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THE FINAL TRIAL

CEDRIC

The air was crisp and cool. Cedric looked up and soaked in the endless night. There was no aurora to light their way. Just a thousand diamonds spilled across an ocean of inky black.

The ground below their feet lit up, as if the starlight above had been gathered and infused into the dirt, creating a luminous path. It did not wind, did not meander or wander. It cut straight ahead, leading them to the end of a steep amphitheater. A pit carved from stone, surrounded on all sides by steep stairs and rows upon rows of empty benches, as if an audience of ghosts waited to watch the final trial.

The Trial of Concord.

At the center of the pit stood a familiar silhouette, shrouded in white. Cedric put his hand on the small of Elyria’s back as they descended the stairs, a kind of finality settling on his shoulders with each step.

More than once, Cedric’s hand tightened on Elyria, wrapping his fingers around her waist like he meant to steady her. She huffed, clearly annoyed that he thought she might actually lose her balance walking down some stairs. She even went so far as to uncloak her wings, flaring them out as if to prove a point. She could fly. She did not need his help walking .

Her reaction drew a low chuckle from Cedric, but he didn’t pull back. Balance was the least of his reasons for doing it.

He’d gotten far too used to the feel of her hand in his, to the way her touch grounded him, kept him pinned in reality. She calmed the furnace in his chest, let the light there bloom instead. He needed to touch her. Needed to feel the pulse of her blood and the magic beneath her skin, each beat a reminder.

She is real.

This is real.

We are at the end, and we are going to get out of here.

The pit itself was clean, stark, barren. Empty, save for a lone pedestal standing at its center and the white-clad celestial beside it.

Aurelia’s robes were drawn, her hood shielding her hair, though her face remained visible. The back of Cedric’s neck prickled at the sight of the pillow that lay atop the pedestal. It was tufted, crafted from a velvet of deepest red, a sparkling gem in the center of each divot. It was the kind of pillow meant to hold something precious. Something regal. Something royal.

But no crown sat atop it.

There was only a silver dagger, ornate carvings etched into its double-edged blade. They curved up its hilt, where a sparkling ruby was set in the center of the pommel.

Aurelia focused her starlit eyes on Cedric as he and Elyria approached, and that prickle turned into a shiver that crawled down Cedric’s back. Beside him, Elyria stiffened, her hand searching for his, fingers tightening when she found him. She folded her wings flat against her back as the two of them came to a stop before the celestial.

They held their collective breath as Aurelia began to speak, the multitudes of her voice stretching into the open air.

“You have done well, my champions. So well, to have made it this far. Truly, it is beyond my wildest hopes that you stand here before me today.”

Elyria shifted her weight, an unease poking through her typically resilient demeanor that only made Cedric more nervous in turn.

“You have fought, you have learned, you have shown power and mercy, both. And most of all, you have done it together . Through darkness and doubt, fire and shadow, life and death, you have forged a true bond—the kind that is difficult to craft, yes, but also difficult to break. Tested in the fires of trust, bound by something deeper than ambition. And you have emerged, both of you champions, both of you victors.”

Aurelia’s voice echoed off the empty stone benches of the amphitheater, and Cedric bit back the sensation that this all felt far more like a show than a trial.

“And the crown?” he asked, a knot twisting in his stomach.

“The crown is waiting,” she said, her star-filled eyes glassy. “And while this bond of trust has carried you here, while you have brought each other to this point...”

There was no mistaking the sudden sadness in her voice, and Cedric’s blood went cold as her nebulous gaze fell on the dagger atop the pedestal.

“...only one will walk away with the prize you seek. A piece of a power greater than any mortal mind can comprehend.”

Elyria went still, all notions of her nervous shifting eradicated by the celestial’s words. “What does that mean?”

Several moments passed before Aurelia answered. “To wear the crown is to carry the weight of its past. Every broken oath, every good intention turned wrong, every fallen comrade...every regret buried with them. Rulers are not made by crowns and titles alone—they are forged in the crucible of sacrifice. Those unwilling to burn do not deserve the throne.”

