Page 28 of Unbound

"Sorry," I whisper.

“Don’t be sorry.” She sits up, then pauses, pointing to something near her bed. "And promise you won’t freak out, but I think we have a roommate." She indicates tiny footprints in spilled powder by the wall. "I've been leaving it crumbs. Figured if it's survived this long at Confluence, it deserves a medal. Or at least dinner."

I notice the prints and shake my head ruefully. “You’re luring rats into our room.On purpose?”

“Singular. Not plural. And yes. Imagine how scary this place must be as a rat. He deserves someone who will love and look after him.”

I shake my head, smiling. “If it bites me, I’m kicking him out.”

Mireen folds her arms. “If he bites you twice. You’ve got to give him a chance to get his bearings.” I can already see how her body is growing more lean and muscular with our daily training regime through her thin night clothes. My own physique is changing, too. The soft places on my body are hardening every day, what fat I had melting away to reveal lean muscle. I’m even starting to gain some confidence in the sparring ring—a faint belief that I can stop someone from killing me if they try.

“So…” she leans forward, legs crossed on the bed. "What do you see? In the dreams?"

I hesitate. Dreams are private things—especially here, where any weakness can be exploited. But this is Mireen. She even admitted when Malakai tried to "recruit" her for his growing team of those he calls his elites. Mireen is far more talented than most when it comes to channeling, which is what earned her the invite.

Obviously, she turned him down, even though the temptation of not having to watch her back for him and his elites must have been immense. She also told me about it right away, confirming what I already knew. I can trust Mireen with my life.

"I see water," I say, shivering at the memory that still burns vivid in my mind's eye. "Darkness. Something... watching me." I don't mention how that feeling of being watched persists even after I wake. I keep that to myself, not because I don't trust her, but because speaking it aloud would make it feel more real.

More terrifying.

She's quiet for a moment. "My grandfather used to say dreams are messages. From the gods, maybe, or from parts of ourselves we don't understand."

"Well, I wish this particular messenger would shut up," I mutter, making her laugh softly.

There's more still I don't dare say aloud—like the voice I hear beneath the water, whispering words I’m beginning to understand. About how each night, I sink deeper, getting closer to whatever waits in those depths. How I'm beginning to think it's looking for me specifically.

Words have power, and I'm going to keep choosing not to give those particular ideas any more power than they already have.

* * *

"Today,"Instructor Blackstone announces to the exhausted water offerings assembled in the training room. The large, circular stone room in the eastern wing of Confluence. Morning sun pours in from every direction through high windows, cutting the space through with buttery shafts that highlight every speck of dust. "You will select your primary combat weapon."

Instructor Blackstone’s scarred face surveys us with the detached interest of a butcher examining a particularly disappointing group of livestock. Racks upon racks of weapons have been brought in, and each instrument of death catches bits of light in a gleaming display.

I'm acutely aware of how many fewer of us there are now. Nearly every day, someone dies. Worst of all, the lion’s share of deaths come within the first-year water affinities. We can all thank Malakai for that. I just wonder how much longer I can continue to exist beneath his notice. How much longer before he and his “elites” decide to crush my skull on the training mat or a darkened hallway somewhere after hours.

Ambrose appears beside me, lips drawn in a tight line. "Weapons! Yay. I was hoping they'd give us a more effective way to kill one another."

"I don't think Malakai and his team need any help," Mireen agrees.

Malakai stands at the edge, eyes hungry as he looks at the weapons. He was already big, but our continued training and hearty meals have him looking even more terrifying by the day. He’s whispering with his two closest elites, Corpus and Titus. Corpus has deep, tanned skin and narrow eyes. He wears his platinum blonde hair in a long ponytail. He's lean and sharp where Malakai is thick and powerful.

His other companion is Titus, who keeps his head shaved, his fists permanently clenched, and always wears a scowl. Like Malakai, Titus is massive, and looks like he could tear me in half with his bare hands.

Malakai's makeshift army has grown over the weeks, but the most concerning is how the majority of its members don't make themselves known. There’s no uniform. No official sign to tell us who might be following his orders.

Naturally, I haven't branched out and made new friends beyond Mireen and Ambrose, because doing so grows riskier by the day.

Blackstone gestures for us to approach the weapons. "Choose wisely. This isn't about what looks impressive or feels powerful in your hand. It's about what will keep you alive in combat. You've been learning about your strengths and weaknesses these past weeks in sparring and training. Choose a weapon that compliments your strengths and avoids your weaknesses."

I hang back, studying my options while others rush forward. Most gravitate toward longer swords or spears, weapons that keep enemies at a distance or look like they could cleave somebody in half. I'm not sure what would suit me—something light enough for my frame, but not so small that I'm forced within grappling range of larger opponents.

"Not those," a voice says close to my ear.

I had been looking at the spears, wondering if I'd be strong enough to use something like that to keep people out of reach.

I turn to find Raith standing behind me. As always, his presence makes my body light up like an electric storm—nerves firing and skin flushing. I didn't even hear him approach. He shouldn't be here—this session is for water offerings only—but nobody challenges his presence.

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