Climbing the spiraling stairs, I leap over gaps; my shoulder pressed tightly against the cold stone wall. The prince’s gaze is a weight on my back, following my every move. Any moment now, he could strike.
My trembling hand searches for support in the crumbling masonry. I have never felt so vulnerable in my life. My fingers close around a stone in my pocket—a small, pitiful defense against the full-blooded Fae with terrifying magic. The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh. What hope do I have? He’s honed his powers into lethal precision over decades, while I can only manage a few unclear illusions or shove someone off balance.
Yet no lightning sears my flesh. No blast hurls me into the walls. The faint glow of flames fades with each turn of the stairs, and the darkness ahead thickens like a living thing.
This would be a perfect breeding ground for Shadowfeeders. Gluttonous to devour life, they can spawn in any shadow beyond the reach of the Blessed Light spell. Reluctantly, I summon a small light, creating a faint, shimmering cloud above my head. It casts just enough light to reveal the rubble and cracks, making the shadows entwine into monstrous shapes. The spell is too weak to keep the Shadowfeeders at bay, and it will only last a few minutes. But that’s all the time I need to find a vantage point.
The first level is blocked off—rocks and debris barricade the entrance. A desperate defense, perhaps, but it clearly didn’t save the people who once lived here. Whatever swept through this city left nothing alive.
My steps sink into a thick layer of dust on the way to the second floor, untouched for centuries. Has no one else made it this far? Or did others try, only to meet their end at the hands of the prince? My breath catches at the thought; I am already dreading the idea of my way back. Maybe that cruel monster is just sitting there, waiting. The last notes of the haunting melody have died out a while ago. Maybe he’s gone?
Small steps, Talysse.
The light spell starts to drain me, but I’ve reached the landing of the second floor. The faint glow of the spell reveals delicate filigree leaves and flowers carved into the stone, with traces of paint still clinging to the carvings—roses that were once a vivid red, leaves a deep emerald green. For a moment, I pause, imagining the beauty this place must have once held.
The human kingdoms rivaled the Fae ones before the Hex. Art, magic, and science competed to create the perfect society. So much lost to the greed for more power…
My fingers follow the faded paint. Colors have always captivated me—they are so rare in this gray world. I’ve often tried to picture a world drenched in color: vast green forests, meadows dotted with flowers in every hue, birds splashed with the paints of Raynisse’s palette, clear lakes with golden fish…No decay, no death lurking in the shadows, no long nights.
Moonlight filters through the arched door, and I dismiss my weak spell.
My steps disturb the thick, rotten carpet, raising clouds of dust that shimmer like snowflakes in the light of my spell. Dark outlines of overturned furniture emerge as I cautiously approach an arched window, the night sky framed by intricate stone tracery. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see the prince stalking me. But there’s no one there. Whatever twisted game he’s playing, he’s letting me be—for now. The knot in my stomach loosens and I turn to the window.
The city sprawls endlessly beneath the moonlight, an ocean of marble frozen in time. It looks peaceful, but the darkness is too thick in the shadows of a tall ruin not far from the tower. It seems alive, expanding, its tendrils slowly snaking down the narrow alleys.
Atos’s hairy armpits!
Shadowfeeders!
Nobody who has seen them lives to tell. Yet, some travelers speak of ten-foot-tall cloaked figures with malevolent eyes, clawed limbs, and unfathomable speed. Only the magical Shadowblades can harm them, legendary weapons wielded by a few powerful Fae, yet nobody has ever boasted about killing one. If you can’t hurt it or outrun it, avoid it—simple wisdom from the streets of Tenebris. I carefully mark the spot on the mental map I’m drawing, vowing to avoid it at any cost. Then I continue scanning the ruins for something worth investigating.
There is a building that looks like an arcane academy. It’s pentagonal, each wing devoted to one of the Elders. The courtyard is littered with rubble and overgrown with weeds. My heart drums in my chest. Finally, something that gives me hope! I prepare for the dreaded way out of this tower, when something else draws my attention. Someone was faster than me. Like a lost soul, flickering light creeps among the bushes while another one—a simple torch—climbs the grand staircase of the main entrance of the building. Another contestant must have started their search there. A tiny, excited yelp escapes me. Seems like the first clash of these Trials is just minutes away. And to make the stakes even higher, more Shadowfeeders appear in the dark alleys below, gliding through the gloom to the academy.
Time is running out. Soon, the city will be crawling with them, and wherever they go, their thralls—the Tainted Ones—will follow.
And then we’re all screwed.
Sharpening that sense with no name, I try to find any source of magic.
And there it is. An oddity.
A mansion of white stone, untouched by decay or whatever destroyed the city. It sticks out like a sore thumb. The rays of the moon around it flicker with odd iridescence, reflected by its sparkling surface. It’s just half a mile from the pentagonal building, and, praised be the Elders, no lights wander around it. The ruins stretch for many miles, and noticing it from the ground is probably impossible. I’m absorbed in memorizing the safest route through the maze of the streets when a loud thud and footsteps above startle me.
Someone is walking on the level above me.
Did the prince climb up unnoticed? That’s simply impossible. I press my back against the wall, blending with the shadows next to the window. The heavy steps above head toward the stairwell. Whoever is upstairs is most likely coming my way.
Just great. I am caught between the intruder above and the murderous prince below. Best to hide and let them take each other out.
A deafening thunder shakes the building. Dust and tiny rocks shower from the ceiling, powdering my leather doublet. An agonizing female shriek slices through the night, piercing me to the marrow.
And drawing all Shadowfeeders in the town our way.
This was unmistakably the last sound someone did in this world. Someone perishing in great pain. And it came from downstairs, where the prince was playing his melody of death. The thunder, without any doubt, was a powerful spell.
My breaths come fast and shallow. The steps above resume, rumbling down the stairs. Whoever is upstairs is now in a hurry.
Shadowfeeders outside? Checked.
