Chapter 19
Huntyr
We’re in a long corridor, shadows dancing along the walls around us.
And it’s quiet.
Oppressively quiet.
The floor beneath us is solid stone, but there are no torches. No visible source of light. And yet, we can see. It’s unnatural.
We stand shoulder to shoulder, all twelve of us, barely breathing as we wait for something to happen and alert us to what comes next. The air is thick, unmoving, as if the very walls are holding their breath with us.
I swallow, my throat dry.
The Fae women stand poised, assessing the space with sharp, calculating expressions, some already gripping the weapons at their sides. The Mortal women, by contrast, shift uncomfortably. Hands twitching, breathing shallow. One girl rubs at her wrist, another clenches and unclenches her fists.
The air is too still.
Then—a sound.
A deep growl.
Low and guttural, vibrating through the very stone beneath our feet. The sound curls around us, menacing and bloodthirsty.
And from the depths of the shadows in front of us, a beast emerges.
It moves slowly, stepping into the dim light with haunches raised.
Its hulking form is massive, resembling a wolf—mostly—but still four times larger than any I’ve seen before.
Its hide is dark and leathery, stretched over pulsing muscle and its jaw hangs open, dripping fangs bared in a hungry, vicious snarl.
But it’s not the size of the creature that unsettles me most.
It’s the fact that it has no eyes.
The monster steps forward, claws dragging against the corridor floor as it tilts its head, ears flicking forward, nostrils flaring. I watch its slow and deliberate movements carefully, noting the way its head rotates from side to side. And the realization dawns suddenly.
It’s listening.
The beast can’t see us, but it can most definitely hear us, and the slightest whisper of a sound will tell it exactly where to charge.
The Mortal girl next to me, Taylina, stumbles backward as it gets closer to her, and her boot scuffs against the stone.
The sound echoes.
My muscles lock.
And the beast’s head jerks toward her.
She doesn’t even have a second to inhale before it lurches forward. Tension holds me steady as I stand frozen while it locks that impossibly large jaw onto her throat. Blood splatters along the side of my face, but I simply squeeze my eyes shut and hold tight to my resolve.
I do not move.
I do not breathe.
And I most certainly do not make a sound.
When her body falls to the ground, I risk a glance to my left.
Most of my competitors stare wide-eyed, shaking hands pressed tightly against their mouths to prevent themselves from screaming.
Some of the Fae have started taking advantage of the beast’s distraction, though, and move forward with light and measured steps.
Fine.
I can do this.
I breathe through my nose, shallow and slow, shifting my weight forward onto the balls of my feet with each step. I have moved like this dozens of times before, through darkened alleys or candlelit halls, through crime-ridden streets when I couldn’t alert my target to my presence.
The beast lingers to my right, turning its head back and forth, waiting for another sound.
I give it nothing.
Instinct and muscle memory take over, keeping my steps light. It feels like it takes me an eternity to make my way down the dark hall. Like I’ve aged years by the time my hand wraps around the knob of the door at the end of the corridor and pushes it forward, but I do, and no one else dies.
For now.
Energy rushes over me the second I step through the doorway.
The darkness dissolves instantly, swallowed by near-blinding light.
My stomach lurches as my surroundings shift, and it takes a moment for the burning in my eyes to recede and my vision to adjust. When it does, I find myself somewhere new.
The corridor is gone. The beast is gone.
And the eleven remaining women are scattered around me, their expressions as disoriented as my own.
Fucking Fae magic.
Ahead of us now is a single pathway of blood-red stones, surrounded on each side by thick fog.
“Do we just move forward?” Caris whispers next to me. She’s another Mortal. The only one who’s been semi-nice to me.
“Good question,” Seraphina breathes.“Why don’t you try it out?”
Caris’ eyes widen suddenly, as if she regrets giving voice to her questions, but she pushes her shoulders back, steels herself, and begins to step forward onto the path.
Seraphina snickers as she does, likely understanding as I do that it’s not going to be that simple.
My blood hums in anticipation, waiting for the catch.
The fog presses against the edges of the path, thick and curling, but it does not cross onto the pathway. It moves like a living thing. Writhing. Breathing. Waiting.
“Do you hear that?” Caris asks suddenly, her head turning sharply to the left, eyes looking off into the distance.
I look to the other women, each of us frowning in confusion, and something heavy settles in my gut.
