Chapter 31 I'm running through marble halls toward a scream that freezes my blood and shatters something inside me. It's my sister's voice, warped into something no human throat should produce. A sound of pure terror and agony that rips my heart into shreds. The hallway seems to stretch on endlessly. Guards lie crumpled against the walls, their armor dented, blood pooling beneath them. The scents of copper and smoke are so strong I start to gag as I keep racing toward that sound. I should be bigger. Stronger. Faster. More prepared. Maybe then I could do something to stop all of this. 'Mother! Guards! Someone!' I call, but there's no answer. Just another scream from behind a heavy door at the end of the corridor. As I reach it, tendrils of black smoke curl from beneath. Heat radiates through the wood, the metal handle glowing red. I reach for it anyway, my hand hovering inches away when the door explodes outward in a blast of fire and⁠- I wake with a gasp, heart hammering against my ribs. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the smell of smoke and blood still so vivid I expect to find the room ablaze and covered in gore. Instead, I'm greeted by cool morning light filtering through a window in the fire affinity tower. Raith's quarters. I'm still here. Still recovering three days after the siphon attack that nearly killed us both. I've hardly spent a full day conscious in his room, but it already feels safer than my own. Realizing where I am is a relief, like warm, comfortable sheets wrapping around me in a protective cocoon. I want to curl deeper into his bed and drift back to sleep. 'Another vision?' Typhon asks, his diminished form curled at the foot of the bed. He's still only slightly larger than a housecat, his normally vibrant blue scales dulled to a muted slate. 'I don't know what they are,' I admit, pushing damp hair from my forehead. 'They feel like memories, but not mine.' Deep down, some part of me does know now. Some part of me suspects, but the horror of those dreams makes me not want to believe. Despite the call of sleep, I sit up in bed and look around the room for Raith. But he's not here. Without him magnetizing my attention, I notice details about the room I've missed until now. A basin of fresh water by the bedside table. A set of clean clothes and underwear folded neatly at the foot of the bed that look like they've been brought from my own room. A plate with bread and fruit beneath a cloth. I test my limbs carefully. The bone-deep exhaustion has lifted somewhat, replaced by a dull ache and lingering weakness. Still, it's progress from yesterday. My body is purging the last of the void magic I cleansed from Raith. Other than the occasional flash of cold sweeping across me, I think the worst of it has nearly passed already. 'You heal quickly,' Typhon observes. 'Another benefit of your unbound nature, I suspect. Or perhaps it's because of your unique manifestation.' 'Or maybe it's just spite,' I mutter, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. 'Too stubborn to stay down.' 'Spite is an undervalued motivator,' Typhon agrees. "If not for spite, I may have let the madness fully take me long ago. The call to submit... it is deep and terrible. I fear there could be nothing left in the other ancients if you eventually cleanse them." I frown. As much as I want to help them, the idea of facing more gigantic murderous elementals feels like more than I can fit on my plate at the moment. Problems for another day, maybe. I reach for the water, drinking deeply. The cool liquid soothes my throat, washing away the last remnants of the nightmare. Or vision. Or whatever it was. The memory of the scream lingers, raising goosebumps along my arms despite the room's comfortable temperature. The door opens, and Raith enters, carrying more food and a stack of books under one arm. His eyes immediately find mine, relief flashing across his features before he schools his expression into something more neutral. I see disapproval when he notices the still-full basket of fruit and bread by the bed. 'You should be eating. You need to regain your strength.' 'I just woke up.' He nods, though he still doesn't seem pleased as he sets down his books on the desk. He sets down the second basket of food beside the first and gestures. 'Eat.' 'I'm not really hungry.' 'I don't remember asking. You need to eat.' Reluctantly, I pluck a few grapes from the basket and pop one into my mouth, chewing. 'Happy?' 'I'll be happy when you finish everything I brought.' He moves around the room with practiced efficiency, but I notice the way his gaze keeps returning to me, as if he's afraid I might injure myself while reclining in his bed and reaching for occasional bites of food. His bed. A question strikes me. 'Where have you been sleeping while I've been hogging your bed?' He gestures to a blanket on the hard stone floor I hadn't noticed. 'Raith... you should've said something. You don't need to be sleeping on the floor.' 'You need every comfort to get better in time for the Crucible. It's not far away.' 'And you think I couldn't have been comfortable sharing a bed with you?' 'I'm a fire. I run hot. You'd sweat through your sheets all night.' 'Maybe I'd like your warmth.' He's in the middle of reaching for a rag-to polish his sword, I assume-when he pauses a moment. He sets down the rag and approaches the bed to stand over me. I must not be eating fast enough, because he picks up one of the baskets and sets it on my lap. I give him a sarcastic smile and pick up the bread, taking an oversized bite I immediately regret. I can barely find room for it in my mouth as I try to chew, both cheeks puffing out. Raith actually smiles a little at that. 'Better.' He hasn't shaved this morning, so dark stubble coats his strong jaw in a way that I think suits him. I find myself watching to reach up and run my fingertips down his cheek. Over the fullness of his lips. To touch him like he's mine. 'Other than a stubborn reluctance to eat," he says. "How are you feeling?' 'Better.' It's mostly true, at least. Through our tether, I feel a wave of relief from him, tinged with lingering worry. The connection between us is still tenuous, like a gossamer thread that could snap with too much pressure, but it grows slightly stronger with proximity. When he's close like this, I catch what feels like drifts of his emotions that come and go like scents on a soft breeze. Fully formed words and thoughts seem highly uncommon. So far, I think they only leak through if he's thinking them with high amounts of emotion. Or, like the case when I sent thoughts his way, if he actually wants me to hear them. 'I spoke with your friends this morning. They'll be by again later. I told them to let you rest when they came last night.' 'Good. You know... I've been missing for days now. People must be assuming I'm dead or worse.' 'Most think Malakai's people finally caught up with you. Some say you were injured badly enough to be kept in isolation.' His lips quirk slightly. 'There's even a rumor you challenged Serena to a duel and she burnt you to ash.' 'Well, that's dramatic,' I say, reaching for a piece of fruit. Eating some has woken my appetite, and now I'm worried Raith hasn't brought me enough food after all. His eyebrows crease. 'I can get you more food.' I stare. It takes a second for me to realize he picked up on my worry through the tether. Gods. That is going to be hard to get used to. But... it's also kind of nice. It's like he can read my mind. Sense my desires. Hopefully not all of them. If he knew about all my desires, I imagine there'd be less calm talking and more ripping off of clothing involved. 