Chapter Twenty-Five
Brigid
The wind howls, whipping my hair across my face as I stand on this godforsaken floating platform. My heart ’ s trying to break free from my ribcage, and I can ’ t stop my eyes from darting to the dizzying drop below. Grimstone ’ s gothic spires look like jagged teeth ready to devour me if I fall.
“ Fuck,” I mutter, hugging myself tighter against the biting cold. The platform sways, and my stomach lurches. “ This is insane.”
I close my eyes, desperately reaching for a moment of calm. The memory of this morning envelopes me—the warmth of Callen ’ s bed, muscular arms draped over me.
“ Coffee?” Callen ’ s sleepy voice echoes in my mind.
I ’ d barely managed a grunt, and had buried my face in his chest, inhaling his scent. Then Rory and Tiernan had snuggled in, and we were a tangle of limbs and body heat.
“ You ’ re safe,” Tiernan had murmured, as his fingers had trailed down my spine.
Rory ’ s lips had brushed my forehead. “ We ’ ve got you, love.”
I ’ m reliving it in my head when a gust of wind nearly knocks me off my feet, snapping me back to this hellish reality. My eyes fly open, and I stumble, barely catching myself.
I glance at the other contestants, their faces mirrors of my own terror and determination. I wonder if we ’ re all thinking the same thing. One thought is in my mind now: How the fuck are we supposed to get down from here?
The platform lurches again, and I bite back a scream. This is nothing like the warm cocoon of this morning. No strong arms to catch me if I fall. Just me, my shadow magic, and a long, long way down.
Before we were herded on to the platform, which then ascended high in the sky, seemingly of its own free will, Dean Fiona explained what was about to happen. We have to use our powers to safely reach the ground. There are no safety nets, no second chances. Our abilities, or lack thereof, are our only hope. No one is coming to rescue us.
“ Candidates!” A voice booms from somewhere unseen. “ Your descent begins... now!”
I look down.
And immediately wish I hadn ’ t.
We ’ re so high up that the crowd below is a blur. I try to spot Callen, Tiernan and Rory, but there ’ s no point. They ’ re lost in a sea of faceless heads.
I take in the daunting task ahead. How are we supposed do this using just our magic? I ’ ve barely mastered basic spells and now I ’ m expected to perform some sort of aerial acrobatics?
But there ’ s no time for doubt or fear.
The platform is starting to shrink.
It ’ s slow at first but then it picks up speed.
I see others around me already starting to cast spells, some with more confidence than others. One girl creates a gust of wind that propels her towards a spire, while another boy conjures a cushion of air beneath his feet and floats down like the doesn ’ t have a care in the world.
A surge of panic accelerates in my chest as my mind frantically tries to come up with a plan. But before I can even begin to formulate one, the platform suddenly shifts, and then drops several feet.
The girl next to me lets out a scream as she loses her footing and tumbles off the edge. My body freezes in horror as I watch her fall.
I try to breathe normally as the platform continues to move and shrink. It won ’ t be long until we ’ re out of time.
A blur of movement catches my eye. The ice elemental—Urian, I think his name is—steps forward. His hands glow with a pale blue light as he conjures a massive slide of ice. Urian steps up to the edge of the platform.
“ Show-off,” Marius appears beside me.
I hadn ’ t been able to see him on the platform until now. I think I ’ d rather that he ’ d stayed on the other side of it—his presence is unsettling.
Urian smirks, then leaps onto his creation. For a moment, it ’ s impressive—his form gliding down the crystalline chute, leaving a trail of icy glitter in his wake. But then I notice his body tensing as he picks up speed.
“ Shit, shit, shit!” His voice carries on the wind as he tries desperately to slow his descent.
The ice slide curves too sharply, and Urian goes flying. His scream pierces the air as he plummets, slamming into the ground with a sickening scream.
Figures swarm him immediately, whisking his broken body away. My stomach churns. How many more of us will end up like that?
This is real. People are going to die today.
Eira steps forward, her eyes meeting mine. A soft smile plays on her lips, at odds with the life-threatening task ahead.
“ Don ’ t overthink it, Brigid,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “ Trust your instincts. Your magic knows what to do.”
I nod, unable to form words past the lump in my throat. Eira ’ s confidence is both reassuring and infuriating. How can she be so calm?
Without further preamble, Eira ’ s form begins to shimmer. Her body contorts, shrinking and reshaping until an owl stands in her place. Large, intelligent eyes blink at me once before she spreads her wings and takes flight.
“ Fuck me,” I breathe, watching her glide effortlessly through the air.
Eira ’ s descent is graceful, a stark contrast to Urian ’ s catastrophic attempt. She rides the air currents, her wings adjusting minutely with each gust of wind. It ’ s mesmerizing, beautiful even, if I wasn ’ t scared shitless about my own impending doom.
As Eira touches down safely, transforming back into her human form, a spark of hope ignites in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, I can do this too.
But my shadow magic isn ’ t exactly known for its grace or predictability. The power within me feels more like a caged beast than a reliable tool. I close my eyes, trying to center myself.
The platform shrinks again and I ’ m closer to the edge than I ’ d like to be. The wind batters my face, a stinging reminder of how high up we are. I try to draw on my magic, to feel the familiar chill of shadows wrapping around me.
Nothing.
Why does it do this when I need it the most? “ Come on, come on,” I mutter, desperately trying to summon my magic. But the shadows remain stubbornly out of reach, slipping through my mental grasp like smoke.
Panic rises in my throat. The platform lurches again, and I stumble backward, my heel meeting empty air. My heart leaps into my throat.
Then a hand grabs my arm, yanking me forward.
“ Watch yourself, little bird,” Marius says.
I gasp, my eyes locking with Marius ’ s dark gaze. His grip on my arm is like iron, his skin surprisingly soft against mine. For a moment, the pandemonium around us fades away, and I ’ m acutely aware of every detail of his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar above his left eyebrow, the flecks of silver in his otherwise obsidian eyes.
His tattooed fingers tighten on my arm, and I feel the heat of his skin seeping through my clothes. It ’ s a stark contrast to the biting cold around us. I shiver, but not just from the chill.
“ Your magic is there, Brigid,” he murmurs, his voice low and intense. “ It ’ s waiting for you to embrace it. Don ’ t fight it. Let it consume you.”
I feel something stir within me—a darkness that ’ s like this mix of fear and excitement.
“ How do you know?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the howling wind.
A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. “ Because I can feel it.”
Then he ’ s gone.
Just gone. I don ’ t see him go over the edge, or shift into anything. He doesn ’ t use shadow magic, as far as I can tell. And it occurs to me that Marius has never actually told me what everyone here thinks is his ability.
I blink, confused by Marius ’ s sudden disappearance. But there ’ s no time to dwell on it. The platform shakes, and I stumble, desperately trying to regain my balance.
“ Hey, shadow bitch!” Laria ’ s voice cuts through the wind. “ You should do everyone a favor and jump.”
I turn to see her sneering, her perfect blonde hair somehow unruffled by the gale. Of course, she ’ d look flawless, even now.
“ Fuck off, Laria,” I spit, but my voice quavers.
Her eyes narrow and she smiles. “ Maybe you need a little... push.”
Before I can react, Laria ’ s foot shoots out, catching me behind the knee, and I feel myself falling.