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)
"Not entirely hopeless," he concedes, which from him is practically a love letter.
As we leave the training yard, I catch the tail end of Raith's sparring match. He's using a two-handed sword that's bigger than my body, and he whirls through the air in a deadly dance of slashing training steel. It slices through the air with a thick whistle, and he shows perfect control, pulling his strikes against the guy he's fighting so he doesn't actually hurt him.
He freezes with the blade at his opponent's neck. They both pause a moment, then relax, clapping hands and patting shoulders. I can see Raith is giving him instruction now. The fire he’s working with is thinner and more sleight than the average offering, and I can see how he’s looking up at Raith with unmasked adoration.
I shake my head as we leave for the showers. I may not understand the guy, but I can't deny he helped me pick what feels like the perfect weapon. In his own way, Raith may have just helped me survive.
After cleaning up and surviving another long day of classes, I say goodnight to Mireen and cross the star-lit courtyard toward the library. It's in the academic wing, and it has become my sanctuary in the endless nightmare that is Confluence Academy. While others use their rare free time to rest, fuck, or form alliances, I bury myself in ancient texts, searching for answers about what it means to be unbound while I wait for Bastian to come through on his promise to give me the book he mentioned that first day.
So far, I've found only fragments—old stories that may be nothing more than fiction meant to entertain small children. But the stories do talk about creatures known by many names that existed before the elemental plane merged with the human plane, creatures that lurked in the shadows of human history. Centuries ago. They were called vampires, essence drinkers, voids, and siphons. As far as I can tell, all the names point to the same creature—some sort of twisted version of a primal, like a human who feeds on living creatures to fuel its power.
But they're only stories, and none of them mention the word "unbound" or talk about silver swirl marks. None of them explain why I draw people's power into myself if I touch them for too long. They don't explain why channeling doesn't work for me the way it works for everyone else here.
I sit at a secluded table in the back corner of the library, surrounded by stacks of dusty tomes. My eyes burn from hours of reading faded text in dim light, but I can't stop. Confluence Day grows closer, and with it, the reckoning I can't prepare for without understanding what I am.
"You won't find what you're looking for in those."
I startle, nearly dropping the book in my hands. Ambrose stands at the end of the row, spectacles reflecting the late afternoon light streaming through high windows.
"What?" I close the book quickly, covering the illustration of a strange mark that looked tantalizingly close to my own, but apparently was unrelated.
He glances around, then steps closer. "Secrets about the elementals. About what makes someone worthy of tethering. That's what everyone's after, right?"
I relax slightly. So he doesn't actually know what I'm looking for. It's not that I don't trust Ambrose. It's more that I don't want to tie either of my friends up in my mess.
Gods know I've hurt the people I care about enough already for one lifetime. I won't let them become victims of my collateral damage, either. As always, my thoughts even skimming across the memory of my brothers and father drowning in the storm I drew in blasts me with suffocating guilt.
I force the thoughts down, offering Ambrose an innocent smile instead. “Just trying to survive until Confluence Day."
"Aren't we all." He drops into the chair across from me, lowering his voice. "Did you hear the Rector’s back?”
"Rector? That’s what they call the headmaster here, right?" I keep my expression neutral, though my interest is piqued. “I thought he was away on some assignment.”
"Rector Voss." Ambrose pushes his glasses up with one finger. His eyes gleam with the excitement of sharing forbidden knowledge. "He came back last night. Early.”
"What does that mean? Do you think he heard about Malakai's informal army? Maybe the amount of killing they're doing is excessive, even by academy standards?"
"No one knows for certain. I’ve heard a few rumors, of course. Probably nothing of substance.”
“What have you heard?”
Ambrose leans closer, voice low. “Some say a rogue elemental was spotted near campus.”
I frown. “A rogue elemental? I’ve never heard of something like that.”
Ambrose nods, as if my lack of knowledge on the subject isn’t a surprise. “They’re completely mad. Driven wild by grief, and destructive as all hells.”