Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The morning air felt thick with sleep and tension.
We moved through breakfast on autopilot, mechanical bites of bread and spoonfuls of porridge, no one speaking more than necessary.
The squad sat close, shoulders brushing, but it was a silence carved from exhaustion.
After the fight, after the discussions about the Fae Sanctuary, and Inderia’s grotesque spectacle… no one had slept well.
Even the other squads were quiet. Crownwatch had little of their usual smugness. Stormforge kept glancing toward the hall doors like they expected more bad news. Iron Fang sat in stiff silence, their usual banter strangled before it could even rise.
By the time we stepped onto the Ascension Grounds, the sun was barely burning through the clouded sky.
Major Kaler was already there, his uniform crisp, expression unreadable. But what set my teeth on edge was who stood beside him.
Major Ledor.
His presence meant this wasn’t just a drill. This was being watched.
“Wonderful,” Tae muttered beside me. “They’ve brought both instructors to smile over our corpses.”
We lined up as ordered, feet scuffing the training stone as Kaler stepped forward and raised his hands.
“Today,” he called out, his voice icy, “is a special trial.”
Already, my pulse began to pick up.
“One in which you must face a creature of dark magic without your dragons.”
A ripple moved through the squads like a drawn breath.
“You may call upon their magic,” Kaler added, “but your mounts will not land on the Ascension Grounds. They will not intervene.”
“How do we fight Blood Fae here?” one of the Iron Fang cadets asked from the middle ranks. His tone was skeptical but not mocking. Just… afraid.
The major didn’t answer with words.
He simply flicked his wrist.
And mist began to rise from the center ring, slow and sinuous, curling like smoke from a burning wound. The mist darkened, twisting into form. Shoulders. Arms. A face half-lost to shadow. Fangs, long and curved, slid down as the creature’s eyes opened, glowing crimson with cold hunger.
Its voice was a hiss.
Its presence was wrong.
It didn’t move like a soldier.
It flowed.
A monster. Formed from magic. From memory. From some ancient summoning, the major had no right to know.
Naia shifted beside me. Ferrula stiffened.
Even Kaelith stirred in my mind. She was watchful, but distant.
I gripped the hilt of my blade and whispered to no one but myself.
“Well. Shit.”
Major Ledor stepped forward, his boots striking the stone like hammer blows. His voice rang out across the grounds.
“Rebec. Rayne. Rowan. Into the ring.”
The words slammed through me like a jolt.
Beside me, Zander’s jaw flexed. Cade lifted his head from where he’d been standing two paces behind Crownwatch, his face paler than usual but set.
“You’re to work as a team,” the major barked as we stepped into the wide, rune-marked ring. “No one person can take down a shadow creature alone. Fight as one… or fall.”
I drew my blades and took my place on the left. Zander shifted to the right, spear already in hand. Cade moved silently between us, his grip on his dual daggers tight, eyes fixed on the beast in the mist.
The creature had coalesced into something solid now.
And it was wrong.
Twisted limbs. Joints bending in the wrong direction.
It moved low, sinewy—part wolf, part man, part nightmare.
Its skin was the color of oil, slick and thick like it was stitched from shadows.
Eyes like burning coals tracked us hungrily, and claws scraped the stone as it prowled the edge of the ring.
“What are these things?” I whispered to Zander, keeping my gaze on the creature as it circled.
Zander didn’t look away from it either. “The Blood Fae made them from the bodies of the fallen,” he said tightly. “Part animal. Part man. All dark magic.”
The creature hissed, and the skin along its shoulders rippled with movement, spines emerging like jagged wings.
“They have one purpose,” Zander added grimly. “Kill.”
The creature stopped directly in front of us.
Its lips pulled back, revealing jagged, bone-white teeth. It tilted its head to the side like it was smiling.
Then the major’s voice thundered from the platform.
“Begin!”
And the thing lunged.
The shadow creature exploded into motion, claws skittering against stone, its body stooped and feral, like smoke caught in the shape of a beast.
We moved as one. Cade veered left, Zander right, and I charged center, fanning out to strike from three sides.
The creature didn’t hesitate.
It pivoted, avoiding Cade’s incoming slash with inhuman grace and lunged for me. I rolled beneath its jaws and released a burst of storm magic from my palm—lightning crackling across my skin and striking it square in the ribs.
It barely flinched.
My stomach dropped. No—
Zander threw his hand forward, calling on Hein’s fire, a stream of Dark Fire launching toward the creature’s back. It hit, and fizzled.
