Page 171 of Unbound

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.

32

The dining hall falls to a hush as I enter with Raith at my side. Hundreds of eyes track our movements across the stone floor, conversations stuttering to silence before erupting into fierce whispers. I can almost feel the speculation rippling through the room like a physical wave, even among the upper-year students who must have caught wind of what was going on.

"Dramatic as always. You would think these humans had never seen someone return from the dead before."

I smile at Typhon's comment."To be fair, I was missing for days. And Raith's face..."

"Yes, yes. You removed his most of his scars. Quite vain of you, really."

"We both know that was an accident."

Before we can make it halfway across the room, a group of first-year fires approaches us. Cade leads them, his slight frame almost lost among his more muscular companions. When he sees Raith, his face lights up with unmistakable relief.

I know Raith was still keeping in touch with the other fires, but they’re probably happy to see me up and moving. It means Raith won’t be locked away in his room for hours a day anymore.

"Sir," Cade says, the title sounding natural despite the fact that they're all supposedly equals as first-years. The others echo the greeting with similar reverence, standing straighter as Raith's attention falls on them.

"Sir?" I mutter under my breath to Raith, but he ignores my comment.

"Report," Raith says, his voice taking on a tone of quiet authority I've rarely heard.

"No incidents since yesterday," Cade responds promptly. "We've maintained the patrol rotations as you instructed. Tifa and Jenner caught a couple of Malakai's waters trying to access the eastern training rooms, but they backed off when confronted."

Raith nods, his expression giving away nothing, but I can sense his approval. "Good. Any progress with the earths?"

"Two more joined us this morning," says a tall girl with intricate burn scars running down her neck—training accidents, most likely. Fire affinities have access to one of the most deadly forms of magic, but also the most dangerous to learn. Almost all the fires bear some small scars by now.

"Keep building those relationships," Raith instructs. "We need every ally we can get."

"Yes, Sir," they respond in near-unison.

Raith's eyes fall on Cade, softening almost imperceptibly. "How's your neck?"

The boy's hand rises unconsciously to the small cut that has scabbed over and healed from the confrontation a few days back. "Fine, sir."

"And you're not going anywhere alone?"

"No, sir. I've been with Tifa or Jenner at all times, just like you said."

Raith clasps Cade’s shoulder briefly. "Good. Keep it that way." He glances at the others. "All of you, be vigilant. Two more days until the Crucible. Stay in groups, stick to the plan, and remember what we’ve practiced. Anyone who leaves sight of the group for any period of time needs to give the password before they’re trusted again.”

They nod, their expressions solemn yet determined. The respect in their eyes isn't just deference to strength—it's something deeper, something earned. These students look at Raith the way soldiers might look at a general they'd willingly follow into battle.

"Dismissed," Raith says, and they disperse with military precision, though Cade lingers a moment longer.

"The siphon, Sir," he says quietly. "Is it true it was targeting you specifically?"

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