My fingers attempt to pull upward, but they bend down against my will. Like they’ll snap if I move them back. He looks at my hand, and his sharp silver eyes take in my face again, judging every inch. “Pull.”
With all I have, I yank my hand back, nearly cracking my wrist in two. A card rips out again, flipping in the air, and this time I see it. Spinning in golden foil glory, our world is held like a womb by a woman with flowing, perfect curls. The king snaps it up again, spinning it around so he can see it.
The World.
“Interesting.” He shows the vizier, whose eyes are just as wide as before.
I’m certain I drew the same card by the king’s measured reaction. Why did he force me to draw it twice? Then, the entire deck is gone in a flash of quick movements.
“Is it bad?” I ask.
The vizier’s wide-eyed look seems to say so.
“Magic is never bad. Only people are.” King Silas looks me up and down, as if he’s trying to see through me. “Take her with the others for now.” He turns and addresses a druid with deep gray wings whose dark hair is streaked with silver, but his body is strong, his posture incredible. “Commander Soto, the Selected are now released to you.”
Several soldiers branch off to the king’s side. One of them snaps his fingers and magically draws out a card with a flourish, darkness gathering again like smoke, just as it did at the Wall, creating a portal. The king gives me one more curious glance before he and his kingsguard disappear through the darkness, the vizier falling in at his side like a shadow.
There are still plenty of guards left for us changelings though. I watch Kasper’s reservations grow, Ember crossing her arms and holding herself tightly, the lava-cursed man eyeing the guards closest to us.
“What’s your name?” I hiss at the guy beside me. I don’t know what’s to happen next, but I want to have as much information as I can get.
“Morgan.” The name seems so plain for him. He’s handsome enough, built strong, and toned like a blacksmith. His hair is more crimson than the natural orangish gold of Ember’s, but it complements the bronze of his skin. He asks, “You?”
“Rune,” I say.
He nods like it fits me, giving me a lingering smile.
Prince Draven’s dark feathered wings shuffle irritably, bumping Morgan’s shoulder hard as he steps to Commander Soto’s side. It draws my wrath, as he doesn’t so much as deign to apologize.
I follow his wake just as Commander Soto calls to us, “Everyone gather up. You don’t want to be left in the darkness, I promise you.”
I stop near the prince, the retort on my tongue dying as I realize something is about to happen. Ember steps up beside me, her expression nervous as the changelings all gather closer. I give her a tight-lipped smile as the guards encircle us.
Draven says nothing, his eyes closed. Intent. Then blackness gathers around his shoulders like a cloak made of night.
A moment later, the shadows twist, becoming a mighty storm that envelops the entirety of our group. My hair whips around me in the gale, and Ember clutches my elbow like a lifeline. The ground sifts immaterial beneath my feet, and everything smells and tastes like ash. I cough, stumbling in the dark, and collide with something solid. Someone. Draven grips hold of me, to stop me falling over him. The swirling winds don’t shift his feet; he’s as immovable as a mountain. I nearly push him away, but his strong hand steadies me. I’d cry out if I could, but I’m choking on the panic pulsating through my body.
All at once, the darkness relents, flaring wide. I gasp and quickly straighten up, getting my bearings. I’m standing between Draven and Ember in a mighty canyon. Ahead of us, across awide obsidian bridge set over a lake of lava, rises an enormous castle, its blackened peaks like blades pointed toward the sky. Magma oozes around it. A volcano far off to the right provides a stark backdrop to the imperious spires and turrets. The air is so dry it burns the skin, and though it’s night and the skies shimmer with starlight, it’s muted from the light below us.
A screech rends out from our right, and I instinctively duck down as a mighty beast flaps over us. A dragon … no, a wyvern with scales of onyx, its horns as spiraled and twisted as Draven’s. My heart leaps into my throat—I’ve read about beasts like these in the Lord of Westfall’s library. He even had one of their skeletons displayed in his grand hall, but some part of me doubted any still lived today. But this one is very much real, stealing the breath from my lungs. It glares at us with a mighty golden eye before it soars to the walls of the massive canyon we’re settled in, roosting along the rim. Beside me, Ember’s mouth hangs open.
“Holy shit,” she mutters, stealing the words right out of my mouth.
Commander Soto addresses our group, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the wild light of the lava pools. “Welcome to the Forge. I am Commander Soto, protector of this institution, trainer of the Wyvern Aerial Legion, royal guardian of Prince Draven, and second in command to only His Majesty, the king.” His voice is deep and authoritative. “This academy will become your home for the next year. After that point, you’ll be either given the chance to stay and continue your development into an immortal or relegated to a trade school or labor camp you’re best suited for. If you complete your classes, you will undergo the final transformation. Only those with the strongest wills survive the Descent process.”
I feel the bodies of the others tense around me.
“These walls are no haven, and you will face many challenges that test your limitations. That is why it’s called the Forge. You are here to be built into something more. Brittle metals break under the duress of too much heat, but the greatest grow stronger.”
Commander Soto nods to us, leading the way forward, and the guards take up their place at our sides. But where would we go? I don’t even know where we are and couldn’t even find this place on a map, let alone imagine a way to reach the Wall or escape beyond it with the Oath in place.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. I don’t intend to be here longer than absolutely necessary. My mother is in this kingdom somewhere, maybe even within the walls of this place, my father and brother in the lands beyond. My best chance at finding them is to stay here and see what I can discover before I act. At least for now. Maybe they’ll even give me the tools of escaping this glorified prison.
I remind myself of this as Prince Draven leans close, whispering in my ear, “Welcome home.”
4Sedah
A Wraith is held in highest regard among spies and lowest among courtiers. They are the shadows in murky alleys who hear your every secret, the darkness lying in wait where lovers cheat beneath the moonlight, and the whispers that follow at your back should you offend their masters. The crueler their lord, the more deadly the Wraith.
