Exams at Confluence supposedly contribute to some kind of evaluation score we’re not allowed to see. If we survive to graduation, our evaluation score will be a large factor in deciding where we wind up in the hierarchy of primals.

The channeling classroom smells wet and musky from repeated spells splashing and misting water in every direction. Morning sunlight cuts through the arched windows, lighting faces that are both eager and nervous. I count myself among the nervous.

"An unbound with an ancient elemental does not get nervous. She gets ready. She prepares for battle. To prove herself. To excel," Typhon growls.

"Yeah, well, tough shit, Typhon. This unbound gets nervous. Especially when she's about to take a test she knows she's going to fail."

We've known some kind of test was coming for days now, but we weren't told any details about what we'd be asked to do or when it would take place. Not that extra time would have helped me much. The other water affinities are naturally growing in power as their tethers strengthen.

Mireen, predictably, excels. Channeling has always been a strength of hers, even before tethering Ollie. But the relatively small water otter also seems to have a gift for channeling, making Mireen one of the strongest channelers in our affinity. She forms perfect, complex shapes from the water when it's her turn—spirals, cubes, even a miniature version of Confluence's castle that earns approving nods from the other students.

Beck does well enough, managing to create a decently sized wave that splashes several students, earning him a sharp reprimand from Sestra but appreciative laughs from others.

Ambrose performs exactly as Sestra instructs without the extra flair of Mireen.

Even Brunhild manages to complete the task successfully.

Then it's my turn.

I step forward, aware of every eye on me. The whispers have already started—they always do when I'm called to demonstrate my abilities. Malakai's supporters watch with barely concealed contempt.

"Thorne," Sestra says, her voice clipped. "Show us a basic water control exercise. Level three."

Level three. The instructors rate elemental control exercises on a scale of one to ten—one being the simplest manipulation, ten being mastery-level complexity. Level three is considered basic for most first-years by this point in the term, but it's already beyond what I've managed to convincingly fake.

"I suggest cheating," Typhon says through our tether. "Touch one of your classmates, steal their power, and perform a level ten water spell just to close their fleshy, flat-toothed mouths."

"I'm not going to cheat. I'm just... going to give it a shot."

"Bah. It's only cheating if you get caught."

"That's... not true. And I thought you were supposed to be some kind of elemental nobility of impeccable ethics?"

"I am effective. There's a difference. If morals or ethics got in the way of what I needed to do, I would simply eat them."