'This is fine,' I say. 'I'll get you more when you've finished.' There's no argument with his tone, so I don't bother. 'It might be a good thing if people think I'm dead for a little bit.' Raith nods. 'I had the same thought. They'll all be planning and scheming for the Crucible, no doubt. If you're out of the picture, you may get left out of plans. All the better when you show up full strength.' 'What about the siphon? You've been careful, right?' 'We're all making a new password each morning. Nobody gets near you without it." I grin. 'I saw that yesterday. But couldn't the siphon take the place of someone who shows up to learn it?' 'It's possible. But it's just one way to make it harder to infiltrate our trust. And we have to give the previous day's code to get the next. It's not a perfect system, but it's better than nothing.' 'Okay, but you said to gain access to me. I'm not worried about me. You're the one the siphon was after.' 'There's nothing I can do about that. My fires are with me when I'm not with you. When I'm not with them, I'm with you and your friends. If it wants to come for me, it'll have a fight on its hands.' I realize he's right. Other than having allies, there's not really much that can be done. We just have to keep moving forward the best way we know how. 'And Voss?' I ask. Raith's expression darkens. 'He's a question. Yes. If he wanted either of us dead, all he would've had to do was not show up when he did. Makes it hard to consider him the biggest of our worries, at least.' 'Right. Maybe we can rule out him wanting us dead. But what the hell does he actually want?' 'I intend to ask him when we meet with him tomorrow.' A smile plays at my lips. 'You really think he's going to let you into his office with me?' 'I'm not planning on asking permission.' A hint of emotions drifts over me. Determination. Distrust. Worry. And rage... gods, so much rage. 'I thought we were supposed to meet with him today?' 'Not today.' Raith's voice softens as he finally stops moving around the room and sits beside me on the bed. 'Today is for recovery. If Voss has a problem with that, he can show up at my door and tell me to my face.' His nearness is... nice. It's comfortable and full of unspoken tension at the same time. I'm acutely aware of every point where our bodies almost touch, the scant inches between his hand and mine on the blanket. The memory of our kiss yesterday flashes through my mind, and his eyes darken, suggesting the same thought has occurred to him. A subtle echo through the tether confirms as much a moment later. He feels it too. The tension. The wanting. The desire. 'I brought books,' he says abruptly, gesturing to the stack on the desk. 'Thought you might be bored.' 'Thank you.' I reach out impulsively, covering his hand with mine. The contact sends a now-familiar surge of fire magic into my body, but alongside it comes something else-clear emotions passing through the tether. Protectiveness so fierce it takes my breath away. 'I'm really okay,' I tell him softly. He turns his hand beneath mine, intertwining our fingers. 'I know,' he says, but the worry doesn't leave his eyes. 'I just... when I saw you collapse after saving me...' He trails off, jaw tightening. 'It was my choice,' I remind him. 'And I'd do it again.' His gaze drops to our joined hands. 'That's what worries me.' I pull myself to standing, using his strength to steady myself. The room sways slightly but settles as I find my balance. 'I can't stay in bed all day. I need to move, rebuild my strength.' Raith rises with me, his hand still holding mine, his other arm slipping around my waist to support me. 'Slow,' he murmurs, the word more breath than sound against my temple. We move together, a careful dance across the room. Each step feels more certain than the last as my body remembers its capabilities. By the time we reach the window, I'm standing mostly on my own, though Raith's arm remains at my waist. Our 'training' yesterday was an exercise in futility. I mostly stumbled around and needed Raith to keep me upright. Today, with a little time, I think I could actually manage a rough approximation of a sparring match. Maybe... Outside, Confluence continues its daily rhythms. I can see it all from Raith's window, which faces inward, giving a clear view of nearly the entire campus. Students cross the courtyard, their black uniforms stark against the snow, their colored affinity markings and occasional elemental visible even from this distance. Looking at the castle's majesty from here, it's hard to believe a predator stalks its halls, that in a few days many of those students will be fighting for their lives in the Crucible. 'Can I try something?' I ask, turning to face Raith. 'What?' 'I want to see if I can channel. Just a little.' His brow furrows. 'You're still recovering.' 'I won't know my limits unless I test them,' I say, offering a smile I hope appears more confident than I feel. 'Just a small exercise. And you'll be right here if anything goes wrong.' He hesitates, then nods reluctantly. 'Something small,' he concedes. I release his hand, closing my eyes to center myself. I reach for water, the element that comes most naturally to me despite my unbound status. I can sense it everywhere-in the air, in our bodies, in the basin across the room. I draw it toward me, coaxing rather than commanding, and feel the familiar tingle of magic flowing through my fingertips. A small sphere of water forms above my palm, wobbling slightly but holding its shape. It's nowhere near what I could do at full strength, but it's something. I open my eyes to find Raith watching with undisguised fascination. 'It's still there,' I say, relief flooding through me. 'My control.' 'Did you doubt it?' he asks. 'After what happened with the siphon... yes.' I let the water dissipate, the droplets returning to the air. The small exercise has left me more tired than I'd like to admit, but I count it as progress nonetheless. 'That void magic is drawn to whatever lets us channel. I think if it stayed in our bodies long enough, it could completely cut us off from our abilities. It would⁠-' I sway slightly, and Raith is there immediately, his arm returning to my waist. The sudden movement brings us chest to chest, his face inches from mine. I can feel his heartbeat accelerating, matching the quickening of my own pulse. 'Nessa...' he begins, his voice rough. Someone knocks at the door, dragging Raith's focus from me. He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed again, taking time to make sure I'm settled before he moves to answer the door. I hear him stopping each person before they can enter and see them whispering what I assume is the daily passcode in his ear. Mireen bursts in first, Beck and Ambrose close behind her. Brunhild brings up the rear, her massive frame filling the doorway as she surveys the room with obvious curiosity. 'You're looking better,' Mireen says, assessing me with a critical eye. 'There's actually some color in your face now, though you still look like you could use about three more days of sleep.' 'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' I say dryly, but I can't keep the smile from my face. Despite seeing them just yesterday, the sight of my friends brings comfort. 'I'm getting stronger by the hour.' 'Looks like you could already get on your feet and give us a run for our money,' Beck notes, dropping into Raith's desk chair and immediately putting his feet up on the small writing desk. 