Chapter 42
Names have meaning. Truly altering one’s name changes them in irreversible ways. Therefore, I have become Adelyth. Adelynne was a mother, a Countess, and a leader of the Fae. I am a goddess. That name and this new life could never reconcile their differences.
~Edicts of Adelyth
Fiona
No one is in the clearing when we get there.
It’s four hours from the official midnight cut-off based on Isola’s supposedly perfect ability to mark the time, something I hate to have to trust. The forty-foot-tall tower looms above us, and we can make out the black and silver flag that flutters on the flagpole that’s most likely bolted into the stones of the roof.
Shadowy shapes move along the battlements.
Sounds of rustling movement come from within it.
Elara and Darian are next to us, but they’ll stay behind for several hours while we distract Serica and her team. Everyone is watching the tower, trying to guess who and where the surviving members of Serica’s team are, and Darian pulls me away from the group for a moment.
“Fi, remember that unlike the rest of this group, you won’t Return. If you die…”
“I know,” I say in a whisper. “I’ve been human my whole life. The idea that dying is the end for me isn’t really a new concept.”
He grits his teeth just a little. “Yes, but for them, death is painful and Returning is even more so, but it’s not the end.
You have to survive. Even if it means losing.
Remember that all of this is a game, Fi.
We’re all just pieces on a board, and the ones pulling the strings don’t give a rat’s ass if any of us survive.
They don’t care if we’re happy or ever find peace. We’re just pieces on a board.”
He takes my hand in his and squeezes it.
“The others don’t see it like that. They think they’re doing noble things.
They think they’re bringing their gods and champions honor or some shit.
Honor’s just some non-existent point system that doesn’t matter in the least. See the bigger game, the board beyond this battle.
Don’t put yourself into situations you won’t get out of. Do you hear me?”
The way he’s saying all of this makes me nervous. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because people are going to die today. You need to understand that. I may be one of them. If I die, it’ll be a month before I come back.
You’ll be alone in a place where this team is going to try to kill you.
They can’t truly imagine you’ll be gone forever.
We live in a different world where death doesn’t matter so much as it once did. ”
I swallow hard and glance over at Rurik, Elara, Isola, and Jorren. “You think they’ll double-cross me in the trial?”
Darian shakes his head. “No, they’re not willing to lose any strength while we’re here. But when we win, when we get back to Castle Lachlan, those four people will be your enemies. And they will kill you if they can.”
I nod to Darian. “Maybe you should try not to die,” I say.
He chuckles. “I’d prefer my unbroken streak of not dying to remain whole for a very long time, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.
The people in that tower are the meanest and strongest people in the competition, and no one’s going to show you any mercy just because you’re human. You should know that by now.”
“I do.”
There’s a lingering moment of silence, and I wrap my arms around the only person I’ve come to trust implicitly.
Darian Emlyn was an ally from the beginning, but he’s become more than that.
He’s become a friend. Not because we share goals, but because I genuinely care about him.
Before I allied myself with him in these trials, I’d thought Rhaskar was the person I trusted most in the world.
Unlike my adoptive father, Darian’s never lied to me.
Darian’s always cared. He helped me smile when I was more terrified than ever before.
He helped me understand that this world I’d thought was full of monsters might be more than I’d been taught.
My heart is fuller because of him. I may not have any blood family, but I know that even after these trials, he’ll be family. By choice.
“Stay safe,” I whisper in his ear. “You and Elara will be doing the hardest job out of everyone. I’ll try to help even the odds a bit when we attack.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t forget what I said, Fi. We need you to survive and to win. I’ll do what needs to be done to make sure that happens.”
He pulls away from me, and we go back to the rest of the group who seem to be a little antsy. “Now that you two lovers have said your goodbyes, are you ready to murder a rotten gash and her friends?” Rurik asks.
“As ready as ever,” I respond with a deep breath. I pull my bow from my shoulder and nock a steel arrow to it.
“There are five figures moving that we’ve been able to see. One Chained is at the top, and one is at the bottom.”
