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Chapter Six

I wondered how long it had taken Clara’s son to realize he was going to die in his magic trial.

Had it been immediate?

Was he dropped into that desert and struck by the certainty of his demise right away, or had the truth crept in slowly—hours passing before he understood the Dragon would kill him?

Did he feel like I did now, realizing that I had already been locked in my own coffin?

Thick, foamy liquid rushed into the bottom of the box at a steady rate, the kind you’d only find in lakes or the open sea.

For the briefest of moments, a thought brushed across my mind. The idea of just... letting it fill.

If I drowned here and now, the prophecy wouldn’t come true. Hyrax wouldn’t rise from the Underworld.

A dead girl couldn’t raise the God of the Dead into the Mortal Realm.

No.

I would not die here.

I would not give the Dragon the satisfaction of knowing I’d been that easy to kill, and I certainly would not let Hyrax and his duplicity be the reason I lost my life.

Shaking off the wave of despair, I forced myself to focus, pressing my hands against the wooden walls, searching for some kind of weakness.

Then, suddenly, the coffin slammed against something solid.

For a split second, the world seemed to hold its breath.

And then it tilted.

The box hit down, shattering on impact and splintering into jagged shards as icy water exploded around me.

The sensation of it smacking against my skin was like a thousand tiny needles stabbing into me.

I gasped involuntarily against the sharp, merciless cold of the water searing into my skin, choking on the bitter tang of salt and lake muck.

Gods, it was so cold.

I was nothing but flailing legs and thrashing arms as I searched for the surface, my thoughts little more than fragmented flashes of panic.

Up. Air. Move.

My leg slid across a splintered shard of the wooden box and the point of it sliced through my calf in a violent rush. I screamed, the water swallowing the sound, as I grasped onto my wounded leg.

The water around me turned red as blood bloomed around me.

Eventually, even the pain from the wound faded as the icy chill of the water took over every one of my thoughts.

I couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t feel anything, but the cold and the way it sunk into every one of my bones.

My fingers burned. My toes went numb. I was hollow, being drug down by the chill.

I kicked again, but my movements were sluggish now, uncoordinated. Useless.

This was it.

This was the moment where I would end.

It really would be that easy to kill me.

“ Y ou’re back again.”

Hyrax sat at his dining table, Caldrius lounging in the seat at his side, looking far too relaxed with his hands crossed behind his dark head of hair. A modest spread of food lay before them, untouched, their focus entirely on each other—until I appeared, dripping wet and gasping for air.

“I didn’t want to be back!” I snapped, chest heaving. I wasn’t sure if I was more irritated with him or myself.

Caldrius chuckled softly, running a hand over his sharp jawline in a poor attempt to hide his amusement. My gaze snapped to him, hands planting on my hips as a flush of anger rolled through me.

“Do you find something amusing about this situation?” I hissed.

“Very much so.” His eyes traced over me, slow and unhurried like he wasn’t just looking at me, but memorizing me, seeing through me.

Heat crawled up my spine as I glanced down at myself in confusion only to see that the water had left my silk nightgown practically transparent.

I rushed to cover myself with an arm but Caldrius just kept staring, not even having the decency to attempt to hide where his attention was focused.

Hyrax, who had yet to acknowledge me, finally followed Caldrius’ gaze. His eyes widened in horror, and he turned abruptly. With a wave of his hand, a thick black robe lined with plush fur appeared on my shoulders, heavy and warm.

“My dear,” Hyrax chided, voice dry and sharp. “That is hardly appropriate attire.”

“Well, it’s not like I planned this little visit,” I shot back, wrapping the robe tighter around me .

He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “No, of course not.”

“She thinks she’s dying,” Caldrius mused, his lips curving slightly. “Again.” He didn’t look at Hyrax when he said it. His focus stayed on me, unwavering. “Either you enjoy our company, or you have a terrible sense of self-preservation.”

Gods, the way he looked at me. His attention was completely absolute, filled with more than just lust. Caldrius looked at me like he knew me. Like he had every right to study me, memorize every inch, as if I belonged to him in some way I didn’t yet understand.

Hyrax laughed suddenly, snapping my attention back to him. “Haven’t we been here before?”

I crossed my arms, glaring. “I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”

“You came here the last time you thought you were dying,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “You didn’t need me then and you don’t need me now. Return to your realm, Theadora. You’re more than capable of managing this silly trial.”

