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Ayla

T he world was dark, smooth, and exhausting. So, so exhausting.

Whatever level of tiredness and mental drainage Ayla had felt in her life before this moment faded in comparison to this .

The North Cardinal’s ordeal had made her give everything. The strength and physical force she didn’t have, the resistance to stop pursuing the damned crystal feather that awaited her somewhere, the perseverance to not give up.

The world was dark because her eyes had stopped allowing her to see a long time ago. It was probably twilight, but she couldn’t tell. The pain in her eyes was blinding and limiting. A pain she had never experienced before, but then she had never pushed her inner balance so much before. If by some blessed miracle she survived this ordeal, throwing her scale upside down would definitely not be in her future plans. Ever.

She had tried Healing her own pain, but then the horizontal scale between the East and West Petals of her own panom mark had tilted, and the ocular pain increased even more.

She had settled in finishing the ordeal as fast as she could, as alive as she could.

Her hands were sore from grabbing the metal anchors she pinned to the immense wall every two steps. She didn’t need to see the wall to know where to Give the anchors that would help her push upwards. Each time she pressed the palm of her hand in the spots where the skin had lifted from her palms, she wished her hands were not so weak and sensible.

She had spent too much of her life gossiping, at Elite parties, dinners, and private meetings. None of those would save her now. She wished she could look back and think of the past as if she had learned something from those years. All she had learned was a waste of time and energy, and that most people had their own agenda and looked after their own asses and nobody else’s.

What had sucked Ayla into the dynamics of Ciaran’s safehouse in Corentre was the opposite of that empty pretense.

This group of people shared not only an enemy, but they also had a common goal. They wanted to make this world better. Even if their exact definitions of better varied.

And the first step towards that change was getting the Fifth, even if that left Ayla blind, sore, and with callused hands. But she was not going to give up. She would continue, however long she needed to climb, until she reached the end of this wall.

And if there was no end, then she would lose. Not only her life, but the hope to once more see the universe behind the blue eyes that struck her heart with lightning from the first time they crossed paths.

She didn’t want to imagine what Nina would do if she didn’t come back. Not because Ayla meant anything special to her, sadly, but because Nina was a generous and kind human being who cared and cried. It wouldn’t be fair for such a kindred soul to suffer because Ayla couldn’t climb a fucking wall.

The next metal pole she Gave clattered against the crystal, misplaced, tumbling down the wall with loud, scattered bangs.

Holding onto the current anchors, keeping her steady and standing, Ayla dared to lift her foot towards where the pole should have stood, and—there was nothing there. There wasn’t a ramp anymore, because there was a floor. A marvelous, perfectly horizontal floor.

The tears of relief, pain, desperation, and exhaustion left her eyes before her second foot stepped on the floor. How under-appreciated were straight floors. She choked out a laugh that sounded manic between the sobs.

“Ayla Brachyan,” the voice that had welcomed her before, now spoke in front of her. “You Gave what you had and what you didn’t have.”

“Are you the North Cardinal?” Ayla asked between shaky breaths.

“Who else would have been so patient for you?”

Ayla lifted her eyebrows. A part of her damned her useless eyes for not allowing her to see and admire the goddess in front of her. A part of her wanted to tell the goddess that if she was in a rush and didn’t want to be patient, she shouldn’t have made the damned wall so tediously tall. But Ayla kept her mouth shut and smiled. She knew when to keep quiet, and when she could throw her manners out the window. The Cardinal in front of her had something Ayla needed. Something she had fought for.

“Thank you for allowing me to be a striver for your ordeal. It was my pleasure to Give you everything and more.”

“I don’t tolerate liars,” the North Cardinal said, and the floor under Ayla’s feet trembled.

Ayla frowned. “I am no liar. I willingly became a striver, and I willingly chose your ordeal. The ordeal of the House I will one day rule. I knew my chances of not suffering were nonexistent. The moment I Give, the moment the pain and blindness start. And yet, it was a pleasure to demonstrate to you that I care about the Fifth enough to Give you not only my silver sparks but also my tenacity, my resolve, and my courage. This is who I am, this is what I have, and I willingly offer it to you to deem me worthy or not.”

There were long moments of silence, and the only way Ayla knew the Cardinal was still there was because of her quiet steps walking towards her.

A soft, cold hand touched her cheek. “You are worthy, Ayla Brachyan.”

Flapping wings sounded next to her, and the sound of crystal clattered at her feet. Ayla didn’t even bother drying her tears, not as she grinned and kneeled, searching the surrounding floor until she found the crystal feather of the North Cardinal.