Page 70

And Now They Fall

I t’s been a long time since I last saw the yellow flags.

Something is wrong. I must be running off course.

I double back, pick up my pace, and soon find myself again at the motionless lake, gleaming like a sheet of glass beneath the sky.

And then I understand why. A flag drifts on the surface, dislodged from where it once hung in the bushes.

Perfect.

I grunt and choose a different path. My patience is thinning.

My fists clench without thinking, and frustration burns through me. I want this to be over. I need food, sleep, and rest.

I’ve lost all sense of time. Maybe it’s already over. Perhaps I’ve failed without even knowing it.

Think of Naeva. Soon, I’ll set out to find her. Soon, I’ll see her again.

The thought steadies me. My stride lengthens. My focus sharpens.

Forward. Forward. Always forward.

And there!

The next flag.

I let out a shaky breath and uncurl my fingers. Relief floods my chest.

I want to drop to my knees and thank the flag itself. Take it with me and keep it as a token.

Up ahead, pairs of flags begin to appear like they have at every station so far. Where each master had waited.

And around them, footprints, discarded scarves, broken arrows, evidence of battles between apprentice and master.

But where are they?

Where are the masters?

“Hello?” I call out at the third unmanned station.

Maybe I’m too late. Perhaps they’ve packed up and sent the masters home. But it isn’t dark yet. Not dusk.

Is it? The fog is so thick it’s hard to tell.

“Here!”

I flinch. My eyes fly open so wide it hurts. I sprint toward the voice into the bushes, off the path. This time, I don’t hesitate.

No thinking, no planning, running into the undergrowth, the thick scent of bark, lilies, and… blood?

“Where are you?” I call out.

“Here!”

I see her. Araytha, Rahveles’s master.

She lies tangled in branches, speared through her abdomen.

Blood stains her clothes, her skin, her hair. It pools on the ground beneath her. It’s everywhere. Dark red. Sticky. So dark it’s almost black.

“Oh, Sesta…” I clap a hand over my mouth and stare.

“Help…” she rasps.

I step closer slowly and press my hand to her stomach.

“Rem—”

“No!” she snaps.

I jerk my hand back. “What?”

“Don’t say it.”

“Why not?”

“Arzakean… no. It doesn’t work. It won’t heal.”

I look into Araytha’s clouded, indigo-blue eyes. She’s fighting to remain conscious.

“It’s one of the death rules, isn’t it?” I ask quietly.

She nods, clawing at her arms, pinching herself hard, as if that pain might distract her from the one that’s killing her.

And in my mind, I hear Salahfar’s voice, explaining how important it is to follow the rules. And what happens when you don’t.

Something about death. Something about demons. That’s all I remember with certainty.

“Je wim nej,” I whisper, willing the pain to leave her.

If I can’t heal with demonic power, maybe I can ease her suffering.

Her hand lashes out and grips my wrist tight.

Her eyes snap wide, bloodshot and raw, streaked with crimson threads like burst veins.

“You have to run!” she rasps.

I pull back. “No.”

“You must.” She digs her nails into her arm, still pulling, still pinching as if trying to wake herself from a nightmare.

“Why?”

“He’s here.”

“Who?”

But I already know. I see it in the panic in her eyes.

“Ijemsael. The Serpent. Mesmigli.”

“’Ksnaka.”

She coughs, and blood sprays across me. Warm. Wet.

“He’s killing them all. Every one of them.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t you blow the horn?”

“Not… no, not now. I don’t want to draw attention… not while he’s near.”

“Then I’ll stay with you. Keep you company.”

She shakes her head, eyes closing. “My puma, Svadi. Take him. He’s nearby.”

“But—”

“Please. I beg you. You apprentices. You’re the Resistance’s future. These final trials… they mean nothing. You’re ready. All of you. If you die now, everything we’ve built… it’s all been for nothing.”

I take her hand. It’s cold.

“No elf should die alone.”

