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FOR ALL OF US

ELYRIA

Her skin was like the sky.

She couldn’t possibly have been a physical, tangible being. Not with the way the expanse of endless night swirled where her skin should be, constellations twinkling across the bridge of her nose, nebulas swirling in her eyes. But Elyria remembered the firm grasp from below those billowing robes when the Arbiter—when Aurelia —grabbed her in Castle Lumin.

She was real.

And she was here.

Her hair—if you could call it that—rippled as the celestial inclined her head at the champions. A greeting, an acknowledgment. Waves of color—violet, green, pink, cerulean—flowed from the crown of her head in an ethereal mass, each strand shimmering as though spun from light itself.

Aurelia’s eyes glinted, the white glow of dying stars bursting at the center of each iris as they drifted from champion to champion. They lingered on each of them for just a moment before finally settling on Elyria, whose breath caught in her throat under that heavy, nebulous gaze.

“I sense surprise,” she said, her layered voice dulcet, more harmonious than it sounded before. It was a jarring experience, Elyria decided, to see those lips move in sync with the kaleidoscopic voice she had come to expect to hear only in her head. “I sense apprehension. Fear. Guilt. Grief.”

“Are you surprised about that? After everything you’ve put us through?” Elyria blurted out.

Thraigg, Zephyr, and Cedric released a collective gasp. It was then that Elyria realized the three of them had planted one knee on the ground, their heads bowed in veneration before the banished star god.

Nox, on the other hand, had their feet propped up on the table in front of them, thoroughly unbothered by the primordial being in their midst. Rather, they surveyed the scene with that same air of amusement they typically bore, like they had a ringside seat at a rather entertaining show.

Figuring she was already knee-deep in smiting territory, Elyria continued. “And you ‘sense’ it? Shouldn’t you, you know, know ? You are a celestial.” She couldn’t help the note of betrayal that played in between her words. She felt as though she’d been duped. Used. Like her choice to enter the Crucible was never a choice at all, not with this all-powerful being pulling the strings.

Aurelia smiled wanly, something like sadness sitting at the corners of her starlit lips. “I am. Or...I was. I am diminished. So long as my powers and presence remain tied to this place.”

The darkened tone at the end of her sentence made it clear that was as much of an answer as Elyria was going to get, and she couldn’t blame her for it. She supposed her questions were rather rude. Bordering on blasphemous. But after three trials and a week that felt nearly as long as the twenty-five years that preceded it, she had met her quota for caring.

“What are we to do now, then?” she asked .

The celestial smiled at Cedric, Zephyr, and Thraigg, still genuflected before her. “Please rise.”

Thraigg’s hammer clinked against the floor as he stood, his good arm wrapped around the handle, leaning into it, letting it take his weight like a crutch. Elyria found herself wishing she still had her staff so she could do the same.

She looked at Aurelia with an expectancy that a more devout person might have considered downright sinful. “Well? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Now you take on the Trial of Concord.” Aurelia swiveled on the spot, her robes billowing in a wide arc. She gestured toward the row of doors behind her. The center one began glowing with an all-too-familiar silvery light. “You finish this.”

Thraigg and Zephyr exchanged a nervous glance, the latter’s eyes darting to Kit’s fevered form, still unconscious. The reminder caused Elyria’s insides to ice over.

“Now? What about her?” She pointed at Kit, then to the three other injured champions. “What about all of them?”

Zephyr’s face paled. Thraigg shifted, as if trying to hide the sling holstering his injured arm from view. And despite an attitude that might have suggested otherwise, Nox’s bandage was weeping, and a sheen of sweat clung to their indigo skin.

“They are in no shape to tackle another trial yet. Our magic is spent, and they need to heal . What happened to all that grace given during the earlier trials to rest, to recover, to recuperate?” Elyria glanced in Cedric’s direction, halfway expecting to see he’d succumbed to some unseen injury himself. But despite the literal hell his body had gone through over the past few days, he was the only one other than Elyria who seemed unimpaired.

