I know it won’t hold them for long. Turning again, I keep running, unsure of how much time the wall will buy me before they break through or simply fly over it. The sound of their frustrated shrieks echoes off the ice, growing more enraged by the second.
Arrows whistle past my ear with deadly accuracy, catching me completely off guard. Fireballs streak from jagged cliffs that I hadn’t even noticed before, exploding against the snow in bursts of steam and smoke. The entire mountaintop has transformed into an active battlefield, and I’m the sole target of every weapon, every spell, every bit of killing intent focused into this space.
Figures emerge from hidden crevices and snow drifts, soldiers clad in black armor that seems to absorb light, elemental magic wielders hurling molten rock and frozen wind with equal fury. Lightning splits the sky in brilliant, terrifying forks that leave afterimages burned into my retinas. The entire peak has become a war zone designed specifically to test me, to break me, to see if I’m worthy of whatever power I’m meant to claim.
I spin, slash, and throw everything I have at them.
Water flows from my fingertips like liquid silver, carving through the air in elegant, deadly arcs before forming intojagged spears of ice. My concussive magic pulses from my palms in waves, and I nearly weep with relief to feel it responding. Short, brutal bursts of pure force shatter both ice and bone with equal efficiency. My sight sparks to life, born of desperation and the immediate need to survive, I begin seeing flashes of their attacks before they come, giving me split seconds to dodge and counter.
A fae warrior wielding wind like a weapon appears behind me, but I see him coming in a brief vision. I duck low, sweeping his legs from underneath him with a move that would make Locke proud, then stab down into his chest with a blade of pure ice that forms in my hand. Without hesitation I kick out hard, sending his body tumbling over the edge of the mountain to join the rocks in the abyss below.
I should feel remorse, sadness for the loss of life, some flicker of humanity in the face of what I’ve just done. Survival has stripped away such luxuries, it’s either them or me, and I choose me without apology. I don’t know what’s real and what might be illusion in this trial but judging by the ache in my limbs and the bone-deep weariness spreading through my body, this is all brutally, unforgivingly real. All I can do is keep pushing forward until I reach the end of this nightmare or die trying.
I’m completely lost in the rhythm of battle, so absorbed in the deadly dance of survival that I don’t notice the new danger approaching from behind until a powerful force slams into me like a charging bull.
I crash face-first into the snow, gasping and choking as the breath is torn violently from my lungs. Stars explode across my vision, and for a moment I can’t tell up from down.
Struggling to get my bearings, I stumble forward on my hands and knees, spitting snow and blood from my mouth as I turn to face whatever fresh hell has decided to join this party. When I finally manage to look up, my eyes widen with a shockso profound it nearly stops my heart entirely. Terror floods my veins like ice water, and every instinct screams at me to cower, to bow, to beg for mercy. But I refuse to show that fear. Not now, not after everything I’ve endured and overcome.
Silver robes descend from the storm-torn sky like a falling star, billowing around a figure of terrible beauty. Long white hair streams behind her like liquid moonlight, beautiful and sinister in equal measure. The very goddess who stripped me of my magic and sentenced me to death has come to finish what she started.
Goddess Ourea.
She lands with impossible grace, as if gravity is merely a suggestion she can choose to ignore. Her long hair continues to billow behind her like smoke given form, and her dark skin gleams with an otherworldly luminescence in the harsh mountain sunlight. Her silver eyes burn with the cold fire of distant stars, ancient and pitiless.
“You thought you could escape me, child?” she says, her voice like the sound of cracked glass grinding together. Each word carries the weight of divine judgment.
My heart stutters and skips, but I force myself to straighten my spine. “You’re not supposed to be part of the trial.”
“No,” she agrees, stepping closer with predatory grace. “I am above such petty mortal concerns.” She waves her hand dismissively, as if the entire trial system is mere folly beneath her notice.
The battlefield around us suddenly stills, every moving thing freezing in place as if time itself has paused to witness this confrontation. Even the wind dies to an unnatural calm.
“You were mine once,” she says, her voice dropping to something almost tender, which somehow makes it infinitely more terrifying. “You were meant to be mine forever. A high priestess serving in my name, spreading my glory across theBlue Mountains. I have to say, I was highly disappointed when you chose to turn your back on me. So much promise wasted, so much power squandered. You could have been the perfect acolyte, devoted and powerful and eternally grateful for my gifts.”
Her expression shifts to something uglier. “But instead, you chose your mate, a child that was only a mere flicker of life, and the Nephilim whose very existence is an abomination. Now you’ve aligned yourself with the fae, those arrogant immortals who think themselves my equals.”
She practically spits the last words, her beautiful features twisting with divine rage. “You were never supposed to learn about this realm,” she continues, gesturing wildly around us. I can only assume she means Vanir itself, this entire world I’ve stumbled into.
“Micah is gone,” she hisses, her silver eyes flashing with satisfaction. “The Tether between you is severed forever, and I refuse to let someone else claim what rightfully belongs to me. You belong nowhere, child.” Her voice shifts again, becoming crooning and sweet as if she’s speaking to a frightened child. “But I do want you. I have always wanted you. Bow now, Esmeralda. Return to me willingly. Serve me as you were meant to, and I will spare your worthless life. Refuse me again, and I will make absolutely certain you don’t survive this time.”
I rise slowly to my feet, snow falling from my clothes and hair. Every muscle in my body aches, and I can taste blood where I bit my tongue in the fall.
“I died once for you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the supernatural stillness. “I gave you everything I had, what I was allowed to give. I was ignored, isolated, and made to believe I was worthless. Where were you then? Oh, wait, I was believed to be nothing but a powerless dud. It was only when I showed promise that you wanted me. Then you made me an impossibleoffer and you left me broken and near death for choosing life. In so doing you killed my unborn child.”
The wind begins to howl again, whipping up around us as anger simmers deep in my chest, growing hotter with each passing second.
“But I survived,” I say, balling my fists at my sides as power stirs in response to my emotions. “I survived without you. I found strength I never knew I had.”
“You defied a goddess!” she bellows, stepping closer until she towers over me like a mountain herself. Her divine power presses down on me like a physical weight, trying to force me to my knees through sheer presence alone.
I raise my chin defiantly, meeting her burning gaze without flinching. “And I’ll do it again if I have to.”
My power surges from deep inside me, unbidden and wild, responding not to her call but to mine alone. This isn’t her magic returning to me, this is mine. My birthright, hard-earned through pain and sacrifice and the refusal to break.
Mine.
My light explodes outward in a golden nova, absolutely free. The power is different to what it was before, not borrowed or granted, but intrinsically part of who I am.
