I stumble toward it.
My steps are erratic now, my balance failing.
My body feels…disconnected. Like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. My skin is too tight, the flesh beneath trembling as I push my legs to keep moving. But the darkness surrounding me twists. Deeper shadows warp and bend, shapes flickering along the walls at the edges of my vision. My heart slams against my ribs as I whip my head toward them.
Nothing. There’s nothing there.
Yet the whispers start next, soft voices indistinct but menacing as they coil in my ears. They sound like they’re coming from everywhere, from inside my head.
The ground tilts beneath me, or maybe I tilt—I can’t tell.
I slam into a flat surface as my balance betrays me. The surface givesway, and my weight carries me forward into blinding light. The roar of a crowd assaults my ears, louder than thunder, but it doesn’t even sound real. It distorts and breaks apart, twisting into something unrecognizable.
Strong arms wrap around me as my knees buckle. My chest heaves, but I can’t seem to catch a proper breath. My head jerks up, eyes meeting Keres’s face, but his smirk shifts, his features melting one moment, snapping into sharp clarity the next. “Congratulations, Aella,” he says, and his voice echoes like it comes from miles away.
I try to respond, but nothing comes.
There’s no victory here, only the poison coursing through me. My limbs give out as it works deeper.
Around us, the crowd is still cheering, their voices tangling into strange, bell-like peals. The world tilts, then twists, sickening and chaotic. I reach out to hold on to something—anything.
And the nightshade pulls me into its dark embrace.
Consciousness creeps back, ushered inby sharp pinpricks of light stabbing through the darkness behind my closed eyes and a persistent throbbing ache in my skull. Each pulse pounds like a distant drum, echoing through my head as I grapple to make sense of where I am and what has happened.
The scent of herbs and oil makes my head spin as I open my eyes to a blur of shadows and shapes, the world coming into focus. A single aura in the room’s corner provides a dim, cool light, casting an eerie glow over the wooden benches lining the wall, scattered with clay jars, bandages, and bronze tools. I look to my side, wincing at the movement as I eye a row of narrow cots just like the one I’m lying in now.
The infirmary. Gods, the trial.
I attempt to sit up, but a shadow looms to my left, stepping closer. A steady hand rests on my shoulder, guiding me back down with care. My eyes lock on to a pair of golden ones, steady and filled with concern.
“Raven,” I say, though my throat feels parched and tight, his name escaping my lips like dry leaves skittering across gravel.
He settles into a chair I hadn’t noticed earlier, sliding it closer to my cot. Reaching for a pitcher and cup on the small nightstand, Raven pours a drink and places the cup in my hands, lifting it gently to my lips.
“What happened?” I ask. My voice is still weak but clearer now.
“They brought you here after the trial,” Raven replies, his voice calmbut laced with something that forces my eyes open and back to him. “You lost consciousness.”
Something about his words gives me clarity, and I sit bolt upright, ignoring the way my body protests. “Did I pass?”
“Yes, you did,” Raven replies, his expression softening as he places a hand on my arm. A comforting warmth radiates from the small point of contact, spreading across my skin. “All the contestants made it out in time, which means everyone will advance to the next trial.”
“Thank Notos.” I suck in a shallow breath, guilt sharp as daggers in my chest. I came so close to failing—not just myself, but Nyssa. All because I had grown careless, lowering my guard and leaning too heavily on the comfort and privilege of my title as a princess. I had underestimated just how far others would go to claim even a fraction of that same power.
The weight of it crushes me with brutal clarity.
Nyssa is the reason I endure this madness, my anchor through the chaos. If I can’t protect her, then what is all this even for? My determination sharpens, slicing through the fog of exhaustion.
There is no space for weakness here.
“I thought the Aviary would have trained you better to detect poison by scent,” Raven says. His tone is serious, not even a trace of teasing hidden beneath.
The memories crash over me like a tidal wave—fragmented, chaotic, impossible to fully grasp. I struggle to piece them together: the waiting chamber, the searing burn of nightshade coursing through my veins as I tore through the labyrinth, and then…nothing. Just an infinite void of darkness—until now.
Yet, there’s something more.
“There were marks in the labyrinth, Raven.” My fingers trace invisible patterns against the sheets. “They hid gaps in the walls. Likegoiteía,but different. Similar to the ones in Keres’s chambers and the passage in the servants’ quarters. This specific one seemed to be for concealment.”
