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OBSIDIAN

ELYRIA

“Well, at least we can feel relatively confident we’ve made it to the end of the trial.” Kit flourished her hands at the gate laying across the fiery lake. Heat rose in tangible ripples, melding into the darkening sky overhead. The ground beneath their feet sloped down, a rocky shore that met the molten fire. Flames leapt and danced over the lake’s surface, swirling around what looked like a small island of glossy black stone roughly halfway across.

“Figures we go through all of that”—Cyren waved an arm back toward the labyrinth tunnel—“only to find yet another stars-damned gate instead of an actual prize.” He dabbed at the beads of sweat running down the sides of his face, then swept long strands of cobalt hair off his neck and fixed it in a bun high atop his head.

“Maybe the crown is just beyond?” Kit suggested.

“Ever the optimist,” Elyria said, squinting against the orange glow coming off the lake. Beside her, Gael’s head was tilted down as she stared at the flames licking the shoreline.

The heat was oppressive—a feverish wall. But it was also the one thing standing between them and the exit. And Elyria was more than ready to leave everything that had happened during this trial behind.

“Gael?” Elyria asked. She had little more than a foolish hope that Gael—now a ghost of the fiery fae she’d once been—might be able to help. Elyria asked anyway.

Gael didn’t respond.

Cyren bent low, whispering in Gael’s ear, urging her to help, to react, to say or do anything.

She just kept staring into the fire.

“All right, so our resident flamecaller is not an option at the moment,” Elyria said, wishing the brightness she forced into her voice would cover the sour taste at the back of her throat. “Anyone have an idea for how we get from here”—she gestured at the ground, then pointed to the gate across the fiery lake—“to there without her?”

“Can’t you shadowstep us over there?” Cedric asked Nox.

“Sadly, I cannot,” replied the nocterrian, not really sounding all that sad about it. “It’s too far to make it in one step. I’m not powerful enough.”

Their crimson eyes landed on Elyria at the last part of their sentence. She avoided their gaze.

Cedric stepped closer to the edge of the shore. “So, we aim for the island in the middle first, then.”

“If it’s made of what I think it is, that would be even worse,” Nox said.

Cedric’s brows drew together. “Why’s that?”

Zephyr drew in a fast breath. “Ob-obsidian.”

“And that matters because . . . ?”

“Gaia’s tits, boyo,” Thraigg muttered. “Yer mystical tutelage is a bit lacking, innit?”

Elyria bit back a laugh at the truth in those words. Hadn’t she thought as much before they’d entered the labyrinth? Whoever was responsible for Cedric’s magical training seems like they’d been awfully selective.

“Arcanian obsidian has powerful properties,” she told him. “Essentially heatproof. Spectacularly malleable, if you know how to work it.”

Thraigg released a grunt of affirmation. “My people have crafted many fine blades and even finer pieces of armor from obsidian.”

“But it’s also known to have rather . . . temperamental . . . reactions to magic. Though its impact is, blessedly, limited,” Elyria continued.

“To shadow magic, specifically,” Nox added.

Cedric’s brown eyes widened. “So, shadowstepping to the island might mean...”

A gravelly noise emerged from the back of Thraigg’s throat, and he spread his fingers wide, throwing both hands outward in an exaggerated burst—an imaginary explosion. He wiggled his fingers in the air as he lowered his palms, mimicking scattering debris. “Exactly.”

Cedric’s throat bobbed. “We find another way to get across, then.”

“Brilliant,” Elyria said. “Why didn’t anyone else think of that?”

Cedric’s face scrunched with irritation, and she hid the grin that threatened to emerge.

“It’s just, how exactly do you propose we do that? We still can’t fly.” Elyria flared her wings to make her point before she cursed inwardly at her insensitivity. Luckily—or perhaps concerningly—Gael didn’t seem like she was even listening. Elyria quickly cloaked her wings anyway, then turned to face Kit. “An ice bridge, maybe?”

“Sounds like the knightling here isn’t the only one who needs a magical refresher,” said Kit.

“Not even in magic,” grumbled Nox. “Just physics.”

Elyria resisted the urge to toss obscenities at the nocterrian.

“Opposing elements, Ellie,” Kit continued. “Even if I could conjure enough ice to cover the expanse—already an impossible task, mind you—it would melt before we made it halfway.”

“And even if we were to make it there, how do you suggest we do so without melting ourselves?” Nox added, wiping their hand across their sweat-drenched brow as if to make their point.

“What about a mist?” Cedric asked. “A fog—just enough water in the air to cool it slightly, and just enough of it to cover us while we cross.”

Elyria sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “To what end? Wouldn’t it also evaporate in seconds? ”

“Not if Cyren disperses some of the heat at the same time,” he said. “You can do that, right?”

Cyren glanced up from where he was still whispering pleadingly in Gael’s ear. “What?”

“Can you use your wind magic to keep the air moving? Help disperse the heat while we cross?”

