Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"We need to get out of here," I say, looking around desperately for an escape route.
Raith stirs, his eyes opening as he shifts on Typhon's back. I see him looking at me. There's a questioning glint in his eyes, as if he's wondering why I'm risking so much to save him.
He wants to know why?
Well, he can join the fucking club.
"Later," I promise. "Right now, we need to—"
"Run," Typhon interrupts, a single, magical blue strap slipping around my waist and pulling me to sit on Typhon’s back. I guess his magic is too thin right now for fancy saddles. "The rift is this way."
Together, the four of us move through the forest, Typhon leading the way with us on his back while Raith's fire panther, Pyrin, trots behind us with a slight limp.
Behind us, I hear Serena's furious scream. "Catch them! Don't let them leave."
We break through the treeline onto an expanse of round black stones. The air around the stones shimmers with heat. In the distance, I can see a glittering light in the air—the rift, beginning to stabilize.
"There," Typhon says, nudging us toward it. "Quickly."
We run. Even in his diminished state, Typhon has to slow to avoid outpacing Pyrin.
Just as we reach the rift, Serena and Malakai burst from the trees not far behind.
Shit. They're too close. There's no way we'll make it to the rift before—
A gust of air whips across the beach, flaring flames to life between the dark rocks and making Malakai and Serena shield themselves.
Bastian rides in on a horse made of pure wind, his gold hair blowing behind him as he dismounts and unstraps a spear from his back. He looks over his shoulder, expression unreadable as he takes in the sight of Typhon, Raith, and Pyrin with me.
I can’t help the surge of relief I feel at seeing him. Bastian. Always showing up when I need him most, but never revealing the slightest about who he is or why he cares about helping me.
"Go, Nessa,” Bastian shouts, voice carrying over the growing rush of wind.
"But you—"
"I'll be fine," Bastian says. "Go."
I hesitate for only a moment—wondering if maybe there's some way I could find Mireen, Ambrose, or Beck and offer them help here. But I know the only way to return is to tether. And there's no way I can even get to them without abandoning Raith for dead and drawing Malakai and his people to them.
"Can you find Mireen, Beck, and Ambrose? Make sure they're safe?" I shout.
"I'll do what I can. Now go!" Bastian shouts. He's already parrying a strike from Malakai as his elemental clashes with both the shark and the fire snake.
I bounce on my feet, wishing I could do more to help. But he's likely only waiting for me to be gone so he can flee. With that horse, there's no way they would catch him.
"Let's go," I say, turning and running for the rift with the others.
We plunge into the rift, the elemental plane dissolving around us as we're pulled back toward our own world. Toward Confluence Academy.
13
I sit beside Raith in the healer's room, studying him as he lays with his eyes closed and his body covered in thick bandages.
I lift my shirt to expose the burns on my back, wincing as the academy healer applies a salve and then wraps my torso in clean linens. “You’re lucky,” she says. “These aren’t too deep. I don’t think you’ll scar.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling as she nods and drifts to join the other healers tending to dozens of wounded students who are being carried in every few minutes as more and more return from the rifts.
Beck, Ambrose, and Mireen all sit beside the bed with me.
There's an air of tense anticipation between all of us. For now, students are still fighting to tether elementals as the window to return to campus remains open. In a few hours, the rift will close, and anyone who hasn't returned will be assumed dead.
After that, we'll all be forced to participate in a celebratory ceremony, as if our victory isn't shadowed by the ghosts of hundreds and even thousands of dead going back to that first day when we arrived in our carriages. The thought makes my stomach turn.
Mireen's hair is still soaked and she has a gash on the side of her neck that the healer bandaged when we arrived. Her braid has come loose in several places, leaving her copper hair to stand up and catch the fading evening light that streams through the windows. "So…" she says softly. "Are you going to tell us what is going on with your mark, Nessa?"
I instinctively twitch to put my hand in my pocket, but force it to still. My pulse skyrockets. The silver threads running through the blue and the patterns are different than everyone else who tethered. Even the blue is a deeper shade than their marks, as if some of that unnatural color saturation from the elemental plane is showing straight through my skin.