“Iszaelda. I’m not alone. The animals are with me. Bel’Akra is with me. The wild, the wind, the spirits.”

“But you’re a star elf.”

“Yes.” She tugs at my fingers. Releases. Tugs again. Releases. Like tremors moving through her limbs.

“You don’t care for nature, do you?”

“To the night and stars. Where do you think we send our prayers?”

I nod. “Like the sun elves turn to the sun, and tree elves to the forest.”

“Not quite. All elves share a deep connection with the natural world. Even… us.”

She coughs again, blood splattering her chin. “Go. I want you to go.”

“If that’s truly what you want.”

“When you reach the path, turn left.”

“All right.”

“The trail curves and leads back into the forest that surrounds the Academy. You’re close to the end now, but… two challenges remain.”

“Can I skip them?”

“Left. If you turn left, you’ll head straight to the finish. A shortcut.” She pulls at her hair, her face twisting in pain.

“And Akares? Where is he?”

“That’s a mystery.” She lifts her eyes to the treetops, her gaze blank, empty and frightening.

I rise to my feet, grimacing as I realize my own body is just as soaked in blood as Araytha’s. Deep in the trees, to my right, stands a striking black puma, its coat gleaming like liquid oil.

I approach, undoing the rope tied to a nearby branch, and wrap it tightly around my hand. The fibers are coarse and splintered.

I climb onto a stump level with my shoulders, reaching out until my fingers graze the puma’s withers.

I grip a handful of thick fur and swing myself onto its back.

The landing is rough. The puma is warm beneath me.

Soft. I shift into place, straighten my spine, and draw the rope taut so it will not drag.

Leaning back slightly, I bury my legs into the creature’s dense coat, calves aching but soothed by the heat of its body.

“Good luck, Araytha,” I murmur.

“And to you,” she whispers in return.

I urge Svadi forward, guiding him onto the path. I press my legs into his sides. “Ha-ya!”

Nothing. He continues slowly, unhurriedly, paws thudding gently against the ground. His head sways lazily from side to side.

Every step sends a jolt through my back, and I tense to stay balanced.

“Ha-ya!”

Star elves must have their own commands for pumas, different from the ones we use for our elk. I should’ve known better.

Instead, I open a sliver of connection in Svadi’s mind and send my will through it. He responds immediately. His stride lengthens, and his paws beat against the ground with new urgency.

Above us, a flock of parrots bursts into the air, dark blurs against the misty canopy, vanishing like ghosts into the fog.

Up ahead, the road forks.

A bright yellow flag flutters in the distance, marking the marked path and the trial’s direction.

But I turn away. I steer Svadi left, guiding him with thought and touch, legs pressed deep into his silken coat.

It’s smooth beneath my sore, scraped calves.

The trail rises sharply, climbing higher and higher, as if we’re heading toward the base of a mountain.

“Come on, faster,” I whisper, fingers woven into the thick fur at Svadi’s neck.

He lunges forward, breaking into a gallop, head tossing, muscles rippling beneath me. His shoulders roll like waves, his spine shifting with every stride. I’ve learned his rhythm and no longer have to fight it.

I let my body move with his and relax.

The jungle never changes. It’s endless green. Kapok trees, dipterocarps, and towering banyans have roots that rise like walls. Slender, spiraling oenocarpus trunks twine through the tangle. Everything grows into everything else. Tight, dense, and interwoven.

Only a narrow path threads through it all.

And then there’s the mist, low-hanging clouds, and silence. The bow across my back and Voenriel against my hip.

I picture them in my hands. Picture using them against Akares.

Am I ready to take him on?

I don’t know. I hope so.

Nothing happens for a long while. And then, everything changes.

The ground shudders. Trees scream. Svadi snarls, paws slipping as we weave left and right. And then the jungle begins to fall.

Branches snap like bones. The forest wails and dies. The trunks groan and protest, ancient giants that have stood through a hundred thousand sun cycles.

And now they fall.