The trees shimmered, their trunks stretching impossibly high as the sky darkened, not with clouds, but with memory. My memory. Flashes of the guild, of Solei’s knife at my throat. Of Zander’s silence when I learned of his betrothal. Of Remy’s betrayal. Of my father’s voice ordering my death.
Pain bloomed in my chest, and I tried to breathe, but Zander was beside me, staring up, his own eyes reflecting scenes I couldn’t fully see. His fists clenched. I knew what he was seeing. His brother turning away. The crown slipping just out of reach. My blood on his hands when he thought I was dying.
“This isn’t real,” I whispered.
“No. It’s worse,” Zander said, breath ragged.
The wind picked up, and the visions spun around us like a storm, my magic flaring silver, his Dark Fire licking at the edges of the grove, but they weren’t repelling the magic. They were feeding it.
This is a trial,I reminded myself.Not a battle.
“Zander.” I reached for his hand. “We’re not supposed to fight it. We’re supposed to face it.”
His grip found mine, and the second our palms touched, everything slowed.
The wind softened. The pain dulled. And the grove pulsed, not with illusion, but recognition.
Magic coiled around us, twisting like Kaelith and Hein in the skies—Stormlight and Dark Fire weaving together until it wasn’t just light and shadow. It wasus.
The grove went silent.
And then… it bloomed. Trees lit from within. The stream stilled to mirror-glass. The flowers sang, somehow, vibrating softly in the air.
We were still standing in the same place, but the grove had changed.
Zander turned to me. “I think we passed.”
I nodded, heart thudding as I stared into the quiet, awakened grove.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We did.”
We stepped from the grove in silence, the soft glow of its magic still clinging to our skin like mist. The path back to the Hall of Judicium felt shorter somehow, though neither of us spoke as we walked it. Something had shifted between us in that sacred place, and not just our magic, but the way we moved beside each other. There was understanding now. Unspoken. Unbreakable.
The great doors of the hall parted with a sigh, and as we entered, the quiet within pressed against my skin like a velvet curtain. The council was waiting.
The elder stood in the center, no longer seated. His lavender eyes found mine instantly, and it was as if the rest of the room fell away.
“You returned intact,” he said, voice echoing slightly through the marble chamber. His gaze moved between Zander and me. “And changed.”
Zander gave a slight nod. “The grove tested us.”
“And you did not break,” the Elder murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Good.”
The rest of the council sat straighter, the tension in the room shifting. Dormeal stepped up behind us, as silent as moonlight, and gave the elder a single, deep nod.
The elder extended his hand toward the center of the room. “Then let us not delay.”
A shimmer of light unfurled from his palm, and a pedestal rose from the floor—grown of twisted wood and living stone. Resting upon it was a vial of liquid that shimmered with silver. Next to it was a golden key with a purple crystal affixed to it.
“The cure for the poison that afflicts your king,” the elder said. “And the key to something greater.”
Zander stepped forward, but the elder lifted a hand.
“It will only respond to the one who passed the trial.” His eyes were on me now. “You must carry it.”
I stepped forward, pulse fluttering like wings in my chest. My fingers closed around the vial, warm and pulsing with quiet power.
“For your world to survive,” the elder said softly, “you will need more than weapons. You will need unity. And you will need truth.”
