Chapter Fifty-Three
T he sun has just surpassed its peak, beginning the slow process of descending into the horizon.
After last night, we only discussed the journal and the truth behind my magic one more time, and it was only to agree that we wouldn’t discuss it again until after the exams. Draven, though unable to go into specifics, believes I’ll be fine during the third test without fully understanding my magic.
And so it was decided—get through the final test, worry about everything else after.
Still, I’ve been unable to shake the subtle worry I glimpsed resting within Draven’s eyes when we parted ways—him going to meet with his fellow captains, and me falling in line as examinees prepare for their last challenge.
It left me with this gnawing feeling that, whatever the test is, it won’t be kind to me.
Yet I force myself to focus on Josiah as he stands on the balcony, preparing to address the room. And it is a will of control not to look to the mezzanine beside him and find Draven. Something I cannot allow myself to do. Not right now.
For right now, the arena is filled with an audience—students and diplomats alike—who watch, eager to see the third test unfold. And sitting on his very own balcony, perched contentedly with an inscrutable, keen gaze, is Tynan Dalmar.
“Examinees,” Josiah bellows, his voice steady and clear.
“You have been tested on your ability to detect the essence of your magic, your ability to work in a team to fulfill a mission, and now today, the remaining thirty-one of you will be tested on your ability to overcome yourselves .” Slowly, his eyes glide across the room.
“What will you do in the face of your greatest fears? How will you handle yourself? Who will you become?”
Dread piles beneath my skin, pooling deep in my stomach. Shadows, hazy and dark, dance merrily in the back of my mind.
A voice. A command. A death.
My fault.
It should have been me.
No—I’m not ready. I’ve only just started my path to healing, to attempt to bloom after withering for so long. It’s too soon to ask me to face what lies in the dark places—I need more time to secure my stitches.
“I will explain the third test to you carefully,” Josiah continues. “And it is important you listen closely. If you do not heed my words, you may enter the test, but you will not emerge from it.”
As if sensing my rising panic, Marcella—standing next to me—reaches for my hand and squeezes. Gray, standing to the other side of me and glimpsing the gesture, does the same.
And the panic eases, just a bit.
“In a moment, you will be given a tonic that opens the darkest recesses of your mind and compels you to confront what lies within its shadows. Then, using your magic and the instructions I will soon give you, you will open something called a Feargate. Two things will become apparent to us once your gate opens. The first is the depths of your individual lakt?, based on the size of the gate you conjure. The second is, once you enter it, we will learn who you are, down to the very fabrics of your soul.”
A buzz of whispers swirl in the air. When I glance around, I see examinees now shifting on their feet. Gray’s cousin, Huxley, included. But not Nuri, who I glimpse standing in a group of nobles, her chin lifted and spine straight. She looks completely undaunted.
“To call open the gate, you must offer the sky your blood and summon its power through an incantation. After you’ve bled in sacrifice, say the following words, and your gate will appear: en vuhltum tamoris mei venio meisum.
” Josiah pauses, studying the examinees with a sharp eye.
“Since I know most of you are probably wondering, it means, I find myself in the face of my fear .”
Josiah takes a long pause, and he quickly steals a glance in the direction of where Tynan Dalmar sits. As I trace his gaze, a sharp cold spikes down my spine.
Tynan’s eyes are glued to me, as if he’s been watching me the whole time.
He tips his head to me, a soft curve tugging on his lips. I incline my head in response, refusing to back down. Then I turn my eyes forward, not sparing him another glance.
“Once inside the Feargate, you will face nothing but yourself. Every sight, every sound, every shadow—all of it will come from you. A labyrinth of illusions, each one drawn from your deepest fears, shaped by the things you do not wish to see—to confront.
“You must endure them. Unravel them. Dig through their wreckage to find whatever may be buried beneath. And then—if you can—let them go.” Josiah clasps his hands behind his back, his gaze steady.