Cedric stared blankly at the celestial. “Sacrifice,” he repeated.

“Who said anything about ruling?” Elyria’s voice was sharp, cutting. “Fuck the throne. Fuck wearing your crown. We only want it because it is the key to getting out of here.”

Aurelia did not deign to acknowledge her protestations. The celestial did not pause, did not falter or stutter as she continued. “The crown cannot be won through strength or will or magic alone. This, here, is the final test of the Arcane Crucible, and of the bond you have forged. For the claim of one must be laid down, their life willingly given, for the sake of the other.” She paused. “This is where all others have failed.”

“A life for a life.” Cedric’s mind spun in frantic circles, Evander’s earlier words whipping through his head like shards of glass. No wonder Varyth Malchior had been unsuccessful. He and Evander might have made it to this place, might have heard these same words, but to think that whatever existed between them could pass for a true bond seemed ludicrous. Cedric wondered if they’d already come to their nefarious truce by the time they stood here, or if Malchior’s dark promises only came after he realized he could not claim the crown. He supposed it didn’t really matter, in the end.

“A life for all life,” Aurelia corrected. “One must trust enough to give, and one must trust enough to receive. For balance.”

“For balance ?” hissed Elyria. “Where is the balance in demanding death for no reason?”

“Power demands sacrifice. You came through the Gate with doubt in your heart and enemies at your back. You overcame them, repaired bonds where they existed, and forged new ones where there were none. It is with great pride and triumph that I can see you have shown yourselves truly worthy of this prize. Now the time has come to claim it.”

“You’re mad,” Elyria seethed, her body trembling. Shadows began leaking from her skin, wisps of black smoke wafting over her. “This...this was the end goal all along? Force us to ally, make us work together, make us care ? Knowing all along that one of us would be served up like a lamb for the slaughter?”

Aurelia said nothing.

“This is all your fault! Because of your interference! Your best-laid plans that failed!” She was breathing fast now—too fast, shadows spinning off her in waves. “ You are the reason Malakar came to power, the reason the world was split in three. Where is your sacrifice? Your loss?”

The stars above seemed to burn brighter as the celestial’s divine composure finally cracked. “Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I have rejoiced in all the lives lost in the Sanctum? Do you think this is what I wanted? This is never what I wanted! I am bound to this forsaken place, the same as you. I want this to be done just as much as you do.”

“Then give us the crown!”

“I cannot.”

Elyria let out a yell of frustration, and Cedric wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, to help her find her breath, to assure her that they’d figure something out, that they would find another way. But one look at the tortured expression on the celestial’s face and he knew it was impossible.

Aurelia sighed, her multi-tonal voice solemn, the sound heavy. One by one, the stars dotting her skin blinked out, until more and more she blended in with the sky above. “You are both worthy champions. This final choice belongs to you.”

Then she was gone in a burst of dazzling starlight. Moments later, the night sky filled with glorious color—green and violet and scarlet and gold—as the aurora unfurled above them.

Elyria barely noticed. “Coming here was a mistake. This whole entire stars-damned fucking Crucible was a mistake.” She wrung her hands, pacing as shadows twirled between her fingers. The ground rumbled beneath her feet. She was spinning out. He knew what she must have been thinking. To not claim the crown would ensure not only their deaths, but those of Kit, Zephyr, Thraigg, Nox. They would all be trapped in the Sanctum, until death or madness—likely both—came for them. But in order to claim it...

His eyes went to the dagger, moonlight glinting off it like some twisted beacon of fate. His heart hammered against his ribs as icy resolve washed over him.

“It’s all right, Elyria,” he said, grabbing her hands and forcing her to still. He studied her face, the points of her ears, taking in the freckle on her left cheek, the wave of periwinkle hair above her right eyebrow that always seemed to be slightly out of place. Lifting one hand to her chin, he traced the curve of her jaw, the line of her bottom lip.

