Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Zander frowned but didn’t push. Instead, he looked over at Cordelle, who was still blinking at the ceiling like he expected it to disappear.
“I’ve been thinking,” Zander said, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “If we got the proper permissions… Cordelle could serve as rider and lorekeeper.”
Cordy’s head snapped toward him. “You’d help me with that?”
Zander nodded. “You don’t belong locked in a tower, Cordelle. And we need someone with your mind in the field, and someone the fae and humans trust. That’s you.”
Cordelle looked stunned. “I’d love that.”
“We’d love that too,” Jax added, throwing an arm around Cordelle’s shoulders. “A lorekeeper with a dagger collection? That’s a terrifying advantage.”
Naia smiled. “We’ll help you train. Just because you’re recording history doesn’t mean you can’t rewrite it, too.”
Ferrula tossed a blanket toward her bunk and flopped down. “It’s settled then. We just have to convince the crown. No big deal.”
We drifted off quickly after that, the kind of deep, collective sleep that came only when you felt…safe. Or maybe the sanctuary had something to do with that. Either way, I barely felt my head hit the pillow before everything went dark.
And then, like a flash of light, we all sat up together.
“What the hell…” Tae mumbled.
“That’s definitely weird,” I muttered as we looked around. Not one of us had moved in our sleep. Not one blanket was disturbed.
There was no sun filtering through the roof, but a low hum of morning, of something awake, drifted in.
Zander got to his feet and opened the door.
A feast waited for us.
Sliced fruit with brilliant pink centers. Loaves of steaming bread that smelled like wild honey and spice. Fish glazed with something sweet and salty. And golden cups that never seemed to empty.
“Are we sure this isn’t a trap?” Riven asked, already chewing.
“It smells like heaven,” Jax said through a mouthful of something glazed and sticky.
We ate until we were warm and full, laughter drifting as easily as breath between us. Then Dormeal appeared at the door, his expression unreadable, eyes soft.
“The council is ready for you,” he said.
We rose—stronger, steadier, a little unnerved but ready. Together, we followed him back toward the Hall of Judicium.
We stood before the council once more, the Hall of Judicium glowing with that strange inner light that made shadows stretch too long and everything feel slightly…
displaced. Dormeal stepped to the side as the elder in the center, the one with skin like bark and lavender eyes like Zander’s, rose from his elevated seat.
His voice was calm, but it carried like thunder through the high rafters. “We will provide you with the universal elixir. If your king’s ailment was caused by fae poison, this will purge it. But if there is a spell involved you will have to kill the one who cursed him.”
Relief tugged at my chest. “Thank you.”
But I hadn’t even finished speaking before his gaze landed on me again. Harder this time. Testing.
“As for the weapon you are requesting from the sanctuary… we will not hand it over simply because you ask,” he said. “Our aid in your war against the Blood Fae is not a gift. It must be earned.”
I swallowed and straightened. “How?”
“You breached the tunnel, yes,” he nodded. “Your dragons forced open the gateway through shared strength. But strength is not enough.”
His eyes flicked to Zander. “Can the two of you work together as one? Can Stormlight and Dark Fire flow as a single current? You were bonded by dragons, tethered by battle, but this… this is different.”
Zander stepped forward slightly, his voice controlled. “You want to know if we’re worthy of the power that was once bestowed on your champions.”
“Exactly.” The elder’s gaze gleamed. “Power does not yield to the divided. If you wish to wield what lies beneath this sanctuary, you must show us unity. Balance. Harmony.”
Not really our strong suit, I thought. But Zander’s hand brushed mine lightly, grounding me.
“What do we have to do?” I asked.
A woman on the council, the one with opalescent eyes and silver hair like spun glass, spoke for the first time. “Enter the Grove of Reflection. Let your magic merge. Let your souls speak. If there is a fracture between you, the grove will magnify it. If there is harmony, it will gift you clarity.”
“And if we fail?” Zander asked, his jaw tight.
The elder smiled softly. “Then you will know you were not meant to carry this burden. And the sanctuary will not open its deeper vaults to you.”
I glanced at Zander and felt the rise of Kaelith’s magic behind me like a tide. Hein stood beside her, watching us with an intensity that said he already knew what the grove might reveal.
Zander’s voice whispered in my ear. “We’ve come this far, storm girl. We can do this.”
I nodded.
“We’ll take the test.”
“Excellent,” the elder said, his fingers steepled before him. “Dormeal will lead you to the Grove of Reflection. Your friends will remain here.”