'Get your feet off my desk,' Raith says, voice low and deadly. Beck pops out of the chair like he's been stung by a bee, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Yep. Yes, Sir..' 'It's remarkable how quickly you're recovering,' Ambrose says. 'I assume it's a benefit of your healing manifestation?' 'I'm still not sure how to explain it,' I say, conscious of Raith watching from the doorway, his posture alert as if he expects danger to follow my friends into the room. 'Any other perks manifesting?' Ambrose asks, his expression eager behind his glasses. 'After what you did for Raith, I've been theorizing about the possible extent of your healing abilities.' 'Nessa has better things to do, Ambrose,' Mireen cuts in. 'She's probably dying for updates on what's going on while she's stuck in here.' Brunhild strides forward, assesses me, and nods seriously. 'Good. Power returns,' she says with an approving nod. 'Need strength for Crucible.' Her presence here and apparent knowledge of my status means she must officially be our fifth member, now. And if we can't trust her... well, I suppose the consequences would've already come for me. 'Speaking of the Crucible,' I say. 'What's the latest? I heard you had some kind of important Crucible prep to do last night.' 'We spent the afternoon doing reconnaissance,' Mireen says, settling beside me. 'I think we've identified where Malakai's allies are storing those weapons I mentioned.' 'Where?' Raith asks, suddenly interested. Nobody mentioned stored weapons to me, but I assume it must have been something I learned while half-conscious. Either that, or they're assuming I won't be recovered in time to help. 'Eastern wing, third floor, behind a false panel in what used to be an old armory storage room,' Beck says. 'And these aren't just practice blades. We're talking actual steel. Daggers, short swords, even a few bows and arrows.' 'How did they get those?' I ask, stunned. 'Weapons like that are locked up until graduation. And I can't imagine upper years caring enough about their... cause to risk their own status here by providing them.' 'That's the interesting part,' Ambrose says, leaning forward. 'Based on the markings I glimpsed, they appear to be Empire issued weapons. Not the kind made for Confluence primals-in-training. The kind given to rank-and-file soldiers.' Raith and I exchange looks. 'Someone on the outside is helping them,' Raith concludes, his voice hard. 'Exactly,' Ambrose confirms. 'But I asked around and consulted a few texts. Soldiers can't just ask nicely for replacement weapons. And the blacksmiths under Empire employ get only enough raw materials to make what is ordered.' 'So you're saying someone should know these weapons are missing,' I say. 'Somebody high up. Or somebody with enough power to cover up that number of weapons going missing is helping them?' Ambrose nods. 'Right. Either way, somebody important with a lot of power is trying to help Malakai and his people slaughter us during the Crucible.' 'Legacies have power and connections,' Mireen says slowly. 'Could it be one of them? Bastian, maybe?' 'No,' I say a little too quickly. I wince when every head in the room turns to me. A faint throb of jealous anger flashes in my mind. I have no doubt it's from Raith. 'It just doesn't add up,' I continue. 'If Raith told you everything, I assume he told you about the conversation we heard Bastian having with his father.' Mireen's eyes fall. 'That's right. Bastian wanted him to call off the Crucible entirely. Not exactly logical if you're risking everything to smuggle weapons in to make it more deadly.' 'Unless he planned on you hearing that conversation,' Ambrose suggests. 'Or if the weapons are for something else unrelated to the Crucible.' 'There are more legacies,' Beck says. 'I only know of one that wishes he could get in Nessa's pants. Probably safer to assume it's another one of them. Or somebody completely on the outside. Does it really matter, though? The bad guys are going to have sharp pokey sticks. So fucking what? We've got magic and elementals. Fuck 'em and their weapons.' 'How many weapons are we talking about?' I ask. 'Enough to arm at least forty students,' Mireen says grimly. 'Maybe more.' 'Brunhild has been helping us develop counter-strategies,' Mireen adds. 'She's surprisingly knowledgeable about fighting against armed opponents when you're unarmed. Considering we'll have practice blades, we might as well be against their military-grade steel..' 'Is common where I come from,' Brunhild shrugs. 'Raiders, pirates. Must know how to fight when surprised.' 'She's been showing us some techniques,' Beck says, a note of admiration in his voice. 'You should see her disarm someone. It's... impressive.' 'I teach you tomorrow, Nessa,' Brunhild tells me. 'Looking forward to it,' I say, meaning it. 'But why should we let them keep those weapons? We know where they are, right? What's stopping us from stealing them?' 'No,' Raith says. 'You're still too weak.' 'I can manage.' 'We only found out about this because a girl who was with Malakai wanted to join our side,' Beck says. 'Obviously, we didn't trust her. But then she started spilling secrets like the weapons stash.' 'Then we need to ask her how the room is protected,' I say. 'We find a way to steal those weapons or destroy them. That's the plan.' Beck nods. 'I'll ask her after we're done here. She has channeling class right now. She's an earth. Pretty, too. You should see her⁠-' Brunhild silences Beck with a hard smack to the back of the head. 'He keeps his eyes to himself and Brunhild, or he loses them.' Beck's grin is sideways. 'She's some woman, isn't she?' 'There's more,' Mireen says, voice dropping lower. 'Voss cornered me after Military Tactics this morning. He's asking about Nessa.' The mention of the Rector sobers me immediately. 'What did he want?' 'Questions about your recovery. When you'd be ready to see him. But this time...' she hesitates, exchanging glances with Ambrose, 'he specifically asked if your healing abilities had manifested again since the incident with the siphon.' A chill runs through me. 'How would he know about that? And how does he know you know?' 'Exactly,' Ambrose says. 'We've been careful not to mention your healing around anyone but our immediate circle. The only people who know are in this room. Yet he seemed to know not only that you healed Raith, but that it might be a recurring ability.' 'He was there,' I remind them. 'When the siphon attacked. Maybe he saw more than I realized. Or he could know the effects of void magic exposure? What if the only way Raith could've survived was with some kind of healing magic?' 'Maybe,' Mireen says slowly. 'But something about the way he asked felt... calculated. Like he was confirming something he already knew.' 'There's that rumor going around too,' Beck adds. 'The one about the burned out bodies Bastian mentioned to his father. It's the first I've heard of it, but the rumor is already everywhere. People heard about the fight you guys had with the siphon, too. They just don't know it was you guys and a siphon. All they know is some serious shit went down in the west wing that left a classroom in ruins.' Mireen folds her arms and shakes her head. 'Voss knows a hell of a lot about this stuff. Are you sure we can trust him?' 'No,' Raith says. 'We don't trust him any more than necessary.' 'He saved me and Raith, though. He gave us an early tip about the Crucible. And all he's done so far when I meet with him is help with my powers. Why do that if he wants to bring us harm?' 