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14

THE FIRST TRIAL

CEDRIC

The world shifted around Cedric—a vortex of light and shadow. The ground disappeared from beneath his feet, and for a moment he felt as though he would never stop falling. Then he was back on solid ground, the air thick with the heady spice of magic.

It took him a moment to get his bearings. At his back, the Gate he’d stepped through was embedded in a wall of jagged stone that reached toward a starry, aurora-filled sky. The wall stretched out on both sides, curving as it formed the perimeter of an enormous circular arena.

The loamy scent of earth filled Cedric’s nostrils. Under his feet, the ground was uneven—a mix of packed soil and soft, slippery clay. The aurora overhead illuminated towering mounds of earth and craggy rock formations that jutted up from the ground at irregular intervals. Leafless trees, thickets of barbed bushes, and dark, yawning caverns dotted the terrain.

Cedric squinted. At the far end of the bleak landscape in front of him, he could make out a glowing archway. It did not look entirely dissimilar to the Gate he’d just come through, but he knew that it was different. Knew, somehow, that it was important. That no matter what this trial threw at him, no matter what happened next, he needed to make it to this new archway.

And, apparently, he would be doing so alone. Not a single one of his fellow champions was anywhere in sight. Had they truly been so quick to fly into the arena? Taken off immediately? Or had the Gate dropped each champion in a different place? Either way, so much for the Arbiter’s claims that they needed to work together.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Cedric took his first steps into the arena. He made it fewer than twenty paces when a feral snarl echoed out from a nearby cavern. He whipped his head toward the sound, his hand immediately moving to his sword.

He heard it before he saw it. Claws scraping against rock. A rattling breath, as if it were holding in a growl. The swish, swish, swish of a tail cutting through the dark.

And then it emerged into the light of the shimmering aurora, and Cedric saw the face of death.

Pitch-black skin stretched tight over a skeletal face. Eyes like red embers, burning with predatory focus. Streaks of white ran down each side of its back. It stalked forward on all fours, razor-sharp talons protruding from each paw. And there, at the tip of its scaly tail, a scythe-like barb larger than Cedric’s hand.

It suddenly became all too clear what the purpose of this trial was. This was an arena of death.

The beast prowled toward Cedric, its lip curling up over fangs that dripped with something black and viscous. His sword securely clutched in one hand, Cedric wrapped his other hand around his mana token protectively. He hadn’t wanted to risk draining his token this early, but neither had he thought he’d be facing down a creature from the fourth quarter of hell within the first five minutes of entering the Crucible.

Maybe Elyria hadn’t been completely wrong in trying to prevent Kit from entering. If there was someone Cedric cared about—or had been charged with protecting, as seemed to be the case for the two fae—he certainly wouldn’t have wanted them facing this.

And he especially wouldn’t have wanted them facing it without the use of their magic, something Cedric realized with a spike of alarm that he would be doing. A lightning-quick glance at his token showed there was still mana inside. The emerald embedded in the stone still glowed.

He just couldn’t reach it. Couldn’t touch it.

Cedric swore he heard the creature huff in amusement as the realization sunk in.

He couldn’t use magic here.

The beast was little more than a blur of shadow as it lunged. Cedric lifted his sword, swinging it in a wide arc that connected with the beast’s leathery hide. It fell to the side with a yowl of pain but scrambled back to its feet a moment later, its ember eyes narrowed. Cedric set his feet in a defensive stance, the tip of his sword pointed at the thrumming vein in the beast’s neck.

The creature pounced.

Knife-tipped claws collided with Cedric’s sword, knocking it from his grasp. The force of the blow sent him sprawling backward. He landed on his back. A pained grunt was forced from his lungs as the beast’s heavy paws pressed on his chest plate, pinning him with crushing force. Its nails screeched against Cedric’s armor. Rancid breath washed over him as the monster leaned closer, fangs bared.

Disbelief surged through Cedric’s mind. He refused to believe this was how it would end. His fingers fumbled at his side, blindly searching for the dagger sheathed at his waist. Finally, they brushed against the cool metal of the hilt. A flicker of triumph ignited in Cedric’s chest...

Just as the creature collapsed onto him. And did not move again.

Groaning, Cedric rocked under the monster’s crushing weight until he got enough momentum to roll the body off himself. His brows shot up when he realized someone else’s sword was buried in its side. A pair of worn black boots stepped into the periphery of Cedric’s vision. He followed them up, taking in their owner’s crimson skin, a leather cuirass that was slightly too large, and finally the pair of short horns, half-hidden under sleek black hair .

