Voss offers a sympathetic pursing of his lips. “I can give you a bit of forward warning, Nessa. It’s not much, but it might help. This year, you’ll be sent outside the castle walls with groups no larger than five per team. I can’t share the details until the moment before the Crucible begins, but I can tell you that the winning team will all earn promotion to legacy status. I don’t think I need to tell you a prize like that will likely create fierce, bloody competition.”

My breath catches. Promoted to legacy status? Other than Bastian, the legacies might as well be untouchable to us. They seem to exist in their own, privileged bubble on campus with the best perks and the best training. It's already an open secret that they're being groomed for positions of leadership after Confluence, even among the primals. They'll be the generals. The commanders and captains.

The idea of being promoted to their ranks… it's enough that even regular students without Malakai's bloodthirsty streak would be driven to do just about anything.

"I'm afraid the legacies will be competing in the Crucible as well," Voss continues. "Most years, they win. They’re often given a task in opposition to yours, but it varies. There’s one final thing your instructors may not share," He pauses, elegant fingers folded as he regards me. "Every year, we lose quite a few students during the Crucible. Empire sees it as a way of making sure the primals who survive have what it takes to come out of a war-like situation alive."

"I thought becoming aspirants meant the academy didn't want our lives being thrown away?" A bitter taste like ash fills my mouth. More deaths. More conflict.

"And that's true. We don't want senseless murders in the halls. Pointless training accidents. But you should see the real truth of it, Nessa. We don't want these things because they eventually only reveal the bullies and the ruthless. A superior soldier can be killed when his guard is down by an inferior one. Now that we've culled the weakest, your lives will only be risked in ways that select for better soldiers. The Crucible is exactly that. It's a war game, and there will be deaths, but these deaths will serve a purpose. They will sharpen you. Hone you."

I lower my eyes, unsure what the hell I'm even supposed to say to that.

“They treat you like blades, not humans,” Typhon growls.

“Then they had better hope one of those blades never decides to turn on its master.”

“Angry human…” Typhon says, but I sense a note of pride in his tone.