'We shouldn't speculate without evidence,' Ambrose cautions, though his expression remains troubled. 'Whatever his interest,' Raith interjects, 'Nessa isn't seeing him until she's at full strength. I don't care what position he holds.' 'Agreed,' Mireen says, surprising me with her easy alliance with Raith on this matter. Their shared concern for my welfare seems to have bridged some of the initial distrust. 'You need to be at your strongest before facing him.' 'Not all news is grim,' Beck says, clearly trying to lighten the mood. 'There was quite the scene in channeling class this afternoon when Sestra found Dain and Kali... well, channeling something, but not magic.' He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Despite everything, I find myself laughing. 'In the classroom?' 'Behind the practice dummies,' Beck confirms with a grin. 'Sestra was so angry I thought she might drown them both on the spot.' 'The look on Dain's face,' Mireen adds, dissolving into giggles. 'Like a fish that suddenly realized it was on land.' Even Raith's lips quirk slightly at the mental image. For a moment, the weight of siphons and Crucibles and secret weapons lifts, replaced by the simple camaraderie of friends sharing gossip. It's a precious moment of normalcy in our increasingly abnormal lives. 'Oh,' Mireen says, as if just remembering. 'The rumors about your absence are getting wilder by the hour, too. There's a version going around that you challenged Serena to a duel and she burnt you to ash.' 'Raith told me that one,' I say, reaching for a piece of fruit from the plate Raith brought earlier. 'My favorite is the one about Nessa's flying fish,' Beck says. I feel Typhon perk up at the mention. 'They say he fish-slapped Voss and got you both thrown off the highest tower. When we heard that one, we had to make the code 'fish slap' in honor of the rumor yesterday.' We all share some much needed laughs at the increasingly ridiculous rumors. Eventually, though, the conversation turns to more deadly topics. Like our strategy for the Crucible. Ambrose pulls out a folded parchment from his pocket, spreading it across the foot of the bed. It shows a detailed rendering of what must be the quarry Raith took me to see. 'Where did you get this?' Raith asks, moving closer to examine the map. 'Library archives,' Ambrose says proudly. 'Not the main one-the secondary archive in the west wing basement. You'd be surprised what they keep there if you know where to look.' Beck rolls his eyes. 'He means he sweet-talked the library assistant. Apparently, she has a thing for guys who can quote tactical theory from memory.' Ambrose adjusts his glasses, a hint of pink touching his cheeks. 'I can't control if she finds my intellect stimulating.' "Hey, no need to defend yourself, Ambrose. I'm happy for you. I just didn't know you had it in you. If you want my advice? You show up at her room. Tonight. Wear something sexy. Just walk right in like you own the place. It works every time." 'Enough,' Mireen cuts in. 'We're here to talk strategy, not Beck's questionable romantic wisdom.' 'It's not questionable when it works,' Beck protests, but subsides when Mireen levels a glare at him. 'So,' I say, leaning forward to examine the map, 'what's the plan?' For the next hour, we discuss possible scenarios for the Crucible. Ambrose has developed several strategies based on different starting positions, while Mireen and Beck contribute insights on our potential enemies and allies. Brunhild's tactical knowledge proves surprisingly extensive, her understanding of terrain advantages particularly valuable. Raith remains mostly silent, though he occasionally offers a suggestion when our strategies have obvious flaws. I notice he's careful not to reveal too much about his own plans with the fires, maintaining a certain distance despite being physically present in the room. Ultimately, there's only so much planning we can do. We won't know our true objective until the day of the Crucible. But knowing where the Crucible is likely to take place has its advantages, which is what we spend most of our time focusing on. 'Don't you all have classes?' I ask once I've realized just how long we've been talking. 'We'll get a slap on the wrist,' Beck says. 'No big deal. We're where we need to be.' 'He's right.' Mireen gives my shoulder a squeeze and I feel wisps of her cool water energy flow into my body. She shivers, but smiles. "Still think it's incredible how you can draw power from people." 'She is small, but strong,' Brunhild observes with her muscular arms folded. 'To draw power from enemies is a valuable skill. I will teach her grappling techniques for combat. Ways to get her small, child-like hands on her opponents.' I raise an eyebrow, then lift one of my hands and give it a look. They aren't that small. 'Thanks, Brunhild.' Brunhild nods. Her platinum blonde hair is pulled back in a scalp-tight braid that seems as no-nonsense as the woman herself. 'In my home village. Before I come to Empire. We have stories of unbound. Not like stories here. Stories of heroes, not monsters.' 'Where was your village?' 'North islands,' she says. 'Beyond Empire, beyond Red Kingdom. Different... perspective.' She taps her temple meaningfully. 'But the elements wished us to leave. Waters rose. My home is now part of the sea.' 'Well, we're glad you're on our team,' Mireen says with a genuine smile. Brunhild... tries to smile. The expression isn't natural on her severe face, though, and it looks more like she's baring her teeth. 'Your team has power. Heart. Good heart makes for good power. We will survive Crucible together.' There's a simple wisdom in her words that catches me off guard. 'I hope you're right.' 'I am right,' she says confidently. 'I see truth in people. Is why I trust sexy bear.' She nods toward Beck, who preens visibly. 'Nice as this is,' Ambrose interjects, checking the time, 'we should be going. We've got combat training in twenty minutes, and Instructor Vail hates tardiness even more than Sestra. I can handle remedial channeling classes, but Vail will literally make sure we bleed if we're late.' 'It's okay. Go,' I say. They gather their things, Mireen hugging me tightly before she leaves. 'Take care of yourself,' she whispers. 'And be careful with him.' Her eyes flick meaningfully toward Raith, who is speaking quietly with Beck near the door. 'I will,' I promise. As they file out, Brunhild stops briefly beside me. 'Tomorrow. Do not forget our training." When they're gone, Raith closes the door with a soft click. He stays by the door. 'Your friends are protective of you,' he observes. 'So are you.' "I only have three days to get you back to full strength. Three days until the Crucible." 'I'll be ready." He turns to me, his expression unreadable in the growing shadows. 'Nessa, I need to tell you something.' My heart quickens. 'What is it?' He hesitates, conflict visible in the tense line of his shoulders. 'Do you trust me?' he asks suddenly. 'Yes,' I answer without reservation, surprising myself with the certainty of it. After everything-the secrets, the warnings, the distance he's maintained-I still trust him with my life. He crosses the room in three long strides, stopping before me. 'Then trust me when I say that during the Crucible, you need to keep your head down. Complete the objective, nothing more. Don't try to fight Malakai, don't try to be a hero, don't reveal your full abilities unless your life depends on it.' 'But my friends⁠-' 'Will be safer if you follow my advice,' he interrupts. 'The less attention you draw, the better. Make sure Typhon knows, too.' 