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A LONG WALK

CEDRIC

By the time Cedric and Elyria emerged on the other side of the door, Aurelia was nowhere to be seen. Cedric kept his hand wrapped tightly around Elyria’s, feeling exposed without the sword normally slung at his hip. He would never admit it, but he was also afraid of what might happen if he let her go. Like she might very well disappear if he did.

She held on just as tight, and for the life of him, he could not discern what she was thinking as the two of them strode forward down a long corridor. Night had fallen, and as moonlight filtered in through high windows, mixing with the flickering torches lining the walls, Cedric was hit with a powerful wave of deja vu.

The feeling deepened as Elyria began humming, a delicate melody that seemed to match the tone of the ancient magic vibrating around them. For a moment Cedric was in another corridor, under another beam of moonlight. He was perched on a bench of stone, the most mesmerizing song drifting into his ears. He was looking up and seeing her .

In the present, he glanced at their hands, still laced together, hanging between them as they walked, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls on either side of them.

“I owe you an apology.”

Cedric’s gaze flew back to Elyria’s face—her furrowed brow, the tick of her jaw. “Why? For what?”

“For many things,” she said. “For berating your indecision outside the labyrinth. For doing the same thing, for freezing, when Ev-Evander...” She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “It took me entirely too long to act, to do what needed to be done. Even after he hurt Kit like that, even while he was fighting you all, I just?—”

“I know,” Cedric said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Because he did know. He knew the paralysis that came with the knowledge that the lines one had drawn in their head might have been wrong all along. That nothing in here was as simple as it was out there. Humans versus Arcanians, past versus present. In here, it all blended together, a muddy whirlpool of rights and wrongs, of actions and wishes.

It was why he’d hesitated to act when Belien and Leona charged into the labyrinth, even after Gael was hurt.

“Betraying your own kind. Becoming a traitor . And for what? So they can steal the crown right out of your hands when you make it to the end?”

Belien’s voice rang in Cedric’s head, his final words more haunting than ever now that he was so close to said end. And to said crown—a prize he wasn’t sure he even wanted to win anymore.

“I need to thank you too.”

Cedric had been so momentarily lost in thought he hadn’t noticed that Elyria had slowed her steps, gently pulling him to stop in the middle of the corridor.

Cedric gaped at her. “Forgive me for sounding repetitive, but again I must ask, for what?”

She faced him, chewing on her lip. “For the same thing. You did not hesitate to defend us, to defend Kit. You did not falter as I did. ”

He shook his head. “Do not do yourself such a disservice as to think you did nothing. You moved in the end. You made it count.” He sighed. “In all honesty, I should have done more. I knew from the moment he appeared that something was wrong but I...”

“You what?”

He opened his mouth to say more, but at the sight of the pain swimming in her eyes, his explanation died on his tongue. She’d just been forced to kill the love of her life. For him. How could he explain he’d ignored his suspicions because he was jealous ? Everything he might have felt seemed petty and inconsequential in comparison.

If Cedric could go back in time and kill Evander before he attacked Kit, he would. He should have struck him down the moment he appeared in the chamber. Elyria would have hated him for it. Might have murdered him right where he stood in retaliation. But to prevent her from seeing what had become of the man she loved, it would have been worth it.

She stepped closer, their hands still linked, and that thread tied somewhere deep inside Cedric’s chest pulsed, a beam of light amidst the simmering fire inside.

“I should have done more,” he repeated. He tried to turn away, to face forward, to launch back into motion, but she held him back, wrapping her bandaged hand around his wrist as if she meant to pin him down.

“Don’t run,” she said, her mouth curving wryly.

That light in his chest pulsed again, the memory of their near-miss in that moonlit hallway surging forth. She remembered. She still thought about it too.

“You saved me again,” he said. “I don’t even know what to say about that at this point. I suppose I should be used to it by now.”

He didn’t let himself think too hard about what he was doing when he lifted his arm and pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her knuckles.

