But maybe that’s the point of it. That to take blood with this blade you must give some of your own?
The sword makes a humming sound. Not loudly or dramatically. Just a low, living vibration. Like blood rushing through veins or air whispering through lungs.
The voice of the Egg returns, no longer booming. Now it whispers directly inside my skull. “Thornreaper demands sacrifice.”
I stare at the weapon. Thorns glint in the strange light. Not metal exactly. Not plant either. Something in between.
Behind me Sorren chokes. “Nora…” His voice breaks into a cough. Wet. Weak.
In front of me my mother sobs, clutching her chest. “It hurts, baby. Please.”
I step toward the sword. The thorns twitch, eager for my blood. They’re alive. My fingers hover inches from the hilt.
“You may heal one,” the voice says softly. “But only by ending the other.”
My breath catches. Tears spring to my eyes.
“No,” I whisper.
“Yes,” says the voice. “In nature there must be balance.”
The blade shifts. The patina gleams like old blood.
“To save the Heir, you must sever the one who gave you life.”
Mother.
“To save the mother, you must end the one who bonds you with love.”
Sorren.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t…choose.
Behind me, Sorren coughs again, and the sound is thinner this time. Slowly fading.
Mother whimpers from the other side. Gives out a soft, broken sob.
“Please,” I whisper as the first tear tracks down my cheek.
“Don’t let me die,” cries Mom. “I’m scared, honey. We already lost your dad. If I go, you’ll be all alone. Who will care for you when I’m gone?”
“Me,” answers Sorren. “I’ll watch over you. Choose me so I can protect you. So we can save the kingdom. Save me and you save thousands. Hundreds of thousands.”
My head swivels, first to one and then back to the other.
That’s when I realize, this trial isn’t about strength. It’s about allegiance.
Family or fate.
Past or future.
Human or heir.
My heart pounds so violently I feel it in my throat. In my jaw. In my temples.
