I grin. “You’ve reminded me of them a few times.”

“Your point is taken. I believe the other flesh bags underestimate you. We shall let your enemies live for now to preserve our own morality, as you say. If the time for consuming your enemies comes, I will eat them with joy and righteous justice in my heart.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if it comes.”

“Bridges? Hah! I have wings, angry human. No body of water is an obstacle to me. It is simply an opportunity to crush my⁠—”

“It’s an expression, Typhon. Lighten up.”

He makes a low growling sound and sits a little lower, blue eyes deep and fierce as he watches the ceremony.

The legacies and aspirants—or at least those who were aspirants before Confluence Day—finish presenting. Some of the legacies, like Bastian, present elementals quite a bit larger than the dog-sized that seems standard. Bastian’s horse is the size of a real horse, and one legacy girl with an earth marking has a golem made of stones that’s almost twice her height.

But now the former offerings are approaching, and it won’t be long before it’s my turn.

Beck eventually has his name called. He presents Uther and earns a few impressed noises from the gathered students. After Mireen's turn, I approach the selectors and wait.

"Present your elemental," the selector says. Compared to the way the selectors treated us that first day, I feel a twinge of satisfaction to see a hint of fear on the man's face. We're not helpless offerings anymore, and he knows it.

"Ready?"

Typhon walks beside me in his water dragon form, and then closes his eyes. His body swirls, losing form as the water currents twist and reshape him. A moment later, he's significantly smaller and looks like an ordinary fish, but with butterfly-like wings and a strange formation of whiskers on his head that almost looks like a crown.

I have to try not to smile. Seeing him contained in such an unassuming form makes me picture a great lion in the body of a kitten.

“Are you wearing a crown?”

“I am heir to the water throne. And… this being has a formation of sensory glands that do resemble a crown. yes.”

The selector's eyes narrow slightly. "What is that?"

"Uh," I say.

"Kuratokken," Typhon reminds me. "They were known as king fish by the original humans nearly fifteen hundred years ago. Celebrated for their regal⁠—"

"Some kind of flying fish," I say.

Anger passes through the tether.

"Inconspicuous, remember?"

Typhon floats beside me, his annoyance obvious even in his small fish eyes.

"I see. Age?"

"Old enough to make his eyes water."

"He's thirty."

"Quite young. Hm. Very well. Name?"