One of the nocterrian champions, Dissidua Pyr.

“You have my gratitude.” Panting, Cedric rose to his feet, his eyes pinned on the fallen beast as he retrieved his sword. He turned to Dissidua, his hand extended in thanks.

The nocterrian eyed Cedric’s hand as they used the creature’s lifeless body to wipe black blood from their blade. “Keep it.”

Cedric barely had time to react before Dissidua’s blade was slicing down at him. He threw his own sword up just in time to block the blow. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like, human?”

Cedric gritted his teeth as he threw his weight into his sword and pushed Dissidua back. So much for unity. That didn’t take long.

The nocterrian released an irritated noise as they spun their sword back toward Cedric in another attempted strike.

Prepared this time, Cedric parried it easily. “I am not your enemy in here.”

“You are my enemy everywhere.”

Another strike, another clash of steel on steel. Only now the nocterrian suddenly had a long dagger in their other hand, crossing it with their sword to form an X as they bore down on Cedric. Cedric cursed as he felt his knee quiver. He was still recovering from being crushed by that beast. But he knew if he let Dissidua get him on his knees, it was over.

Mustering his remaining scraps of strength, Cedric dug his heel into the dirt and shoved. Dissidua was forced to retreat several steps.

The reprieve could barely be called as much. Mere seconds passed before Dissidua was launching themself at Cedric again, fast, vicious—a wolf lunging for its prey.

Cedric blocked one relentless blow after another, muscles screaming in protest. “Why are you doing this? You save me just to kill me? This is madness!” he shouted.

Dissidua’s crimson lips twisted into a humorless smile as they pulled back. “You misunderstand,” they said. “I didn’t save you. I took your kill. Now I get to add you to my tally and cut down another champion standing between me and the prize.”

Another? Cedric held his sword aloft, its sharp tip pointing at the nocterrian’s throat. “This isn’t that kind of competition. ”

“Isn’t it? Only one of us will walk away with the power of the crown. Do you truly expect us all to hold hands and waltz through this Crucible together ? Noctis take me, humans are even stupider than I thought.”

“Yet I am not the one picking needless fights with my fellow champions.” Cedric gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dissidua snorted, lunging forward with weapons raised, aiming for the tender flesh above Cedric’s chestplate, where his neck met his shoulder. The nocterrian’s mouth curved with what Cedric was sure was another acerbic retort poised at the tip of their tongue.

He would never find out.

A savage growl was their only warning as another blur pounced from the shadows—a second beast, slightly smaller than the first but just as fierce. Just as deadly. It sprang upon Dissidua, who screamed as its claws shredded their leather armor like it was made of paper.

Cedric hesitated for less than a heartbeat, slashing his sword down against the new beast, its leathery hide tinted green by the aurora’s light. Despite everything, he couldn’t just leave the nocterrian to die.

The beast’s roar was bloodcurdling as Cedric’s sword connected, its barbed tail thrashing, eyes wild as it looked for the source of its pain. It twisted as it leapt into the air, landing deftly to Cedric’s left. He readied himself to take another swing at the creature, but with a howl, it loped off.

The air was laced with the scent and taste of copper as Cedric sucked in several panting breaths. A nauseating gurgle filled the air. He looked down at the prone body of Dissidua Pyr, their hands clutching at their throat, torn open and gushing a river of maroon. The nocterrian’s eyes were pinned open in fear and pain as they exhaled a final, wet breath.

Cedric sheathed his sword, hands shaking. His heart beat a thunderous tempo behind his armor.

It was so needless. If Dissidua hadn’t wasted their time fighting Cedric, they never would have been caught off guard by the second creature. It’s not as though Cedric liked the Arbiter’s pronouncement. He didn’t relish the concept of being forced to work with the Arcanians any more than the next champion. But he certainly didn’t see the point in killing each other, either.

Not when it was clear the Crucible would do that for them.

A high-pitched scream rent the air. Cedric raced down a sloping dirt hill toward the source of the sound, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He didn’t think he was too far from the archway now, but he couldn’t ignore the sound of distress.

Pushing through a thicket of thorny bushes, he burst into a small clearing with a rocky spire jutting out from its center and found himself staring at a pack of truly gruesome creatures.

Smaller than the lethal monsters he had initially encountered, the nightmarish makeup of these new beasts caused Cedric’s stomach to turn. They looked as if whatever malevolent magic had created them had gone wrong. Four black eyes peered out from flat faces—their features were squished, as if someone had smashed them in. Six thin, spindly legs jutted out from squat, scaly bodies. Tiny wings protruded from their backs, twisted and mangled, though he doubted very much that they could fly.

