Father looked down from me, shock creased across a hateful face, and then he looked at something behind me.
A glow of a strange, green-tinged light was the only warning I had before the room rippled with ancient, murky power. It cast a ring outwards from the once dormant stone gate.
My father lifted a hand to shield his face, then he was engulfed in light entirely. The entire room, and everyone in it, was devoured by the rancid light.
I forged my eyes closed, clutching hold of Hector’s terrifyingly still body. Cowering over, I put my face down to his and refused to let go.
From inside the vile light, I heard a voice that was equal parts joyous and dangerous.
“Welcome to the Witch Trials. Contestants, how glad I am to have you back. Remember, rule them. Win. Become Grand High and you will be blessed with your heart’s greatest desires.”
Before the basement of the White Tower disappeared from view, a single hot thought filtered through my mind, dread claiming every part of my body.
What have I done?
PART I
THE WITCH TRIALS
17
HECTOR
Iwas slumped against a white, smooth wall in a never-ending corridor, staring down at my bloodied hands laid out on my lap. In one palm sat the shrapnel of a bullet. I couldn’t fathom that the bullet was outside of my body, but that was magic for you.
I lifted my soaked shirt, inspecting the wound on my stomach. It had healed. My death was banished to the far reaches of possibility, and yet as I gazed at the place where the bullet had torn through flesh, I saw fresh pink skin.
Perhaps if I didn’t look so much like a victim of a slasher film, I could convince myself I hadn’t almost died.
For all I knew, thiswasdeath. This place… a heaven or afterlife of some description, with the corridor of pure white stretching out before me for as far as I could see.
Overhead fluorescent bulbs emitted a stark light, making it almost impossible not to squint against the glare.
But I knew the truth, because I’d heard the voice loud and clear above my pain.
Words that repeated across my skull, taunting me as I tried to catch my breath.
“Welcome to the Witch Trials. Contestants, how glad I am to have you back. Remember, rule them. Win. Become Grand High and you will be blessed with your heart’s greatest desires.”
Death would’ve been a better option than this reality.
My legs were numb as I stood, using the wall behind me for leverage. I left prints of my blood anywhere I touched, turning my end of the corridor into a murder scene. Fitting, considering I’d somehow made it back into the Witch Trials—a place where only death won.
By the looks of it, I was alone, and yet I didn’t feel lonely. To my sides, no wider than the span of my extended arms, were two imposing walls. I stumbled over to one, leaning my ear against the cold stone and listening for sounds beyond it. I was sure I heard the shuffling of feet from one side, but the other side was quiet. I lifted my knuckles and knocked, hearing the tell-tale sign of something hollow. I wondered if I punched hard enough I could break through to the other side.
What happened to everyone else?My throat seized as my thoughts went to my friends. Romy and Kai. I barely remembered when I saw them last, as if the interaction was blurred from my brush with mortality.
And then there was Arwyn barging his way into my mind. The warmth of his steady hold, his hands refusing to let me go. His tears as I looked up at him, brightening the desperation in his eyes as he held me in his arms. When the light had overcome his face, harshening his sculpted bone structure, I thought that was just me finally leaving life for whatever lingered beyond it.
I never expected to wake up here, back in the Witch Trials, alone and devastatingly afraid.
“Emon!” I shouted out, reaching out for my familiar’s bond. During the previous competition, Caym had been severed from me whilst we were inside of Bahmet’s domain. Of course, at thetime we didn’t understand why, but with context it was because this was where the demon lord ruled.
Silence thrummed through our connection, and for the first time, I dreaded it. By no means did I have a deeper connection to Emon, but there was a sense of need that I felt when I thought of him.
Giving up, I did the only thing I could do and moved down the corridor. It was the only obvious route to get out of here. On shaking legs, it took what felt like hours to walk down the length of it.
At the end was a nondescript white door.
