Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Students are branded by water, air, earth, or fire. But Nessa’s mark is different. A silver spiral—the mark of an unbound. It’s a power so dangerous her kind were hunted to extinction centuries ago—or so the Empire claims.
To survive, she must hide what she is in a castle that reeks of blood, where students kill each other for advantage and failing to tether an elemental means death.
Nessa’s greatest threat may be the only other volunteer—Raith Hollow, a powerful fire affinity whose scorching gaze follows her every move and whose secrets could topple kingdoms.
Alliances are forged in blood, enemies circle like vultures, and forbidden desires close in. Death once seemed like release from her tragic past. Now it's not an option. She'll embrace her terrible potential or watch everything she's fought for burn.
At Confluence Academy, students leave as weapons... or they don't leave at all.
What to A delicious slow burn romance as dangerous as the magic? Check. A final line readers are saying will haunt you for weeks? Double check. An ending that will leave you desperate for book 2? Absolutely.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
I volunteered to die four days ago. Now that the carriage finally stops rolling, I know the end is almost here.
Outside the padded carriage walls, voices shout orders, wagon wheels creak, and boots stomp through mud.
The selector snaps his fingers for my attention. "We've arrived."
"Where are we?"
"You'll see soon enough.” He produces a small badge with the letter "V" from a pocket in his fancy robe. "Pin this to your tunic."
I take it, examining the metal. "What's this for?"
"It marks you as a volunteer."
I hesitantly pin the "V" badge to my tunic, feeling like I've been branded. My fingers tremble slightly as I secure it, the metal cold against my skin. Volunteer. Technically, I suppose it's the truth, even if I felt like I had no choice in the matter. "Why does it matter if I volunteered?"
"Confluence Academy keeps extensive records. It will be noted as you’re processed and then you’ll be free to discard the badge. The 'why' beyond that is none of your concern."
Confluence Academy? The words hit like a punch.
Confluence is the school where primals are trained. It is an even more well-kept secret than facts about the primals themselves. It's usually talked about with the same level of belief as vampires, siphons, and werewolves. Yet the selector just casually implied we're parked outside its doorstep.
"I thought Confluence Academy was just a story."
"It’s quite real, offering." He sighs the words, as if this is a tiresome conversation he's had dozens of times—as if dragging people from their homes to a place they hardly believed existed was ordinary. "Take her," he says, nodding to the guards.
I'm hauled to my feet, my legs stiff and aching from days of travel. My heartbeat quickens, a desperate flutter against my ribs as reality crashes down. A stupid, hopeful part of me wants to believe that if this really is Confluence Academy, I might actually have a chance to live.
An academy. As in, a place where people are trained. It's not a sacrificial pit. There's not a fire dragon waiting to eat me outside the carriage like kids used to whisper about when I was little.
But it still feels wrong. Empire takes one person aged between eighteen and twenty-one from every town and city each year. Nobody ever sees them again. If the offerings collected by selectors were becoming primals, surely some would come back to tell their loved ones. The truth would get out.
The guard shoves open the carriage door, and I'm thrust into a world of pure chaos.
The damp, earthy smell of mud churned by hundreds of horses and boots hits me first. Then the pungent stench of fear and stale sweat. And something else—like the air after lightning strikes, but sharper. More alive.
My stomach knots so violently I nearly double over. I know that smell. It's the same smell that came with the storm three years ago. The smell that follows me into my nightmares. It's the smell of magic.
The phantom salt spray stings my eyes as the memory claws its way up my throat, threatening to drown me all over again. I push away the memories that threaten to surface—the screams, the water, the sickening sound of wood splitting beneath our feet. My fingers tremble, and I curl them into fists, using the bite of my nails against my palms to ground myself in the present.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus on my surroundings instead of the past.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of carriages just like mine fill the massive courtyard spreading before me. Imperial guards herd dazed offerings from their vehicles toward a central location. The other offerings show just how far Empire’s reach extends through their clothing—flowing silks from the eastern provinces, thick wools from the north, lightweight linens like mine from the coastal regions. I even spot a cluster of people who might be from the many islands that neighbor the main continent.
And all of them were selected, chosen out of a random lottery. Sentenced to die.
I idly trace the “V” badge on my tunic. I thought I was ready to die, but I can’t lie to myself. Ever since the Selector told us where we were… ever since that moment, I’ve felt the spark of hope threatening to ignite my insides.
Dragging my eyes from the crowd, I look up at the structure looming behind the sea of offerings and guards.
The sight steals my breath.
A castle rises before us, so vast it makes the defensive keep back home in Saltcrest look like a child's toy. Four colossal towers stand at each corner, each one distinctly different from the others.
The first looks more like a pillar of earth, as if carved from a single massive piece of granite, roots and vines climbing its surface like grasping fingers. I almost imagine I can see the stone itself breathing, expanding and contracting as if alive.