Chapter Seventeen
My stomach drops. No one said anything about a trial tonight.
The other competitors exchange uneasy looks, but there’s no time to react because it would seem Harry isn’t done reading.
“It says here you have ten minutes to reach the ship on the horizon,” he says.
“Only the first twelve teams aboard will travel to Aurora Isle. Dinghies are waiting on the beach at the base of the mountain, just beyond the woods at the edge of the palace gardens. This is about thinking fast and acting upon instinct. Good luck.”
A loud gong rings, signalling the start of the trial before I can process what’s happening. The peaceful garden is no more.
I don’t think – I move. Taron and I jostle against the crowd as we race through the gardens, tearing across an open plain towards the looming woods in the distance.
One competitor elbows me to get past. Someone else runs into me when I trip on the hem of my dress. The night air is alive with footsteps pounding against the earth.
Cries of determination ring out beneath the three moons still converged as one, and the sea below roars eagerly, waiting to swallow us whole.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I gasp out as we crash through the trees ahead. Gnarled branches reach for my face like fingers as they twist and bend in the moonlight. “You abandoned me back there!”
The air is dense, woven with fog, but still I suck it in greedily.
“Why do you want those people to like you so much?” Taron asks.
“Because when influential people like you, Taron, they treat you better. For example, not sentencing you to death when you’re discovered impersonating two contestants in the biggest tournament of the decade.”
“Is now really the time for this?”
“I just don’t understand…” My skirt snags on a branch. I try to pull it free, but the lace is knotted around it. I’m trembling too much to untangle it. “Tar— Wren, wait!”
He spins and mutters something in frustration before bending down and grabbing the fabric of my skirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “We’re losing time!”
“Hold still. We won’t reach the beach with you in this thing…” He tears my skirt so it hangs above my knees.
His face is close to mine when he rises, his breath soft against my skin. “Now, run like your life depends on it,” he says, his voice a little rough. “We’re getting on that ship.”
As we barrel forward, in between trees and shrubs and flailing competitors, I glance back over my shoulder.
Through the smallest parting in the trees, past my hair whipping at my face, I see our audience perched on their high balcony, binoculars glued to their faces as they watch us scramble.
Servers weave in between them with drinks, and they’re chatting as though they’re enjoying a simple night at the theatre.
One smug-looking lord with bejewelled binoculars exchanges a fistful of Sol with another. They’re betting on us. Betting on who’ll make it out and who’ll be left behind.
My blood simmers.
I channel my anger into my legs, pushing even harder to keep up with Taron. He’s in his element now, literally. They say Lunas are stronger at night, especially under a clear moon. The Obsidian Eclipse might just be the clearest of them all.
He moves through the forest like he’s part of it, pulling on the invisible threads of gravity to twist the world around us. A flick of his wrist bends the branches blocking our path; a wave of his fingers parts the shrubs like curtains as he guides me through.
Somewhere to our left, I hear a loud crack. A branch or maybe a bone. A strangled cry follows and my heart clenches. One of the competitors is down, their partner urging them to get up, to keep moving.
But there’s no time to stop, no time to help. We’re all running for our lives, and there’s no room for weakness.
Taron and I burst from the trees on to the beach. The air is cooler here – it stings in my throat. Moonlight floods the sand, turning it into a silver blur beneath our feet, and the ocean laps obliviously at the shore, where twenty-four dinghies are lined up.
Savannah and Kara are in the lead, moving like a well-oiled machine. Savannah stops just short of the water and spins. With a stomp, she commands a wall of sand to shoot into the air, a wave of grit and dust aimed at the onslaught of competitors surging through the trees.
I see it coming, but before I can react, Taron steps in front of me. He hooks his elbow through the air and the sandstorm crashes into an invisible barrier encasing us like a dome.
“Not bad,” I heave when the sandstorm subsides and Taron lowers the barrier.
He’s quiet for a moment and, when he turns, he’s standing close, towering nearly a full head above me.
The Eclipse casts a feathery halo around his head, but his features are shadowed. He’s breathing heavily, each exhale echoing with a ragged sort of tremor – he’s trying to hide it, but he’s depleting his energy reserves.
