My boots echo as I walk closely behind Torin, my new sword and dagger strapped awkwardly at my sides. The morning sun filters in weakly through the arched corridor windows, casting golden streams of light across the marble floor. My heart beats harder with each step I take toward the courtyard.
I hear the murmurs before I see the gathering. Hushed voices, shuffling feet, and nervous laughter wrapped in tension. As we step into the courtyard, the conversations stop.
The other five contestants stand in a row on the cobbled stone, spaced evenly beneath the shadow of the high palace wall. They all turn to glance at me with curiosity. I wonder what they see. A rival? A dead man walking?
The moment I take my place at the end of the line, the heavy doors above the stairs creak open.
Queen Zephyra steps out into the sunlight, her presence regal and commanding. A long cloak of black and gold trails behind her, her crown shimmering faintly as she descends the marble stairs with smooth grace.
Trailing her are six glowing figures—tiny pixies withtranslucent wings. Their light shimmers in hues of violet, gold, and blue.
The queen stops at the bottom of the steps and surveys the line of champions. “Today marks the beginning of the Trials of the Fated. You stand here not just as hopefuls, but as those who will be judged by the gods, by your people, and by fate itself.”
My throat tightens. I keep my posture steady, even as uncertainty gnaws at my core.
“These trials are not merely tests of strength, but of will. Of heart. Of sacrifice,” she continues. “This morning, your trial shall take place in the catacombs beneath the Ancients’ Rest.”
A ripple of unease moves through the line.
“The catacombs are old,” the queen goes on, “and dangerous. Each of you will be placed within a different section. No allies. No help.”
At this, the six pixies begin to float forward, hovering in a semicircle before each contestant. Mine flickers with silvery-blue light and regards me with curious, glittering eyes.
“These guides will open your portals. Within, you will find traps long-forgotten by time and creatures birthed from shadow and dust. You must reach the exit before midnight.”
“And if we don’t?” Lioran asks.
The queen’s expression remains unchanged. “Then your assigned guard, waiting at your exit, will leave. And you will be disqualified...if you aren't already dead.”
My chest constricts, and my palms grow sweaty.
Torin steps forward behind me. He hands me a torch, speaking softly. “I’ll be waiting for you. Get to me.”
I slowly nod, not trusting my voice.
The queen lifts a hand, and the pixies move as one, the tiny runes in their palms pulsing once. In a shimmer of light and color, six glowing portals bloom in midair like rippling water, each one pulsing with magic.
The queen speaks one last time. “Enter, and let the trials begin.”
One by one, the others step forward, their portals swallowing them.
My pixie smiles and gives me a slow nod, hovering just beside the glowing portal. I exhale and step through, into darkness.
The air is thick, damp, and heavy with the scent of stone and something older as I take my first steps into the catacombs. It lingers like the memory of blood, clinging to the back of my tongue until I gag. Every breath tastes metallic, like I’ve been chewing iron.
I stop just inside the archway. Pressing my back against the cold stone wall, I force myself to breathe more slowly. My lungs won’t listen. I should’ve grounded myself before I stepped in here. Should’ve slowed down, calmed my nerves, done anything other than stumble into this place like prey wandering into a wolf’s den.
My hand sweats as I grip the dagger Torin gave me earlier. I hold the torch in the other hand, the flame sputtering weakly.
I begin walking, but my steps falter when I hear the screams—high, ragged, and cut short too fast. My throat closes. Somewhere deep, one of the other champions just died. I don’tknow who. I don’t think I want to.
A shifting sound behind me makes me freeze. I swing the torch, hand shaking so badly thatsparks fly. For the briefest heartbeat, I swear I see two faintly glowing eyes, pale and watchful in the dark. But when I blink, they’re gone.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. With no choice but to move forward, I continue walking slowly.
Every corridor is the same, with fractured archways, leaning walls, andcrumbling statues of long-dead fae warriors. Moss slicks the floor, making my boots skid more than once, sending a jolt through my shaking legs. The air reeks of mildew and something fouler, like old smoke and rotting flesh.
I reach a narrow staircase. My hand drags along the clammy wall for balance as I climb, each breath sawing in and out too loud in the silence.