The flames sank into the creature like water into sand, disappearing without leaving a mark.
“What in Charrem’s name—” I stumbled back, heart hammering, sweat already beading at my temples. My storm magic sparked weakly around me, but didn’t respond. Not like it should have.
Zander cursed, pulling back as his second blast of flame sputtered midair.
The creature turned toward him, sensing weakness, its snarl deep and feral.
Cade darted between us, blades flashing, driving the beast back a step. “Zander!” he barked, slashing at the creature’s flank. “What’s going on? Why isn’t your magic working?”
Zander’s jaw was clenched, sweat trickling down his neck. “I don’t know,” he growled. “It’s like it’s absorbing it.”
The creature’s red eyes glowed brighter, as if fed by our failure.
And suddenly I understood.
It wasn’t just immune to magic.
It fed on it.
And every strike we threw only made it stronger.
We backed up slowly, boots scraping against the stone ring as the creature circled us—its movements predatory, and far too intelligent. It swayed back and forth, claws flexing against the blood-marked floor as if deciding which of us would fall first.
“My magic is almost nonexistent,” I muttered, Stormlight pulsing weakly across my fingers before sputtering out. “But that thing absorbs it.”
Zander exhaled hard, sweat gleaming along his jaw as he lowered his hand, the last of Hein’s fire dimming in his palm. “Hein’s pulled back,” he said, voice tight. “He’s helping Kaelith. We can’t rely on our magic anyway.”
The creature’s head twitched at that… like it understood.
Cade narrowed his eyes, his blades catching the torchlight as he slid into a defensive stance. “Well, my magic is fine,” he said with grim sarcasm. “But if I’m just feeding that thing like a gods damned snack bar… let’s not.”
“Agreed,” Zander said, shifting closer to our side, spear now held in both hands.
The creature hissed, mist curling from its maw like breath from a frozen lung.
I swallowed. “Then how do we kill it?”
No one answered at first.
Because this twisted fusion of blood magic and death was more than just an enemy. It was a warning.
A taste of what was waiting for us on the Blood Isle. And now, we had to survive it without the only thing we usually relied on.
Our dragons.
And their magic.
The creature continued to circle, red eyes flicking between us like it could hear our thoughts, and smell our fear. The wind had died. The air was too still. Even the dragons circling above had gone silent in the bond, watching.
Then Major Ledor’s voice cut across the field, cool and sharp.
“The only way to kill a shadow creature is to pierce its heart,” he said. “Simple in theory. The problem, of course, is getting a blade close enough. They’re faster and stronger than both human or fae.”
The creature hissed, as if in smug agreement.
Cade’s eyes narrowed, and then he leaned in toward me and Zander, his voice hushed. “I have an idea.”
He spoke quickly, but Zander and I both nodded.
“Let’s do it,” I said.
Cade peeled off left. Zander went right. I rushed center again, blades drawn, pulse hammering in my throat. We struck all at once.
Zander lunged high, spear tip aimed for the throat. I ducked in low with a swipe at its legs.
And Cade appeared from the creature’s blind side, driving his blade toward its chest.
But then the air shifted.
And a second shadow creature stepped from the mist. It shrieked, blocking Cade’s strike with a swipe that sent him skidding back across the stone.
“What the—” I shouted, backing up.
The first creature turned toward the second with a guttural snarl just as Cade lunged again.
This time, his blade sank into the heart of the first creature, and then shimmered.
The second creature’s form rippled, magic breaking like glass.
The glamour fell away.
It had been Cade.
I blinked, breath caught, as the real shadow creature let out a strangled howl, and then began to dissolve. Mist peeled from its limbs, curling into the air like smoke, until nothing remained.
At the edge of the ring, Major Ledor flinched, clutching his chest, his control over the summoned creature snapping under Cade’s strike. He released the summoning with a grunt of effort, and the final remnants of the Blood Fae magic dissipated into the breeze.
Silence fell.
Then, Major Kaler approached.
“You underestimated the cadets,” he said without turning. “I recommend you be more careful in the future.”
Major Ledor scowled.
Major Kaler turned to Cade and nodded once, approval clear in his gaze.
“Excellent strategy, Cadet Rowen.”
Cade smirked, still catching his breath, as Zander and I moved beside him.
“Well,” I said, grinning despite the sweat on my skin, “I guess illusions do have their uses.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Zander muttered.