Jorren says, “I’ll try to make the ones in the tower revisit the ones they lost, but I’ll have to be right next to the building to do it for long. I can’t hold the entire clearing for more than a few minutes.”
“I’ll do my best to break open a section of wall,” Isola says. “But I’ll have to be right next to it as well.”
Rurik nods in agreement. “It sounds like we’ll have to get to the tower.
Luckily, I’m the last Stormbringer in the trial, so we don’t need to worry about anything but Burning Ones with ranged attacks.
We should sprint to the tower. Be as quiet as possible unless they let out a warning.
Then, just run like veilrunners are on your heels.
The faster Isola and Jorren can get to the tower, the better. ”
Then, without waiting for anyone to agree, he takes off.
The three of us follow him. As we run, I take the three Infusions I always need.
Bear, Cat, and Falcon. Initially, I’m left far behind the Godforged, but only a few seconds later, I’m moving in time with them.
Silently, we sprint across the open field.
My heart’s racing in a way I’ve never felt before. I’ve fought battles where I could have died. I robbed Azric and tried to kill myself by jumping out of the Crimson Tower. I fought a dragon. I’ve trained against all the people on our team, and I’ve even passed two trials.
But never have I felt like we’re clinging to hope rather than trusting a plan.
Serica’s group is stronger than ours. There’s no denying that.
There are too many unanswered questions, too many more powerful enemies, and there’s a god watching who desperately wants me dead.
The only reason I’m on board with this plan is that it’s the only one that makes any sense, and Darian is backing it.
Somehow, we make it to the tower without a single call to arms from inside it.
Immediately, Jorren raises his hands as he did during our distraction.
Screams and shrieks start from inside the tower.
Isola presses her hands to the stones blocking the door.
Her entire body glows red, and before my eyes, the stones seem to age, if that’s a thing.
Tiny cracks appear. Bits of them turn red and crumble to dust. Other pieces just start to dissolve and disappear.
I step back several paces and draw my bow as I look into the tiny windows that were meant for archers at one time.
For the first time, I see a real Abomination.
Made of grotesquely manipulated body parts, it’s as large as a Chained.
In the center of it is a single head, its skin pulled taut into a terrifying grin.
Around that head are multiple bodies, all stitched together.
Thick shoulder and leg bones have been attached like armor all along its massive torso.
Four arms on each side hold weapons: two spears as tall as it is, two greataxes, and four longswords.
Four legs support the creature’s incredible weight, and it moves like a spider as it walks down the staircase.
I fire the steel arrow through the window, hoping I can hit it in the head.
It moves too quickly, and a sword comes up to block the arrow.
The face turns toward me, and it screeches a horrible noise.
Then it scrabbles down the stairs even faster.
The sound is followed by Serica screaming because of whatever Jorren is doing.
“An Abomination is coming!” I shout, hoping Isola won’t be caught unaware if it breaks down the stones as they crumble.
A crash comes from high in the tower. Something hits the wall hard enough for the stones to shake.
Jorren’s magic may work well on the people inside the tower, but it doesn’t seem to affect Abominations.
What else doesn’t it work on? The thought passes quickly, though, as Rurik turns to me and shouts, “Down!”
I don’t question his command and drop to my stomach as a rush of movement passes within inches of me.
Immediately, Rurik’s moving, and I jump to my feet.
A seven-foot-tall demon hovers in front of him.
Instead of the hound-like ones I’m used to, this is shaped like Darian or Rhion when they’ve grown wings.
Except, instead of feet, it has talons made of pitch-black shadow. They tear at Rurik, but he was ready for them. The same electric glow surrounds his sword as he fends off the talons and keeps the creature away from Jorren and Isola.
I shoulder my bow and pour oil on my daggers, the movement feeling far too slow. It would be so much easier to use my Mark, but people are watching. I flick the fire-starters on my daggers and rush to help Rurik.
Two more arms form from the shadows on the creature’s back, each ending in six-inch claws. They swipe at me, completely functional already. I try to strike at them, hoping that the flames on my dagger will burn away the shadows, but the creature is agile enough to hit my hand rather than the blade.