'That's not much of a strategy,' I point out. 'It's the only one I have that keeps you alive,' he says, his voice rough with emotion. 'And that's all that matters to me right now.' The raw honesty in his voice steals my breath. I feel the truth of his words-the depth of his concern, the fierce protectiveness that borders on desperation. Whatever secrets he's keeping, whatever his true purpose here, his desire to keep me safe is genuine. It matters more to him than anything else. I reach for him, my fingers finding the collar of his uniform, pulling him closer. 'I'll be careful,' I promise. 'But only if you promise to keep yourself safe, too. That siphon wanted you dead, Raith.' His hand comes up to cover mine, his skin warm against my fingers. 'I've survived worse,' he says, but doesn't elaborate. Another piece of his past kept in shadow. 'Raith...' I begin, uncertain what I even want to ask. There are too many questions, too many mysteries surrounding him. But what comes out isn't even a question. 'Stay with me tonight.' Surprise flashes across his face, followed by a heat that makes my pulse quicken. Then there's a roguish twist of his lips. 'You are in my room, Nessa. I was planning on staying with you whether you liked it or not.' 'I just... don't want to be alone.' 'You won't be.' 'And I want you in the bed. Not on the floor. Only to sleep,' I add. It's not even dark yet, but Raith shows no sign of caring. He can tell I'm tired and need to sleep again. We prepare for bed in near silence, the routine oddly domestic despite the extraordinary circumstances that brought us here. I brush my hair out to keep it from tangling after spending so long resting. I change while Raith turns his back, slipping into fresh, clean underwear and throwing a thin academy night shirt over myself. Then I climb into the bed. The bed is narrow, clearly not meant for two, but we make it work. Raith lies on his back, one arm behind his head, while I curl on my side facing him. There's a careful inch of space between us, a boundary neither of us is quite ready to cross despite everything that's happened. Just like he warned, the heat radiating from him is like a small furnace. But it's cold, even in the fire tower, and his heat feels absolutely perfect. It makes me desperately want to cling to him and cuddle close. 'The dreams,' I say into the darkness. 'The ones I've been having. They feel like memories, but they're not mine.' I feel him tense beside me. 'What do you see?' he asks, his voice carefully neutral. 'A castle. A child running. Screams.' I hesitate. 'Fire.' The silence stretches so long I think he might not answer. Then, 'The tether,' he says finally. The truth I've suspected and been afraid to acknowledge finally rises up, impossible to ignore any longer. The dreams aren't from Typhon. They're not imaginary. They're memories. Raith's memories. Which means... gods. Raith was supposed to be a king. But a king of where? 'Are they your memories?' I ask directly. Another long pause. 'Yes,' he admits, the word barely audible. I wait for him to elaborate, to explain the child, the castle, the fire. To explain how the hells a prince in line for a throne could wind up as a volunteer at Confluence and covered in scars. But he remains silent, the weight of unspoken truths heavy between us. 'You don't have to tell me,' I say finally. 'Not until you're ready.' If I hadn't seen what I've seen, I would maybe press him harder. But if those are his memories? The sound of that scream-his sister's scream-comes to my mind so vividly it gives me cold chills. The thought of his brother, Gareth, makes my heart ache. The brother he lost. The brother he cared for so deeply he's trying to take care of all the fire affinities now to make up for what happened. But none of it was his fault. I want to tell him that. I want to say something, but I can't find the words. He turns his head toward me, his profile silver in the moonlight streaming through the window. 'And if I'm never ready?' 'Then we'll deal with that when the time comes,' I reply. His hand finds mine in the darkness, fingers intertwining. 'You should hate me,' he says softly. 'For keeping things from you. For pulling you into... this.' 'I don't,' I tell him. 'And I'm here because I choose to be. With you. Whether you like it or not.' He makes a sound, half laugh, half sigh. 'So fucking stubborn.' 'Says the most stubborn man at Confluence.' That earns a real laugh, quiet but genuine. The sound warms me more than any fire magic could, chasing away the lingering chill of void corruption. We fall silent, the rhythm of our breathing synchronizing in the quiet room. Through our tether, I feel his emotions settling-the sharp edges of worry softening into something closer to contentment. 'I'll protect you,' he murmurs, voice heavy with meaning. 'Whatever comes.' 'I know,' I whisper back. 'We'll protect each other.' As sleep claims me, I wonder which is more dangerous-the secrets Raith keeps, or the feelings growing between us despite them. Both have the power to destroy, to wound beyond healing. I wake to warmth-a perfect, comfortable heat that makes me want to burrow deeper into the covers and never emerge. As consciousness gradually returns, I realize the source of that heat is Raith, his body curled protectively around mine, one strong arm draped over my waist. Sometime during the night, the careful inch of space between us had vanished, our bodies finding each other like matching puzzle pieces drifting closer until we clicked into place. His breathing is deep and steady against the back of my neck, his heart a solid thump against my spine. For a moment, I allow myself to simply exist in this bubble of safety and comfort, memorizing the weight of his arm and the way our bodies fit together as if designed for exactly this. Too soon, the reality of our situation intrudes on my thoughts-the meeting with Voss, the approaching Crucible, the lingering mystery of the siphon. But I cling to this moment like a talisman, tucking it away to revisit when the world inevitably turns dark again. 'You're awake,' Raith murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. 'Mmm,' I confirm, reluctant to move or speak and break the spell. He doesn't withdraw his arm as I expected. Instead, his hold tightens slightly, drawing me closer. Through our tether, I catch a whisper of his contentment, a peace that feels foreign and precious to him. Somehow-whether through the tether or some other intuition-I know touching him all night didn't drain him dry of his fire essence. Instead, we're like two bodies of water that have joined, finding equilibrium as we both hold equal amounts. I think I could draw more from him if I sort of... pulled, but it's comforting to know I can touch him as much as I want without making him run completely dry. 'In time, you should be able to stop yourself from draining his energy entirely when you don't wish it,' Typhon says. That would be nice, even though I've guiltily come to enjoy the feeling of his magical heat swirling and twisting inside my own body. 'Did you sleep?' I ask. 'Some.' His breath stirs my hair. 'Better than usual.' I smile into the pillow, oddly pleased that my presence has given him even a modicum of peace. 'How long until we need to see Voss?' 'If you're feeling up for it, we could go as soon as you're up and ready,' he says, and I feel a reluctance in him that mirrors my own. With a sigh, I turn in his arms to face him, our noses almost touching on the narrow bed. This close, I can see the fan of dark lashes, the curve of lips that I've now tasted but still hunger for. Heat flares in his eyes as they drop to my mouth, and his hand slides from my waist to my hip, fingers splaying possessively. The fire inside me answers his call, curling through my veins with scorching heat. 