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I stood in the dark fields of Demetria two days later, lifting my palm into the chilled air. This might end horribly, but at least I’d get more practice with fire portaling.

And Gods, did I need the practice. It took three attempts under the falling snow just to spark a single flare on the ground.

Behind me, Naraic’s wings rustled. “Tell me you understand the dangers of fire portals,” he said through the bond.

I rolled my eyes. “I had a crash course in Malvoria.”

“I could fly you,” he offered. “You do recall I have wings.”

“It’ll take too long. The trial is today.” On the fourth try, a circular portal finally sparked to life.

“Poor planning on your part,” he said dryly.

I grunted, holding that rising flame in place. “You could portal with me?”

He huffed. “ Gods, no. I’ve only done it twice. Once was when I pulled you from that beast in the iced valley.”

“You never told me you could portal,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “When was the first time?”

“My first rider gave me flame. I can only portal through fire. Just as Ciaran can only travel through shadow. ”

The portal hummed, taut as a pulled thread. I couldn’t hold it open much longer. But this was the first time he had mentioned anything about Veravine, and I desperately wanted to know more about her.

“Was the first time with Veravine?” I asked softly.

His violet gaze flickered. “I don’t wish to speak of Vera.”

“Why? Is that some sacred dragon vow of silence?”

He paused, staring into the whirling portal for a moment. “It’s too painful,” he said at last. “Even dragons aren’t immune to grief.”

“I’d love to hear about her one day.”

His wings shifted, brushing air behind me. “Step through. Or you’ll burn out.”

“We were having a moment, Naraic.”

“The moment is over. Shall I roar to instill fear or headbutt you into the fire?”

I smiled. “Tell me about her sometime. When you’re ready.” Then I drew a breath and plunged my hand into the flame.

“You’re exactly alike,” he murmured. “I don’t need to tell you anything. Her flame will always protect you. Even guide you while you portal.”

“Guide me?”

“Yes. Veravine was a master of her quell. You only need to ask it—and it will lead.”

It wasn’t the fire that burned first, it was his words.

Then came the heat, sharp and crawling up my arm like claws.

The portal yanked me forward, light twisting the world into a blur.

I pictured the Academy. Maybe it was her flame that carried me.

I hit the sand hard, knees first, and the fire vanished.

But I rose,no longer a cindered mess this time.

The last time I crossed this path, Archer was with me. Autumn had painted the land in gold and green. Now, frost crept over the onyx stone and swallowed the golden gates of the Serpent Academy. Even the glassy black serpent coiled atop the highest peak had lost its shine.

Even as I passed the humming six trail wards, I didn’t let myself wonder how many more bones had been buried beneath the snow, under the Crimson Wall. I didn’t look toward the Summer wards. The grief there was too fresh. But it swelled anyway, slow and brutal.

Damien was gone. And for the first time, I understood I would never see him again.

Maybe that was the part that finally broke me.

“You’re gone,” I whispered into the silence, almost expecting to hear the mocking one reply.

I didn’t make it three steps before a blue-winged griffin dropped from the clouds, landing in a gust of icy wind. Its wings folded against its broad ribs, and Lasar stepped down.

His white cape dragged across the path as he shielded his eyes with one hand, the other resting casually on the hilt of his iced blade. “I always disliked sand,” he said. “And being trapped on an island. But for the final trial of the season, I thought I’d make an appearance.”

I replied, keeping my voice light, “Well, who wouldn’t want to witness the grandest event of the season.”

“I’ll say your titling ceremony might take the prize for that one.” He eyed me. “How does it feel to be on the other side of the glass?”

I tried not to flinch. “After my titling ceremony? I’m just glad people won’t be watching me,” I said.

He scratched his white beard. “A shame your father couldn’t be here. This moment was important when my son claimed my title. People begin to believe in your worth.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Well, my father is a bit preoccupied. ”

Lasar’s breath clipped sharp through the cold. “Perhaps someone will rise to claim it today. The lindworm chooses who will slay it. Maybe it’s time for the Thorne legacy to rise.”

We walked toward the trial grounds, and I realized I hardly knew anything about the titling laws. “What do you mean it chooses?”

“All beasts possess a power that can be claimed. When a rider kills the lindworm, that creature’s strength passes to them.

It heightens their resilience. Makes their wounds hurt less.

Their power becomes stronger.” He paused.

“The power of a Serpent is unmatched. But a lindworm never chooses wrong. It knows when a bloodline is spent and when a legacy should end. I was there when it was between Victor and your mother.”

I swallowed hard. “You were there for her trial?”

Lasar nodded. “I recall the moment it came down to her and Victor. It was almost like the lindworm let her choose between them.”

“And she chose Victor?” I scoffed.

“Victor survived the land,” Lasar said simply. “Without him, Ravensla would’ve fallen decades ago.”

