Page 27 of Unbound

A pool of crimson spreads beneath him, inching across the floor toward my boots. I freeze, unable to look away from the growing stain. My heart hammers in my ears, drowning out the chaos around me. I've seen death here, but the casual cruelty of this murder makes bile rise in my throat.

Malakai is barely attempting to look shocked or remorseful. He makes a few half-hearted excuses about how it was an accident, but his eyes scan the room, watching our reactions. When they land on me, I see a flicker of something predatory, and I quickly look away.

The whole ordeal only takes moments. Lorne is dead. The body is taken away, and class resumes, as if there isn't a pool of drying blood on the floor in the center of the room we’re all supposed to pretend we don’t notice.

Everyone is afraid to show fear here. Afraid to look weak. To look like a target.

An unpleasant blooming of shame rises up in me. Yes, I stood. Yes, I took steps toward the chaos. But what did I do after it was all said and done?

I looked away from Malakai, afraid of being next.

We all did, and I feel a sudden, burning hatred for this place and what it's turning us all into. I slowly take my seat again, eyes on my disguised mark.

The only indication Primal Sestra gives of noticing or caring about the "accidental" murder is the slightest tightening around the corner of her mouth.

"Let this be a lesson," Sestra says after a moment. "In battle and war, you will be expected to continue performing your task, even when faced with horror. Show me how you can all press on in the face of adversity."

My stomach churns as I stare at the dark stain spreading across the stone. Just minutes ago, Lorne was alive—breathing, thinking, hoping to survive this place like the rest of us. Now he's gone, hauled away like refuse, and we're all expected to continue practicing water manipulation as if nothing happened.

I look around at my classmates. Some are pale, hands trembling as they try to focus on their water spheres. Others have already adapted, eyes forward, determined to be among those who survive. But it's the third group that chills me—the ones watching Malakai with something like curiosity and even admiration in their eyes.

He's showing them another way to excel here. Why compete with your peers when you can simply eliminate them? Brutality and cold-blooded murder win out. Those who strike first have the advantage, and Malakai is putting together a team of killers just like himself.

People who will kill us, even if it only marginally increases their odds of becoming a primal or getting a better assignment after graduation.

I force my eyes back to my own hands, trying to ignore the metallic scent of blood still hanging in the air. Suddenly, my inability to channel seems like the least of my problems. The casual brutality makes me think of home—of my own guilt, my own bloody hands—and I push the memory away. I can't afford to drown in the past when death lurks so close in the present.

This place is a powder keg, and Malakai is already playing with fire.

But as I stare at the crusting blood that someone will eventually be ordered to clean, a darker thought takes root. If I can't learn to channel soon, I'll be next. Easy prey. A simple way for someone else to improve their chances.

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.

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