'Nessa,' he says, my name a warning and a plea. I lean forward, closing the scant distance between us. Our lips meet with no hesitation. No restraint. This kiss is hunger unleashed-teeth nipping at my lower lip, his tongue sweeping into my mouth when I gasp. I arch against him, my hands finding the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his shoulders. Emotions flow between us, intensifying each sensation. His desire coils through me, mirroring and amplifying my own until I can't tell where mine ends and his begins. His hand tangles in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss. My fingers find the hem of his shirt, seeking skin, trailing fire up his side. A low groan rumbles in his chest when my nails scrape lightly along his ribs. 'We should stop,' he murmurs against my mouth, even as his hand slides beneath my tunic to trace patterns on the sensitive skin of my lower back. 'Why?' I ask. 'Because I've wanted this for too long. When I finally have you, I don't want to fucking rush. I'm going to take my time.' The simple statement sends waves of magma beneath my skin. I bite my lip. 'I guess I can't complain about that logic.' 'Good.' His lips trail down my neck, finding a pulse point that makes me gasp. 'Voss,' he reminds us both, his voice strained. 'We need to get it over with.' I sigh, resting my forehead against his chest. 'I know.' When he pulls away, the loss of his heat is physical pain. But there's a promise in his eyes that steals my breath-it's a guarantee that what we just started isn't even close to finished, and it won't be long before he has me how he wants. 'Focus, angry human,' Typhon grumbles in my mind. 'Your heat and pheromones are making it impossible to think. And we have much to consider before meeting with the Rector.' I throw a pillow in Typhon's direction, which he dodges with insulting ease. 'Were you watching the whole time? Creep.' 'I was not watching. I was attempting to rest while ignoring the mating display happening in my vicinity. It was most distracting.' 'Does Pyrin drive you crazy by constantly talking in your head?' I ask Raith. He chuckles. 'No. Pyrin doesn't speak much. But he's fiercely protective of me. Always patrolling the area and inspecting situations for danger. He's... It's nice having him. I always heard stories, but I didn't realize how much I would appreciate my elemental as an individual.' I smile softly. 'Yeah. Typhon is... interesting. But he's kind of accidentally hilarious, and he does care. He just also loves the sound of his own voice.' 'Careful, angry human. I am listening.' 'But,' I add with a meaningful look toward the water dragon glaring at me from the corner of the room. He has doubled in size since yesterday, but is still far smaller than normal. 'I know exactly what you mean. Having somebody in your corner no matter what... it's a good feeling. Especially for those of us who got used to doing things on our own.' Raith watches me for a long moment, then nods his head. 'Yeah.' He rises from the bed, stretching. The movement pulls his shirt taut across his shoulders, and I catch myself staring at the strip of skin revealed at his waist. 'I can feel you staring,' he says without turning. 'Keep looking at me like that, and I'm not going to be able to wait until we're done with Voss.' I let my eyes linger on the muscular, tanned strip of exposed skin a moment longer before dragging them away. 'I don't know what you're talking about. I wasn't looking at anything.' Raith eyes me over his shoulder, his expression amused. 'Pyrin says you were definitely looking.' 'I thought we were friends, Pyrin,' I say, not knowing where to look to address the fire panther. I rise too, my muscles complaining only slightly. The void corruption is almost completely gone from my body, along with the strange waves of cold it brings. My strength is returning rapidly, enough that I feel almost like myself again-though I know better than to say as much to Raith, who would insist on more rest regardless. 'How should we play this meeting with Voss?' I ask as we prepare for the day, my voice deliberately casual as if we're discussing the weather rather than a potential confrontation with the most powerful man at Confluence. Raith pulls on a fresh uniform, his movements precise and efficient. I try and fail not to stare, especially when he strips down completely naked with his back to me. Gods. Does the man have no shame? Then again, why would he when he has a body like that? It's carved perfection. Beautiful enough that it's impossible not to stare. 'We listen,' he says as he pulls black uniform pants up long, toned and muscular legs. 'We learn what we can. We give away nothing. And we leave at the first sign of trouble.' 'And you're still planning to come with me? He might not let you in.' 'He doesn't have a choice,' Raith says flatly. 'I'm not letting you face him alone. Not after how he abandoned us with the siphon.' I pull my hair back into a tight braid, thinking as I still sit on the edge of his bed. 'But he did save us first." 'We don't know what game he's playing, Nessa.' 'If he wanted us dead, why intervene at all? Why not just let the siphon finish what it started?' I shake my head. 'It doesn't make sense.' Raith tosses me my uniform-not his oversized clothes from yesterday, but my own, freshly laundered along with a pair of academy-issue women's underwear. 'That's what worries me. So we stay alert." I nod, quickly changing while Raith politely turns away. Part of me almost wants to feel his eyes on me as I slip out of my underwear and gather the fresh pair he supplied. But when I peek over my shoulder, he's standing like a statue with his back to me. 'He has more restraint than you. He's able to keep his eyes from your bared flesh.' 'Yeah, well, I kind of wish he didn't. It's embarrassing how much he... gets to me.' 'You could demand he lay his eyes upon your flesh. I have seen this tactic before and it was quite effective.' Ignoring Typhon, I pull on my underwear and uniform. When I'm dressed, I move to where my weapons are stored, securing my practice rapier at my hip and checking that Raith's gift-the real dagger-is still safely hidden in my boot. 'I'm ready,' I announce. Whatever Voss wants, whatever he knows, I feel prepared to face it with Raith at my side. Raith studies me for a moment, then he steps forward, his hand cupping my face with unexpected gentleness. 'The second he says or does anything that makes you uncomfortable, we're leaving. Understood?' 'Yes, sir,' I say, rolling my eyes but not pulling away from his touch. His thumb brushes my cheekbone. 'I'm serious, Nessa.' He casually adjusts my uniform, fixing the pleats over the collar and giving the hem a tug. The way he fusses with my clothing to get it right feels far more intimate than it should, and I absolutely like it way more than I want to admit. 'I know,' I say, my voice softening. 'But I can handle myself.' 'Yes, you can. You've proved it several times over and saved my ass twice now.' His eyes hold mine. 'But that doesn't mean you have to handle everything alone. And I happen to prefer you alive. So if I think you're in danger, I'm going to be there. You'll need to learn to deal with that.' My smile is small and I can barely meet his eyes as confusing, pleasant emotions twist inside me. 