“We don’t hear anything, Caris,” Alexandria tells her, voice thick with suspicion.
Caris stills, body locking tightly as she keeps staring into the fog. The mist is rising, climbing, filling every inch from the floor to the ceiling even as it leaves the red path untouched.
“It’s my brother,” Caris whispers, a tear slowly falling down her face. “I see him right there!”
I step closer, my pulse hammering. There’s nothing there.
“Caris, don’t!” I scream, but it’s too late.
She steps off the path.
The moment her foot touches the mist, the barrier shatters. The fog surges forward, consuming her.
A second later, her shrieks split the air, blood-curdling screams that I’m certain will haunt my nightmares. Alexandria’s hands fly to her temples, squeezing tightly over her ears to block out the horror.
It seems to last forever.
Her screaming goes on and on.
Until all that’s left is a whimper.
The fog dissipates, clearing off the path again, but Caris doesn’t return. There’s nothing left of her. No body. No blood. Gone, as if she was never even there at all.
There’s only a moment of silence before Lirael clears her throat next to me, suddenly grinning. “Well, this looks like a job for me!”
She lifts her arms, and wind pours out of her, pushing the fog aside easily until it’s nearly gone.
Right. She’s an Air-Wielder.
“Simple enough,” she shrugs, stepping forward. She struts down the path, smug, barely paying attention.
She only makes it halfway before the fog rushes forward, swallowing her whole.
The Fae, her friends, cry out her name. One even launches forward, and Seraphina moves in a flash, wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist and holding her back as tears pour down her face.
When the mist recedes, Lirael is gone, just like Caris.
But this time, there’s a pool of blood and what might even be shreds of skin left in a pile where she had been standing.
Alexandria doubles over and vomits.
Gods, I don’t even blame her. My own stomach is twisting uncomfortably.
I obviously knew the stakes when I stepped into the arena, but even I’m uneasy seeing the gruesomeness of this carnage.
This fucking Conclave doesn’t just want us dead, it's determined to kill us all in the most brutal way possible.
“We can’t use magic against it,” Seraphina murmurs to the Fae. “It seems to be against the rules.”
“Oh Gods,” Alexandria wails.
“Pull yourself together,” I bark at her, grasping her arm and ripping her away from Seraphina, who is rubbing her fingers together in the way she does before starting a fire.
“I can’t do this,” Alexandria whispers to me. Her breathing is rapid. Her eyes, wild and unfocused, won’t stop darting to the blood-soaked stones ahead.
It’s the first time I’ve seen real fear in her.
“You’re going to do this,” I tell her, my grip tightening around her arm. “You’re going to walk down that path, and you’re not going to stop. No matter what you see, no matter what you hear…you keep moving. That is how you live.”
“Why don’t you try it then,” Seraphina chimes in from over my shoulder. “If you’re so confident.”
I glance at Alexandria. Part of me thinks Seraphina might just wait until the second I step on that path to slit the girl's throat. The thought gives me a momentary pause until I remember how much it doesn’t even matter.
Whether it’s today, or after the second trial, or the third… only one of us is going to live through this.
“Fine,” I spit through a locked jaw, and I place my foot on the first red stone and start moving.
At first, it’s easy. One step, then another. Nothing happens.
I pick up the pace, hoping if I can just run through, I won't give the fog time to attack.
Then the pull starts. It’s subtle, just a whisper of resistance around my ankles. Then, like hands clawing up from beneath the stones, magic wraps tight, dragging me downward.
I slow.
Then I hear that small voice I know better than my own.
“I need you,” Tyla calls to me.
Every instinct in me tells me to look, to go to her. To assess her illness and how bad it’s gotten in my absence. She needs me. I just know it. She’s always needed me, and I’ve always been there for her. I’ve always chosen her above everything else.
“You left me!” she cries, as if sensing my thoughts. “I’m going to die without you.”
It’s like razor blades across my heart. Torture even as I remind myself that it isn’t real.
Tyla is safe. She’s in Velia. Kristona is taking care of her.
One step at a time.
One step forward, then another.
“You know she needs you.”
That voice is enough to make me still.
That voice sends chills down my spine and roots my feet to the ground.
That voice draws my attention over my shoulder, to where my father stands, looking at me with that same patient smile I used to know so well.
