Page 16

Chapter

Fifteen

This is it .

In school, tests had been a welcomed challenge.

A way to assure that my studying had paid off.

This was different. All of the inductees stood in the center of the gym, each being divided into four groups by the Master of Trials.

“Each group will rotate from challenge to challenge.” The lithe figure said in a voice that almost seemed to echo.

Kadian, Oz, and Lil were placed into group one, Tamra—the most capable of us—was in group two, and Emia and I were in group four.

“Each group will begin at a different task. Group one proceed to the wall, group two will make their way to the Zenith, group three will enter the chamber, and group four to the pool.”

My heart raced as I followed a member of the Court of Reflection to the pool.

The mother-of-pearl walls shimmered, a deceptive calmness in their beauty.

We were given five minutes to change into our suits, and as I stood on the deck, the officiant's words echoed in my mind.

“In your first task, you will have to face the truth.”

Emia and I exchanged a nervous glance. The officiant’s blue robes, adorned with white embellishments, reflected the water’s surface as she pointed to the stairs descending into the pool. The task would reveal itself once we were in the water, she had said.

“We’ve got this,” Emia mouthed, squeezing my hand. Her confidence did little to quell the anxiety gnawing at my insides. I hadn’t come back to the pool in the last few days. I’d have to rely on my wits and whatever calculated efficiency I could muster. My steps were measured as I entered the water, the coolness embracing my skin. Then, without warning, a flurry of bubbles erupted, swirling faster and faster until they coalesced into a larger bubble, enveloping me entirely.

In an instant, I was no longer in the pool. The world around me had shifted, becoming something intimately familiar yet dreamlike in its clarity.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dad’s voice broke through, and I whirled around. The kitchen—our kitchen—came into view. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Dad stood by the stove, the scent of his cooking filling the air.

“Dad!” I cried, rushing forward. My arms wrapped around him, and for a second, I didn’t care if this was real or not. He was solid, warm, alive. His sunken cheeks were full again, his eyes bright with life, not the dull fatigue I had become accustomed to.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, laughing as he pulled back. “I just saw you five minutes ago. Did you grab the mail?”

I glanced down, noticing the envelopes stuffed in my pocket. “Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “Looks like I did.”

I clung to him, afraid that if I let go, this moment would slip through my fingers like sand. His hands were gentle as he brushed hair behind my ear. “Are you feeling okay?”

For the first time in what felt like years, I answered honestly. “Yes.”

“Good, because I made your favorite.” He gestured to the stove, where noodles and broth simmered in a pot. My heart ached. It wasn’t really my favorite, but it was his best dish, and I had never had the heart to tell him otherwise.

“Thank you,” I whispered, trying to memorize the way he looked, the way he sounded. But my mind was a traitor, already pulling me back to reality.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Dad’s voice was soft, his hand wiping away a tear I hadn’t noticed. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to stay here, in this perfect illusion, where Dad was whole, and everything was as it should be. But the tremors in my limbs reminded me of the truth, the insidious force trying to separate us. “Let’s have a seat, and I’ll serve you some dinner.”

I nodded, allowing him to lead me to the table. The wood creaked under my weight, a familiar sound that only heightened the unreality of it all. This wasn’t real. I knew that. But it felt real, so real that I could almost forget.

Almost.

He placed the bowl in front of me, the steam rising in gentle curls. “Here we are,” he said, smiling as he took his seat across from me. “Don’t just sit there, dig in.”

I stared at the bowl, at the ripples in the broth that shouldn’t have been there. “Something wrong with the food, kiddo?” Dad took another bite, oblivious.

The ripples grew, distorting the surface until an image flickered within. Azmeer. The reality of where I was, of what I was doing, crashed back into me with a sickening jolt.

“You need to leave, Brida,” a voice whispered, curling around my thoughts like smoke. My pulse quickened. I couldn’t stay here, no matter how much I wanted to. This wasn’t real, wasn’t a place I could remain. Azmeer was waiting. I had a mission, and time was slipping away.

I stood, the chair scraping against the floor as I pushed back. Dad’s gaze followed me, confusion creasing his brow. “What are you doing, honey? Your food is going to get cold.”

I hesitated, my heart pulling in two directions. I could stay. I could live this half-life, bask in the warmth of this illusion if it meant Dad would be okay. But he wouldn’t be. Not really. And neither would I. This was just a shadow of the truth, and staying here wouldn’t save him.

Walking around the table, I placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. He looked at me with that same pure love and understanding he always had, and it shattered something deep inside me.

With a deep breath, I turned and walked to the door. My hand trembled as I grasped the knob, and I paused, looking back one last time. Dad was still there, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. But he didn’t stop me. He couldn’t. This wasn’t real.

I twisted the knob and stepped into the light, leaving him—and the dream—behind.

