“But am I not your worst fear, baby girl?” Lavinia’s body morphs into Calder, and his deep voice rings hollow in her ears.
“I fear being wrong about you!” Aura screams at him with such intensity that she trembles.
His smile is unnatural.
Most unlike the man who holds her in his thick arms every night as they fall into an unsteady slumber.
“Yes, yes, you do, Princess.”
She blinks away the burning tears of her family’s mangled bodies as Calder joins her beside Sigvid.
Pain threatens to overwhelm her as she glances behind to watch the swinging forms of every family and friend she has ever loved.
Their bodies hang over her like a sickening symbol of failure should Makt defeat them.
“After Isabel, you could be wrong in your judgment of me. Only this time, if you miss the mark, the Draemonium succeeds.” He cups her cheek, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. “You can always walk away from this Abyss. We don’t have to tell anyone your secret.”
Her eyes narrow at him as he guides her away from Sigvid’s vacant stare.
“My secret?” She lets the Calder, a mere figment of her imagination, pull her deeper along the beaten path toward a black marble altar with a lifeless body resting atop. “Who is that?”
“Say it, Princess. Who am I?” Calder presses her front against the side of the stone so she can observe her own features on display. The uncanny appearance is like gazing into a reflection.
“Say it.” He growls in her ear.
Her heart thunders in her chest, and her mouth dries. “I fear…”
“Say it!” His hand wraps around her neck, squeezing tightly.
“I fear you are Makt’s son!”
The tension around her body releases, and she whirls around to confront his glacial gaze, now black as night.
“But the Princess doesn’t care, does she?” His voice is gravelly, distant. “She is content embracing the Demon. The one who will destroy her family.”
She shakes her head. “Even if you are the son of Makt, you are still the man I…,” she hesitates, “care about! I fear being wrong about your motives and damning my loved ones because of my poor choices, again.”
The ground rumbles, and suddenly, the altar disappears. A darkness washes over her, returning her to the forest where they entered.
Aura clutches her chest, glancing around at the swirling sticks at the base of the trees and the chipmunks scurrying comfortably.
She scrambles back the way she entered, but instead of finding the creek and the chains, she uncovers a path of lit pinecones leading to an enclosure of wrought-iron fencing twisted in Skalor knots between the trees.
A thin, towering gate ushers her inward.
Yet, she balks.
None of her companions wait inside, and she cannot hear anyone nearby.
She worries her bottom lip in indecision before finally plopping on the ground, leaning her head against the metal fencing.
She closes her eyes, listening to the faint noises of the forest and toying with the loose snow as she processes her trial and the dead faces she worries she will never unsee.
“Ah, shit!” Edmund’s voice shudders her out of her stupor.
He bumbles through the underbrush, turning at each snow-covered tree as if it were a spiritual guide.
“Cousin!” He kneels at her side, gripping her face. “You passed your trial!”
