"Apologies," Typhon says calmly through our tether. "But I do not allow humans to trick or try to kill my angry human. We can say the arm was eaten during the heat of battle, if anyone asks."

Veeni falls to her knees clutching the wounded remains of her arm as Jira slides to her side and tries to help. The rest of the students only watch warily as their wounded elementals nurse wounds and limp back to their sides.

Raith strides into the center of the room as his fire panther stalks behind him. He comes right for me, eyes searching me from head to toe with an intensity that makes my skin heat. "Are you hurt?" he asks, voice rough with concern.

I shake my head, unable to look away from the fierce worry in his eyes. "I'm okay."

He holds my gaze a few more moments, and I can see just how worried he was. It's practically boiling off him. As the relief of seeing me unhurt settles in, though, I see rage slowly taking its place, his eyes darkening to near-black.

“Veeni… Jira… There’s no coming back from this.”

Jira lowers her eyes, as if ashamed. Veeni is too busy clutching the stump where her arm was, eyes still wide in shock. She’s whimpering softly.

“And you. Serena," Raith says, voice cold as the edge of a blade.

She straightens, eyes hard. "It looks like an even fight, now. Is this how we're going to do it, Raith Hollow? Should we just have it out right here? You, the legacy, and your loyal first-year fires against us?"

Raith says nothing, but he unsheathes his sword with a whisper of steel that sends a shiver down my spine. At his cue, the first-year fires behind him begin drawing weapons, too. Their fire elementals wink into view like blazing stars in the night sky, casting a wall of orange light over half of the room.

Bastian steps between both groups of students and elementals, his majestic horse made of pure air behind him. He looks between both groups. "No," he says. "You're all Empire property. Valuable Empire property. I won't stand by and watch you slaughter one another. Disperse and return to your rooms now."

"And if we don't, pretty boy?" Malakai asks.

"There are systems for dealing with this kind of infraction. Systems that aren't public knowledge. If you carry on here and fight, you'll find yourselves envious of those who died. They, at least, won't survive to endure the punishment."

There's an uneasy silence.

Raith looks my way, and I can tell he's asking what I want him to do. He'll still fight them if I ask.

Gods. He really will. It's written in every line of his body, in the coiled tension of his shoulders and the fire flickering at his fingertips. The realization steals my breath for a moment.

But I shake my head.