A good thing, Cedric supposed, as his gaze drifted up the spire and locked onto the petite sylvan woman hanging from it.

Zephyr had surprised everyone when she strode forward to claim her place in the Crucible. From what Cedric knew, sylvans weren’t well-regarded for their fighting prowess, nor did they seem to carry a predilection toward violence at all. They were better known for their propensity for curative magic and herbalism. Healers and apothecaries. Not fighters.

Something that seemed to hold true as Cedric observed the sylvan, panting as she desperately clung to the column, her gaze never leaving the beasts below. There were half a dozen of them, all leaping and crawling over one another in an attempt to get to her.

Zephyr kept one arm wrapped around the stone pillar as she balanced on a small ledge. Her other hand was pressed to her leg, trying to staunch the flow of viscous green blood from a wound below her knee. A glint of light reflected off a dagger on the ground nearby—she was disarmed.

I could leave her , he thought. There was nothing that said he had to help, had to rush to aid this person who had gotten so far in over her head, she was but a heartbeat away from failure. She was a champion—a challenger, a rival. More than that, she was an Arcanian. He could very well leave the sylvan to her fate and go on as though he’d never seen a thing. It was what Lord Church would expect of him.

Nobody would know.

Except . . . he would.

And hadn’t he come just as close to being wiped from the Crucible due to an unexpected encounter with some cruel, netherworldly beast? If Dissidua had not turned around and immediately tried to kill him themself...Perhaps this was a blessing from Aurelia, another chance for Cedric to secure an ally.

Zephyr whimpered, her grip on the stone pillar slipping. Cedric let out a long sigh. Pushing past his hesitation, he charged forward, his sword slashing into the first creature he could reach. It cut easily through the beast’s scaly skin, severing bone and sinew. Dead in an instant.

It took a moment for the remaining five beasts to realize that they were under attack. Cedric took advantage of their confusion, withdrawing several paces. By the time the beasts noticed their slain pack member, he’d managed to back up a fair amount.

Two of the creatures turned, scuttling on those disturbing, spider-like legs to close the distance between themselves and Cedric. Lips peeled back over sharp fangs as one of the beasts leapt forward.

Cedric spun to the right. The creature yelped as it flew past him, uncontrolled. It slammed into a row of thorny bushes, immediately getting tangled in the sharp brambles.

“Ha!” Cedric released a triumphant laugh.

It was premature.

Pain erupted at his back as the second beast slashed at a gap in his armor. That was how Cedric learned that a massive, hooked claw was attached to the end of each spindly leg. Gritting his teeth against his stinging back, he slashed out and neatly hacked two of those legs off the nearest beast.

The noises that came from the creature were...unsettling. Even as the wounded beast scuttled away, leaving a trail of black blood in its wake, the other three converged on Cedric—as if their brethren’s screeches were a rallying cry. A din of shrieks and growls echoed in the distance. Cedric groaned. The last thing he needed was more of these things coming for them.

With Cedric’s attention split between the creatures prowling at his front and the feral cacophony—still distant but growing closer much too quickly for his liking—he didn’t notice when one of the remaining three beasts moved out of sight. Didn’t notice when it stalked behind him. Didn’t notice it rearing up on its back four legs until it was nearly face-height.

He didn’t notice. Not until he felt the creature’s hot, rank breath on the back of his neck.

Cedric spun, bringing his sword up just in time to defend against its razor-taloned front legs. But the quarters were too close, and Cedric couldn’t get the leverage he needed to push the creature back. All he could do was brace the edge of his sword against the beast’s claws, keeping himself just out of reach of its snapping jaw.

Sweat rained from Cedric’s brow and his muscles tensed with effort as he held, held, held?—

And then the creature was collapsing in on itself, its legs curving inward as it crumpled to the ground. A crown of closely shorn hair, green as the forest, popped up from behind the beast’s body.

“Behind you!” Zephyr yelled, plucking her dagger from the dead beast’s ribs.

Cedric whirled, his sword plunging forward into the abdomen of another creature. It died with a pitiful whine. But when Cedric tried to pull his weapon back out, it was stuck.

The final beast was on top of him instantly, fangs bared, its many beady eyes pinned to Cedric’s throat. Time stretched, a miniature eternity as the knight evaluated his options. Then, the creature was rearing back, readying itself to leap, to bite, to kill.

