Bubbles rise to the surface and burst one after another as the thing moves in the watery darkness, surging forward until its head protrudes through the hole, its six yellow eyes staring out in all directions. Its mouth gapes, revealing rows of jagged fangs—each one half the length of my forearm.

It’s a razor eel. An absolutely enormous one. Probably a queen.

“Mother is hungry,” bellows Phoebus, as another Variant descends the stair towards us with a head-sized chunk of meat dripping in her hands. “Who will feed her?”

At our silence, he balks theatrically. “What, would you have us just toss her dinner into the water?” He shakes his head, tsking. “We of Lýkos have better manners than that. We show respect where it’s due and feed Mother by hand.”

I look around at the others. There’s fear in their eyes.

“I’ll do it,” I say.

Phoebus whoops. “A queen to feed a queen! Perfection.”

The Variant with the meat edges over to me and dumps it into my outstretched hands. Blood trickles between my fingers, but it’s too cold, too animal to tempt me.

Breaking from the circle, I move around to the end of the pool nearest the stair—which levels out before continuing into the steaming water. Stepping carefully down, I’m determined not to slip or fumble.

Its warmth penetrates my blood and bones even as the electric spark of connection sets in, binding me to the water, the lifeblood of Elysia—and everything in it. In a heartbeat I feel the years in Mother’s bones…centuries of them. Feel her pleasure when one of the strange, cold creatures from above—whose presence she can always distantly feel—comes down to offer her some delicious morsel. New scents to taste in the water. A new, incomprehensible essence to relish.

I reel a bit at that. The connection doesn’t work this way with other Variants, but something about the simple, alien mind of the eel lets me right in. More memories flood through my awareness. The times when her visitors did something to startle her. When their scent shifted with fear or disdain and bled bitterness into the water, and she attacked.

She hopes this won’t be one of those times.

So do I.

I focus on my breath and movements as I approach her, doing my best to maintain a measured calm as I draw nearer and nearer her gaping, toothy maw. Blood drips into the water, and the three slat-like openings atop Mother’s nose flare. The water churns as she heaves forward, closer to me.

“She likes you!” shouts Phoebus.

The new students who circle the pool shift uncomfortably. I take another step forward. Mother’s only a pace away now.

Then Phoebus howls again. Loud and unusually grating.

Heartbeats later, half the others join in.

Mother’s alarm at the jarring, nonsensical sound rips through me almost as if it’s my own.

I stumble forward just as she lashes out, knocking the meat from my hands. Pain sears across my arm as one of her teeth rips through my skin. Another, distant part of myself takes over—reaching out for some kind of defense. For a weapon.

For DNA.

Something shimmering and translucent erupts from my shoulder blades, pushing against the rocky floor of the pool to launch me backwards and out of the water. In the same moment, the hovering portion of my guardian takes action. A dart whizzes through the air. In the next instant, Overkill’s main body catches me—wrapping me protectively in his arms. The enormous razor eels lolls heavily sideways across the bottom of the pool, the silvery-white quil of the dart protruding from just behind her gills.

Gently, Overkill sets me to my feet. I rush to the pool, ready to clamber straight back into the water in my panic. Then I notice the continued fluttering of her gills, and stop—breathing a sigh of relief.

She’s only unconscious.

That’s when I finally feel the others’ eyes all on me, riveted. My new appendages dance in the air around my body, capturing and scattering the light into an array of luminous rainbow droplets. Blood drips down my arm. Spatters across the stone. My blood. I stare down at it, surprised by the color. Violet and blue, changing rapidly with exposure. Beautiful. Already, my wound is healing closed. There’s a pleasant, electric sort of tingling sensation as cells grow and knit themselves back together.

Then I look up at Phoebus, and he’s grinning.

~*~

With the initiation ritual cut short, the house moves on to the evening’s central concern—partying.

“Don’t drink, eat, or smoke anything they give you until you’re sure Kill or I have scanned it,” says Syn. I take note of his choice of nickname for the Guardian, deciding it’s better than mine. “And,” he adds, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You know, I can modify my own blood to function as a comparatively safe intoxicant, if you’d prefer—“

But it’s quickly becoming difficult to pay much attention to his words. Even backing off into an occupied, shadowy nook of the grotto, eyes follow me. And worse yet, they follow Syn…brimming with hunger and interest.

Don’t they have their own Companions?

It occurs to me for the first time that they might not. A little ways off, on a ragged black leather couch, someone withdraws a gray object from a bag—a rubbery, rigid sort of pouch with a smaller protrusion jutting out one end of it. A tiny green light glows from its side. As I watch, the Variant extends his fangs and sinks them into the smaller portion. His throat works as he begins to drink.

“Hey, could I get some of that?” asks the one sitting to his right.

But the Variant with the pouch just puts up his free hand and shoves at their friend's face with it. The other one laughs.

