Page 26 of Unbound

Most students can already manipulate water to produce floating balls of liquid that hover and shift above their hands. The more talented can even conjure water from thin air in smaller quantities. Everybody but me is progressing each day.

I still can’t even get the containers of water to move, let alone draw it to my palm and shape it.

"It seems some of you likely needn't even worry about Confluence Day," she says, lips curling down at the corners as she watches me struggle. "As I seriously doubt you'll survive to see it. And if you do, your poor grasp of elemental magic will mean no elemental would even consider tethering you."

Confluence Day. Everything here at school revolves around it, and we're told multiple times a day how fast approaching it is. We're told we'll be tested and assessed by the elementals of our affinity, but nothing more than that. Most often, we're reminded how many of us will die before the day even comes. Sometimes, on cheerful days, we’re reminded that many of us will also dieduringConfluence day.

At some point, the constant threat of a horrible death loses a little bit of its sting. All I can do is wake up each day, struggle, and do my best to survive. The real challenge is not letting my fear for the people I’ve grown to care about petrify me. Mireen, and even Ambrose. I worry more about something happening to them, and most of my motivation to improve is driven by wanting to be able to protect them.

I stare at my palm where the disguised water mark ripples faintly beneath my skin. My fingers tremble with effort as I try to coax even the smallest drop of water to rise. Nothing happens. The silver threads hidden beneath the blue wave pattern seem to mock me—a constant reminder that I'm an impostor.

Sweat beads on my forehead with effort, but nothing I try seems to work. Sestra's instructions are all for true water affinities, not... whatever I am. Unbound. The word the elementals used still echoes in my mind at night. It's like trying to force a key into the wrong lock—I have power, I can feel it churning all around me like a storm-tossed sea, but I can't access it through the methods she teaches. I can’t find out how to bring it into myself.

Every failed attempt is another risk. What if my mark shifts during class? What if the silver shows through while everyone is watching? I clench my fist, forcing the panic down. I can't afford to show weakness. Not here.

And I also can't afford to experiment with my powers for risk of showing what I really am. I'm stuck between two impossible choices, stagnating in a place where stagnation is as good as a death sentence.

Until we survive Confluence Day and tether an elemental, we're hardly more than trash here. Somehow, I've got to find a way to at least make it until then. How the hell I'm going to tether an elemental when I don't even have a normal affinity, though, is beyond me.

"Will channeling get easier once we tether an elemental?" a girl beside me asks, almost as if her own struggles have brought her mind to the same place as mine. Her forehead is beaded with sweat as a sphere of clear water above her palm shudders and finally collapses with a splash.

Sestra drifts through the room, severe features always making her seem to calculate and judge. She has skin so light it's nearly white, with shockingly blue eyes and markings that signal her status as a primal. Even though she's tethered to an elemental, I've never actually seen it. Apparently, that's rather common, as elementals can choose to reveal themselves or not to mortals.

"Will it be easier to perform a simple magical trick when you've tethered an elemental?" she asks, voice deceptively sweet. "No. Because if you can't even do this, no elemental will deem you worthy of the primal tether."

"What happens if we don't tether an elemental on Confluence Day?" Mireen asks.

Unlike me, Mireen has already shown a talent for channeling, which means Sestra hates her less than the rest of us. Otherwise, I doubt she'd even answer the question.

"You'll be trapped in the elemental plane. The rift between worlds opens briefly once each year. The only way back is with the tether of an elemental. To put it quite simply, tether or die."

For just a moment, something seems to drift behind Sestra’s eyes—a shadow of memory or perhaps grief—and her fingers absently trace one of the blue markings on her forearm. Then it's gone, replaced by her usual stern expression as her eyes sweep over the class. "Which is one reason I push you all so hard. The elemental plane shows no mercy to the unprepared."

“Tether or die, huh?” Mireen whispers. “If I get stuck on the elemental plane, I’m going to find the cutest elemental and befriend it. We’ll go on adventures together. It’ll be great. Who says I have to die?”

“If there are any giant rat elementals, I’m sure you’ll be in paradise.”

There's a sound of rushing water to my right. I look up suddenly, along with the rest of the class.

Malakai has conjured a long, twisting line of water that sprouts from his palm and has started whipping from side to side as it grows like some kind of tentacle.

"Cut off that spell," Sestra commands, her voice sharp with warning. "Spheres, Malakai. Spheres are the assignment, not?—"

Malakai's eyes slide to the guy beside him—a burly East Coaster named Lorne. For a split second, I see the calculation and malice in Malakai's eyes.

Oh shit.

I'm standing before I know it, eyes wide and heart hammering in my chest.

Malakai is pretending he can't control the spell, even as I see the water sharpening into a blade-like shape.

I make it three long steps toward him, but I'm not fast enough.

One moment, the blade of water is whipping left and right. The next, Lorne is gripping his throat.

Blood trickles between his fingers as he stands, his chair scraping on stone and falling sideways. The sound echoes through the suddenly silent room.

There are gasps and a few screams as Lorne falls to his knees, eyes bulging. A gurgling sound escapes his throat as he tries to breathe through the blood. He reaches out, fingers grasping at the air, before collapsing face-first onto the stone floor.

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