“I am sorry for the losses you have suffered and the wounds you have sustained, but I fear there is little time left. What happened...” A stricken look overtook her cosmic features. “It is evident there are forces at work here we did not anticipate.”

Cedric cleared his throat. “With all due respect, are we to understand that you did not know Varyth Malchior escaped the last Crucible? That he left someone behind”—his eyes flitted to Elyria—“ to manipulate events, to enact his own designs? How can that be?”

The celestial was silent for several long moments. When she spoke again, her multifaceted voice was low. “Even before my banishment, in the height of my prime, I was never omniscient. Neither I nor my sisters and brother can know precisely what mortals feel, what you think, what you’ve done or what you’ll do, at any given time. We might watch the occasional person more closely, track figures of particular interest, plant seeds of foresight or prophecy. But our role has always been simply to provide the means for?—”

“Then what’s the point of you?” Elyria said, and Zephyr gasped again. Elyria ignored her. “How can you have the power to do all this”—she gestured broadly in the air—“yet be caught unaware when dark magic infiltrates the very game you created?”

Aurelia had the decency to look chagrined. “Make no mistake, this is no game. When the crown was shattered, I knew the mistake I made was very grave indeed. Not that I regret my desire to restore balance, but I do regret the manner in which I chose to do so. The power I granted.”

“Because of Malakar?” Cedric asked.

Aurelia nodded, her starry face solemn. “Yes. If only I did possess the power of foresight. Maybe then I could have known what would happen. What my attempts at balance would cost Arcanis.”

“If balance is what you sought, why create the peoples of Arcanis with such an imbalance of power in the first place?”

Nox leaned forward in their chair. “Who says she is the one who created them at all?”

Aurelia’s eyes flashed at the nocterrian’s words. “The Crucible was designed to repair the flaws in an already flawed system, the cracks of which were only widened by my interference. My siblings agreed to help me restore the glory of Arcanis in a way that could draw out only the truly worthy, someone strong enough not only to wield power, to reign with truth and justice, but one who would be able to resist its darkest temptations upon their success. One to herald in the dawn, one to bring a new day.”

Cedric inhaled sharply, his eyes going glassy. “The prophecy.”

Aurelia nodded. “Granted to Arcanian oracle and human seer alike, in the hopes that one day, the worthy would be called, their path forged through strife and unity, to lead them to the crown.”

Elyria bit the inside of her lip, trying to remember the lines of the prophecy. And despite the celestial’s protestations of not being able to read minds, it seemed like Aurelia knew exactly what Elyria was thinking when she began her recitation, her many voices sliding together like silk.

“In the twilight of Arcanis’ strife, long past a luminous fall,

Visions pierce the veil of time, foretelling the stars’ plan for all.

A shattered crown shall be united, a sundered land restored.

A severed people shall be made whole or fall to darkness once more.

From shadow and fire, champions rise, forged in the Crucible of fate.

Strength, spirit, magic, and concord test the trials beyond the Gate.

From bitterest rivals to heartbreaking ends, two bloods shall find their way.

Through sacrifice, darkness, and friendship betrayed, as dawn brings a new day.

So will they reclaim the One True Crown, wielding its terrible might.

A choice will be offered, an offer then made: Heal the realm or cast it into night.”

The celestial exhaled, a sigh of the ages, and it was as if a great weight lifted from her shoulders when she finished speaking the words. Elyria’s chest deflated, as if the prophecy pulled the air from her lungs. She glanced around, taking in the reverent bow of Thraigg’s head, the wetness glistening between the lashes of Zephyr’s closed eyes. Even Tenebris Nox had wiped the mirth from their expression, solemnity carved into the planes of their striking face.

Cedric’s brow was furrowed, the top of his upper lip curling under his nose like he smelled something noxious.

Elyria smothered her desire to grin. “What’s wrong?”

