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)
That's new.
I gently draw it all in toward myself, watching everyone carefully for reaction. I don't want them to be hurt, but I know what I'm doing isn't sucking the water from their bodies. I'm just... collecting the magical counterpart water attracts over time.
Each drop fills me with potential. Too much potential. The realization slams into me too late. I need to vent this energy before it comes rushing out of me on its own and out of control.
I try to focus on the task, creating and shaping a modest quantity of water as Sestra expects. But it's hopeless. I'm filled with overwhelming power, not control.
There are no delicate designs or details to prove I'm the master of the water. Instead, the entire basin surges upward in a massive wave that hovers precariously for a split second before crashing down, soaking half the class—including Sestra.
I let out a gasping breath and wipe water from my face. "Sorry," I wince as students sputter and curse all around the room. "I… lost concentration."
Sestra's expression could curdle milk. With a flick of her wrist, she draws the water from every student in the room at once, except for me. She snaps her fingers and the collected water seems to vanish, splitting in a million tiny droplets to rejoin the air in the room. "Pathetic."
"I know, I'm sorry—" I press my soaked hair out of my face and wipe water from my eyes.
"This is the third time you've failed a basic channeling exercise in the last week, Thorne. Your elemental must be questioning its choice." She makes a harsh note on her parchment. "Another failure.”
Humiliation burns through me as I step back into the circle. Mireen squeezes my shoulder sympathetically, while Beck offers a supportive grimace. Across the circle, Malakai watches with a satisfied smirk that makes me wish I had left him back in Mirror Lake for Typhon to devour when he was still mad.
"I could still eat him," Typhon notes from the corner of the room. "It's not too late."
"We talked about eating people."
Typhon sighs. "You were the one who brought it up this time."
"Just because you listen to all my thoughts, it doesn't mean each one is intended for you."
Typhon's annoyance is plain through the tether. Steam billows out of his large nostrils as he coils his body in a circle and lays down, blue eyes glaring up at me.
"Don't let them see they get to you," Ambrose whispers, his eyes knowing behind his glasses as he watches Malakai and his allies. "That's what they want."
He's right, of course. I force my expression into neutrality as the next student takes their turn. But inside, frustration simmers. If only I could show what I'm truly capable of—summon Typhon in his true form, bend all four elements to my will. The looks on their faces would be worth it.
Almost worth it, anyway. I'd have a few moments of satisfaction before Empire higher-ups were breathing down my neck. Some might want to steal me away and turn me into their personal weapons. More likely, I'd wind up dead before any of that happened.
By the time the class ends, my mood has plummeted to new depths.
"Sestra's blind," Mireen mutters as we leave the classroom. "She acts like you're not improving."
"Am I?" I ask, guilt gnawing at me. My friends don't understand the real reason I'm "struggling." They don't realize I may not be able to form pretty pillars of water, but I can already weave water and fire together to make jets of steam thanks to what I learned from Bastian’s unbound book and Voss’ lessons. But none of those talents are going to get me through Sestra's class, so I'm stuck letting my friends think I'm falling behind.
Another lie in a growing collection.
"Of course you're getting better." She links her arm through mine as we walk down the corridor. Ahead of us, Beck and Ambrose argue good-naturedly about lunch options. "Everyone progresses at different rates. And honestly, who cares about perfect water columns when the Crucible is all about survival? And you've got Oceanus the flying fish," she adds with a wink. "And the most deadly first year promising to watch your back, along with a legacy I'm pretty sure has a massive crush on you. And us."
"Sestra cares," I mutter, even though I know she's right. I also don't even bother arguing with her about Raith and Bastian because I know it's a lost cause. My continued failure in channeling class is getting to me. "She's determined to make me look like I don't belong here. If there wasn't already a target on my back, she's painting one herself. It's like she's trying to make sure people think I'm weak. Easy prey."
"Sestra is a bitter old woman," Mireen says with surprising venom. "Don't let her get to you."