Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cadence
A hush fell over the arena, and goosebumps erupted all over my flesh. The air grew cold.
Unnaturally so.
Overhead, the sunlight dimmed, and the shadows lengthened. They stretched too far, too thin, until they bled together, creeping across the ground.
Not even a breeze dared to disrupt the stillness. It was as though the realm itself was holding its breath.
Then I sensed it. A whisper that slithered over my skin, dangerous but alluring.
It felt wrong.
Above, a solitary raven circled, its black feathers gleaming as if they were shards of night. Its sharp eyes locked onto me with an unsettling intelligence.
Then the voice returned, booming overhead like thunder. “Your last test is not one of strength or cunning, but of magic. Defeat The Morrígan, and the throne shall be yours. Fall… and she will claim your soul.”
Then the raven’s cry split the silence, a harsh, chilling sound that echoed like a dirge. The air thickened with a strange tension, heavy and electric.
From the broken earth at the arena’s center, a twisted black tree erupted, its bark gnarled and cracked. It gleamed with an oily sheen, and its branches curled like withered claws grasping at the sky.
No leaves sprouted along its limbs, only brittle twigs that jutted out at odd angles. The tree grew at an impossible speed, roots writhing like serpents as it broke through the ground. Its eerie silhouette stretched taller, a dark monument rising in defiance of life.
The raven swooped lower, its wings slicing through the air as it landed on a twisted branch. Its form began to shift and waver, as if made of smoke and shadow.
Before my eyes, the bird transformed, its feathers melting away into flowing black silk as it drifted down from the tree. The Morrígan stood tall and imposing, her presence both terrifying and hypnotic, a goddess of war and fate cloaked in darkness.
Her voice, both a whisper and a roar, seeped into my bones. “You stand before death’s queen, child, but do you have the power to face what lies beyond?”
Steeling myself, I twisted the ring on my finger, feeling its cold pulse of magic against my skin. The Morrígan’s eyes bore into me, a promise of the battle that awaited.
“Come now,” she said, her voice a caress wrapped in violence. “Show me what burns beneath your flesh or be consumed by what burns beneath mine.”
Shit. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t challenge the goddess of fucking war!
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal. The ring thrummed in rhythm with my fear, each beat sending icy tendrils of magic up my arm. I could have trained for a lifetime and still not be prepared to face the ancient malevolence radiating from the goddess of death.
“I am not yours to claim,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
The Morrígan’s lips curled into something too cruel to be called a smile. “They all say that before they kneel.”
She raised one pale hand, and the shadows beneath the twisted tree began to move. They peeled away from the ground, rising like black mist until they took shape: the silhouettes of warriors long dead, their edges blurring and reforming as they drew weapons made of darkness.
“My fallen,” she said with pride. “They have waited centuries for fresh company.”
Oh gods, I was going to die.
The shadowy assailants advanced, and I backed up, my mind racing. The ring grew colder, almost painful against my flesh. I didn’t know how to use the magic, but it knew me.
It whispered to me, a voice without words, urging me to stand my ground. Then my thoughts drifted to Ryker, and a sense of safety washed over me. Deep in my soul, I knew he was everything I needed, even if I didn’t understand why.
I clenched my fists, shaking off the strange sensation and refocusing my attention on The Morrígan. The ring bit into my skin as power pulsed wildly beneath its surface. The air around The Morrígan shimmered, warping and bending, as her army of shadows fanned out in a wide circle.
They didn’t speak, didn’t breathe. The only sounds were the quiet rustle of phantom steel and the soft crunch of dirt beneath their boots.
My pulse throbbed in my throat. “I do not covet the throne,” I confessed in a hoarse whisper.
“No,” The Morrígan hummed, stepping closer. Her bare feet kissed the earth as she surveyed me. “You crave freedom. But freedom always has a cost. Let’s see if you are willing to pay it.”
The first warrior lunged.
I barely dodged its attack, stumbling sideways as a blade of shadow sliced through the space where my head had been.
The ring flashed, not with light, but feeling, and a tendril of power lashed out without my command.
It struck the warrior in the chest, and he staggered, but he didn’t go down. He wasn’t even wounded.
I grit my teeth, forcing my fear down. If I were going to die, I would not die begging; I would burn. And if The Morrígan wanted to consume me, she’d have to choke on the flames.
The second shadow fighter circled me, its blade whistling through the air.
I spun, instinct taking over, and the ring erupted with raw magic.
It wasn’t the controlled power I was used to, but something wild and desperate.
The force slammed into the ghostly figure, and this time it dissolved, wisps of darkness scattering like dust.
“Better,” The Morrígan said, her voice carrying approval that made my skin crawl. “But can you maintain it?”
Three more shadows peeled away from the tree, their forms more solid than the others. They weren’t just echoes of the dead; they were champions, warriors who had faced her and been defeated.
I couldn’t explain how I knew, only that I did.
Their phantom armor shone, and their weapons sang with murderous intent. All three rushed me at once, and I raised my hand, letting the power of the ring flow through me. One dissolved immediately. Another stumbled back, his shadow-flesh cracking and reforming.
But the third got through.
His blade sliced across my thigh, and I cried out. It didn’t hurt, not exactly. A bone-deep chill spread from the wound, but it wasn’t blood that welled up. It was something thicker, darker.
“First blood,” The Morrígan said, her voice everywhere at once. “How sweet it tastes.”
