They don’t give me a chance to try to run. They instantly attack together.
Light erupts across my skin, golden jagged lines sparking. One blade arcs toward me. I block with my sword. Another comes from the side. I meet it with a blast of magic. Energy slams the mawless into the wall, cracking stone, but the creature drags itself upright without hesitation.
The second lunges again. My sword hums as my magic flows into it, the edge blazing with searing light. In my other hand, I summon a weapon of pure radiance, a sword born of magic alone.
I twist, barely dodging a strike that whistles past my ribs. Another comes down fast. I parry, sparks screaming as metal clashes. To my own surprise, my movements are fast as if instinct guides me.
A mawless barrels toward me, mid-strike. I duck, pivot, and thrust my conjured blade straight through its chest. The creature bursts apart in a cloud of ash that scatters like smoke in the wind.
Pain sears across my back before I can turn. A cry rips out of me as hot blood runs down my spine. The second mawless is already pulling back for another strike. Snarling, I spin, driving both weapons into its body. Light flares, blinding, and then it too bursts into ash.
I gasp for breath. My back burns. My hands tremble. I’m faster and stronger than before, yes, but I only survived because these things were weaker than the first one I fought. If they hadn’t been, I have no doubt I’d be dead.
I force myself onward, each step heavy. The Labyrinth twists again, leading me to five more dead ends, each one gnawing at what little strength I have left. But then, the air shifts. The path ahead opens. I can feel that the end is close.
Still, no Serenya.
My stomach sinks. I’d hoped to find her, to shield her from whatever this cursed trial throws at us. But she’s not here. She’s somewhere else, fighting her own horrors that I can’tprotect her from. I close my eyes for the briefest moment and whisper a prayer through dry lips.
“Please, Phynnera, let her be safe.”
The portal glows ahead of me, no more than twenty feet. Relief floods me. I push forward—
And stop dead when someone steps into my path.
My eyes widen.Kallan.
Not the Kallan from my dreams. Not the one who speaks in shadows, offering fragments of his memory. No, this one is different. His expression twists with something darker. His smile is like a blade.
“You think you can protect her?” His voice drips with mockery. “You think you can takemyplace at her side?” His grin is sinister. “Prove it.”
He lunges.
I raise my blade—my magic coating the steel in light—catching his strike with a clang that rattles my bones. He laughs, and it sounds so wrong it makes my skin crawl.
“Even stealing my fighting tactics,” he sneers, his own blade igniting with fire.
We clash. The sound of steel becomes relentless music, echoing in the narrow stone corridors. Neither of us lands a true blow. His movements mirror mine exactly, every step, every strike, every twist.
Realization hits me—cold and crushing.
He’s copying me. A perfect reflection. A mirror I cannot outfight.
My muscles burn. My breath grows ragged. He does not tire. He doesn’t falter. The fight is endless.
Desperation drives me. On the next clash, I hold the lock. My sword presses against his, sparks raining between us. My free hand shoots out, seizing his wrist. His fingers close around mine at the same instant, identical.
I grit my teeth, pouring my magic into him. It surges—hot, white fire racing down my arms, burning everything in its path.
The marks on my skin blaze. Too bright. I can barely see. It feels like I’m coming apart—burning from the inside out. Still, I push harder. Harder than I should. My chest’s about to split open. Ash coats my tongue. When I’m certain I’ll be torn apart by my own power, he bursts into ash.
I collapse to the ground, trembling, gasping for air that tastes of smoke. I used too much magic. Every muscle shakes. I drag myself upright with the help of the wall, legs unsteady but unwilling to fail me. The portal glows ahead, a beacon. I stagger toward it, slow but determined, and step through.
The courtyard blazes with light as I reemerge. The orb, the one I had all but forgotten, drifts from my side and into Queen Zephyra’s waiting hands as she watches from the balcony above.
My legs threaten to buckle. My body screams for rest. But I lock my knees and hold. I won’t collapse. Not here. Not again. I’m stronger than I was during the second trial, and I want them to see it.
Torin strides up, grinning as he claps me on the shoulder. “You did it. Stage one of trial three, finished. You’re close to the end, my friend.”
