Gods help me. Every instinct I have is telling me not to. Even Raith himself seems to be telling me not to. But I’m still falling for Raith fucking Hollow.

20

Titus circles me with a huge two-handed sword held at the ready. Like all our training weapons, it's blunted, but given that it’s at least three pounds of steel, I doubt it matters. Titus is one of Malakai's elites, and I'm sure he would be willing to suffer any punishment for "accidentally" killing or maiming me.

Surviving Confluence Day earned us some protections, but the threat of death only dropped to a low, haunting whisper instead of a deafening scream. It never really leaves, and with the Crucible coming, everybody feels it more now. It’s the warm, rancid breath of a predator breathing down our necks.

This is basic weapons training, and we're not supposed to channel. I still keep my mind on high alert, just in case Titus decides to cheat. If he does, I'll be ready.

For now, I keep circling him on the raised stone platform, rapier pointed at his throat. Raith taught me to watch the feet and the hips of my opponent, so that's where my eyes stay.

Titus coils slightly on his back leg and my instincts tingle with warning before my brain can even process what's happening. I'm already shifting to my side, ducking the overhead strike that's about to come.

His sword whistles past me, clattering against stone hard enough to fire off sparks.

I move to step inside his guard and press my blade to his throat, but he savagely yanks his elbow backward, smashing into my temple and sending me toppling sideways.

The blow makes sparks fly across my vision and my head spin. An immediate, sharp throbbing erupts in my head.

Shit.

He's fast. We all are now, but he's also twice my size.

I roll, dodging another strike, then another. I barely get back to my feet, breaths coming in raw gasps already. I'm starting to become numb to danger, but I can feel a sudden jab of terror leaking up through my walls like ice water flooding into a sinking ship.

Come on, Nessa.

Distantly, I can sense others finishing their matches and gathering to watch us. Most weapons fights are over quickly. The other affinities are finishing up, too, along with Raith, who was first to win his match and is already on his way toward us. Even with Raith coming, I force myself to refocus on Titus. Distraction now could be fatal.

"Come on, Nessa," Beck calls. "Go for his balls. Small targets, I know, but you can⁠—"

Beck's voice fades to background noise as I barely lean back, dodging the tip of Titus' sword before it can split my face horizontally.

Gods. He's definitely going for the kill.