“I...Yes, I think so. I’ll have to be careful not to fan the flames instead.” He rocked his head from side to side, weighing his options. “But if I balance depriving the fire of oxygen while circulating the air around us...it might work. I might be able to lower the temperature by a few degrees if we work together.”

Zephyr cleared her throat. “This still doesn’t solve the issue of how we’re supposed to walk across a sea of flames though.”

“True, not all of us are fireproof.” Elyria dared a small glance at Gael while the other champions continued discussing possible strategies. The flamecaller’s gaze had roamed to the island in the midst of the lake, the shiny black stone reflecting the flickering flames.

A thought struck Elyria. She let her consciousness drift down, sinking into the ground searching through thick layers of sand and rock and sediment until she hit something cold, sharp. Dangerous.

Her eyes snapped open. “Thraigg,” she said, interrupting Cedric mid-sentence and relishing the pinprick of satisfaction that brought her. “Can you sense whatever is below the fire? The material that lies at the bottom of this lake?”

The dwarf knelt, placing his hands on either side of his bent leg. “Mmm,” he started, eyes closed, head tilting from side to side as if trying to obtain some kind of magical equilibrium. “Yep. Obsidian,” he said, standing back up after a few moments. “Sheets of it, from what I can tell. Same stuff making up that bit in the middle.”

Elyria nodded at the confirmation, her lip finding its way between her teeth once more. It wasn’t ideal, but it’s not as though they had many options at this point. “Okay. I can work with that.”

Kit’s eyes widened as the realization of what Elyria was about to attempt sunk in. “Ellie, are you sure you can?—”

“Yes,” Elyria said, cutting Kit off.

“Can what?” Cedric asked, eyes darting between them .

“But won’t it?—”

“Maybe,” Elyria replied, again not giving Kit time to voice her concern. “But I don’t see many other options.”

“What were you going to say?” Cedric asked, his voice growing louder, sterner. “Won’t it what?”

“Won’t it be dangerous for her,” Nox answered on Elyria’s behalf, stepping forward. The indigo skin on their forehead was creased, and for a second Elyria thought they might genuinely be concerned.

Every cell in Cedric’s body seemed to go still. “Why would it be any more dangerous for her than the rest of us?”

“It won’t be,” Elyria said, eyes narrowing at Kit and Nox alike—a silent command to shut their mouths. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Kit said, brushing off Elyria’s glare like it was a pesky bug. She turned to Cedric. “As we said earlier, obsidian has the potential to interact with magic. There’s no way to know what kind of reaction it’ll have to being manipulated.”

“Manipulated how? Stars above, is it truly so difficult to tell me plainly what it is you’re planning?”

“Don’t trouble yourself with the details, Sir Worrywart,” Elyria said, twisting her head until her neck bones cracked in a simultaneously satisfying and revolting way. “Let us do the heavy lifting and you just worry about scurrying your handsome self across.”

Cedric’s stern expression seemed to falter for a moment at Elyria’s deliberately chosen words, but it didn’t last. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

Kit blew out a sigh. “She means to tear some of the rock from the bottom of the lake and bring it to the surface, so that we can get across. And she means to do it with her magic.”

“Yes, but with my wildshaper magic, not my shadows,” Elyria said. “Thus, your concern, while appreciated, is wholly unnecessary.”

Kit’s mismatched eyes met Elyria’s. “You know better than anyone that it’s never that simple.”

Nox stepped forward and said what Kit didn’t. “What if your shadows leak out? What if the obsidian senses it within you, regardless of whether you’re actively wielding it or not? There are too many variables, too many unknowns.”

“And we don’t have many other choices!” Elyria threw her hands in the air.

“Why can’t we just merge power again?” The ground rumbled the instant the words left Cedric’s mouth. The flames lapping at the shore jumped at the mention, and Elyria swore it was as if the Sanctum was issuing its disapproval.

Cyren barked a wary laugh. “If we’re worried about her shadows and the obsidian, what exactly do you think will happen should she be primed with the rest of our magic? Or, worse, should any of us be offered the temptation of wielding hers?”

Kit frowned as she looked Gael over, taking in the blank expression on the flamecaller’s face. “I doubt we’d be able to get this one to willingly contribute, anyway. Let alone cast as necessary to activate the merge.”

“Well then. If everyone has said their piece, mind if I get on with it?” Elyria didn’t bother hiding her annoyance as she pivoted to face the fiery lake. They’d already wasted so much time arguing about this.

“I can help.”

She felt Cedric’s presence before she heard him. Turning her head to where he now stood beside her, her eyes darted to the token hanging from his neck. The green emerald embedded within it pulsed dully. “I think it’s better if you sit this one out. Save whatever human magic you have left for when you really need it.”

Squaring her shoulders, Elyria tried to block out the heat pressing in on her from the outside, as well as the doubts crawling through her insides. It was fine. This was fine. She was fine. She could do this.

“Thraigg, tell me the best places for me to pull from,” she said.

He nodded, his thick brow creasing as he knelt once more. “Aye. Right about”—he slapped his calloused palm against the ground—“here.” The dwarf stood, brushing rocky sand from his hands. “Best start pullin’, lass.”