Chapter 29
Brutal.
Absolutely brutal.
With a blink of an eye, we are down to five contestants. Oliver never turns to us, just walks off, waving at the audience like they are his group of personal admirers.
“You know, at first I thought it might have been Lucas who knocked Leon unconscious that day,” Jordan mutters, his voice tight. “But after that—pretty sure it was Oliver.”
Even he is in disbelief, and that says a lot.
Leon’s blood is still staining the dirt. The cheering echoes off the stands. I haven’t managed to open my mouth. My head can’t comprehend the things my two eyes have just witnessed.
I knew it was a game.
But I never knew how far everyone would go.
“There go the popular votes.” Daisy barely manages to speak, her voice still shaky. As disturbing as that statement might be, I fear she might be right.
Nobody laughs. Nobody blinks. Not even Jordan.
Leon is lying on the cold, hard ground. Dead.
Oliver murdered him in front of us all.
And the crowd loved it.
Lucas crouches beside me. His hand finds my arm, gently curling around it like I might shatter. He helps me to my feet, his skin cold, his face pale as paper.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
No. Not even close.
How could I be?
But I nod anyway. Because what else can I do?
I barely even knew Leon. Apart from the occasional hi at breakfast, we never really spoke. And it’s not like he was the talkative type. The only person he opened up to was Oliver—the very same person who stabbed him in the back.
He was only nineteen.
“All right,” Aurora’s voice chimes in again. “Who’s next?”
The four of us look at each other.
Lucas rubs a hand down his face, exhaling hard.
“What the hell,” he murmurs, turning to me. “Should we go now? I’d rather get this over with than watch these two kill each other and feel even more disturbed before stepping into that maze.”
Jordan scoffs. Daisy looks like she’s about to faint.
I nod. “Let’s go.”
Lucas raises a hand in response to Aurora. Still shaken, I’m about to step forward—but Daisy tugs on my arm with her trembling hand.
“There’s jewellery in my room,” she whispers, before taking in a deep breath like she’s bracing herself for what’s coming next. I arch a brow. “If I don’t survive this … can you ask Kieran to give it to my daughter? At least she’ll have something. She can sell it. Be okay for a while.”
The words hits me like a slap on the face.
She’s desperate.
So desperate, she’s asking me—the person she can’t stand—to look after what little future her child might have.
“I—” I swallow. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“Will you ask him?” she asks again. “Please?”
Gods, why do people keep handing me their last wishes?
And now I’m carrying this with me into the battlefield.
I nod. “I will.”
If I make it.
“Thank you,” she says quietly before letting go.
I walk with a heavier heart towards the entrance, where a pair of attendants are already carrying Leon’s body away, blood trailing behind them. A path no one wants to follow.
Lucas turns to me once we reach it.
“If anyone can survive this, it’s us,” he says, rubbing a hand along my back. Then he adds, softer this time, as if he’s trying to lighten up the mood, “You’ve got weapons, and I’ve got skills.”
I’m forcing a smile. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
He laughs. “Try not to die—or at least, don’t die before me.”
“Believe it or not, I would like to avoid dying at all costs,” I mutter, glancing back at Kieran. “Otherwise, that’ll be the first and last time I ever hear him say ‘I love you.’”
Lucas flinches. “Dear lord, Declan might very well want to die again if we bring him back and you’re snuggled up with Kieran.”
I draw a breath.
Can’t think about that right now.
“Let’s try to survive this first,” I say, unsheathing both of my daggers. The moonstone blade glows faintly, already sensing danger in the maze ahead.
“See you soon,” Lucas says before pulling me into a tight hug.
And no, I don’t stab him with the blades in my hands—much to the crowd’s displeasure.
They boo like they’re genuinely disappointed.
I turn—and flip them off.
Somewhere in the chaos, I swear I hear Kieran’s laugh from the stands.
Lucas disappears towards the opposite entrance. And I wait—until Aurora lifts her hand to give us a signal.
I meet Kieran’s eyes one last time.
Just one last look.
Then I step into the maze.
Instantly, the world fractures.
Light bounces off hundreds of mirrored walls, each one splintering my reflection until I’m surrounded by twisted versions of myself—blurred, confused, some looking at the wrong directions, the others smiling even though disorientation is about to force its way up my guts.
This must be a version of hell.
Who designed this? The Trial Committee?