She released a shaky breath, her eyes shuttering as she leaned into his touch.

“Don’t,” he whispered, and her eyelids fluttered back open. “I want to see you.” He stared into her jewel-green eyes, tried to memorize their exact shade, the sheen of the silver flecks within. When he blinked, his lashes were wet.

“Cedric, what?—”

“I just wish we had more time,” he said, steeling himself as he drew in one last, slow breath.

“Wait, what are you?—”

Cedric ran to the pedestal.

He reached for the dagger. A zing of power ran up his hand as his fingers grazed the ruby in its hilt. But it was gone in the next blink as a pale hand knocked it from his grasp.

“No.” Elyria whirled on him, eyes blazing. Metal and stone rang through the amphitheater as the dagger clattered on the ground between them.

Cedric lunged for it.

Once more, Elyria was faster. With a kick, she sent it skittering across the stone floor until it collided with the stairs on the other side. He moved to go after it, but she was already in front of him, blocking him, throwing her shoulder against his chest, pushing him back.

Fuck, he’d forgotten how strong she was.

Planting his feet, he braced against the force of her, grabbing her arms in an attempt to steady them both. For a moment, she complied, something in her visage softening. He had no time to analyze what it meant, ducking low and sweeping his foot against her boot to throw her off balance. With a yelp, she stumbled, then righted herself by grabbing hold of the pedestal.

It only gained him a single second, maybe two, but he wouldn’t waste them. He launched himself across the pit, rushing toward the dagger with a burst of speed he hadn’t known himself capable of. He snatched it up, angling the pointed tip at his chest.

A blur of periwinkle flashed past his vision before a blow to his temple had stars bursting behind his eyes. He felt the dagger being pulled from his grip. With a wince, he forced his sight to clear long enough to take in the ethereal figure floating before him. Elyria hovered in the air, wings flared, a vision of shimmering purple and green. He leapt for her, catching her around the waist and yanking her downward before she could fly away .

“I have to do this,” Cedric grunted as she tried to free herself from his grip, spinning in his arms, the dagger still in her hand. “You know it has to be me.”

She growled, elbowing him hard in the ribs. The air rushed from his lungs, but he did not let go. Instead, he hauled her backward, using his greater weight to keep her grounded, even as her wings flapped against his pull.

They crashed to the floor in a tangled heap, Cedric twisting mid-fall so his back hit the stone first, pulling her on top of him. The dagger went flying, once more clattering against the stone.

“Let go!” Elyria hissed, voice ragged, desperate. They were both panting now, breaths coming in too short and too long, too shallow and too deep.

Pain flared across his jaw as she landed another hit.

“Stop it!” With one arm still wrapped around her waist, he managed to pin both her wrists in one hand, gripping them tight in an attempt to hold her still. “You have to let me do this.”

Her chest heaved as she glared down at him. “I’m not letting you die for me.”

Shadows danced along the edge of Cedric’s vision, curling around his arms and legs, binding him in place until she could extricate herself from his hold.

“Elyria!” he yelled, struggling against her shadows as she leapt to her feet and ran for the dagger again.

Two could play at this game, he decided, and this time, when he called upon that spark in his chest, it ignited. Her binding shadows burned away in a flash of white-gold flame.

Elyria stopped in her tracks, the briefest flicker of wonder and something a little bit like pride overtaking the fury on her face. It was just enough of a distraction for Cedric to scramble to his feet and quickly catch up to her, yanking her back by her leathers before she reached the dagger.

Her back hit his chest, his hand accidentally skimming the edge of one of her silken wings as he pivoted from behind her. She gasped, chest heaving as they stood there, face-to-face, something unnamed hanging in the inches between them .

For one breathless moment they were still, their hearts hammering against the silence of night. And then he was racing past her, lunging for the weapon once more, only for a ribbon of black smoke to surge forward and snatch it from him.