“This is a test of courage. Of resilience. Of whether you can hold onto yourself when the world around you demands that you break. Cahlmon will be casting each of your journeys, so please know, all of us here will be watching. As Jurafen, we must know each other—our faults, our fears, our weaknesses.”
Four healers emerge suddenly from an unmarked corridor carrying trays of small vials.
“You are about to be handed a vial. Drink every drop of it, and then the test will begin.” Josiah inclines his head to us, something strange resting in his expression.
“Pledge your lives. Dedicate your souls. Offer your magic.” A pause.
“May the gods be with you.” Then without another word, Josiah turns, retreating back into the shadows.
A healer with frosty hair approaches me and extends her tray. “Please, take only one.”
I do as instructed, plucking a vial from the tray. Swirling the clear liquid, I lift it to my nose, but smell nothing. No scent, no familiar trace of herbs or minerals. It’s as if the tonic’s scent has been masked—or this is all a cruel prank and the vials are actually water.
An option I know isn’t true, but hey…a girl can dream.
By the time I’m done studying the vial, Gray and Marcella have theirs in hand. Marcella raises hers like a goblet of fine wine, her lips pressed into a thin, weary line.
“Bottoms up,” she says.
Gray huffs a quiet laugh, but ultimately, we all clink our vials together and throw them back. The liquid slides down my throat like chilled tea, smooth and cool, yet it is tasteless.
No bitterness, no sweetness—nothing.
Odd.
We set our empty vials back onto the tray and the healer moves on to another group of examinees. A beat of silence lingers between us before we exchange curious glances, each of us waiting for something—anything—to happen.
“Does anyone feel anything?” I ask, my hands folding over themselves with nerves.
Gray shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Nope,” Marcella chimes. She pauses, her demeanor shifting dramatically.
“You want to know what I do feel, though? I feel like asking us to confront our deepest fears while a crowd of strangers watch isn't a test—it’s sadistic and humiliating.” Her face reddens as she braces her hands on her hips.
“Not to mention, these assholes have the—”
The ground at our feet begins to rumble and shake, cutting Marcella off.
A low hum echoes through the air as the glass dome roof groans open, sliding apart as the panes shift away from each other, revealing an unobstructed view of the sky above us.
Streaked in soft lavender, pale pink, and a deepening midnight blue, the sky looks stilled, cemented even, at the perfect twilight.
The familiar sight has fire flashing behind my eyes, raging within the walls of my mind.
A body. Eyes that don’t see. An instruction .
I love you.
Another violent tremble almost knocks me down, dragging me from my daze.
The ground creaks and grumbles, and raw stone juts up, rising in a column of reddish-brown rock.
Then without further warning, I’m soaring through the air, going up, up, up as the pedestal of stone at my feet rises into the twilight sky.
Until it stops.
Stunned and disoriented, I scan my new surroundings.
Without a trace of another person in sight, I crawl to the edge of the column and peek out over the jagged side. All I see are swirling clouds and fractured light, as if I’m suspended somewhere between the heavens.
I exhale a shaky breath and sit back on my heels, staring absently at the rock face for a long passing moment, fear and anxiety and anticipatory pain already clamoring through me, beating against my chest. But…
I can do this.
I have to do this.
For my mother, so she can smile again.
For myself, so I can heal.
For Thestis, so he can dream.
For Meiji and Delroy, so that their lives were not forfeited in vain.
For Gray and Marcella, so we can all move forward, together.
And for Draven, so perhaps I can one day love him in the ways he deserves to be loved.
For us all, I will do this.
From the small pack strapped to my hip, I retrieve the dagger Marcella slipped me after she and I trained together in the hills, and I use it to slice my palm. Positioning myself over the edge of the rock face once more, I tip my hand over and drip crimson into the sky.
I lift my chin, steady my voice, and say the given words. “ En vuhltum tamoris mei venio meisum.”
I find myself in the face of my fear.
And I think…
I’m finally ready to be found.