Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
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.
6
Ever since the elemental trial, the nightmares come almost every night. At first, they weren’t so vivid. So terrifying. But night by night, they’re getting stronger. More real. Dark water pressing in around me and the cold awareness of something vast moving beneath me, watching from the depths.
A deep, horrible voice whispers up to me from the darkness. “Unbound… Nessa Thorne… Un…bound.”
I wake gasping, sheets twisted around my legs, the phantom sensation of drowning still tight in my throat. I bolt upright, gulping air and pressing a hand to my racing heart, my lungs burning as if they'd actually filled with water.
As if the challenge of daily life here at Confluence wasn’t bad enough after nearly six weeks, my sleeping mind has decided to join in for the fun. Fucking wonderful.
"Another one?" Mireen's voice comes softly through the darkness. So much for not waking her.
"Sorry," I whisper.
“Don’t be sorry.” She sits up, then pauses, pointing to something near her bed. "And promise you won’t freak out, but I think we have a roommate." She indicates tiny footprints in spilled powder by the wall. "I've been leaving it crumbs. Figured if it's survived this long at Confluence, it deserves a medal. Or at least dinner."
I notice the prints and shake my head ruefully. “You’re luring rats into our room. On purpose?”
“Singular. Not plural. And yes. Imagine how scary this place must be as a rat. He deserves someone who will love and look after him.”
I shake my head, smiling. “If it bites me, I’m kicking him out.”
Mireen folds her arms. “If he bites you twice. You’ve got to give him a chance to get his bearings.” I can already see how her body is growing more lean and muscular with our daily training regime through her thin night clothes. My own physique is changing, too. The soft places on my body are hardening every day, what fat I had melting away to reveal lean muscle. I’m even starting to gain some confidence in the sparring ring—a faint belief that I can stop someone from killing me if they try.
“So…” she leans forward, legs crossed on the bed. "What do you see? In the dreams?"
I hesitate. Dreams are private things—especially here, where any weakness can be exploited. But this is Mireen. She even admitted when Malakai tried to "recruit" her for his growing team of those he calls his elites. Mireen is far more talented than most when it comes to channeling, which is what earned her the invite.
Obviously, she turned him down, even though the temptation of not having to watch her back for him and his elites must have been immense. She also told me about it right away, confirming what I already knew. I can trust Mireen with my life.
"I see water," I say, shivering at the memory that still burns vivid in my mind's eye. "Darkness. Something... watching me." I don't mention how that feeling of being watched persists even after I wake. I keep that to myself, not because I don't trust her, but because speaking it aloud would make it feel more real.
More terrifying.
She's quiet for a moment. "My grandfather used to say dreams are messages. From the gods, maybe, or from parts of ourselves we don't understand."
"Well, I wish this particular messenger would shut up," I mutter, making her laugh softly.
There's more still I don't dare say aloud—like the voice I hear beneath the water, whispering words I’m beginning to understand. About how each night, I sink deeper, getting closer to whatever waits in those depths. How I'm beginning to think it's looking for me specifically.