Chapter Eleven #3
Gideon joined her without a word, the archway sealing shut behind them.
Objective: Cross the Rift.
Reach the final seal.
First to touch it wins.
Cassara sucked in a breath, ignoring the sting of her busted lip and trying to drown the fire roaring through her ribs. Every breath scraped raw against bone. Her legs trembled, burning from exertion. Her skin slick with sweat beneath her uniform.
But she wasn’t done.
Not yet.
The first disc pulsed beneath her boot, a burst of pale blue light, and she launched forward.
Gideon moved a heartbeat later.
Cassara hit the second disc clean, the third with a jolt that rattled her spine. The fourth wobbled under her pivot and she shoved off hard, teeth gritted as she aimed for the fifth.
It blinked out of existence mid-air.
“Shit—!”
She twisted mid-leap, back arching, boots scrambling for purchase.
Her foot clipped the nearest disc at a brutal angle and she slammed down sideways.
Her knee struck first. Pain lanced up her thigh as she skidded across the stone’s surface.
The disc tilted under the impact, groaning ominously, but held.
Behind her, Gideon adjusted. He arced wide, choosing a longer but steadier route. The disc he landed on shimmered beneath him, but he shifted his weight low and centered, and it held.
Cassara didn’t wait. She surged to her feet and drove forward again.
The path ahead still offered no pattern. No logic. Some platforms vanished the moment she touched them. Others waited, teasing stability, only to disappear without provocation. One disc shivered violently and dropped with a sickening hiss the second her foot left it.
There was no way to predict which disc was safe. They could only rely on speed and reflex.
And then the field changed.
At the midpoint, their routes locked, two glowing platforms aligning side by side. One forward path remained.
Cassara hit it first, boots slamming down with a jarring thud that vibrated through her. Her breath tore in and out, raw in her throat, every inhale agony. A half-beat later, Gideon landed beside her, the platform dipping with a groan beneath their combined weight.
The disc vibrated beneath them, a low, uneasy hum thrumming through the soles of her boots.
Too much pressure. It wouldn’t hold long.
She didn’t look at him. “You first.”
He didn’t move. “Afraid?”
Her jaw clenched, pain flickering across her side. “Only that you’ll fall and I’ll get blamed for it again.”
He exhaled sharply. “You threw Verena.”
“She deserved it.”
Their eyes met, heat colliding in the narrow space between them. The disc trembled beneath their feet, magic twitching like a nervous pulse.
“Is that how you decide what’s fair?” Gideon stepped forward slowly, testing the edge of the next platform with a quiet confidence. “By what people deserve?”
“Better than standing around like a coward letting them walk all over everyone.” Her voice lowered. “Unless that’s all the great Delvanir name is good for these days.”
His expression darkened, just enough to show it hit, but he didn’t bite. Not the way she wanted him to.
Instead, he moved.
Without warning, he darted for the next stone. Cassara surged forward after him, teeth clenched against the pain flaring through her side, using his momentum to judge her own next move. Her eyes flicked across the field, analyzing the shifting platforms, the flickering glyphs beneath each surface.
They landed. The stone held. Barely.
Another leap. Another test. The next platform cracked under Gideon’s boots and dropped, but he caught a chain mid-swing and used the momentum to throw himself to the next. Smooth. Controlled. Frustratingly graceful.
Cassara aimed higher, taking the elevated path. She pushed too far, misjudged the landing, her foot skidded, and she crashed sideways, ribs shrieking as her ACS flared to soften the blow. Even then, it wasn’t enough. She slammed into the edge of the next disc with a breathless grunt.
Don’t stop. Don’t slow.
She forced herself to roll clear of the collapsing platform and launched again, catching the lip of the next stone with a hard, bone-jarring impact. A burst of pain shot through her chest, but she made it.
She looked up.
Gideon was a full stone ahead.
No.
Cassara narrowed her eyes as she studied the field, watched the rhythm-less chaos of the platforms, the twitch of unstable glyphs beneath their surfaces.
Waited. Waited—
Two discs pulsed side by side.
The left looked steadier.
So she took the right.
It dropped, slow, late.
She launched higher, catching a rotating chain overhead and letting it whip her across the field. The wind snapped past her face and she landed hard, shoulder-first, just as Gideon reached the final segment.
The last bridge.
Only three stones remained, spaced across a chasm of air and shadow. Each one trembled with barely contained energy. No guarantees. No mercy.
The seal was embedded in the far wall, glowing gold. Waiting.
Gideon glanced over, panting slightly. “Last chance. Give up now. Save the fall.”
Cassara grinned, teeth bared. “You first.”
He moved.
One, two—
She followed, matching his pace, teeth grit through the pain and fire burning in her chest.
The first disc held.
The second trembled beneath her boots, a spiderweb of cracks blooming from the center.
Gideon prepared to jump, arms stretching for the seal.
Cassara leapt first.
Her hand caught the corner of the final platform. It dipped under her weight as she scrambled, slipping, one boot caught the edge, the other left dangling.
She managed to pull herself up as Gideon’s fingers stretched towards the seal, slamming her palm down a half-second before his touch could claim it.
The platform lit beneath her, golden light flaring outward like a miniature sun exploding under her hand.
Match complete.
The platforms groaned, the air bleeding static as the magic began to drain. Slowly, the discs began to retract, fading back into their hidden anchors with a resonant hum.
Cassara didn’t move.
The light dimmed, fading from her vision. She was still kneeling, body trembling with aftershock. One hand braced on the cool stone. The other curled protectively around her side, where the pain now spiked with every breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Everything hurt.
The bruises had deepened, layers of impact pulsing outward like rings on a target. Her vision shimmered, edges curling in, black fog licking at her focus. She swayed.
“Cassara.”
She couldn't answer.
Slowly she staggered to her feet and instantly regretted it as the world began to tilt, her breath escaping in shallow gasps.
A hand caught her arm, pulling her steady.
She looked up in surprise. It was Gideon. She blinked hard, trying to surface through the fog. "I'm fine," she rasped. The lie cracked in her throat.
“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he snapped, sounding angry. No, not angry… worried maybe?
“Are you concerned about me, Delvanir?"
Before he could answer, her knees gave out. He cursed, his arm catching her and pulling her into him. "You never make anything easy, do you?"
"I thought I told you I didn’t need saving?” There was no heat to her words, she was too tired.
"You say a lot of things." His voice dropped lower, gentler. "Doesn't mean I believe them."
That was the problem wasn’t it? What Cassara didn’t understand was why.
For once, she didn't have the energy to argue. Her body made the choice her pride wouldn't, relaxing against him as the world swayed and her thoughts began to scatter like smoke.
The edges blurred. Sound became distant—voices, footsteps, the hum of magic draining from the arena. She felt herself being lifted, arms shifting beneath her knees and back, and then there was only warmth and the steady rhythm of movement.