I looked forward, eyes fixed on the trail ahead. “My father needs an heir or North Colindale will fall.”

“And someone will win one today,” Lasar replied. Then he slowed, and something darker crossed his expression. “Try not to absorb yourself too much into the politics. This is a cruel world, Severyn and many have lost themselves along the way.”

We entered the field as a dozen Serpents filtered onto the trial grounds, followed moments later by the king himself, settling three rows up in the iron bleachers.

Bubbly white wine from Ravensla was poured into serpent-stemmed glasses and passed around like this was a celebration, not a reckoning.

It felt like Skyfall again—a death match softened by silver binoculars and polite applause.

Even the bleachers were full of cloaked civilians, some placing bets in quiet gold on who they thought would win.

It should have been Damien out there.

It might have been me.

Lasar stood beside me, sensing my unease like it was a second power.

“You must wear your emotions like a mask,” he murmured. “Don’t smile. Don’t stare too long. Stay with me if you’d like. If my son were standing where you are, I’d want someone beside him.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, breath catching. “This is… a lot.”

Truly, I felt like an imposter. Every move felt borrowed, every breath a performance for eyes I couldn’t see.

We climbed four rows up together. I sank into the cold iron seat, folding my hands neatly in my lap as if that might still their shaking.

Then a ring of light and ash burst at the edge of the field. Someone came through it, tumbling hard onto the ground. They landed flat on their back, then shifted upright, only to fall again, right on their ass.

Ellison blinked hard, then staggered to his feet with a fresh scorch mark streaked across his brow. His eyes scanned the bleachers, dazed, like the world hadn’t just watched him crash through a flame-portal like a panicked housecat.

“Severyn!” he called, far too loud for my liking.

“Oh, gods,” I muttered, lifting my serpent-stemmed glass to cover my face.

Lasar barely turned his head. “What now?”

I gestured to Ellison. “That guard won’t leave me alone.”

“ Ah . To be young.” He sipped his wine, eyes still on the field. “Would you like me to ice him?”

“No. My brother probably sent him to watch me. ”

“An alliance with the Summer realm would be wise,” he said, as if he hadn’t just offered to frost a man alive. “A marriage binding Demetria and Wrathi could save your father’s land. That is the prevailing chatter among Serpents.”

“I can’t become a marriage bid,” I hissed. “ Again. It’s too complicated.”

He glanced sideways, his expression unreadable.

“Perhaps the sun was not stripped from North Colindale because your father failed, but because Victor twisted the bargain. A barter is a barter, and Victor Lynch does not have an heir yet. Perhaps the light remained only to keep the illusion of peace.”

His words hit me like frost on bare skin. “I haven’t really thought about that bargain in a while.”

“There is still one of Victor’s sons left to claim his title.”

“No, there’s not.”

Ellison jogged up the last steps, brushing a scorched lock behind his ear. “I’m here,” he announced, slightly winded. “For your protection, obviously.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I guessed.” He shrugged. Then he deadpanned, gaze landing squarely on Lasar.

Lasar raised a brow. “Why are you glaring at me?”

“I thought you’d move,” Ellison said, gesturing to the space between us. “I was hoping to sit beside Severyn.”

“And you expected me to understand that... through a stare?”

“I was staring at the seat,” Ellison muttered.

Lasar took a long sip of wine. “And I was hoping for a trial without theatrics. Do you know who I am?”

“Right. Okay.” Ellison side-stepped to the far end of the bench. “I’ll sit on the edge like a peasant.”

Lasar gave him a long look. “Are you ill?”

“What? No. Just trying to sit down. ”

“You have curious behavior,” Lasar murmured. “You look like you were attacked by smoke and indecision.”

“Just sit beside Lasar,” I said, pressing my fingers to my temple. “You’re causing a scene.”

A beat of silence followed. Then Ellison flopped down with a huff. “I hear there’s a lindworm battle today. My bets are on the king’s granddaughter.”

But I barely heard him. My mind was still spinning.

“What did you mean earlier?” I asked Lasar. “About Victor having a potential heir? Archer failed to claim his father’s title.”

Lasar tilted his head, considering. “If I recall, the bargain your father made was to marry you to the son who claimed Victor’s throne. There is still one Lynch in line.”

“Kian gained shadows,” I said. “There’s no one left.”

He raised a gloved hand, pointing toward the field. “Damien Lynch,” he said simply. “A mind reader is bound to rise in the final trial.”

My heart stopped.

Then a hazel-eyed ghost stepped onto the grounds. Although, he was more alive than ever. I stood, breath caught in my throat. “Damien!” I shouted.

But he didn’t smile, nor did he flinch. He met my gaze like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

Then a voice slid into my mind. And it wasn’t mine this time, it was his. “You finally found me, North. I was wondering when our little game would end.”

It was Damien. He’d been the false bond all along.