Page 133 of Unbound

"They rotate guards at this hour." Raith appears beside me, seemingly from nowhere. "Usually, they stop for a game of dice before returning to their posts, meaning we've still got a bit."

"How do you know these things?" I ask. It's far from the first time Raith has known something he should have no way to know.

He offers a cryptic smile. "I pay attention."

He looks... amazing. He wears the black aspirant uniform trimmed in silver like the majority of students at Confluence, but he wears it so damn well. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Thick arms corded with muscle. And his face. Gods. Even with the majority of the left side twisted by scars, he's beautiful.

He wears his training sword across his back. By now, every last first-year knows he’s the deadliest of all of us with that blade.

"So... we're leaving the grounds?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice. Students rarely leave Confluence except under very specific circumstances. We're prisoners here in all but name.

"If you’re afraid, we could skip it." There's a challenge in his eyes, and something else—an invitation.

"Lead the way," I answer, refusing to be baited.

We slip through the gate, cross the grassy field that still bears faint signs of the divots driven by hundreds of carts arriving to drop us off after Selection Day. Beyond the field is what looks like endless forest. I expect Raith to immediately set a punishing pace, as he does in our training sessions, but instead he matches his stride to mine, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we navigate the uneven terrain.

The trees are all bare by now, providing soft footing under our feet. The air carries a cold bite as winter starts taking hold.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask after several minutes of companionable silence.

"The quarry." He pushes a low-hanging branch aside for me. "It's the most likely location for this year's Crucible."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not. But I've been making trips outside the walls since we arrived. Staff has been coming out this way occasionally. I've followed their tracks, but I haven't caught any of them in the act yet."

The casual admission shocks me. Most students wouldn't dare sneak out once, and Raith has been doing it regularly? Following the tracks of instructors and gathering information? I'm suddenly struck by how much more well-suited he is for this whole experience than I am—how of all people, I feel like the worst to be gifted with the burden and blessing of being unbound.

"You are worthy, angry human,"Typhon notes."Unrelated topic... if we find wild game, I humbly request to eat it."

"Fine. But don't make it suffer."

I sense Typhon take off, flying high overhead as he begins his hunt.

We follow a narrow game trail that winds through ancient trees, their massive trunks covered in emerald moss.

"You really think we have a chance in the Crucible? Every day, it seems like our odds get worse." I ask, voicing the fear that's been growing since my disastrous water channeling exam.

Raith stops so suddenly I nearly collide with him. When he turns, his expression is unexpectedly earnest.

"I wouldn't be training you if I didn't." His voice lacks its usual edge. "You're stronger than you think, Nessa. Stronger than any of them think."

"I failed a basic water channeling exercise yesterday," I remind him.

"Water channeling isn't everything." He resumes walking, slower now. "The Crucible is likely going to test more than just affinity strength. It will tests survival instinct, adaptability, clear thinking under pressure." His gaze slides to me. "You excel at all of those."

The unexpected praise warms me. "You've been watching me that closely?"

"I watch everyone," he says, but there's a softness in his tone that contradicts his words. “You’re just… more pleasant to watch than the rest.”

A giddy, girlish smile threatens to split my face, but I try to contain it as much as I can.

We walk in silence for a while, the forest growing denser around us. Sunlight filters through the bare canopy in dappled patterns, dancing across the forest floor with each breeze.

"You never talk about yourself," I say, breaking the quiet. "Not really."

"What's there to talk about?" His voice is carefully neutral.

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