The road turned steeper and narrower, forcing us into a single file line.
“We’re close,” Théo said as he took the lead, his map unfurled across his horse’s broad shoulders. Ayla rode closely behind him. A whispered conversation passed between them.
Seren gasped as Equinox’s hoof slipped on a run of loose rock. I wrapped my arm tighter around her waist to steady her, but my faithful mare regained her footing, plodding on at a consistent pace.
When the moon was high, and the stars sparkled through the cloudless night, Théo raised a hand. We came to a halt, awaiting his instructions. He squinted through the dark. He examined his map, bent low over his saddle, then straightened.
“We're here,” he finally announced, dismounting from his horse. The rest of our party followed suit.
I steadied Seren as she teetered on stiff legs. She thanked me with a grin.
We secured our horses to a great tree with thick, low-hanging branches. Equinox snorted her displeasure, and I glanced around with unease.
“The Drakány shrine should be just through this treeline, here.” Théo walked forward purposefully.
I followed, lacing my fingers through Seren’s. Ayla and Safiya followed only a pace behind.
As the trees broke apart, a clearing opened. It was wide and flat, nestled between the rocky cliff faces of the two mountains which rose around us.
In the center stood a dragon carved entirely of stone. It was a massive structure, towering well above our mortal statures. Its head was lowered and close enough to touch, stone eyes staring unseeingly as we approached.
We let out a collective, heavy breath. This was once the center of the Drakány home, before it was stolen from them. Before they were murdered in cold blood by humans hoping to claim a mágik that did not belong to them.
The air felt heavy, even more so than it had on our entire approach through the Sárkhona Draum. We took a few moments in silence,each of us feeling the weight of the atrocities that had been done here.
Théo spoke, breaking the quiet. He had a book in his hands, opened to a messily scrawled upon page. “According to the ritual, the two of you will approach the Drakány shrine. I will establish a connection through you with my life mágik, and then you will place both hands upon the dragon's cheek. I will tether you to our world, while the shrine draws you to the Celestial Realm. From there, you will undergo a trial in which the Goddesses will test your worthiness before determining whether you are to receive strengthened mágik, or whether you will face the consequences of your failure.”
“Face the consequences?” I shot a troubled glance at Seren.
Théo ran his fingers over his white hair nervously. It was an expression I had yet to see on the councilman. “I told you that it would not end in your death, regardless of what the Goddesses decided, but there are always consequences. If they do not deem you worthy, there will be a cost.”
“Why are you just mentioning this now, Théo?” Ayla gave her friend a hard look. “Should we not have had all of the information before coming here?”
“Would it have changed your decision to come?” He asked, eyes on the stone beneath his feet. “We do not even know what the consequences might be.”
“I don’t know,” Ayla said. “But I am done with lies and half truths. No more secrets. That goes for everyone.”
“Do you still want to do this?” I whispered to Seren, squeezing her fingers between my own.
She frowned but bobbed her head. “Yes. The risk is certainly higher than we anticipated, but we have little choice. We need to become strong enough to defend Acsilla.”
I pulled her in for a brief embrace, speaking into her satiny hair. “I know you will pass the Goddesses’ trial, Ren. I have the utmost faith in you.”
“Not in the Goddesses?” She teased, nose crinkling in amusement.
“No,” I said firmly. “I follow you.”
Seren blinked in surprise, something beyond happiness swimming in the depths of her mismatched brown and gray eyes. I brushed a kiss over each of her temples then let her go.
“Ready?” Seren asked Ayla, moving to stand beside her.
The other woman nodded, her chestnut colored hair swishing against her back.
Théo directed them forward. When they each stood beside the looming statue, hands just shy of the dragon's face, he lit up with brilliant white mágik.
It reminded me of the night with Seren at the spring, but where her mágik had glowed silver, Théo’s was pure incandescent white. Seren and Ayla’s eyes glowed white in turn, as he established the connection.
Their hands moved achingly slow, a moment away from making contact with the stone surface when a scream rent through the silence.
