I turned, my body moving strangely in the mind bending space as I searched for the voice.
It rang through the air again. “Welcome Seren Corso, daughter of Anna and Stephanus Corso. Welcome Seren Sgalier, daughter of Katalin and Tarquin Sgalier. You are two, yet you are one. The Celestial Realm has awaited your arrival.”
When I finally found the source of the voice, I gasped. My hand pressed to my open mouth in astonishment.
A dragon hovered before me, massive and menacing and endlessly beautiful. Her scales were iridescent blue with wide wings that were outstretched, floating on an invisible current. She did not move save for the slow blink of her massive golden eyes.
I bowed as best as I could, body threatening to upend as my weight tipped forward. “Great Drakány, thank you. I have come to receive the trial of the Goddesses. To strengthen my power, if they determine me worthy.”
The Drakány hummed thoughtfully, though from the expression on her scaly face, I could tell the creature knew why I had come.
“The trial of the Goddesses,” the creature began, floating closer to me with each word, “is a test of your morality and your will. Your willingness to become a better version of yourself. Are you prepared for this task?”
I considered the last few months. I had changed so much. I had been evolving into a better version of myself all this time, almost as if I had been on the path to this very moment without even realizing it.
My heart pounded, but when I affirmed my decision, my voice was steady.
The Drakány blew a hot breath of approval through her snout. “In order to successfully complete the Rite of Celestials, both sunand moon must be deemed worthy. One cannot be stronger than the other, they must always remain in balance. Do you understand?”
“What does that mean?” I asked, looking into the golden gaze of the beast.
“It means, child, that both you and the sun wielder must agree to and pass your trials. If one or both of you reject the trial or fail to pass the Goddesses’ tests, your mágik will be forfeit.” The dragon's voice remained unchanged, the same smooth, musical sound, despite the heaviness of the news.
“Oh…” I frowned down at my hands. We had known that failing the trial would have consequences, but I had not realized our mágik was at risk nor that our fates were so tied to one another.
“Do you accept the consequences and seek entry to the trials?” The Drakány asked, either unaware or uninterested in my moment of hesitation.
I took a deep breath, thinking of Ayla, surely facing a similar conversation elsewhere in this realm. I thought of Harkin, believing in me so firmly, and of Théo and Safiya, who helped us even at great risk to themselves.
There was only one answer, in the end.
“I accept.”
With the click of sharp talons, my vision faded to blackness.
When my sight returned, I stood in the courtyard in Ordelés. My hands trembled with fear, my heart thumping an unsteady rhythm.
Luca screamed, his youthful face scrunched in fear. Tears ran over the curves of his round cheeks as the Rázuri backed him against the fountain. There were too many of them, and I knew my brother would die without my help.
My chest erupted in fear and pain. Panic seized me—a familiar friend—but I fought against its embrace. I lunged forward, reaching for my sword, but my grasp came away empty. I had no sword, no method to defend him, for this was not the present. It was a memory of a time when I had been helpless.
Luca died because I had not been trained with blades or mágik. I had been young and naive, and I thought mágik would never hurt me or those that I loved.
I was wrong—painfully, desperately, bone-achingly wrong.
I gasped around the anguish of this memory. I tried to tear my eyes away, but I could not, and when Luca fell to the ground, limp and lifeless, I wailed. I knew I was not really there, not anymore, but the pain and hurt and anger which gripped me felt so real, so immediate.
The Rázuri approached, breaking away from the memory and what had really happened that night.
I held my ground, that familiar desire to hurt and kill rising in me, but there was something else, too. Some small niggling feeling in the back of my mind that told me not to give in.
The Rázuri stood before me now, the memory warping into something unnatural as their cloaks whipped in the wind. Wicked smiles spread across their cruel faces.
“Don’t you want revenge?” the first hissed.
“We know how you’d love to kill us all,” claimed the other. “I bet you’d love to watch the light leave our eyes… Wouldn't you like to drain the blood from our veins?”
They laughed, and the sound was grating.