Her lips parted, her brow jumping up her forehead in surprise. He half-expected her to protest, to pull away—hells, to slap him. Instead, she simply swallowed hard, and Cedric couldn’t keep his gaze from following the gentle bob of her throat .

“I don’t need your thanks,” she said, the slightest tremble in her voice. “I just...I couldn’t let it happen again.”

He let their hands drop back between them, fingers still intertwined. “I know,” he said. “But you have it anyway.”

“I do believe this officially qualifies as the longest hallway in Arcanis.” Elyria huffed, blowing a lock of periwinkle hair out of her eyes. “It feels like we’ve been walking for an hour.”

“Two,” Cedric said, though if he was being honest, it hadn’t felt that long at all to him. Silence hung in the air, as it often did between them. But unlike the tension-filled droughts of sound that plagued them before, this one was comfortable, casual.

“Doesn’t it seem strange that the Trial of Concord has thus far consisted of nothing more than what equates to a nice stroll?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I’d say I’m feeling rather concordant right now.” He grinned. “And a nice stroll, eh? Is this your way of telling me you’ve been having a good time?”

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” She flashed her teeth in a teasing grimace, simultaneously squeezing his hand. “What I meant was, surely there has to be more to the Trial of Concord than this.”

“I suppose we are about to find out,” Cedric said, pointing ahead to where the winding hallway had finally straightened, revealing a large wooden door at the end.

Elyria stopped walking. “What do you think is beyond there?”

He shrugged. “Is there any point in speculating? We tackled the trials that preceded this, surely this one will be a piece of cake too.”

Elyria’s mouth popped open in protest, closing when she saw the widening of Cedric’s grin.

“Noctis take me,” she said, dropping his hand in a dramatic show of mock surprise. “Once more, the knight makes a joke. Who are you, Sir Cedric Thorne? And whatever shall I tell that lord of yours when he asks what happened to you?”

At the mention of Lord Church, Cedric’s face fell. He thought of how far he’d come—how far he’d fallen—from the “great champion” that had walked through the Gate. Cedric looked down at the black tunic draped over his armorless chest, his unguarded forearms. He didn’t know what reuniting with Lord Church once this was all over would look like, and wondered if the lord would even recognize him like this. Bare. Unarmored. Unmasked. The quiet, thrumming power of the simmering embers deep in him pulsed in his chest. Was he even capable of donning those old pieces of himself again? He didn’t think he could go back to being that same obedient, subservient knight.

Elyria must have noticed the change in Cedric’s mood, because she was quick to add, “Only joking, Your Broodiness.”

He nodded absently.

She frowned. “What will you do with the crown once we’ve claimed it?”

Cedric recognized the blatant attempt to change the subject, yet the question still caught him so off guard, he stumbled over his own feet. “What will I do with it?”

“I mean, I certainly don’t want it. All I want is for all this to be over so I can get Kit to the first healer I fly across.” She paused, as if weighing whether to say the next part aloud. “And I cannot deny that this ‘imbalance’ between our peoples would surely only grow more vast were I to present the crown to King Lachlandris. He may be a fair enough ruler, but he is still a royal. With celestial power in his hands, I cannot imagine he would do anything but make the situation in Havensreach worse.”

Cedric stared at her, the light in his chest thudding in parallel with his heart. “A few days stuck in the Crucible with me, and I’ve turned you into a human sympathizer, have I?”

She chuckled darkly. “I could say the same about you, could I not? Don’t think I missed the murderous glint in your eye when first we met in Castle Lumin, Sir Knight.”

Her tone was teasing, but the reminder of the visceral rage he’d felt upon learning of her identity as the Revenant had shame swelling in him. He wished he understood more about why he’d thought—why he’d been led to believe—for so long that she was the one responsible for the blood and fire of his past.

Cedric took a steadying breath. “Knowing what we know now, I’m not sure anyone should wield power such as this. ”

“Not even your lord? Your king?”

Traitor. Betrayer.

