, even if it only marginally increases their odds of becoming a primal or getting a better assignment after graduation.

I force my eyes back to my own hands, trying to ignore the metallic scent of blood still hanging in the air. Suddenly, my inability to channel seems like the least of my problems. The casual brutality makes me think of home—of my own guilt, my own bloody hands—and I push the memory away. I can't afford to drown in the past when death lurks so close in the present.

This place is a powder keg, and Malakai is already playing with fire.

But as I stare at the crusting blood that someone will eventually be ordered to clean, a darker thought takes root. If I can't learn to channel soon, I'll be next. Easy prey. A simple way for someone else to improve their chances.

And if I get myself killed, Mireen and Ambrose will be on their own. Alone in this place where allies are hard to come by and trust is a luxury few can afford.

I flex my hand, concentrating harder, desperation lending strength to my efforts. Still nothing.

Across the room, Malakai catches my eye and smiles. It's not a friendly smile—it's the kind of smile a predator gives its next meal.

I need to learn how to channel. I need to figure out what "unbound" means. I need allies.

There's certainly no escaping Confluence Academy. Not alive, anyway. We’ve all been told the only way we leave here is as a full primal after five years of training or in a coffin. And despite everything, despite the danger and the horror and the lies I'm living...I'm not ready to die. Not yet.

Not here.

I close my eyes, pushing away all thoughts of Malakai, of blood, of failure. I reach down deep inside myself, searching for that well of power I know is there. And for just a moment—brief as a heartbeat—I feel something respond. I feel the latent water essence in the air drifting toward me, tentatively and slowly, but it’s there.

A single drop of water rises from my palm, conjured from thin air.