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IMPOSSIBLE REUNION

ELYRIA

It was impossible.

More than impossible.

Every cell in Elyria’s body was immovable, frozen. She could barely breathe. But there he was, almost exactly as she remembered him.

Dark hair. Bronze skin. Shimmering wings of black and gold.

Next to her, Kit gasped as Evander walked out of the shadows.

Gasped, and then collapsed, right there onto the stone floor of the Sanctum, her blue and green eyes pinned to her brother as thick tears carved tracks down her brown cheeks. “H-how?”

“I was starting to worry you had given up on me, Kitty Kat,” he said, and his voice had that same smooth lilt, that same mirthful intonation Elyria had known. Had loved.

Her heart pounded, each beat slamming against her ears like the tone of a bell. She felt like she was being held underwater, suspended in time, in space. The desire to rush forward, to touch him, warred with the instinct whispering warnings in the back of her mind.

She didn’t understand, couldn’t understand.

And she wasn’t the only one.

“Who are you?” Nox’s voice wasn’t exactly accusatory, more curious, though it was still laden with something that felt like apprehension.

“What is this?” Cedric asked at nearly the same time, his voice spiking across the haze in her head like a crystal whip—clear and cutting.

“You’ve already met my sister,” Evander said, kneeling next to Kit and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She sobbed harder.

Elyria still hadn’t moved an inch, though she felt heat emanating off Cedric’s body as he stood and took a step closer to her. He was tense, suspicion radiating from him, his fingers twitching at his sides as if itching to go to the hilt of his sword.

Evander’s golden eyes flicked to Elyria, and her heart might have stopped beating. “And you’ve also met my love,” he said. “My name is Evander Ravenswing, and I’ve been waiting for you all for a very long time.”

“Tell me again.” Elyria’s voice trembled as she gazed at Evander, sitting just to her left, legs splayed wide and sucking the juice of the strawberry he’d just eaten from his thumb.

“I’ve already told you everything I remember,” he said.

“Which is why I said again , obviously.”

Evander smiled at her, and her stomach clenched. His eyes crinkled in exactly the same way. His dimple—just on the left side, not the right—emerged in exactly the same spot. And Elyria wanted—wanted so, so badly—to believe it was real.

She couldn’t. Couldn’t trust his measured expression, his controlled reactions—so perfect, it was as if they’d been crafted for just this occasion. Couldn’t trust the overwhelming feeling of relief that wanted to crest inside her. She refused to let it. Refused to think that this wasn’t some new cruel trick, some illusion of the Crucible.

Kit had no such qualms. That much was evident in the way she gazed at her brother as though he was every present she’d ever wished for and the realization of every dream she’d ever had.

Evander sighed good-naturedly, his smile unfaltering, like he was slightly exasperated but would humor her, nonetheless. It was a sigh Elyria remembered well, though she felt a kind of sharpness just under the surface. As though his reaction, this replica of the past, was a little too perfect.

“My fellow champions were felled, one by one, by the trials,” Evander said. “Ultimately, by the time we got through the Trial of Magic, only I remained. Me...and him.”

“Varyth Malchior,” Nox said, shaking their head as if it might erase the ludicrous notion. Elyria didn’t blame them. She herself had nearly laughed out loud when Evander first mentioned his name. But it was only because the infamous leader of the dreaded Cult of Malakar felt more like the villain in a children’s story than an actual person by now.

Evander’s next sigh was far less good-humored. “Yes. As I’ve said.”

“You’ll have to forgive our skepticism, Lord Ravenswing,” Cedric said dutifully, and Elyria choked on her wine upon hearing the honorific spill from the knight’s lips.

Evander turned to face Elyria. “Your human is very polite,” he said, a smirk playing on his full lips. She took a measured sip from her goblet to keep herself from scowling.

Cedric ignored the barb. “You must understand, we simply find it difficult to wrap our heads around the knowledge that Varyth Malchior not only entered the Crucible last time, but allegedly made it out? Despite the fact that none have ever managed to do the same?”

“Yes, well, what else would you expect of a descendent of the dark sorcerer himself?” Evander’s golden gaze ran down Cedric before flicking back to his face, like he was sizing him up.

A defensive prickle surged in Elyria’s chest.

“I realize how it sounds,” continued Evander. “How I might hear it, even, were our current roles reversed. But believe me, the man is real, and he certainly has not been trapped here with me all this time.”

“He is out there,” Zephyr said quietly .

“Yet the crown remains unclaimed, does it?” Thraigg added, voice gruff.

Evander nodded. “Not for his lack of trying, believe me. But it would appear the celestials understood at least one thing about the influence of Malakar’s dark magic when they crafted the Crucible.”

Cedric arched his brow. “Meaning?”

“ Meaning , it wouldn’t let him claim it. Not even after we made it to the final trial.”

“The Trial of Concord?” Kit asked eagerly.