I clutched my leg, watching in horror as dark veins crept out of my split flesh, spreading like poisoned roots beneath my skin. The shadow warrior raised his blade again, satisfaction in his featureless face.
Something inside me snapped.
“No,” I growled, and the ring quivered. “You will not be my end.”
I didn’t think. I just moved.
My hand shot out and closed around the warrior’s sword, my palm meeting the black mist. But instead of slicing through my flesh, the weapon shuddered in my grip and… unraveled.
The darkness bled away between my fingers, as if the ring’s magic rejected it outright. Power surged up my arm, sharp and unrelenting, threading through my veins with a force that refused to be denied.
The phantom hissed, its form flickering as the remaining shadow warriors faltered, their steps hesitant.
The Morrígan’s smile faded, her eyes narrowing. “Interesting.”
Magic spread throughout my body, and for the first time since the trial began, I felt something other than terror. The inky tendrils creeping up from my wound retreated, hissing as they collided with the power of the ring.
I straightened, testing my weight on my injured leg.
It held.
The Morrígan raised both hands, and the twisted tree behind her groaned. Its branches writhed, stretching toward me like grasping fingers. The bark split with a sickening crack, revealing veins of black-red sap that pulsed like open wounds.
The tree wasn’t just alive… It was feeding, drawing power from the battlefield, the shadows, the fear thick in the air.
Dark, feathered shapes unfurled along the limbs. Ravens. So many ravens, silent and watching.
The branches continued to reach for me, bending with unnatural fluidity as if they could scent the blood on my skin.
I stumbled back, my heart pounding, but the ring on my finger flared again — not cold this time, but burning, as if something inside it had been provoked.
Awakened.
A shrieking storm of feathers erupted from the tree.
They didn’t just fly.
They descended.
Black wings cut through the air with surgical precision, their talons glinting like obsidian daggers. Dozens of them, maybe more, diving toward me in a coordinated assault.
Claws raked across my arms, slicing through fabric and flesh. I turned, trying to shield my face, but another struck from behind, dragging its beak through my wounded shoulder like a knife.
Pain bloomed white-hot.
Magic surged in response.
I screamed as I thrust my hands outward. The power from the ring erupted in a ripple of force, slamming into the nearest ravens mid-air. They exploded, disintegrating with high-pitched screeches.
But more came.
A storm of death, feathers, and fury, each bird an extension of The Morrígan’s will. I dropped to my knees, panting hard as warm blood ran down my side.
My fingers curled in the dirt. “Come on,” I said, desperation coating my tone. “Don’t let this be my end.”
The ring pulsed once… and then everything changed.
I lifted my hand, power bleeding from my fingertips, and the next wave of ravens slammed into an invisible wall. They shrieked, plumes scattering as if ash in a wildfire.
And then one by one, the birds froze midair, wings faltering. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, limbs contorting as if something inside them had turned to rot. Their feathers dulled from gleaming black to ashen grey, and their intelligent, malevolent eyes became glassy.
The air filled with the sharp, acrid stench of decay as they fell from the sky in jerking spirals, hitting the arena floor like crumpled leaves. Bones cracked. Beaks shattered on stone. Some dissolved entirely, reduced to flurries of soot and dust.
The last one gave a low, rasping croak before it withered mid-flight, its wings folding inward as if surrendering to its death.
I stood slowly, my breathing shaky. Brittle corpses, little more than husks, littered the ground. Magic hummed throughout the arena, alive and volatile, as if it had finally remembered its purpose.
And The Morrígan?
She smiled.
Not in defeat. But recognition.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”
Glancing around me, I took in the scene.
There was no mistaking it for anything else: an attack of the Wraith Borne.
The cuffs encircling my wrists shimmered as if to remind me of their presence. I didn’t understand it, but I knew the ring was somehow responsible.
“Do not worry… Daughter. I take care of my own,” The Morrígan said, reclaiming my attention.
It was then that I realized a dome of mist concealed us, keeping us hidden from the view of the spectators. My gaze darted to the withered bodies of the ravens. “What about them?”
The Morrígan smirked, waving her hand over the carcasses. The shriveled husks of the birds stirred. But instead of springing back to life, they crumbled into ash, weightless flecks that spiraled upward on an unseen breeze.
The remains drifted toward the twisted tree behind her, its branches curling inward as if welcoming them home. Shadows rippled across its surface as the blackened remains of the birds were consumed by the wood, as though the tree drank them in.
“They return to where all things do,” The Morrígan murmured, answering my unspoken question.
“To the land of shadows. To me.” The bark pulsed, and a low, resonant hum filled the air.
The fallen ravens were gone but not lost. I could still feel them watching me.
“They’ll be reborn. As all my children are. Death is only the beginning.”
“And what about me?”
She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming. “That, Little Queen, remains to be seen.”
Without another word, she turned toward the twisted tree. Shadows surged up to meet her like a tide, swallowing her form in coils of mist and darkness. Her silhouette lingered for a moment, regal and terrifying against the bark, before vanishing, consumed by the very magic she commanded.
Silence fell, sharp as a blade.
The mist dome dissolved with a soft sigh, lifting from the arena like smoke on the wind. Sunlight pierced through the veil, and the crowd roared.
But it all sounded distant, dull.
I stood there, swaying on unsteady legs, staring at the place where she had disappeared. My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. My body ached. The magic of the ring buzzed, wild and unfamiliar, beneath my skin.
I had survived.
Somehow, against all reason, against the goddess of war and death herself… I was still standing.