“Asshole.”

So far, no one’s approached me. Kestrel and the others I met earlier are all clustered around Phoebus, laughing uproariously at something. The rest are intimidated, perhaps, by the combination of Overkill, Syntrofos, and my enormous eel-fin tentacles. I catch Phoebus searching me out with his eyes more than once, but he’s too occupied with other housemates to bother me yet. I’m just thinking I should try moving somewhere even less visible—perhaps leave entirely—when I catch a whiff of blood. Real, human blood. I feel my nostrils flare as my head turns immediately, unthinkingly, towards its source.

Over in another darkened recess of the grotto, on my same level, a handful of other students are circled up together. Passing something around between them. Occasionally, one of them shoots a furtive glance over their shoulder.

Time to go.

I can practically feel Syn’s relief as I inform him of my decision. With him to one side and Kill to the other, we head for the exit. I try to make it seem like we’re just sort of wandering through the space, though I know it’s probably obvious I’m making a run for it.

Thankfully, no one interferes—but again I feel the uneasy weight of Phoebus’s regard as he catches sight of me leaving the grotto. A heartbeat later, he begins to extricate himself from the small crowd around him. I pick up my pace. Our footsteps echo through the graffitied halls of the main house as we retrace our steps to the front door.

But just as we enter the receiving hall, two figures emerge from the shadows. One a Variant, elegant in form and movement with black skin and silvery eyes. The other a synthe, four-legged and unlike any other I’ve ever seen.

“Hello, You Majesty,” says the Variant in a voice that, somehow, invokes thoughts of a forest at night. Wings beating at the air, eyes flashing in the moonlight. A few thick coils of her long silvery-blue hair falls over her shoulder. On the right side of her head, close to the scalp, intricate braids flow together in a pattern like overlapping arrows.

“Just Kore, please.” I say, eyes flashing to the door, though my feet have rooted to the spot. Something about her holds me there. “Um, I was just about to head back to my dorm. Today’s been a lot. I’m kind of exhausted.” I laugh awkwardly, ears pricking as they pick up on distant footsteps.

She dips her head in a shallow nod of ascent at that. “I’m Artemisia. May I walk with you a little ways?”

“Sure.” Syn tenses at my side, but I don’t want to say no to her.

“Thank you,” she says, gliding along beside me as I head for the door. “Ah, and this is Hind,” she adds, indicating her synthe as it falls into step behind the rest of us. I turn to look at it again—fascinated. Though it seems as though it’s been made of salvaged parts, their shapes flow together beautifully, almost organically, into the form of something resembling a stag. When we step outside into the relative darkness of the perpetual night, his golden antlers glow.

“Hello,” says Hind.

“What do you think so far, of Lýkos?”

I hesitate, trying to read her intent.

“I think it’s…interesting. But it’s hard to say much so soon.”

A crooked smile quirks her lip.

“Interesting. Yes, it is. And my brother. Phoebus. What do you think of him?”

I slow. “I…I don’t know yet.”

She exhales through her nose and I look over at her, but she’s staring off at nothing, brows knit together.

“He hasn’t been the same since he turned. No one is, I know—but the changes in him are more…distinct.” She shakes her head. “He shouldn’t be president just because he was strong enough to win the role. He needs time to stabilize before he’s leader of anything.”

I glance behind us, then back at her.

“I don’t mean to be rude…but why are you telling me this? I just got here.”

“That’s exactly why I’m telling you,” she says. “He wants the fraternity to move up in the ranks, but he’s lazy. He put all his effort into winning you, now he’s going to want to use you. Incite people to challenge you so that you can rack up duel points for Lýkos. And he’ll be displeased if you turn them down. Does that sound good to you?”

I take a deep breath, processing. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Someone more suited is going to challenge him for his position, and soon,” says Artemisia, her voice dropping to a hush. “Until then…you should try to stay away from him as much as possible. Don’t come to Lýkos House unless you have to.”

We’re more than halfway back to my building, and I stop, edging off the main path before turning to her.

“Thanks for the warning, I can’t say that I doubt you. But…I still don’t understand why you went out of your way for this.”

“Because without my warning, you might’ve become one of his cronies…though you don’t seem the type,” her eyes travel across my face, expression thoughtful. “And if that were the case…that would make things harder for all of us.”

Behind me, my Companion clears his artificial throat and I turn to look at him.

“Yes, Syn?”

“You have a message…an urgent one. A private one.” His glowing eyes flash to my classmate.

My stomach twists. I look back to Artemisia.

“I have to go. Thanks again. I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind.”

Then I leave her there.

“Who’s it from?” I ask Syn, once we’re far enough away from any of my new classmates. “Is it bad?”

He clenches his jaw, and for a moment I’m worried he’ll make we wait till we get all the way back to the dorm before he says anything at all.

“Your sister,” he says after a moment. “And it’s…not good.”