Chapter 21
Nyx
It’s a good thing I don’t need to be fearless for this trial, because my hands are trembling with terror. I don’t like the dark. I’ve never liked it. But this is a kind of dark I’ve never experienced before.
And all I want to do is run the hell out of here.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Fenric whispers beside me.
Thorian and Talon glance back, concern on their faces, and my heart swells.
Throughout the day, I could feel the reminder of the night before in everything.
Not just in their glances, though those are there too.
It's in the smaller things. Thorian's hand settles at the small of my back whenever we navigate a difficult stretch of ground, steadying me without being asked.
Fenric always passes me the water first, waiting until I've had my fill before taking a drink himself.
When the path narrows, Talon falls into step beside me, angling his body toward the darkness beyond the torchlight as if daring anything lurking there to come closer.
And all three of them keep checking on me without seeming to realize they're doing it. They’re not anxious, not hovering. Just present. Just making sure.
I've spent so much of my life being the one who takes care of things. Of Lyra, of the manor, of whatever needed doing. Being cared for in return is something I'm still learning how to receive without deflecting it.
This morning, they all would have been happy to stay laying together. Even Thorian, who has been the one pushing us forward at every turn, who has never once suggested lingering anywhere for longer than necessary, had looked like he might be ready to stay in that cave forever.
Another scream sounds, echoing through the cave, and I stiffen.
“Stop,” Thorian whispers, his voice low and harsh.
I feel my magic rush up under my skin, as though begging to be used. After drinking the Veridra juice, it has felt as close as ever. More powerful, even. Although it might just be in my head.
Now, I tip my head up and look around, trying to figure out why Thorian has stopped us. The crystals still sparkle overhead in an array of beautiful colors, reminding me of Ivor. But when I lean to the side, peaking out from behind Fenric, I see what’s stopped us.
A dead end.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I feel Talon’s hand against my back. A comforting touch that I lean into. They all know just how to make me feel cared for.
"We'll have to turn around," Thorian says, but instead of rearranging, we just turn in the opposite direction, so Talon is now leading.
And then the whole cave moves.
It isn't like anything I've felt before. It’s not a tremor, nor a rumble.
The entire structure groans from somewhere deep inside itself, a sound so low it's less heard than felt, vibrating up through the soles of my boots and into my bones.
The walls shudder. Dust cascades from every surface at once, filling the air instantly, turning the torchlight a thick, choking amber.
Then the crystals come down.
They fall like glass rain, heavy and sharp, some of them the size of my fist, cracking against the cave floor and shattering into fragments.
One catches my arm and I feel the sting of it, the warm trickle of blood running to my wrist. Fenric covers me before I can react, curling his body over mine, and I hear the impacts landing across his back, hear him absorb them without making a sound.
The shaking intensifies. Somewhere above us, something shifts and cracks, and a section of the ceiling gives way, chunks of rock hitting the floor with impacts that shake the ground beneath us all over again.
One of the stalactites comes down whole, spearing into the cave floor three feet from where Talon is standing, and the sound of it is deafening in the enclosed space.
Dust floods my throat and I clamp my mouth shut, pressing my hands over my mouth, trying to breathe in small controlled pulls through my nose while the cave continues to tear itself apart around us.
The moment the shaking stops, and the crystals have stopped raining down on us, I straighten up. “Thorian? Talon?”
“We’re here,” Thorian says weakly, coughing and lifting his head.
“What happened?” Fenric asks, his arms still around me, even as I stand.
“I’m not sure,” Thorian says, “but we should get out of here before it happens again.”
We start moving, this time with Fenric at the back, his hands on me, and Talon and Thorian ahead, but after just a minute more of walking, Thorian stops.
I crane my head around Talon's shoulder to see past him, and my stomach drops.
A wall. Solid, flat, unbroken stone, stretching the full width of the passage.
I stare at it, trying to make it make sense.