“You’re not overextending yourself, are you?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
We sprint across the beach towards the dinghies. Competitors are desperately lunging for them. No one is thinking clearly.
Two teams are wrestling in the water over one of the dinghies. They’re drowning each other, too distracted to notice Mei and Rhius swooping in to steal it.
My head spins as I try to make sense of the chaos. There’s no point in fighting. I can count twenty-four dinghies – one for each team. And I’m confused. Why make it so simple?
“It’s nothing personal, folks!” someone shouts, and I realize it’s Gigi. They’re standing with Gunther in front of the dinghies, and I only realize what they’re about to do when I see them brandishing their golden lighters.
One flick and flames dance through the air before gathering in the twins’ palms.
“There’s no glory without sacrifice,” Gunther says. “Let’s light ’em up!”
The twins direct their flames at a few of the dinghies around them, setting them alight in a blaze of orange and red. This can’t be fair. I want to scream. But of course, this is the nature of the game. I was a fool to expect anything less.
The fire spreads quickly across several of the dinghies, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning wood. Gigi and Gunther leap into one of the unscathed vessels, leaving the rest of us to fight over the remaining ones.
My heart is pounding so hard it might just burst out of my chest. This is way more intense than I imagined.
Fear coils inside me like a living thing, seeping through my pores and making my skin crawl. The negative energy wraps around my wrists like shadowy vines, buzzing with impatience, hungry to be unleashed.
Taron and I are racing for a dinghy at the end of the line when something knots around my ankle. I barely have time to register the feeling before I’m yanked off my feet, hitting the ground hard.
Dirt and sand fill my mouth as I try to push myself up, but whatever is wrapped around my foot is relentless, and it’s dragging me backwards.
I twist, searching the firelit beach for the source. A Flora competitor steps from the surrounding woods with his hand outstretched. He’s controlling a vine, coiled like a rope around a pulley on his belt, and he’s not about to let me go.
I reach for the vine and, the moment my fingers touch it, the dark energy coiled around my arms surges forward.
It’s as though the fear inside me has a mind of its own, and the energy unravels like a nest of snakes, slithering down my arms and across the vine with terrifying speed.
The Flora doesn’t see it coming. The sooty wisps of energy wrap around his arms, then snake around his chest, winding tighter and tighter until they reach his throat.
His face drains of colour, his concentration shattered as he tries to free himself. But it’s too late. The energy is more than holding him. It’s feeding on his fear, growing stronger, more aggressive. It slithers into his mouth, gagging him, choking him.
The Flora’s teammate approaches from behind, desperate to help, but the energy is relentless, latching on to him, too, pulling him into the same nightmarish hold.
They’re both caught, trapped by the monstrous creation of our combined terrors and, for a moment, I can only stare, horrified by what I’ve done.
Taron’s looming frame is suddenly beside me. He unsheathes a dagger from his belt and slices through the vine, then grabs my arm.
“Don’t look,” he orders, but I can’t prise my eyes away. He simply pulls me along to the dinghy and shoves me into it. I don’t resist.
We’re in the boat and Taron doesn’t waste a second. He leans over the side, plunging his hand into the water, his brow furrowing in concentration as he summons what remains of his waning energy.
There’s a shift in the ocean breeze, a subtle tug as he uses his talents to manipulate the currents. The dinghy jerks forward, and I have to hold on tight. I brace myself for the ocean’s salty spray on my face.
I scan the dark water for the other competitors. Unsurprisingly, the leading dinghies all have Aquas at the helm, perched confidently as they command powerful tall waves to carry them forward.
“We’re too far behind,” I shout into the wind.
Taron doesn’t react. He is determined, his focus on the water. I grit my teeth, trying to think of something – anything – to help. But then Taron abruptly slows the boat, so much so I nearly topple overboard.
“What the…” I swallow my words as I turn, and Taron is squinting at the surrounding ocean, a frown knitting his brows.
“Quiet,” he says, pulling his hand from the water. “I felt something … working against my current.”
“An animal?”
“A monster.”
As if called forth by Taron’s words, two enormous tentacles, thick as tree trunks, erupt from the dark water, wrapping around two of the dinghies further ahead.
The competitors are too shocked to react. Their boats are yanked under with terrifying force, the water swallowing them whole.