The world snapped back into focus with a jolt. I gasped, lungs burning as if I had just breached the surface of a deep, dark ocean. My chest heaved, sucking in the air that felt like it had been stolen from me, the cold water clinging to my skin like a second layer. I blinked, and the gymnasium’s pool deck shimmered back into view, a hazy mirage against the brightness of the overhead lights. The memory of Dad’s warm kitchen dissipated like mist, leaving behind a hollow ache.

My body trembled, muscles taut from the strain of holding onto something that wasn’t real. The truth still echoed through my mind, the words from that strange, familiar voice reverberating against the walls of my thoughts. I tried to shake off the lingering sensation of the dream—no, the illusion—but it clung to me like wet clothes, refusing to let go.

I glanced to my left, and there was Emia, her face pale as the mother-of-pearl walls around us. She had surfaced only moments after me, her breathing ragged, her eyes wide and unfocused. Her hand trembled as she wiped the water from her face, the usual spark in her gaze dulled by whatever nightmare she had faced.

“Em, are you okay?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, concern lacing my voice. I wanted to reach out, to offer some semblance of comfort, but my limbs felt heavy, sluggish.

Em’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’ll tell you later,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead, she turned away, focusing on the task of wringing the water from her hair.

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach tightened. Whatever she had seen, it wasn’t something she was ready to share. Not yet.

We were given a few precious minutes to change, and I welcomed the distraction, letting the familiar routine ground me. My fingers worked quickly, stripping away the damp suit and replacing it with my Eternal Court leathers. The leather hugged my skin, a comforting weight, the cool touch of the metal clasps a stark contrast to the lingering frigidity of the water. I took a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of the worn leather fill my senses, anchoring me in the present.

When we were led to the next task—the rock wall that seemed to stretch up into the heavens—I couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. The wall loomed before us, jagged and unyielding, its surface dotted with handholds that promised both challenge and reward.

The others in our group began their ascent, one by one, their faces set in determined grimaces. I watched them, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind. I was the twentieth in line, but all I could think about was the dream—Dad’s laugh, the warmth of his hand on my shoulder, that broth. It had all felt so real, so vivid, that for a moment, I had almost forgotten where I was, what I was doing.

“Next!” The call snapped me out of my reverie, and I realized it was my turn. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog from my mind as I approached the base of the wall.

The cool stone met my hands as I began to climb, the rough texture biting into my fingers. I focused on the sensation, on the strength in my arms and legs, pushing everything else to the back of my mind. I couldn’t afford to lose focus now, not when every second counted. I moved with purpose, each grip and foothold calculated, measured, deliberate. The higher I climbed, the more the dream with Dad seemed to fade, replaced by the present, by the urgency of the task.

Above me, someone slipped, their handhold giving way with a sharp gasp. My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to keep climbing, to push through the fear. I had to make it to the top. I had to succeed—for Dad, for Kadian, and for me. I’d come here for my father but these past few weeks had shown me that I wanted to be here. In a place where I’d found friendship and acceptance, I could help both my father and myself.

When I reached the top, my breath came in ragged gasps, my muscles burning. I pulled myself up onto the ledge, collapsing onto my back as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind exhaustion and a dull ache in my chest.

It wasn’t until Emia climbed up, finishing after me, that I allowed myself to exhale. She looked even more drained than before, her face drawn and pale, but she managed a weak smile in my direction.

“We’re still in this,” I said, though the words felt hollow.

“We are,” Emia echoed, her voice strained.

The words between Emia and I hung in the air, an unspoken understanding passing between us. The trials were far from over, and whatever lay ahead would be more grueling than anything we'd faced before.

We had mere minutes to catch our breath before we were ushered to the next task.

The ladder wound up and up, the air thinning with every step, until we found ourselves atop the Zenith.

The wind relentless as it tore at everything in its path.

I looked at the wooden sign, its weathered surface a stark contrast to the raw power of the wind.

The words were barely visible through the gusts: “Solve the riddle.” The challenge was here, and as the wind howled around me, I knew this was the moment I’d been dreading.

The real test had begun.

The wind howled around me as I stood atop the Zenith, its icy fingers clawing at my clothes, my hair, my very breath.

I gritted my teeth, narrowing my eyes against the biting wind.

I knew from my previous attempts that the answers were hidden somewhere in those precariously perched houses, each connected by a web of rope bridges that swayed with every gust. I hated those bridges—they were flimsy, unpredictable, and now, with the wind, downright dangerous.

But I couldn’t waste time.

I had to move, had to get to the first house.

My heart pounded in my chest as I stepped onto the nearest bridge, the ropes creaking beneath my weight.

Every step felt like it could be my last, the ground far below a swirling blur.

The wind whipped around me, tugging at my body, and I could feel the bridge sway beneath my feet more violently than before.

I was halfway across when a vicious gust hit me, and the bridge buckled.

I screamed, grabbing for the ropes as the ground lurched beneath me.

My grip slipped, the world tilting as my feet lost their hold.

My heart plummeted, my mind blank with terror, but somehow—miraculously—a gust of wind worked in my favor, thrusting me upward, I was able to catch myself, clinging to the rope with white-knuckled desperation.