We came from this direction. I'm certain of it, certain enough that I'd stake my life on it, and I realize with a cold lurch that I may be doing exactly that.
I look back over my shoulder, then forward again.
The torchlight throws the same shadows, illuminates the same walls, the same uneven floor.
Everything looks exactly like it should.
Except there should not be a wall here.
"Did we get turned around?" I ask, though I don't believe it. I don't think any of us believe it.
"No," Thorian says. He places his palm flat against the stone, like he's checking that it's real. "This is the way we came in."
"Then why is there a wall?" Fenric asks from behind me.
Nobody answers, because none of us have an answer. The cave that let us in has simply, quietly, decided not to let us out.
“Let’s look for another way out,” Thorian suggests.
So we do. But each time we turn and walk, we run into another dead end. Time after time, we take new paths, turning and retracing, only to find a solid wall blocking the path out.
“What the fuck?” Thorian growls. “What kind of trial is this? Being blocked in?”
“So, you’ve never faced something like this before?” I ask.
Thorian hesitates. “I thought we would be fighting our competitors.”
Talon groans, “So, that’s a no, then.”
Something starts to sink in my chest, and I feel, for the first time in my life, a sense of claustrophobia. A need to get out.
Maybe it’s a tight space is some sort of magical cave, and just hours before, the god of the earth was tampering with the ground to try and kill one of your team members. Or maybe it’s the Trials in general. Every single thing has been constructed to kill us. So why not this?
“What’s to stop Terranis from just…crushing us?” I ask, my voice impossibly quiet and small. The light from our torch flickers, and I wonder about oxygen running out, which only makes the claustrophobia worse.
“I doubt he would be so direct,” Thorian says.
“Great,” Talon says, and I hear, rather than see, his eye roll. “Just perfect.”
“Let’s try this way once more,” Fenric says, pulling up the rock he’s been marking on, some sort of system for recording where we’ve been and where we’re going. But just as before, when we walk for more than a few minutes in any direction, we run into a dead end.
“Spectacular. Another dead end,” Talon mutters.
“Now probably isn’t the best time to tell you this…” Fenric says, his voice sounding slightly weak. I turn to look at him, and I do not like the expression on his face.
He’s held a lot of them since we got here,—furious, exhausted, determined—but never has he looked like this.
Defeated.
“What?” I ask, my voice no more than a whisper.
“Each time we move,” he says, lifting his head to look at me, then to meet Thorian’s expectant gaze. “The paths get shorter.”
“The paths get shorter,” Thorian repeats.
It takes me a moment to realize what Fenric is saying.
We’re not just trapped down here, unable to figure out the right way. It’s not just a puzzle for which we have limitless time.
My breath comes quickly, and Fenric stands, putting a hand on my back, trying to soothe me as the other guys take in his words. This can’t be happening. We’re not just… trapped.
“Fuck!” Thorian grunts, slamming his fist against the wall, then winces. “Ouch.”
“Ouch?” Fenric repeats, sounding as surprised as I feel.
Thorian looks upset. “The crystals…”
Talon gives us a look. “It’s worse than we let on. I thought we’d just get out of here soon and it wouldn’t matter, but–”
“What are we working with here?” Fenric asks. “Are you guys just like a five out of ten? Human weak? More?”
It’s quiet for a minute, but then Thorian says, “I’ve never been in a human’s skin before, but we just better hope we don’t run into the other teams when we feel like this, because it’ll be a human kind of battle.”
“That’s bad,” Fenric mutters.
Talon says nothing, just hits the wall with his back and slides down slowly, letting out a breath. Silently, we all settle into the same realization about our situation.
Each time we try to find a way out, the paths get shorter. Dead ends meet us sooner and sooner.
We are not going to find our way out.
Because the walls are closing in.
And even if we find a way out, we’re too weak to fight the other teams.
“What do we do?” I ask.
And I know it’s bad, because no one tries to comfort me. No one tells me it’s going to be okay. My question is simply met with… silence.