'Okay,' I say quietly. I can feel something has shifted between us these past few days, a deepening of whatever this connection is growing into. It's more than attraction, more than the tether that links us. It's trust, hard-won and fragile, but real. 'We should go,' I say, reluctant to break the moment but aware of time slipping away. As much as I want to keep hiding away in his room, I know the Crucible is still rushing toward us. I need to be ready, which means going back to regular life at the academy. And that... that starts with this meeting. Raith nods, his hand falling away. He checks his own clothing in the mirror and scoops up his practice sword before moving to the door. The walk to Voss's tower is tense, our conversation minimal. Without the distraction of each other's touch, the reality of what awaits us settles heavily on our shoulders. Students part before us in the corridors, their whispers following in our wake. I catch fragments-speculation about my absence, shock at Raith's partially healed face, theories about our obvious proximity to one another. 'What a spectacle they're making,' Typhon observes, swimming through the air in his flying fish form, invisible to all eyes but mine. 'They fear him, but they crave him too. And they wonder about you-the water with a weak elemental who somehow survived when others failed.' 'They have no idea,' I think back, watching as two first-year aspirants scurry out of our path. 'No,' Typhon agrees. 'And let us hope they never do.' Voss's tower feels more oppressive than ever as we ascend the winding staircase, past the portraits of former Rectors that seem to watch with knowing eyes. The narrow corridor at the top is empty, the ornate double doors to his office closed. Rather than knock, Raith simply pushes them open, his hand a steady pressure at the small of my back as he guides me inside. The office is just as I remember-the massive desk, the shelves of books and artifacts, the wall of windows overlooking the grounds. Voss stands with his back to us, silver-streaked hair catching the morning light as he gazes out at Confluence spread below. He wears a tailored black robe, elegant but simple, power in its understatement. 'I see you brought company, Miss Thorne,' he says without turning, his voice mild. 'I admit, I was expecting you to come alone.' 'I expect many things too,' Raith says, his tone just as mild but with an edge beneath it. 'Like the assurance that a siphon won't attack students under your protection. We all have our disappointments.' I realize something as Raith speaks. Some of the cockiness and cold confidence I've always sensed in him all makes more sense now that I know who he was. Who he is. A prince who never was. Heir to a throne he never claimed. Lone survivor of a royal family. I want to ask him where he's from. It must be one of the outlying islands, or I feel sure I would've heard of him before now. But his past is something I have to approach carefully and cautiously. It's full of pain, and I don't want to cause him any more hurt than he has already suffered. Voss turns then, his pale eyes taking in Raith without surprise. 'Mr. Hollow. You should be dead.' 'I get that a lot.' 'Yes, I imagine you do. Your survival speaks to the potency of Miss Thorne's healing abilities. Quite remarkable.' Voss's gaze shifts to me, assessing. On the surface, he looks as calm and collected as ever. And yet... I sense something else behind his eyes. Something like desperation. Or maybe impatience? 'How are you recovering, Nessa?' 'Well enough,' I say, matching his careful neutrality. 'Though I was hoping you wanted to talk to us about the siphon. Maybe to assure us we don't need to worry about it happening again.' 'Perhaps you'd both care to sit? This may be a lengthy conversation.' He gestures to two chairs before his desk, waiting until we're seated before taking his own position opposite us. The deliberate courtesy doesn't escape me, nor does the fact that he's positioned himself with the light behind him, making his expressions harder to read. 'I'll be direct,' Voss says, folding his hands before him. 'I know more about the siphon situation than I've previously shared. I believe there could be more than one siphon within Confluence's walls. How many, though, I can't say for certain.' 'And you're just now telling us this?' Raith's voice is dangerously quiet. Voss raises an eyebrow. 'I am telling you now, as a courtesy. There was no need for you to know before.' 'No need-' Raith begins, but I place a hand on his arm, stopping him. 'Why tell us at all?' I ask. 'Why not the Empire Council? Or the instructors? Why us specifically?' Voss studies me, his expression impossible to decipher. 'Whoever else knows is irrelevant. I'm sharing this now because I believe you, Miss Thorne, could be the reason they're here.' The words land like ice in my veins. 'No. It said it was only using me as bait to get to Raith.' 'I didn't say they wanted you dead. You represent both a threat and an opportunity to them. They serve a master, one who has been hunting unbound for centuries for reasons we can only guess. Perhaps he wishes to gain allies, or perhaps he has other purposes." 'How the hells would you know what Lorkan Grace is hunting?' Raith asks. 'I make it my business to know things, Mr. Hollow. For instance, I know that Malakai and his allies have acquired weapons they should not possess. I know that there are eyes within Confluence observing all that transpires, eyes belonging to forces that might wish you harm. And I know those eyes will be watching most keenly during the Crucible, representing a very real threat to Nessa's safety if she's forced to demonstrate her... abilities.' 'Empire emissaries,' I say. 'We heard they're here to observe the Crucible.' A flash of surprise crosses Voss's features, so brief I almost miss it. 'You're well-informed. Yes, the Empire Council has sent representatives-ostensibly to evaluate the school's performance and our methods.' He rises, moving to a cabinet beside his desk. From it, he removes a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid and three small glasses. 'Would either of you care for a drink? Avernium Reserve. Quite rare these days ever since the trade blockade a few years back.' 'No,' Raith says firmly. 'Miss Thorne?' 'I'm fine, thank you.' Voss pours himself a measure, returning to his seat with the glass in hand. He doesn't drink, merely swirls the liquid, watching the light play through it. 'I have a proposal for you, Miss Thorne,' he says after a moment. 'One I believe will be of mutual benefit.' 'I'm listening,' I say carefully. 'There is a place, not far from Confluence, that I would like you to see. A place of significant historical importance, particularly for someone with your... unique heritage. I believe it may help you better understand your abilities, perhaps even enhance them. At this place, you could have the final answers you seek about what you are. No more mysteries. No more questions.' 'And when exactly do you propose this field trip take place?' Raith asks before I can respond, his voice hard. 'Tomorrow,' Voss says. 'It should be before the Crucible, and we've run out of time to delay. I believe what Miss Thorne might learn there could prove invaluable during the trials to come.' 'No,' Raith says immediately. 'Tomorrow is the last day we have to get ready before the Crucible. Nessa needs rest. She needs to prepare. She doesn't need to be traipsing through the woods with you on some mysterious errand.' Voss's eyes narrow slightly. 