I dangled there for a heartbeat, the abyss yawning beneath me, before pulling myself up and stumbling forward, gasping for air that the wind stole from my lungs.

I made it to the other side, my body trembling with fear and adrenaline.

I couldn’t afford to stop, couldn’t afford to think about how close I’d come to falling.

I burst into the first house, the door slamming shut behind me, cutting off the worst of the wind’s fury.

Inside, the house was dark and cold, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath my boots.

I searched frantically, throwing open cabinets, overturning furniture until I found it—a scrap of parchment, tucked away in a dusty corner.

My fingers trembled as I smoothed it out, my eyes scanning the strange runes scrawled across it.

The runes were unfamiliar, their shapes jagged and sharp, like they’d been carved with anger or desperation.

I couldn’t make sense of them, and that terrified me more than anything else.

But I didn’t have time to panic.

I shoved the paper into my pocket and bolted for the next house, my legs unsteady beneath me.

The second bridge was worse than the first. The wind had picked up, howling like a beast, shaking the bridge with such force that I thought it might snap.

I tried to focus, tried to keep my breathing steady, but every step was torture.

I was almost across when a shrill scream tore through the air, cutting through the wind like a knife.

I turned just in time to see Emia—her small frame silhouetted against the sky—slip from the bridge ahead of me.

My heart stopped, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.

“Em!” I screamed, my voice hoarse, barely audible over the wind.

I watched in horror as she fell, her body plummeting toward the ground far below.

A moment later, the wind—so fierce and unforgiving—seemed to catch her, cradling her fall, slowing her descent.

Thank the gods. A safety net .

She drifted downward like a leaf, the wind carrying her gently to the ground below.

I wanted to cry with relief, but there was no time for that.

She was safe, and I needed to keep moving.

The wind howled, growing fiercer with each passing second as if it knew I was running out of time.

Each gust slammed against me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I couldn’t stay upright any longer.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I crawled up the incline, the force of the wind so strong it threatened to toss me over the edge.

My fingers dug into the dirt and stone as I dragged myself forward, the cold seeping through my clothes.

The final house was smaller, more dilapidated.

The roof groaned under the pressure, leaking rain in thin, relentless streams. The walls shuddered with every gust, as if they might collapse at any moment.

I pushed inside, panting and soaked, scanning the room.

Everything here was falling apart—the furniture splintered, a mirror cracked and broken.

But it was behind that mirror that I found the last scrap of parchment.

The runes on the brittle paper glared back at me, mocking, like a riddle I was never meant to solve.

My hands trembled as I laid all the pages out, trying to make sense of the symbols.

My mind was racing, but nothing clicked.

Frustration bubbled up as I fumbled through the mess of books and debris, searching for something—anything—to help.

A glint caught my eye.

There, buried beneath a pile of dusty tomes, I found it—a small, worn decoder.

Relief flooded through me, but I wasn’t out of danger yet.

The runes weren’t just a puzzle; they were a fight.

I matched the symbols one by one, sweat dripping down my face despite the freezing wind tearing through the cracks in the walls.

The decoder wasn’t perfect.

Some pieces were missing, leaving gaps in the sequence, I had to guess.

I retraced my steps again and again, each wrong combination sending a spike of panic through me.

It felt like hours—hands shaking, breaths shallow—until the meaning snapped into focus.

The answer was simple.

Too simple. And it filled me with dread.

“ Whisper to the wind your greatest desire and deepest secret. ”

I stared at the words, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew, deep down, that if I didn’t speak the truth, if I tried to lie, I would fail.

But my deepest secret…

? The thought of voicing it, of admitting it aloud, made my throat close up with fear.

The wind howled around me, the walls of the house trembling, as if urging me to speak.

I clenched my fists, my mind racing.

I wanted to be here, to find answers, to be offered a final placement in a court.

But was that my greatest desire?

No.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, feeling the wind tug at my hair, my clothes.

The words came out as a whisper, so soft I couldn’t hear them over the storm.

“I want to heal my dad. And I hate that I’ve lied to be here.”

The moment the words left my lips, the wind seemed to shift, growing impossibly strong.

The walls of the house groaned, the air around me crackling with energy.

And then, the sky above me split open.

A portal, swirling with darkness and light, appeared high above, its edges glowing with a strange aura.

It called to me, a pull so strong that I didn’t resist. I stepped forward, my heart racing, and before I knew it, I was inside, the world around me dissolving into shadow.

When I emerged, I found myself standing in a room made entirely of black obsidian, its polished surfaces reflecting the dim light of the flames that flickered on tripods in each corner.

The air was thick, heavy with the scent of smoke and something older, more powerful.

My heart pounded in my chest as I took it all in, the oppressive darkness pressing in on me.

I was alone, but I could feel eyes on me, unseen, watching, waiting.

The flames crackled, their light casting long, twisted shadows across the floor.

I swallowed hard, my breath coming in shallow gasps, as the full weight of where I was—and what I had just done—settled on me.