He swallowed. If she was being honest, he could be too. “Perhaps especially not them. Just look at what power like that does to a man—what even the desire for power like that does. I am sure Varyth Malchior painted many beautiful lies for Evander in order to sway him to his plan.”

The mention of Evander’s name had Elyria tensing, but it was a less severe reaction than Cedric expected. As if the long walk down this simple hall had helped heal some of the hurt already.

“I dread to think of what would happen should the crown fall into Malchior’s hands,” Cedric added.

Elyria bit her lip. “What of the Chasms?”

“I—I don’t know. Without access to the Midlands, the situation in Havensreach will surely grow more dire. There are too many of us for the land we possess. There is too little mana. But the risk...If only there was a way to use the crown to restore the land whilst also ensuring it never falls into the wrong hands.”

Elyria looked at him thoughtfully, her lips scrunching to one side like an off-kilter kiss, and his insides warmed. “What if there was a way to do just that?”

“Is there?”

“When we merged power outside the labyrinth, there was a moment there when I thought I could have accomplished anything .”

Something stirred in Cedric’s core at the reminder of how Elyria had looked in that moment—the sheer waves of power rolling off her, the way she’d unwoven the trial’s thorny barrier with the twitch of her fingers. Her otherworldly glow, her light pulsing in his own chest like she was made of starfyre.

He cleared his throat, the back of his neck growing hot. “I recall.”

Blessedly, she didn’t appear to notice his reaction. “Now, imagine that magic expanded tenfold—a hundredfold. With the crown, bolstered with that kind of power...I think I could fill the Chasms and bridge the realms.” She sucked in a breath. “After which, we would get rid of it—hide it, bury it, destroy it. Anything. Everything.”

“So that nobody ever has the opportunity to abuse its power again.” Awe and respect and something else wove through Cedric’s words.

“Yes. Is that crazy?”

“No,” he said, eyes wide. “I don’t find that crazy at all. After all, it was with the crown that Queen Daephinia was able to sunder the land in the first place, was it not?”

Elyria grew quiet for several long moments. So long, that Cedric felt that thread of light in his chest pulling him toward her, pushing him to reach for her. To ensure she was all right, that she was safe, that she was real. But he knew if he did, if he touched her again now, the fragile control he was holding onto would snap.

By the stars, how he wanted it to snap.

“Would you trust me to do it?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, unsure. Like she was afraid of his answer. It squeezed at his heart, and for a second, he was back in the second trial, in that dark place Elyria had found him.

“How do I know you are real?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t even know if I’m real. But even if I had an answer, I somehow doubt there’s anything I could say that would convince you. You just have to trust.”

“Trust you ?”

“Trust yourself. But yes, ideally, trust me while you’re at it.”

“I don’t know how.”

“We’ll start small then. One simple truth.”

In the present, Cedric blinked.

His truth was that for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he had real hope. Hope that they would leave this place, that they could make a difference. Hope that his being here wasn’t a mistake or miscalculation.

He wasn’t a knight sent to fight a war he didn’t understand. He wasn’t Lord Church’s champion, trained to win a challenge he’d never truly been prepared for. He wasn’t a frightened boy witnessing his entire world burn around him. Right now, in this moment, he was a man who knew without a doubt that the woman at his side was meant to do this. That he was meant to do it with her.

She knew what it was to conquer darkness. To resist its temptation. To use power for good . To save and to help and to love without limit.

You are the only one among them who is worthy, Evander had said .

Of that, he had been right.

“One simple truth,” said Cedric, his voice thick. “If you believe nothing else in this world, Elyria Lightbreaker, trust what I say next.”

Elyria’s eyes widened in recognition of the words.

“You are the only one I would trust to do it.”

She smiled then, bright and beaming, color blooming in the ivory planes of her cheeks, and Cedric could have sworn his heart skipped several beats. The golden thread between them shimmered, sealing up the cracks that had formed in Cedric’s soul, and he knew without knowing that something had shifted—cemented—between them.

“All right then,” she said, striding toward the door at the end of the hall. “Let us finish this.”