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)
Serena studies us, her gaze lingering on each face before settling on mine. Her eyes narrow slightly when they pass over where Typhon hovers. Serena knows better than most what Typhon can become. She knows to be afraid.
"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't need help," she says finally, her voice cool and controlled.
"Then what are you doing here?" Mireen demands, water already gathering around her fingertips.
"The same as you, I imagine." Serena gestures to the weapons. "Assessing our options for the Crucible."
"Bullshit," Beck says flatly. "You knew about these weapons all along. You're part of Malakai's little army."
Serena's perfect lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm not surprised to see Hollow with your group. He's the biggest traitor of all of you. It's a shame, though. A man like you... Empire would be lucky to have you on our side. I could have warmed your bed, too. I’m sure I could’ve given you more than she ever—"
“That’s enough,” Raith snaps. “What the fuck do you want?”
She sighs, moving away from the weapons rack with casual grace. Her uniform is immaculate even at this late hour, her black hair gleaming in perfect waves that fall over her shoulders. Everything about her radiates deadly perfection.
"How do you think Beck even heard about this place?” she asks. “Do you really take him for a master of subtlety and deception?" Serena laughs. "No. I made sure he heard about it. I made sure you knew tonight would be the right time to come. And I waited here so I could send you a message. Something you should know before the Crucible..." She pauses, as if weighing her next words carefully. "There won't be any Empire observers watching."
Of all the things I expected her to say, this wasn't it. I exchange confused glances with Mireen and Ambrose.
"What are you talking about? Bastian said—"
"Bastian doesn't know everything." Serena's voice turns sharp, her perfect features hardening with barely suppressed anger. "There will be magical interference that will make the events completely dark. Empire's people won't know they can't watch until it's too late. The only thing people will learn afterward is how many died and what a failure Voss is as Rector."
"And you know this... how?" Ambrose asks, skepticism clear in his voice.
"Because Malakai told me after a conversation with our... benefactor." Her perfect composure slips for just a moment, revealing genuine revulsion before she schools her features back into careful neutrality. "Too many deaths, and Voss will be removed from his position. That's the plan."
"Why would someone go to such lengths to remove Voss?" Mireen asks, her water magic still swirling at her fingertips. "There must be simpler ways."
"This way creates a public spectacle. A failure so magnificent that the Council can justify immediate action without opposition."
I exchange glances with the others. The parts about Voss line up with what we’ve already learned. But what does it mean if Bastian is out of the loop, somehow?
I fold my arms. "So is this where you ask to join our team?"
She smiles without much humor. "No. Afraid not, Thorne. I still see all of you as traitors-in-waiting. Empire will be better if you all die before graduation. But I won't lower myself to this…" she gestures at the weapons. "I don't need help from the outside to deal with traitors. I don't need to stain my own honor to do things the right way. And I frankly don't give a shit if Voss stays or goes. So I'm here, and I'm telling you what I learned, which is that two members of the Windborne Division will be entering the Crucible. They're waiting on standby in the event that you and your people evade or kill us. Someone wants to make sure the Crucible is a bloodbath, and the windborne are the contingency plan."
"The windborne?" Ambrose whispers, face paling so quickly I fear he might faint. "Are you serious?"
Raith's reaction is more controlled, but through our tether, I feel a spike of genuine concern—sharp and cold like a blade of ice sliding between my ribs. "The Council's assassins," he murmurs, and there's a knowledge in his voice that feels personal, intimate.
"Who?" I ask.
"Elite air primals trained for elimination missions," Ambrose says.
"I thought the windborne were just stories," Mireen says, her water magic faltering slightly. "Boogeyman tales."
"They're very real," Serena replies, her voice dropping lower. "Just as real as the Earthshakers, Tidewalkers, and Flameheart Divisions. Each element has its special forces. I grew up hearing stories from my father. He served with the Flameheart for fifteen years, just like I will. When they hear what lengths I went to disposing of traitors like you, they'll almost certainly give me an audience after I graduate."
I feel out of the loop. I've never even heard of these people, though the conversation is making my blood run cold and my throat tighten. Two elite assassins sent into the Crucible? Killers ordered to murder us if it looks like we’re going to succeed? "So they're what, some kind of secret military?"