I scoffed, somehow… offended at being dismissed by him. It’s not like I wanted to stay in this realm any longer, but he’d never actually dismissed me before. And it stung in a way I hadn’t quite expected.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my words. “Were you two busy?”

“Yes, actually.” Hyrax’s tone cut like a whip. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have other demands on my attention beyond you. I also have a wife who needs my care, an entire realm to oversee, and a meeting to conclude with my Supreme Lieutenant.”

Supreme Lieutenant. I almost laughed aloud. What a ridiculous name for a position of authority.

“How do you even know that I’m in my trial?” I wondered aloud, stepping closer to their table. “How do you always seem to know what’s happening in the Mortal Realm?”

Hyrax handed a stack of parchment to Caldrius, who flipped through it leisurely, signing off on a few with a nearby quill. Part of me wanted to crane my neck over to glance at them. Exactly what kind of business did the King of the Underworld find himself so preoccupied with?

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” Hyrax said, his tone clipped.

“And what, exactly, are the right questions, Hyrax?” I snapped back.

His eyes locked onto mine, an intensity in his gaze so fierce that I almost stumbled backward.

“Everyone in this room knows the questions you’re longing for answers to,” he said. “Your refusal to simply ask them directly is wasting my time. Believe it or not, my time is valuable.”

Hyrax turned away from me, effectively dismissing me once more, and I fought the powerful urge I had to stomp my foot and demand his attention.

Caldrius stared at me, a challenge in his smile.

Fine. If they wanted me to ask, I would.

“Tell me what happened to my memories!”

Hyrax rolled his eyes, disappointment flickering across his face, and he remained silent, the emptiness of it stretching between us. I looked to Caldrius, who only leaned back in his chair and smirked.

“That’s not the question he wants you to ask,” Caldrius mock-whispered behind his hand.

I almost screamed in frustration.

“You don’t have any memories, Theadora,” Hyrax said finally. “There is nothing for you to remember.”

The words struck like a blow. Ice flooded my blood, the coldness of it seeping through the warmth of the robe Hyrax had given me. The world around me blurred. The air thinned. I was about to wake up.

But now, I didn’t want to leave.

“How is that possible?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Do you expect me to believe I just appeared on that bridge out of thin air?”

Caldrius chuckled, and my hand shot out instinctively, grasping onto the wineglass in front of me and hurling it at his head.

The bastard ducked with record speed, and all I earned for my trouble was another smirk and a cheeky wink. Gods, I hated him. I hated them both.

“I expect you to stop acting like a child,” Hyrax snapped, slamming his palm on the table.

The sound reverberated through the room.

“And I expect you to face the truth. I will not explain to you what you are not ready to admit to yourself. Now go back to your realm, Theadora. We’ll discuss the bridge when you’re ready to admit who and what you are. ”

I could feel the dampness returning to my hair and skin.

“See you soon, Theadora,” Caldrius called to me, his voice a silken promise.

I woke with a start, gasping for air.

My lungs only filled with frigid, salty water.

Choking, I thrashed blindly, arms and legs working as hard as possible, but it was useless.

The lake dragged me down, cold and endless, pressing against my ribs, crushing.

I kicked hard, forcing my sluggish limbs to move, but the weight of the water pulled me deeper.

The light above shimmered too far away. My lungs screamed for air but I wasn’t going to make it.

Magic suddenly surged in my veins, as if sensing my building panic, and for a moment I stopped fighting the pull of the water.

Of course. This was the magic trial, which meant I needed magicto survive.

The power inside me flared hot against the cold, raw and electric. I didn’t even have to think—I just let go.

And unleashed.

Energy surged through me, shoving me upward like a bolt of lightning. My hair coiled wildly around my face as I shot through the depths, cutting through the water.

Then—air.

I broke the surface with a desperate gasp, choking, sucking in the frozen wind as I half-dragged myself onto the shore.

Coughing up puddles of mucky water, I collapsed onto the earth, muscles trembling violently.

Everything ached. My pulse slammed against my skull, my breath ragged as the world spun.

The throbbing in my leg flared, no longer content to be ignored and blood seeped into the shore beneath me.

For a long moment, I just breathed.

Then—cheering.

Distant. Loud. Far above.