Aurelia tipped her head to the side, like she, too, was curious about his reaction.

“It’s just a bit different than the version I was taught,” he said, his eyes not meeting the celestial’s.

Elyria snorted. “I didn’t even remember half those verses existed, so I think you’re in good company, Sir Fretful.”

“It is understandable that some parts might have been altered or lost in translation,” Aurelia said .

Elyria’s amusement at the knight’s reaction was swept away as she considered the prophecy, the difference between his version and the one she’d just heard. Words she’d been fretting about for days now.

Through sacrifice, darkness, and friendship betrayed . . .

“Well, I suppose if there were any doubts as to the veracity of this version, they can be laid to rest. I don’t believe the lines you recited for me, Sir Scholar, included that part about ‘friendship betrayed,’ and yet...” Elyria cast a long look at a still-unconscious Kit, then thought about the line that preceded it.

From bitterest rivals to heartbreaking ends, two bloods shall find their way.

Evander had broken Kit’s heart—and her own—with his betrayal. Hopefully that meant they were well on their way to seeing the end of this damn prophecy come to fruition. Granted, Elyria cared little for the “One True Crown” and its “terrible might.” All she wanted was to leave this stars-damned Sanctum with Kit and move on. Let the rest of the kingdom worry about healing the realm. All she cared about was healing her friend—her sister.

That was what she told herself, at any rate.

Elyria faced the celestial. “Will they be safe here?” She looked pointedly from Kit to Zephyr to Thraigg to Nox. In the light of all they’d endured in the Crucible, one part of the prophecy was patently clear: two bloods, two people, were needed to earn the crown. This must have been why the Arbiter—why Aurelia— had urged them toward unity from the beginning. Two had to be deemed worthy.

You are the only one among them who is worthy.

Despite Evander’s words, or perhaps because of them, Elyria wasn’t entirely convinced that she was. But she couldn’t let that stop her from trying.

“No further harm will befall them,” said Aurelia, her many voices aligned in solemnity. “I swear it.”

Elyria worried her bottom lip between her teeth, still hesitant.

“It has to be you two, Elle,” Zephyr said, voice quiet. She slipped a green hand into Elyria’s unbandaged one, then did the same to Cedric. “Take this to the end. For all of us.”

“Aye,” said Thraigg, exhaustion evident in the way he leaned heavily on his hammer. “We’ll keep an eye on Kit. Ye just focus on workin’ yer magic like ye have all along, eh?”

“Claim the crown, Revenant,” added Nox, another flash of fang appearing as they grinned at Elyria. “After all, you’ve already been through the first three quarters of hell at this point. What’s one more?”

The corners of Elyria’s eyes burned as Zephyr drew their hands together, placing Elyria’s in Cedric’s before stepping back. Bolstering warmth flowed into Elyria from the contact, hot resolve surging from the place their skin met.

That tug in her chest pulsed.

She squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back, looking at their linked hands with an expression that danced on the line between surprise and affection. And maybe she imagined it, but something greater than that too.

Elyria cleared her throat, slipping on her proudest, most imperious mask. “Well, this bitter rival”—she waved a hand down her front—“is quite done with wading through ‘heartbreaking ends’ and would very much like to get on with the ‘bring the dawn,’ portion of the show.” She met Cedric’s eye—that ring of gold in his bold brown eyes burning into her own. “Think our two bloods will do, Ric?”

She thought his eyes might’ve widened at her use of his nickname, but he did little more than grunt his assent, reaching for his sword before Aurelia cut him off with a gentle click of her tongue.

“You won’t be needing that,” she said, before gesturing toward the shimmering door.

Elyria gave the celestial a quizzical look but did not protest, putting down the dagger sheaths she had begun to strap to her thighs.

Aurelia’s voice carried through the chamber like a dozen whispers on a soft wind as she went on to say, “Come, champions. The crown awaits.”