Cedric swung into action.

Abandoning his sword, he dropped to his knees, spinning as he swiped the dagger from his waist and thrust it upward, just as something whistled past his ear.

Zephyr’s thrown dagger sank into the creature’s forehead, Cedric’s own weapon piercing its ribs at the same time. It never even got the chance to howl .

For a few excruciating moments, neither Cedric nor Zephyr moved. Their breaths were ragged, heavy, but they remained still as they took in the carnage around them. Hot, black blood soaked Cedric’s hand, still clutching the hilt of the dagger buried deep in the creature’s chest.

And then Zephyr was standing on shaking legs, offering a hand to him. “Thank you.”

Her voice was high and bright, even as she gasped and panted, attempting to catch her breath. It made her sound very young, though Cedric knew that meant nothing. She could be a girl, or she could be older than Cedric’s great-grandparents. It was impossible to tell when it came to Arcanians.

“Thought I was done for,” she said.

There was a wet squelch as Cedric pulled his dagger out of the dead monster. He used his other, slightly-less-bloody, hand to retrieve Zephyr’s from between the creature’s eyes. “I could say the same,” he said as he handed the weapon back to her. “Loathe though I am to admit it, I was in a bit over my head at the end there.”

“You wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t had to help me fight off those gnarlings,” argued the sylvan, her lower lip sticking out in a pout.

Against all logic, Cedric found one side of his mouth curving up in a grin. “Gnarlings?”

Zephyr pointed her dagger at the fallen creature before tucking it into the sheath at her hip. “That’s what we call them back in Verdentia, anyway. I’ve never seen one outside the forests there myself, but...” She shrugged.

“Gnarlings,” Cedric said again, testing the word. He gave a casual wave of his hand. “Well, I’ve learned something new. Let us call it even.”

One side of her mouth tipped up in a small grin. “Do you think more of them will come?”

Cedric paused, listened. “I do not know,” he admitted. “But the growling seems to have faded.”

“Two of them got away.” Her gaze fell to the weeping trail of black blood that carved a path away from the clearing.

“Perhaps they warned off their brethren.”

Her grin widened. “Understandable. We are quite the formidable pair.”

The corner of Cedric’s lip quirked. “Indeed. Regardless, I would rather not find out if more of those things are on their way. We should move on.”

Zephyr hesitated. “You—you would have us move on . . . together?”

Cedric appraised the petite champion. She would hardly have been his first choice as an ally. Too small and too weak to fight off beast and brute, especially given the distinct lack of magic usage in here. He supposed he had to give her credit for being quick enough to outrun the gnarlings, at least. Glancing at the beast she’d felled, he had to admit her aim with that dagger wasn’t too bad either. And though she could easily have run away the moment Cedric drew the gnarlings’ attention, she had chosen to stay and fight—a sign of grit and determination that Cedric found...admirable.

Plus, there was something vulnerable in the way she asked that pulled at Cedric’s heartstrings.

You’re so fucking soft. Once again, Cedric could hear Tristan’s voice ring in his ears. His friend was always on his case about his bleeding heart.

Cedric cleared his throat. “I will admit, you are the first sylvan I have ever met,” he said. “But as you did not take the opportunity to plunge that dagger of yours into my back at the first chance, I think we will get along just fine. And is that not what the Arbiter asked of us?”

Zephyr nodded, but her face was still lined with worry. She sucked her dark green bottom lip behind her teeth. Cedric decided he’d give her a moment to consider and bent to retrieve his stuck sword from the chest cavity of the dead monster that was determined to keep it.

The motion pulled on the wound at his back. Cedric hissed his discomfort. He’d forgotten about it entirely in the adrenaline-fueled battle.

“You’re hurt!” Zephyr exclaimed.

Cedric attempted a shrug, though it only served to make the wound pulse with further pain. “So are you.”

Zephyr shook her head. “Just barely now.”

“Now?”

She pointed to her leg, where she’d wrapped the wound below her knee with some kind of botanical bandage. “Not trying to sound pompous about it, but I’ve a talent for healing minor to moderate injuries,” she said with a shrug.

Cedric touched his token. “But our magic?—”

Vials clinked as she tapped the leather belt slung around her hips. “Granted, it would be much easier if I had my powers, but in this case, they’re not strictly necessary. May I take a look?”

“Fine, but not here. Let’s find somewhere less...”

“Carnage-y?” Zephyr offered.

Cedric huffed a laugh. “Yes. Carnage-y. Precisely the word I would have chosen.”