“Yes. The final barrier standing between champion and crown.” He bounced his finger on Kit’s nose, and she beamed at him. “Malchior couldn’t best it, and I refused to help him. But with his wicked magic came wicked ways to manipulate some parts of the Crucible, enough so to break his tie to the Sanctum and escape, abandoning me here.”

“And you’ve been here this entire time?” Cedric asked, at the same time Elyria said, “And you’ve been alone all these years?”

“Yes.”

Shame spread through her like poison. Twenty-five years. He spent twenty-five years trapped in this prison, while she drowned herself in drink and between the legs of anyone who caught her eye. “Wouldn’t...” Elyria started, then bit back the words on her tongue.

“Say what you are thinking, love,” Evander encouraged, leaning toward her. “I would hope we wouldn’t start keeping secrets now.”

Cedric tangibly stiffened at Elyria’s other side. “Wouldn’t it have driven you mad?” she asked.

“I suppose I just knew that if I waited long enough, someone would come for me. I prayed to the celestials for it every day and every night. I prayed it would be you.”

Elyria’s heart cracked.

“Why have we not seen you until now?” Nox asked, again their tone filled with curiosity...and laced with something sharper.

“Dare I presume to understand the designs of the celestials?” Evander said with a chuckle. “I simply could not be seen until now.”

Well, that’s convenient. The thought crossed Elyria’s mind before she could stop it. Couldn’t stop the questions burning there, either. She didn’t get a chance to ask them, though .

“I saw you, however. I’ve been watching, waiting,” Evander continued.

Elyria’s cheeks heated. She didn’t want to know if he’d witnessed the almost with Cedric in the moonlight, or the many moments shared between them since. The words felt sticky on her tongue as she said, “I had no idea. I thought you were lost.”

Evander placed his large hand over hers on the table and she seized. “That’s a shame. I was hoping you would know there’s nothing in this world or the next that could have kept me from you forever.”

Several heartbeats of thick silence passed. Elyria’s heart was suddenly beating too fast. She stared at their hands, Evander’s heavy atop her own. His eyes flicked to her shoulders, almost as if he was looking for the wings she hadn’t even considered uncloaking. She couldn’t. Not with the familiarity and foreignness of him at war in her heart.

She wanted to grab hold of his hand and keep it tucked in hers forever. She wanted to fling it off her. Her body split the difference by tensing so tightly, she was sure she was the one who would combust this time. She didn’t know how to process his presence—his return—on top of everything else.

Cedric’s arm brushed against Elyria’s, the reminder of him calming her, grounding her. Her shadows buzzed, the tug in her chest pulling the slightest bit, even as she noted the way Cedric’s gaze flicked from her to Evander to their hands on the table.

“So, now what?” Thraigg finally asked, a welcome interruption to her spinning thoughts. “Where do we go from here?”

Evander cocked his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

“He means, we don’t know what we’re supposed to do now,” Kit said, shaking her head. “The Arbiter has not issued any instruction since before the last trial. We don’t have any idea what the Trial of Concord entails.”

Evander paused. “I see,” he said simply, though there was something in his voice as he spoke the words that set Elyria on edge.

“But don’t worry, brother.” Kit jumped to her feet. “We’re here now. We’re together, and we will not stop until we are all free of this place. Fuck the crown. If Varyth Malchior was able to escape this place without winning it, we can too. It was never my reason for coming here anyway.”

Evander hummed thoughtfully before releasing Elyria’s hand. He pushed his chair back and stood, clasping his hands casually behind his neck.

Elyria’s faculties returned the instant he broke contact. She flexed her hand as she drew it back to her chest, an instinctive kind of retreat. Well, perhaps that wasn’t the whole truth. If she’d been following her instincts, if she listened to the call of her shadows, she would have grabbed Cedric’s hand instead.

Evander pressed his lips together into a tight line as he watched her. Like he knew.

Eager for distraction, she was quick to say, “You’ve been here before.” Been here all along , added her guilt. “Do you know what to do?”

Evander’s dark brow furrowed. “I fear I do.” He paced back and forth behind Kit and Elyria, as if in deliberation. But beyond the thoughtful crease on his forehead, the purse of his lips, there was a predatory grace to his movements that sent a chill up Elyria’s spine.

“You fear? What does that mean? What needs to happen next?”

His golden eyes locked on hers, and in that heartbeat, her world spun on its axis. Because there was nothing warm or jovial or kind in those eyes. Nothing familiar, only cool calculation and icy resolve.

It paralyzed her. So much so that her legs remained rooted to the floor, her voice trapped in her chest when Evander came to a stop right behind Kit and said, “Someone needs to die.”

And then it happened—too fast, too sudden.

A flash of darksteel.

A soft gasp.

Time froze.

Then, all at once, it resumed in a clangor of screams and shouts and cries, none of which were louder than Elyria’s as she stared at the deep crimson stain blooming across Kit’s chest.

And the bloody blade Evander had just thrust into his sister’s back.