Cade winked. “You’re welcome.”
The trial didn’t end with us.
Major Ledor wasted no time in calling forward the next set of cadets, assigning them in trios, some well-matched, others thrown together like pieces from different puzzles.
The shadow creature reformed again and again, pulled from mist and blood-magic with each summoning.
The ground beneath the ring began to darken from where it walked, a smear of something wrong left in its wake.
Some teams found a rhythm, a strategy. Illusions, distractions, brute force, and managed to land a killing blow, earning nods of approval and brief praise from the major.
Most didn’t.
Those who failed were sent to the edge of the field for saddle duty. Repairs, oiling, and inventory checks. The kind of punishment work designed to sting pride more than the body.
Naia’s name was called next, and my stomach twisted when I saw who she was paired with. Two cadets from Iron Fang. Bravik and Perin. I’d seen them spar before. Both were more interested in domination than teamwork.
They entered the ring with cocky grins.
Naia didn’t even look at them as she drew her blade.
The shadow creature formed again, its shape more jagged this time, as if sensing the fractures between them. It snarled, stalking forward.
From the start, the Iron Fang men hung back. Perin faked a lunge, then retreated behind Bravik, who smirked like this was a game. Naia darted forward, fast and clean, clearly expecting backup, but none came.
The creature struck fast.
Claws slashed across Naia’s upper arm. Deep enough to leave blood, but not deep enough to maim. She yelled, the sound distinct and furious, and stumbled back, cradling her arm.
The creature reared back for another strike—
“Enough!” Major Ledor barked, and the shadow creature dissolved on the spot, mist vanishing like breath in the wind.
Naia turned, blood trickling down her sleeve, and faced her so-called teammates.
“You bastards!” she snapped, her voice shaking with fury. “You left me to get hit on purpose!”
Bravik rolled his shoulders. “Should’ve moved faster.”
Naia didn’t answer with words.
She punched him straight in the mouth.
Hard.
Bravik reeled backward, spitting blood, as Perin stepped forward to grab her. Chaos erupted.
Multiple squads rushed in at once, our own included, yelling, grabbing, trying to pull them apart.
Riven got to Naia first, wrapping her arms around her waist and hauling her back.
Jax caught Perin mid-lunge, dragging him off his feet.
Ferrula stepped between everyone, shouting above the din like a war general trying to keep her troops alive.
Major Ledor’s voice roared over it all, cold and clipped. “Enough!”
It took a minute, but the storm settled. Bravik’s lip was split. Naia’s eyes still burned.
Remy appeared beside her, gently taking her by the uninjured arm. “Come on,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “Let’s get that looked at.”
She let him lead her toward the saddle stations without a word, jaw clenched, blood still dripping onto the stone.
And I didn’t blame her.
Because today wasn’t about defeating monsters.
It was about exposing them.
The wind had picked up across the Ascension Grounds, carrying with it the lingering burn of magic and the metallic tang of blood.
Most of the squads were dispersing, muttering to each other as they headed back to the barracks or to tend to their dragons.
But my attention was fixed on Naia and Remy, seated on a short stone wall near the saddle racks.
Naia had her sleeve rolled up to the shoulder, and Remy crouched in front of her, focused as he cleaned the shallow cut with a cloth dipped in water. His movements were careful, precise, the kind of care that came from experience, not affection.
I took a step toward them, intent on checking in.
Then I heard his voice and froze.
“It’s not deep,” Remy murmured, binding her arm in a strip of linen. “Under the circumstances, it’s a good thing you won’t need a healer. The major just wanted to scare us. Not kill us.”
Naia huffed a breath, half pain, half bitterness.
“Iron Fang will get what’s coming to them,” Remy added, his voice edged like a blade beneath the skin. “They’re Theron’s puppets. They’d rather lose a trial than see someone from Thrall Squad advance.”
Naia didn’t argue. She just nodded, eyes still hard from the fight. “I’m aware.”
“This won’t end until we figure out who’s loyal to the true king.”
“I know,” Naia whispered.
Silence hung between them.
And I stood still, fingers curling slightly at my sides as something cold slid through my spine.
Because I knew where Naia’s loyalties lay.
But I wasn’t sure what his were.
Which king?
The one dying in his chamber?
Or the one still hiding behind crowns of ash and prophecy?
Remy tied the last knot in her bandage and stepped back.
And I kept my distance, the question whispering louder in my mind than any horn the major could blow.
Who do you really serve, Remy?