My heart pounds. Because I donotwant to stay in this creepy chamber alone. I also don’t want to step into that dark passage, but Logan’s in there, and I have no interest in chickening out now.
I step inside before I can think better of it.
The darkness swallows me whole. Then, torches flare to life along stone walls, and I gaze around, observing my surroundings.
We’re in a small chamber, maybe ten feet across, with an altar dominating the center. Four medium sized bowls are arranged on its surface.
The door seals behind us with a grinding sound that makes my stomach drop.
I spin to face Logan, electricity already crackling across my palms. “What the hell is going on? What is this place?”
“It’s the test chamber. We’re not in the passages yet, and access isn’t granted freely, since the founders wanted to ensure only the worthy could use their creation. Now, you’ll complete trials to earn the right to use the passages.” He moves to the altar, studying the strange bowls. “Four trials, each created by one of the founding witches. Blood, memory, pain, and death.”
JADE
Logan’s posture is tight,his gaze heavy, as if one wrong word could send me bolting for the exit.
“You can walk away now if you want to,” he says slowly. “I’ll open the door that leads out of here, we’ll be back in the Worship Center, and we’ll forget this ever happened. “You’ll enter Kieran’s tournament unprepared, likely reveal your electricity magic, and face the Council’s punishment, all for simply existing as something different.”
“Or?” I ask, since revealing my electricity magic and facing the Council aren’t high on my list of what I want to accomplish during my time at Blaze Academy.
“Or you trust me and let me guide you through the trials.” He steps closer, close enough that I can see the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “Because with my help, you’re going to pass them.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I can prepare you for exactly what’s coming. You’ll be one step ahead the entire time. With me by your side, you can’t lose.”
I want to argue. I want to call bullshit, to demand him to explain how he can possibly know what’s coming. But there’ssomething in his eyes that roots me to the spot, a fierce conviction that makes me believe him.
“Fine,” I say, steadier than I feel. “But if this kills me, I’m haunting your ass forever.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” He nods in approval, then moves to the first bowl, which is marked with runes. “Each bowl represents what that founding witch valued most. Ulla Skaard believed in blood sacrifice—meaningful magic that requires meaningful loss. You’ll give enough blood to genuinely weaken yourself, to prove you’re willing to sacrifice your strength for the opportunity the founders are giving you to enter their greatest creation.”
I shake my head in confusion. “So, I need to put myself at even more of a disadvantage than I already have?”
“I already told you.” His voice is calm and steady. “Having me by your side is the best advantage you can get.”
“You certainly don’t have confidence issues,” I mutter.
“I don’t.” His gaze holds mine. “But I also have confidence in you.”
The way he says it makes my stomach flip.
“Fine,” I say, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand instead of how simplylookingat Logan causes heat to rise in my body that’s far from appropriate for our current situation. “Define ‘genuinely weaken.’”
“Dizzy. Light-headed. The kind of blood loss that makes you vulnerable.” Worry flickers across his eyes, but he moves to the second bowl, continuing before I can question him again. “Béatrice Sault dealt in memory magic. You’ll sacrifice a cherished memory to black flames. The memory won’t disappear entirely, but it’ll fade, like an old photograph you can barely make out.”
I swallow down what I’m pretty sure is fear. No—it’sdefinitelyfear.
“Clíodhna Rourke.” He touches the third bowl, carved with more symbols I don’t recognize. “She valued endurance. This contains Fire of the River Phlegethon. It burns souls, not flesh, and you’ll need to keep your hand submerged for a full minute to pass her test.”
“So, she wants me to submit myself to voluntary torture.” I step back, my hands shaking.
“Yes,” he confirms. “But after you make it through the full minute, the pain will disappear, and the strength you lost from the blood sacrifice will return.”
“At least there’s a bright side.” I force a smile that definitely isn’t convincing.
“You’ll be grateful for it during the final trial.” He approaches the fourth bowl with reverence. “Erzsébet Varga. Death magic. You’ll drink water from the River Styx, and part of you will descend to the Underworld while your body remains here. There, you’ll have one goal—find a specific flower and bring it back here with you.”
