Mireen spots me from across the room and waves. Her braid whips around as she directs Ollie, her water otter, in a synchronized attack with her own water daggers. The elemental's form has grown more substantial over the months—less transparent, more defined, with deeper blue coloring. He zips through the air, slashing at training dummies that crumble under the water's pressure.

Primal Ryke prowls between pairs, occasionally demonstrating forms with his own elemental—a graceful water crane that towers over him when it stretches its wings.

Training with our elementals takes several forms. Some classes are theoretical, and some school us on the little bits of elemental history humans are privy to. This class is about learning to fight along with our elementals in combat. Some students hack at training dummies while others fight in sparring matches, combining what we know of weapons training with elemental combat.

"Nessa," Primal Ryke says as he approaches me. "Where is Oceanus?"

"He's... going to appear soon," I say, earning a few smirks from nearby students. The "flying fish" story has become something of a running joke among first-years.

Ryke nods toward the far side of the room where Beck and Ambrose are teaming up to obliterate a pair of wooden training dummies. Uther is clawing chunks out of one while Akaron uses watery talons to slash out where the eyes would be. "Join your friends for combat practice."

I maneuver through the pairs of students, dodging streams of water and the occasional errant elemental. The room smells of clean stone and the faint ozone scent that accompanies channeled magic. High windows let in shafts of winter sunlight that catch on the droplets of water hanging in the air, turning them to prisms.

"Someone's late," Beck teases as I approach. Uther, his water bear, rears up on hind legs beside him. The elemental has grown in size since Confluence Day, now standing slightly taller than Beck even when he’s standing on all fours.

"Typhon was being difficult," I mutter.

Ambrose adjusts his glasses, which he somehow manages to keep dry despite the water flying everywhere. "Fascinating. The connection between elemental mood and tether strength is still understudied, but my theory is⁠—"

"Save the lecture," Beck interrupts. "Let's see if Nessa can finally best me."

I draw my rapier, feeling its familiar weight. Two months of constant training have built muscle memory I never thought possible. "Didn't I win last week? And like six times before that?”

Beck grins and channels water into a swirling shield before him. "Hm. I don't seem to recall ever losing to you."

“It’s Beck’s secret weapon,” Ambrose says. “Weaponized stupidity.”

“He’s right,” Beck says. “I am a weapon. Just like Ambrose said.”

“That’s… not at all what I meant. I was saying⁠—”

“Blah blah,” Beck says. “We got it. I’m a living weapon. Deadly as I am handsome. Now come on, Nessa. Let’s see if you can finally beat me.”