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“Kill him,” Cato yells.

I don’t know how. I try to force the shadows to cover him, but they merely push closer, narrowing the circle around his feet. The Chariot bends down and presses a finger to the shadows.

Nothing happens. “No,” I whisper. “Please no.”

He lifts his head, a violent grin stretching his lips wide. “Not good enough, Moon.” He straightens and steps forward. His foot lands on the shadows … and stays there. He looks down, his brows pulling together in confusion. “What the fuck?”

As if the touch is all they needed, the inky shadows spill forward, closing the last bit of space in the middle of the circle. They don’t climb the Chariot’s body, but he seems shorter somehow.…

“He’s sinking.”

I jump. When did Cato get so close? I start to turn to face him, but his arms come around me and he braces my elbows with his warm hands to keep my arms outstretched. “Don’t stop, Kestrel. Look.”

I look.

The Chariot is sinking. Even as I watch, his body shifts down another inch and then two. He panics, bending in half to pull at his legs, but it’s as if they’re stuck in the earth itself. Worse, his struggles make him sink faster. In a blink, his legs are gone and only his torso is visible.

That’s when he starts screaming. It’s a horrible sound, too close and too loud. It takes me several beats before I realize why. The Wands have gone silent around us, the entire arena watching in horror as my shadows eat the Chariot.

My arms are so fucking heavy. If not for Cato’s strength keeping them in place, they would have dropped. I would have dropped. Too much magic and too little time and not enough control. “Cato—”

“Don’t stop. Not yet.”

On the other side of the Chariot, Vesper climbs unsteadily to their feet. They pull a dagger from somewhere, a small blade that gleams in the darkness, sharp enough to kill. They stagger forward, the Chariot’s death in their dark brown eyes.

“Don’t touch the shadows!” My voice is hoarse, but even over the screams, Vesper hears me. “I don’t know how to control them.” I’m shaking so badly now that Cato has to shift his grip, bracketing my wrists in one hand and looping the other around my waist to keep me on my feet.

Vesper stops just outside the pool of shadows and looks down at the Chariot. Only his shoulders and head are visible now. He hasn’t stopped screaming. It’s so horrible, the kind of sound sure to haunt my nightmares for years to come—if I survive them—and yet Vesper has a curiously blank expression on their handsome face. Between one deep inhale and the next, the Chariot is gone, swallowed up by shadows.

I shudder and release the magic. Or I try to. It doesn’t work. “Cato, I can’t stop.” I try to close my fists, but the shadows seep through all the same. Panic flares in the base of my throat. “Make it stop. Oh gods. Oh fuck.”

“Breathe, Kestrel.” He guides my hands toward the ground, his touch gentle and firm. “Close your eyes.”

It’s an absurd thing to say, especially when the Wands are stirring to life now. They aren’t cheering anymore. They aren’t even booing. No, there’s a murmur gathering that makes the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. That murmur is bad news for us. We have to get out of here.

“Close your eyes,” Cato repeats. He’s pressed entirely against my back now, an inferno of heat coming from his body. It doesn’t hurt, though.

Instead, it comforts me enough to manage to obey. “Okay.”

“Good.” He exhales shakily, but his voice is perfectly even as he keeps speaking. “What do you feel in your palms? Heat? Cold?”

“They’re … heavy.”

“Draw that heaviness back into you. At the same time, squeeze the opening shut.”

Opening? What is he talking about? There’s no time or space to ask. I suck in a breath and do my best to follow his commands. My palms are so heavy. It feels like there are weights attached to them, as if I’m attempting to pick up something without using my fingers. I … squeeze … the space in my palms and the weight lessens, and then lessens again. Within a few seconds, I feel almost normal.

“Well done. Can you run?”

The question shocks me into opening my eyes. The pool of shadows is gone, and so is the stream that coursed from my palms. My head feels heavy and strange, but my body obeys when I shake my hands out. “I think so?”

“Good, because we have to run now.” He pushes me ahead of him. “Vesper, the door!”

“On it!” They rush back to the door, seeming steadier on their feet than I am now. By the time Cato and I reach them, the door swings open, revealing a narrow, dirty passageway. Vesper gives us a wan smile. “You saved me. Again. Thank you.”

“Thank her later.” Cato shoves me through the door and then slams it behind us. “The Wands are pissed, and the other champions probably haven’t gotten far. We need to get the fuck out of here and we need to do it now. Go!”

The Trials serve multiple purposes, but one least spoken about is how the champions truly do represent their respective gods—right down to their betrayals, petty fights, and viciousness.