"Also, I should note that aspirants and legacies are highly discouraged from killing fellow classmates. Yes, deaths will still occur in the course of your training, but we expect the number to be far smaller than what those of you in the offerings quarters will have grown used to. Our fragile alliance with the elemental plane and Empire's orders mean you have all just become far more valuable assets to us. Indispensable, even. So, again, wanton murder of classmates will not be overlooked any longer. I advise you all to set aside any grudges or ill-feelings you may harbor from your first two months here on campus."

I can't tell if I'm imagining it, but I think I see Voss' gaze lingering on Malakai. Something passes between them—an understanding, perhaps, or a warning. My muscles tense.

No matter his words, I don't feel any of the lingering tension between my shoulders lighten. Killing each other may be discouraged, but I imagine some will still find a way. The only difference is they'll have to be more discreet and creative, now.

"Today, you have all formed the beginnings of a tether with your elemental companions. You'll spend the next five years learning to strengthen that tether, growing your personal power and the abilities of your elemental in the process. By the time you graduate, you'll cease simply being a tethered and you will become primals, the deadliest weapons in Empire's army."

There's a sudden cheer from the courtyard that drowns out the falling rain. I look around, wondering how anyone could cheer right now when it still feels like we're prisoners. I notice just a few others who aren't cheering, Bastian included.

It warms me to him slightly to see he's not celebrating. If Raith wasn't still recovering in the healer's room, I imagine he would be stony-faced now, too.

So many died for us to get here. If this is a victory, it's one that was built on a pile of corpses so large it makes my stomach turn. And becoming weapons? The thought certainly doesn’t make me want to cheer.

"You are wise for your thoughts, angry human," Typhon rumbles in my mind. Even when he's hiding himself from others, I can always see him. I can sense him, too, even if he's not in view. It feels like an internal compass, always pointing toward Typhon.

"You know you can just call me Nessa, right?" I think back, fingers curling into my palms as the small round of cheers and clapping continues.

"I will call you by your name when you earn the distinction."

"Is that how it is? Maybe I'll start calling you little boy blue. How would you like that?"

"You wouldn't dare." A flash of heat travels down our tether, mixing anger and something almost like amusement.