If I make it out, I’m going to fucking kill Aurora.
I can’t tell where the ground ends or where the walls begin. In here, the noises outside are completely blocked out, even though there is no roof. No cheers. No chanting. Like it was warded so no one can shout us a hint from the stand.
My heartbeat is deafening.
I reach both hands out, my grips tightening around the daggers—either the moonstone one glows brighter now, or this blinding light is tricking me.
Either way, I know something is coming.
I turn a corner—
And immediately stop.
Mother of the stars.
Dozens of me, scattered across the mirror maze, each reflection even more disturbing than those first ones I saw at the entrance—slightly off, twisted, broken.
One version of me stands with her head tilted too far to the left.
One turns her back, but her neck is still facing me.
Another smiles too deeply, lips stretched to her ears. Another has blood on her hands.
One is crying. One is laughing. One is wearing the same white wedding dress I wore the other night, but her throat is slit open.
And the worst one of all is one I recognise all too well.
It just stares at me with empty, lifeless eyes.
As if I’m already dead.
I swallow hard. My boots move slowly on the ground. Better to go slow, instead of running and being blinded by the light so I can’t see two things in front me.
It’s okay, Cassandra.
They haven’t leaped out of the mirror—yet.
All the reflections move with me.
All but one.
The one wearing the wedding dress stays still, her expression blank, daggers gleaming in her hands.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t you try anything stupid.”
She tilts her head, blood dripping from the cut on her throat.
I wince, touching my own neck with the back of my fist, and can almost feel the pain.
“Why?” she asks softly. “You already did. You fell in love.”
Before I can reply, another reflection laughs—this one with hollow cheeks and a crown of bones in her dark hair.
“And who are you supposed to be?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“I’m you, of course,” she says, smiling sweetly. “Who you’ll become … if you survive.”
“I don’t fancy crowns made of bones—no, thanks.”
“Please.” She huffs. “Do you really think Kieran will let you go home after this? Eventually, he will take the crown. And you? You’ll either sit beside him—or die.”
Is this supposed to be a prophecy, or a twisted little trick?
“I am no queen.” I lift one blade towards her.
“Of course not,” another one offers—the one with blood on her hands. “There can be no human queen in the Court of the Fallen. The Fae will riot. And besides … you came to die, didn’t you?”
“I—”
Another cuts in from my right. “Yes, you should die. You let Declan die.”
And another to the left. “And Tessa.”
My breath catches.
Their voices rise, overlapping, until they drown out the silence.
“You don’t belong here.”
“You’re weak.”
“You’re selfish.”
“You’re a disappointment.”
“You’ll never make it out.”
“You don’t deserve Kieran.”
“SHUT UP!” I scream, slashing the nearest mirror.
Glass explodes—shards falling like autumn leaves—and the reflections scatter, retreating deeper into the maze. I stand there, panting, heart thundering.
I’m not sure what is more disturbing: those reflections, or the fact that I now have none.
Not a single mirror shows me.
Still, I don’t stop. I keep walking.
Because the only way out is through.
Before I stepped in, I considered memorising a face in the crowd—Gideon or whoever—so I’d know which direction I was heading if he’s at my back. But I can’t trust the Fae not to pull some magic trick on me, so like the first trial, the sun is my map.
I stop at a junction, each path veering off in a different direction.
Lovely.
Left. Right. Or straight ahead?
I glance at the sun.
Okay, let’s try right.
I turn. My reflections start appearing again, reflecting across the mirrored maze. Keeping one hand in front of me, the other brushing the wall, I continue walking—
—until the tip of my dagger slams into a mirror.
I’m staring straight at it, but there’s no reflection.
And my other reflections?
They fucking burst out laughing, wheezing, cackling, like they’ve been dying for me to walk into it.
Didn’t know I could be such a dick.
Shouldn’t be surprised, really.
I exhale sharply through my nose, then turn and walk back the same way until I reach the junction again—I pick left this time.
The reflections follow me, whispering between themselves.
Another junction.
Shit.
I honestly have no idea if I’m still heading the way I’m supposed to.
I turn right.
And silence.
The reflections don’t follow.
But then a few steps in, something else appears on the mirrors instead.
This time, it’s Lucas.
Dozens of him.
Same clothes. Same hair. Same smile.
I freeze, my breath hitching.
Then, from the mirror at the far end, one steps out.
Oh, hell, no.