Cedric spun, helpless to do anything but watch as the dagger soared into Elyria’s outstretched hand, her chest rising and falling with labored breath. She gripped the hilt tightly, her hand trembling, eyes bright with tears. “You can’t,” she said. “I won’t let you.”

“It has to be me,” Cedric said again, this time softer, his voice imploring. He took a step closer to the dagger—to her. “I have to be the one to die for the crown, because you have to be the one to wield it. We agreed. You’ll use the power of the crown to seal the Chasms, and then you’ll destroy it.”

“I don’t care! I don’t care about the Chasms! Let someone else fix it, let someone else find a way. It’s not worth your life, Cedric. You deserve”—her voice cracked—“to live. You’ve already given everything to this place!”

“But it’s worth yours?” A surge of anger fed the flame in his chest. How dare she think she wasn’t the important one here, the worthy one. He closed the distance between them, and she drew the dagger behind her back, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead, he took her free hand in his—gently, tenderly, that burning rage calming the instant he closed his fingers around hers.

He laid her palm against his heart. “Do you think I’d let you die for this? For me? Do you think I could live with that?”

“You will learn to—you will have to.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t pull away. “I couldn’t save him, but I can still save you.”

“Don’t you understand?” His voice was desperate, pleading. “There’s only one reason I survived this long already. I should have died five times over in here, and I know, deep in my bones—in my soul—that this, right here, is why. I am only alive because of you. Let me be the reason you get out, save Kit, save everyone.”

“No fucking way.”

“Elyria—”

“I said, no, damnit! I didn’t save your life over and over again just for you to end it now.” Now she did try to pull away, to yank her hands back, to put space between them. He only drew her closer. “You don’t get to make this choice.”

“There is no other choice to be made,” he said. “What’s the alternative? We waste away in here forever? Kit dies, Thraigg dies, Nox dies, Zephyr dies? Or worse yet, what happened to Evander happens to you? I’d rather die than see that happen anyway.”

He steeled himself. “I think I’ve always known that my story was meant to end like this.” Sorrow leaked out with every word, with each limited beat of his heart. “And if it means saving you, if it means ensuring the crown doesn’t fall into the wrong hands, then it’s all worth it. You are worth it.”

She shook her head, her hair loose and wild after their struggle. Her hand tightened around his. “I’ve lived enough for two lifetimes already. I accepted my fate the second I decided to follow Kit through the Gate. But you—you deserve an after .”

“ After was always just a dream for me. It doesn’t have to be for you.”

They stood there, frozen, the weight of this impossible choice pushing on their shoulders.

“This is what I’m meant for,” Cedric said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Elyria let out a small, broken sound, and Cedric knew he had won. He wondered if she could hear the way it made his heart crack.

“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “None of this makes sense without you.”

The words echoed through his blood like the worst kind of prayer. If they kept this up, he would lose his resolve. He would falter. They would fail.

Just one more look , he thought as he stared into her blazing green eyes, at the fire burning there, wholly different from the one kindling in his chest. He took in the way the aurora lit up her hair, the swaying colors illuminating each strand, making them shine—purple and silver and green and gold.

He looked at her and he saw her. Her . Not the warrior, not the Revenant. Not the friend or the ally or the sister or the grieving ex-lover. Just her. And he knew that everything he’d thought, everything he’d been taught, the weight he’d carried since he was a child wasn’t real, wasn’t true.

This. This was real.

Lord Church had been so wrong about her. About all of them. And if he was wrong about this, what else was he wrong about?

Cedric’s fingers trailed along the end of Elyria’s disheveled braid, pinching strands of periwinkle between his knuckle and the pad of his thumb. Her almond scent filled his nose, and it felt like a punch straight to the gut. He knew from the first moment he saw her, from the instant that sugar-and-poison scent filtered through his senses, that she would be the death of him.

It just wasn’t anything close to the way he imagined.

Just one look, he’d told himself. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But if not now, when?

So, without letting himself second-guess or lose his nerve or think about it for even one second longer, Cedric leaned forward and crushed his lips to hers.