Chapter 34 You Only Get One Chance
You Only Get One Chance
The fire crackled softly in the hearth as we settled into two chairs near it, wrapped in thick robes and our silence.
Tarran sat across from me, her legs drawn beneath her, staring into the flames like they could answer the deepest questions of the universe.
Her damp hair clung to her neck, golden highlights standing out against the deep brown of her curls.
I watched the flicker of firelight play across her face, so familiar and yet seemingly so far away.
I wanted to reach for her. I should reach for her. But I didn’t.
My own mind was still reeling from my own bath. I felt flayed, disassembled, laid bare for the world to see.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tarran said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “Back there. I’m sorry.”
“I know. It wasn’t you.”
A sad smirk crossed her face. “I don’t think I know who I am anymore.”
Before I could respond, a soft knock came at the door, opening before either of us could move.
The same steward who had guided us to the bath stepped through, expression unreadable beneath her long veil. “The King is ready for you,” she said gently. “If you are ready.”
I rose first, smoothing my robe as though I could somehow soothe the chaos inside me. Tarran stood slower, her hand brushing against mine for a second too long before falling limp at her side.
We followed the steward down a narrow passage, deeper into the palace. The halls here didn’t shine like the rest—no gold trim, no lush artwork or tapestries, just clean stone and torchlight, as if the Kingdom of Will had stripped itself down to its very bones.
The corridor opened into a tall chamber unlike anything we’d seen.
It wasn’t grand in the way the other kingdoms had been, not wrapped in marble or jewels.
The walls were a deep mahogany, pale beams arching high overhead like the ribs of a giant beast, and in the center sat a man in simple robes, not too unlike our own but in a dull white.
Gray hair decorated his head and face, the oldest of the kings we’d encountered so far.
His eyes were closed, his fingers interlocked in front of him politely. He barely resembled a king at all.
The woman inclined her head, leaving us without a word. The doors shut behind us, and silence rushed to meet us.
The man opened his eyes.
They were golden, deep in a way I couldn’t find words to describe, a patient and calming hue. Incredibly wise, as if he had seen millions of choices and endings in the span of a few seconds.
“Alyssa,” he said, his voice like dusk, skittering along my skin and raising the hair on my arms. Even his voice held something…otherly. “And I see you brought your shadow.”
Tarran bristled beside me. “I’m not her shadow,” she nearly spat.
“No,” he agreed. “But you do cloak her. Guide her.’
Tarran opened her mouth to argue, but something in his gaze silenced her words.
He turned back to me. “You’ve done well to come this far. Not many do. Now, your final trial is not a display of strength, not a show of sacrifice or wit or immense intelligence. Instead, it is the most human test of all.”
He rose to his feet. He was tall but not imposing. Kind but not soft. The weight of his presence filled the room but not in a way that made me feel suffocated.
“Sit,” he said.
We did, sliding into two plain wicker chairs that had materialized in front of him.
“The Kingdom of Will,” he said, “is built not on laws or history or blood. It is built on intention. Every king before me was chosen not because they were the strongest or wisest, but because they understood the simple truth: choice is power, and power is nothing without consequence.”
He paced slowly as he spoke, hands behind his back.
“You chose to touch the book,” he said, meeting my eyes as I flinched.
“You’ve learned what each Kingdom offers, what they stand for.
You’ve survived the trials thus far, with help.
Help that seems to go deeper than just…the surface.
” He gave a pointed look between me and Tarran, and heat rushed to my cheeks at his implication.
He stopped walking. “And now, you must decide: will you end this chapter and close the book, or will you stay and let it continue?”
I swallowed, suddenly cold. “I….” My eyes landed on Tarran, and my heart lurched at her stony face. She was trying to be strong, but I could see in her eyes everything she didn’t want to say out loud. I knew because they were the same thoughts I had.
“She’s going,” Tarran spat, and before I could open my mouth to say something, the King stepped in front of her. “You misunderstand. It’s not your decision. You are not the one with a choice to make.”
He bent down, looking her more levely in the eyes. “And you, girl—why did you return in the first place? You already made your choice.”
The air in the room shifted.
Tarran blinked, confusion chasing a flicker of something else across her face. Pain? Memory?
“I haven’t.”
The king tilted his head. “You have. You stood where she stands now once, a long long time ago, and made your decision.”
Tarran’s breath hitched, her hands curling at her sides as my heartrate skyrocketed. “What are you talking about?”
“Shall I show you?” he asked, not unkindly. “You gave up a great deal to remain within these pages, child of the sky. The first, even.”
Tarran staggered back like she’d been struck, and I reached out instinctively, steadying her by the elbow. She didn’t shake me off, but she didn’t look at me either. Her eyes were locked on the King.
“I don’t remember that,” she said hoarsely. “You lie.”
“Don’t you though?” he replied. “Being in the book this long has really addled your mind. You can remember if you’d really like to, but to remember would be to question your choice, and the book does not take kindly to regret.”
He turned to me then, his expression unreadable, effectively dismissing Tarran completely.
“And now, it is your turn, Alyssa. You’ve learned, you’ve survived. Now, you must choose.” He glanced again at Tarran.
“The final key is not given through strength or sacrifice. It is given freely, by choice.”
He stepped closer, nearly enough that I could reach out and touch his fuzzy robe.
“You may leave. Now. Return to your world, to your life, though it will never be the same. Or you may stay. Stay and forget, like she once did. Remain within the book’s pages, become a part of its story.
You will live a thousand lives, all friction of the sky world forgotten as you live out your days here, with Tarran. It could be a truly glorious thing.”
A pressure bloomed in my chest, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
“What happens to her if I leave?” I asked, voice thin.
He raised a brow. “She already made her choice, and she must live with the consequences. She is the book now.”
The silence stretched again.
I looked at Tarran. She looked at me.
The King raised his hand, and in the space between us, something shimmered—a small object forming in the air: a key, multicolored with pinks, golds, blacks, and greens. All the colors of the keys we’d earned so far.
“You do not have to choose now,” he said.
“But know this: the book will not hold still much longer. And neither will your memories,” he added softly, glancing back toward Tarran before turning back to me.
“When you are ready, you may use the key to open the Door of Ever. If you choose to stay, the key will guide you back to me. Choose wisely, for you only get once chance.”