My gaze slid to the others. Ferrula gave a curt nod, Riven’s jaw was set with concern, and Remy had that unreadable calm he wore like armor. I didn’t need them to say anything. They’d wait.
Dormeal stepped forward, his robes whispering across the marble as he gestured for us to follow. “Come.”
Zander fell in beside me as we left the Hall of Judicium.
The air outside was warm, threaded with golden light and the subtle perfume of citrus and salt.
The path curved through ancient stone arches and flowering trees that pulsed with a faint magical hum, as if the land itself remembered the power it had once housed.
The grove revealed itself slowly, a circle of tall white trees with silver-veined leaves. A stream shimmered through the center, curling around a stone dais like it was guarding something sacred. Wildflowers bloomed in spirals beneath our boots, colors too vivid to be real.
Dormeal turned to us and motioned toward the grove. “Enter when ready. You must stand in the center. The grove will do the rest.”
Zander and I exchanged a glance, and I stepped forward first, feeling the warm thrum of the earth with every step. Zander followed, the space tightening around us with each movement until we reached the stone dais and stood side by side.
The moment our feet touched it, the world shifted.
The trees shimmered, their trunks stretching impossibly high as the sky darkened, not with clouds, but with memory. My memory. Flashes of the guild, of Solei’s knife at my throat. Of Zander’s silence when I learned of his betrothal. Of Remy’s betrayal. Of my father’s voice ordering my death.
Pain bloomed in my chest, and I tried to breathe, but Zander was beside me, staring up, his own eyes reflecting scenes I couldn’t fully see.
His fists clenched. I knew what he was seeing.
His brother turning away. The crown slipping just out of reach.
My blood on his hands when he thought I was dying.
“This isn’t real,” I whispered.
“No. It’s worse,” Zander said, breath ragged.
The wind picked up, and the visions spun around us like a storm, my magic flaring silver, his Dark Fire licking at the edges of the grove, but they weren’t repelling the magic. They were feeding it.
This is a trial, I reminded myself. Not a battle.
“Zander.” I reached for his hand. “We’re not supposed to fight it. We’re supposed to face it.”
His grip found mine, and the second our palms touched, everything slowed.
The wind softened. The pain dulled. And the grove pulsed, not with illusion, but recognition.
Magic coiled around us, twisting like Kaelith and Hein in the skies—Stormlight and Dark Fire weaving together until it wasn’t just light and shadow. It was us.
The grove went silent.
And then… it bloomed. Trees lit from within. The stream stilled to mirror-glass. The flowers sang, somehow, vibrating softly in the air.
We were still standing in the same place, but the grove had changed.
Zander turned to me. “I think we passed.”
I nodded, heart thudding as I stared into the quiet, awakened grove.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We did.”
We stepped from the grove in silence, the soft glow of its magic still clinging to our skin like mist. The path back to the Hall of Judicium felt shorter somehow, though neither of us spoke as we walked it.
Something had shifted between us in that sacred place, and not just our magic, but the way we moved beside each other.
There was understanding now. Unspoken. Unbreakable.
The great doors of the hall parted with a sigh, and as we entered, the quiet within pressed against my skin like a velvet curtain. The council was waiting.
The elder stood in the center, no longer seated. His lavender eyes found mine instantly, and it was as if the rest of the room fell away.
“You returned intact,” he said, voice echoing slightly through the marble chamber. His gaze moved between Zander and me. “And changed.”
Zander gave a slight nod. “The grove tested us.”
“And you did not break,” the Elder murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Good.”
The rest of the council sat straighter, the tension in the room shifting. Dormeal stepped up behind us, as silent as moonlight, and gave the elder a single, deep nod.
The elder extended his hand toward the center of the room. “Then let us not delay.”
A shimmer of light unfurled from his palm, and a pedestal rose from the floor—grown of twisted wood and living stone. Resting upon it was a vial of liquid that shimmered with silver. Next to it was a golden key with a purple crystal affixed to it.
“The cure for the poison that afflicts your king,” the elder said. “And the key to something greater.”
Zander stepped forward, but the elder lifted a hand.
“It will only respond to the one who passed the trial.” His eyes were on me now. “You must carry it.”
I stepped forward, pulse fluttering like wings in my chest. My fingers closed around the vial, warm and pulsing with quiet power.
“For your world to survive,” the elder said softly, “you will need more than weapons. You will need unity. And you will need truth.”
I swallowed hard. “Then we’ll find it.”