'I wasn't aware Miss Thorne required your permission, Mr. Hollow. Just as I wasn't aware I needed the permission of a student to do as I'd like.' 'Then consider yourself informed of this new information.' Raith's voice cuts like a thin blade, sharp and deadly. 'She's not going anywhere when we have a Crucible to prepare for. End of discussion.' Voss's lip turns up at one corner. 'Bold. I'll give you that much. But I'm afraid I must insist. This matter is quite time sensitive.' 'Raith has a point,' I say, careful to keep my tone measured. Raith may not be acting like it, but I'm keenly aware of who we're talking to. The Rector has the power to dismiss any student, effectively having them killed. I'm not eager to die so pointlessly after everything we've been through to make it this far. 'Is this really the best time for... whatever this is? If I spend all day with you tomorrow, I'll be giving up my last chance to prepare, like Raith said.' Voss sets down his drink, leaning forward. 'Miss Thorne, I have helped you understand and develop your abilities. I have protected you as best I can. I am asking for this one thing in return.' Again, I sense the same impatience in his voice. 'Protected her?' Raith scoffs. 'You left her to die after the siphon attack. How did you know more of those things weren't coming back? And I didn't see you during the elemental trial bailing her out. I didn't see you stopping people who wanted her dead from challenging her. You weren't in the lake when Malakai or that rogue elemental tried to kill her during the water trial.' 'And yet she lives,' he says coldly. 'No thanks to you,' Raith's hand finds mine, squeezing once in silent support. Through our tether, I feel his anger, his protectiveness, but also his restraint-a willingness to ultimately let me handle this how I see fit. 'She's alive because she's a fucking badass who doesn't need your help. So don't try to pretend she owes you this.' I feel a swell of pride to hear Raith talk about me like that, but I do my best to tamp it down and focus on what matters right now. I know Raith doesn't like the idea, but Voss makes it sound like it could be an opportunity to get stronger. 'What exactly would we be looking for at this... place?' I ask, genuinely curious despite my reservations. Something shifts in Voss's expression-hope? Relief? 'A ruin. One that dates back to the time when unbound were... more common. I believe it contains information-perhaps even artifacts-that could help you better understand and control your abilities.' 'And what do you get out of this?' I press. Voss smiles, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. 'I'll be frank, Miss Thorne. I need you to access these ruins. It's why I would prefer we enter before the Crucible. Waiting could risk..." Raith scoffs, shaking his head. "Un fucking believable. She's just a key to you? So if she dies during the Crucible, you'll be locked out of your precious ruins?" "Wait..." I say. "Then help me. And I'll help you. Find a way to make sure we survive the Crucible. If we live, I'll go with you." A slow smile spreads across Voss' mouth. "Clever, Miss Thorne. Very clever. There is... something I could do to improve the survival rate, perhaps. It will raise suspicions and draw the ire of the council, though. It won't come without cost." I force myself to stay strong, voice firm. "If you want to make sure I'm alive to see those ruins, you'll make sure everybody gets this protection in two days. Disappointment flashes across Voss's face before his expression smooths. 'Of course. Though I must emphasize how much less scrutiny there would be if we went tomorrow. What you're asking will make it more difficult for me to travel freely for a time." 'You have her answer,' Raith says, rising from his seat. His hand finds the small of my back again, a gentle pressure guiding me to stand as well. 'Is there anything else?' Voss regards us for a long moment. 'I suppose not. You've struck your bargain. There is a protective measure usually only granted to legacies... I believe I can extend it to all students this year without too much scrutiny. But remember what you've sworn here. Survive the Crucible, and you'll help me enter the ruins. Yes?" I nod my head, uneasiness swirling through my body. It feels like a victory, but somehow, I worry I'm not seeing everything. Voss rises from his chair, moving around the desk to stand before us. As we turn to leave, he calls after us. 'Oh, and Miss Thorne? I wish you luck during the Crucible. I won't be able to offer you complete safety. Only a slight improvement on your odds. So do prepare with diligence, hm?" I nod once in acknowledgment before following Raith out, feeling Voss's gaze on my back all the way to the door. We don't speak until we've descended the tower and found a secluded alcove away from curious ears. Typhon materializes fully, his diminished form hovering between us with evident agitation. 'I do not trust him,' Typhon declares. Raith's expression is grim. 'I don't like it. There's no way in hell you're going with him to some mysterious ruin in the middle of nowhere.' 'I need to do this. It might mean more information about who or what I am. It might teach me more about how to control my powers.' I push off the wall, pacing the small space. 'If there's even a chance⁠-' 'At what cost?' Raith asks quietly. The question brings me up short. It makes me feel reckless for even considering this. 'I don't know,' I admit finally. "But agreeing to go with him might have just saved countless lives. Isn't that worth the risk?" Raith leans his forehead against mine, eyes closed. He shakes his head slightly. "It should be. But it doesn't feel worth it. Not to me. I wouldn't trade you for a thousand lives, even if that makes me an asshole." "I won't tell anyone if you don't," I say, biting the corner of my lip. "But it's not as if Voss is a primal. He doesn't know I have Typhon. If he thinks he can ambush me somehow or coerce me, Typhon will be there to protect me." "And so will I," Raith says. "I'm following. Wherever he plans to take you." 'We should talk to Bastian. He seemed to know something about Voss, or at least, his father does. Maybe he could give us an idea about what we're walking into.' Raith's jaw tightens at the mention of Bastian, but he nods. 'Fine. But not alone.' 'Not alone,' I agree, offering a small smile. 'I'm starting to think you just like being around me, Hollow.' His expression softens, and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. 'Maybe I do, Thorne.' Heat blooms in my chest at the gesture, at the warmth in his eyes. We stand there for a moment, suspended in a sphere of connection that feels increasingly like home. 'If you two are quite finished,' Typhon interrupts, his tone dry, 'perhaps we might consider strategizing for the Crucible? Given that it is rapidly approaching and will likely involve numerous attempts on our lives?' I laugh despite myself, the tension of the meeting with Voss dissipating slightly. 'We'll see if Bastian is willing to tell us anything. Then we should find the others, see what they've discovered about those weapons.' As we leave the alcove, I can't shake the feeling that we're standing on the edge of something momentous, something that will change us all irrevocably. The Crucible, Voss's mysterious ruin, the siphons' interest in us-all threads in a tapestry still with no full picture in sight. But with Raith's steady presence beside me, with our tether pulsing between us like a promise, I find I'm not afraid. I feel strong. I feel capable. And I feel ready to face whatever is coming.