Page 117 of Unbound

Voss interlaces his fingers, eyes never leaving mine. "I didn't say that. I merely said it would be concerning."

"Does anyone know what they look like? Siphons, I mean."

"Just like you and me. Identical, if they wished it. We believe they can adopt the forms of those they observe. Or perhaps physical contact is required to steal another's appearance. We don't know. But it's the only explanation we've conceived for how they evade detection so thoroughly." Voss sighs. "Centuries of confronting them and our knowledge remains pitifully limited."

"So whatdowe know?"

"Good," he says with a half-smile. "You're asking the right questions. We know they can kill elementals. Truly kill them."

A pulse of raw anger passes through the tether from Typhon. I know elementals can “die” in a fight in our world, but Typhon has assured me they’re just energy. Under normal circumstances, they can’t truly die. They can just be dispersed and need time to gather themselves back into being. But siphons can absorb them into nothingness. Real death.

I gnaw my lower lip, considering. "Elementals must despise siphons even more than humans do."

"Astute observation. Yes. And now you've discovered the root of conflict between elementals and humans. The histories claim siphons were created by an exceptionally powerful unbound with a unique manifestation. The specifics are murky, naturally. These events transpired over a thousand years ago. Ancient times."

"Do the histories explain why an unbound created siphons? Why do something so terrible?"

"No. It's not recorded. All we know is the elementals disagreed on how to address the threat. This division led to fires and earths primarily allying with the Red Kingdom while waters and airs mostly sided with Empire."

"So everything—our entire conflict—really began because of one unbound?"

Voss nods. "Thus the need for discretion regarding your status. Both elementals and humans fear what your kind can become. We need only examine our history to see the devastation wrought by a… single unbound individual."

His words carry weight. Nauseating weight. They drive home the point I’ve already been feeling poised at my throat since finishing the unbound book. They make me feel like the monster I fear I could be—the monster my mother and sister thought but worse in every way.

"Why help me, then?" My voice emerges smaller than intended. "Why not throw me over the castle wall and be done with it?"

"He could try,"Typhon roars in my mind.

"Because I believe you can help us. How, specifically, is a matter for another time. For now, concentrate solely on improvement. You must survive to be useful to anyone, and I cannot personally shield you during the Crucible."

Voss suddenly claps his hands and offers a friendly smile as he stands. "In any case, these matters needn't concern you today. Focus on what you can control. Your training. Maintaining your academic standing. Finding a fifth for the Crucible. Surviving. Because you're useless to everyone dead. That is one certainty you can cling to.”

My fingers twist into the fabric of my clothes. "But you said siphons might assume any form. How can I trust anyone knowing that?"

His eyes lock with mine with an intensity that sends shivers cascading down my spine. Then he smiles again and the moment evaporates. "Trust is a luxury of the powerful. There's your answer. Continue developing your strength and you will earn the luxury of trust. You will trust because you will fear no one. Now, return to your room before darkness falls completely. There are monsters in the shadows, after all." He says this with a playful twist of his lips, but his words feel like ice-cold fingers on my neck all the same.

As I make my way back to my quarters, I can't shake the feeling that Voss is testing me. That behind his wisdom and apparent honesty, he's measuring my reactions, determining whether I'm capable of something more.

What that something might be, I have no idea.

25

Blood streaks my training blade and drips from my fingertips, spattering against the stone floor in bright red drops.

"Shit, Nessa. I'm so sorry." Beck's face looms over me, his brow furrowed with concern as he offers his hand. "I didn't mean to actually cut you."

I cradle my arm where his blunted practice sword has somehow managed to carve a bloody gash across my upper arm. The wound stings like acid as blood wells up between my fingers.

"I'm just impressed you managed to finally land a hit on me," I say through clenched teeth before accepting his outstretched hand. My sleeve soaks with crimson as I get to my feet.

Mireen moves closer to inspect my wound. "If you die from this, I'm taking your good boots," she says with a straight face. When Beck looks appalled, she rolls her eyes. "Relax. It's a compliment—her boots are the only thing worth inheriting."

We've claimed one of the many hidden training areas scattered across campus. Technically, I think they’re meant as spare classrooms. Confluence used to house far more students each year, but the numbers have dwindled over the centuries, meaning the castle is full of unused spaces that collect dust. Or rather, spaces that would collect dust if students weren't taking advantage.

Our walk to this place from the water tower had us passing dozens of closed doors and the muffled sounds of students clashing in training matches. That, and the distinctive scent of ozone permeating the air signaling the heavy use of magic across campus.

The Crucible is coming fast, and everybody knows it.

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