"You could have had it just now," Typhon observes. "If you had claimed his lips with yours, he would not have resisted. Pyrin agrees that you two are making an elaborate dance out of what could be done in a few simple thrusts."

"First of all, I'd appreciate it if you and Pyrin stopped gossiping behind our backs."

"We are elementals. We do not gossip. We simply share observations."

"You're just a big, ancient, powerful gossip and I won't be convinced otherwise. And it's not as simple as you make it out to be. Raith is hiding something big and he's warning me not to get involved. He thinks I'll be in even more danger if I do, and more danger is probably the last thing I need right now."

"Blah, blah, as you humans say. It is only you humans who insist on making it complicated."

Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm overthinking everything. But as I climb the tower stairs toward my room, I can't shake the feeling of cold, hungry eyes watching from the shadows. Waiting. Patient. Inevitable.

26

I'm on my way to channeling class when I see something that slows my pace. A group of second-year fires passes with their elementals on full display. Though I haven't heard anything direct, it seems clear that the older students are preparing for some kind of test as well. The Crucible might only be for first-years, but it seems like the challenges don't stop if we survive this year.

One of the upper-year fires bumps me and doesn't apologize as his huge fire lion glares down at me. They both appear oblivious to Typhon's threats.

"I could suck the marrow from their bones if you'd permit it," Typhon growls.

“Not worth it, Typhon.”

Another fire catches my attention, but this one is a first year. I’ve seen him practicing with Raith several times. I’m pretty sure his name is Cade. He’s more narrow in the shoulders and shorter than the average first year, and there’s an innocence in his expression that feels out of place on campus. It’s as if, somehow, the cruelty here hasn’t touched him yet.

Cade spares a glance over his shoulder before pausing with his hand on the door of a random classroom. Something about his furtive movements triggers an alarm in my mind—his shoulders hunched, his steps too careful, like he's afraid of making noise.

The corridor is quickly emptying as students head to afternoon classes after lunch. I've been wandering the halls, taking what Ambrose calls "the scenic route" to channeling class, trying to clear my head of the thousands of thoughts swirling through it. The Crucible. My new healing abilities. Raith's hot-and-cold behavior.