Locke draws his horse closer to mine, close enough that our stirrups nearly brush. “Take it slow,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Don’t rush the turns.”
I nod, gripping my reins tighter. “This isn’t exactly the easiest route we could have chosen.”
“It’s the safest,” he replies without hesitation, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. “We didn’t want to run into shadow wraiths or worse on the wider passes that most travelers use. This trail narrows their numbers significantly, and most soldiers aren’t brave enough or foolish enough to attempt this route. The isolation works in our favor.”
My fingers tighten instinctively around the leather reins as more snow comes into view ahead, thick drifts that have accumulated in the shadowed crevices of the mountain. I keep thinking of the vision that’s been haunting me, the one of Sam dead in the snow, his brown wolf form torn open and bleeding, his life force soaking into the pristine white ice beneath him. I’ve seen it twice now, clear as daylight, vivid as a memory. It can’t be just a coincidence that the same image keeps surfacing. I was meant to see it, either as a lesson I need to learn or a warning I need to heed. I’m just not sure which.
I can’t help the growing anxiety that claws at my insides as we climb closer to the summit. The vision feels too real, too specific, too urgent to ignore. I mentally check myself and shake off the creeping dread. It won’t happen. I refuse to let it happen. The vision wasn’t real, it was just my fears manifesting.
These trials are meant for me and me alone. The others will be safe from harm. They have to be. I have to believe it with every fiber of my being. I have to believe that they’ll be protected, that whatever I’m about to face won’t touch them. With that fragile reassurance clutched tight in my chest, we push onward and upward.
We finally crest the final ridge just as the sun breaks fully over the horizon, bathing the summit in sharp, brilliant golden light that makes the snow sparkle like scattered diamonds. The wind up here bites viciously through my leathers, finding every gap and seam to chill my skin, but the sight that spreads before us steals the breath from my lungs and makes me forget the cold entirely.
From this vantage point, impossibly high above the world, I can see all of Vanir spread out like a living map.
To the east, the Light Court blooms in impossible, vibrant color that seems to pulse with life itself. Spring has already touched its rolling fields, endless green stretching to the horizon,dotted with patches of brilliant gold that might be flowers or might be pure magic. Even from this great distance, the very air above those lands looks warm and sweet and gloriously alive, shimmering with heat waves that speak of eternal summer.
To the west, Kasamere’s ancient shadows cling possessively to the Night Court’s territories. The massive forest spreads like a dark, grasping hand across the landscape, deep emerald and ink black, beautiful in its wild, untamed way but touched by something undeniably haunted. I can almost feel the weight of old magic emanating from those trees, even from here.
I sit taller in my saddle, taking in the breathtaking panorama, and release a long sigh that forms a cloud in the frigid air. “If only we were here to admire the view instead of facing whatever’s waiting for us.”
The words have barely left my mouth when the mountain itself answers with a voice that seems to rise from the very stones.
The ground trembles violently beneath us, a deep, primal shaking that feels like the mountain’s heartbeat. Snow sloughs off distant ledges in sudden, thunderous cascades that echo across the peaks. Our horses whinny nervously, their legs shuffling and dancing as they sense something beyond their understanding. I can hear the guys murmuring words of comfort to their mounts, but my attention is pulled inexorably away from them by the deep, penetrative voice that suddenly fills my mind, reverberating through my skull like the tolling of an ancient bell.
“To reclaim what was stolen from you. To rise as what you were born to be.
You will prove your worth in blood and fire and sacrifice.”
My head whips toward the source of the sound, but it’s not coming from any one place, it is the mountain itself. Every stone, every grain of snow, every molecule of air vibrates with that otherworldly voice.
The piercing shriek of shadow wraiths suddenly tears through the air.
They fall from the clouds like spilled ink across pristine parchment, black robes slicing through the wind with supernatural speed. Hundreds of them, pouring from tears in the sky itself. The very heavens seem to split open above us, disgorging nightmare after nightmare.
Sam yells my name, his voice raw with panic and protective fury. Locke leaps from his horse in one fluid motion and draws his sword, the blade singing as it clears its sheath. Rue throws one of his ornate knives with deadly precision, the blade aiming for a wraith’s chest, but the weapon simply rebounds off some invisible force field surrounding the creatures, clattering uselessly to the snow.
I try to leap from my horse, but the ground beneath my feet suddenly explodes with blinding light and deafening sound. A barrier of pure energy erupts around me, trapping me inside a shimmering dome while everything beyond it is blasted backward with tremendous force.
I scream “No!” at the top of my lungs, watching in absolute horror as Locke, Sam, and Rue are knocked violently off their feet. The force is so devastating that all three of them go careening toward the treacherous edge of the mountain, their bodies tumbling through the snow like broken dolls.
Locke manages to slam his dagger deep into the packed snow to halt his slide, his muscles straining as he fights gravity itself. Rue, with reflexes like quicksilver, catches Sam’s arm just before he tumbles over the precipice into the void below. They’re all fighting desperately to get back to me, clawing through the snow and shouting my name, but they can’t breach whatever mystical barrier now separates us.
I’m alone, completely and utterly alone, and the trial has begun.
The wraiths descend upon me like a plague of locusts, their red sockets fixed on me with malevolent hunger. My first instinct is to draw my dagger, but even as my hand closes around the familiar grip, I know the truth, I’m not a fighter, not really. Simple steel won’t be enough against creatures of shadow and darkness. Sheathing the blade with trembling fingers, I reach inward for the light that’s become part of me, searching for that golden warmth that saved me before. I can feel it flickering deep in my soul, but it won’t come to my aid, remaining stubbornly dormant when I need it most.
“Come on! Come on!” I shout in growing desperation, my voice cracking as panic begins to claw at my throat. It’s useless, the light remains just out of reach.
Thinking quickly through my terror, I dismount my horse and give him a sharp slap on the rump, sending him galloping away from the battle. I don’t want to risk the innocent beast’s life in whatever hell is about to unfold. Taking off running across the treacherous snow, I can hear the wraiths’ shrieks growing louder and more frenzied behind me, but I continue to call upon whatever magic I can grasp. The light evades me completely, but water, blessed, familiar water answers my desperate call.
There is snow and ice all around me, an endless arsenal if I can just harness it properly.
I fling out both arms and will the snow to respond to my need, to become something deadly and sharp. It responds instantly, as if it had been waiting for my command all along. Knives of pure crystal forms in the frigid air, lancing upward with lethal precision, spearing the nearest wraiths through their heads and chests. They explode into clouds of ash and acrid smoke that stings my eyes and burns my throat.
I keep running, not daring to stop, shooting volleys of ice daggers behind me without looking back. I’m too afraid to stop and see exactly how many wraiths are pursuing me across thisfrozen hellscape. It dawns on me with grim clarity that I’m supposed to be fighting, not fleeing for my life like a terrified animal. The thought would be almost laughable if I wasn’t mere inches from a brutal death.
Turning sharply on my heel, I stomp my foot hard against the packed snow, kicking up a cloud of white powder. I raise both hands high above my head and pull from the very depths of my soul, drawing on reserves of power I didn’t know I possessed. A massive, towering wall of ice erupts from the ground, blocking out the wraiths and giving me precious moments of reprieve.
