I pull the folded paper key Bastian gave me from my bra, frowning when I notice it has smeared slightly after a day of sweating and training with it tucked so close. I may have to find a better place to hide it from now on.

I honestly don't know how Bastian had time to decipher the book and create the key from scratch in such a short period. The intelligence required for such a thing is frankly terrifying. On one hand, it’s reassuring to know someone so capable is in my corner. On the other? It’s worrying. Someone that sharp could easily manipulate me. Use me for their own goals.

But there’s nothing to be done about it for now. All I can do is focus on learning more about what I am. Until I know that, I can’t begin to guess what the right path is.

My fingers are clumsy with anticipation as I work through the cipher. It takes nearly half an hour, but I finally spot the word "channeling" in the first sentence of a page about halfway into the book. I spend the next hour lost in the work of decoding the pages, my eyes burning and back aching from hunching over the book.

Finally, the words begin to assemble into something coherent, revealing secrets that just might mean I'll finally be able to make some progress. The relief is like water after a full day in the sun pulling heavy nets of fish.

Progress.

A slow smile spreads over my face as I let that idea sink in.

The pages talk about something I’ve sensed but haven’t known how to do yet. To not just absorb the elemental essence of objects or people I touch, but to draw it inward from the world around me through the air itself. If possible, it could completely change my fortunes here.

I set down the book and start practicing the new techniques until I'm too tired to keep my eyes open.

For the first time since arriving at Confluence, I fall asleep with something that feels dangerously close to hope.

9

Passages from the book Bastian gave me have run through my mind on repeat all morning like a desperate prayer I can't stop reciting. The book is currently hidden beneath my mattress, leaving me to poke and prod the ideas in my mind instead.

Even my increasingly terrifying nightmares of a beast in dark waters hunting me can’t dim my excitement. Not today.

"Unbound are vessels. Empty chalices waiting to be filled. The paradox of flesh—to be nothing and everything at once. In their emptiness, they promise both creation and destruction."