“Daddy?”
“Hey, bug.”
It’s been so many years, and still I remember him so clearly. He’s just as tall and broad-shouldered. His hair is that light chestnut brown color that seems odd considering how dark mine is.
“I’ve missed you,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets.
I sway slightly. His voice is so warm. It’s familiar. His presence is so real it makes my chest ache. My vision blurs, the heaviness in my gut spreading to my ribs, pressing into my bones.
I’ve missed him so much.
Daddy.
My father is here.
I feel my eyes misting. “There’s so much I have to tell you.”
“Huntyr!”
Alexandria’s scream pulls me from the trance, and I look down in just enough time to see my own foot lifting off the path. I slam it down again and steady myself, breathing deeply until the pull of the magic fades.
“Thanks,” I mutter over my shoulder.
She nods.
I need to get off of this path. Now.
I rush forward, keeping my gaze locked ahead, my gait strong. And I’m just nearly at the door on the other side when a prickle of awareness rushes down my spine.
His voice is suddenly all I can focus on.
“Huntress,” he purrs, and this time when I turn, it’s Derian’s dark eyes that I stare into.
I freeze.
And for the briefest of seconds I’m…confused.
The mist had shown me the two people I cared most about in this world. The only two people who had earned the smallest parts of life from my cold, dead heart.
Derian has not done that.
And yet, here he stands, hands tucked into his pockets, dressed in all black. The leather clings to him, his dark hair falling just slightly over his eyes.
“Why you?” I whisper.
He tilts his head to the side. “Don’t you know?”
“What am I supposed to know?”
He smirks, stepping forward as his tongue darts out over his lower lip. “Maybe you don’t know yet.”
“Know what?”
Derian runs a hand over his jaw, contemplative. “Maybe you’re not ready to know. Maybe neither of us are. I do wonder though.”
His gaze locks onto mine like a tangible weight.
“I wonder what it’ll feel like.”
The words wrap around me like silk and shadows.
“What do you mean?” I demand, but my voice is quieter now.
“I wonder what it’ll feel like when we’re finally together. I think part of me has always wondered about it, even if I’ve never felt like I deserve it. Don’t you wonder?”
An icy shiver rolls down my spine, leaving my body tingling and my mouth impossibly dry. Heat coils under my skin like an ember about to catch fire, and a tapping on my thigh is the only indication that my fingers are trembling.
I clench my fists, letting my nails dig into the skin hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to remind me what’s happening right now.
What’s real and what most definitely is not.
“No, I don’t,” I tell him, and then I grasp onto the door and pull it open.
That same rushing sensation takes over me, spinning my body, my mind, my very soul until I'm standing in the center of a circle of doors.
In a few moments, the other women begin to appear next to me, each of us standing before single doors. I glance around rapidly, noticing that all the other women successfully made it down the path. There’s still nine of us here.
“They have our names on them,” Alexandria notices with a whisper.
I step forward to my door, between Seraphina’s and another Mortal.
Burned onto the wood in front of each of our doors… are riddles.
Next to me, the Mortal reads her riddle aloud. “What can fill a room but takes up no space?”
I frown, brain overturning the possibilities.
“What does it mean?” she asks me desperately.
Seraphina scoffs from the other side. “Why would we help you? Your death only improves our chances.”
I glance at Seraphina’s riddle. The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?
“Footsteps,” she answers without a second of hesitation, and the door opens before her.
She gives me her haughtiest smile before flicking her hair over her shoulder and stepping through. The door disappears.
The girl next to me watches the spot where Seraphina stood for a few moments before turning back to her own door. “Um…a shadow?”
I cringe. She’s wrong.
The moment the words leave her lips, the ground groans beneath her.
A rush of searing heat explodes. Sudden, blinding, and unstoppable, singeing the side of my arm so sharply that I stumble backwards.
She barely screams before the flames devour her.
“What was the answer?” Sylvana wonders aloud when the girl is finally gone.
“Light,” I tell her, before turning to look at my own riddle.
I was here before the Gods, but even they fear me.
I am patient, but I never sleep.
I take kings and beggars alike, I do not discriminate.
Who am I?
A grin pulls at the corner of my lips.
Finally, an aspect of this trial that doesn’t seem impossible.
The answer comes as easily as recognizing myself in the mirror.
“Death.”
The door creaks open.