Chapter 59
Ashley
Together we rise and grow and praise,
we storm and conquer the city,
Apparently, I nearly killed us all. The trees are, of course, enchanted, and you’re absolutely not allowed to touch them under any circumstances.
I feel like that should’ve been in the briefing.
There are only two types of trees in this hellhole: one is poisonous and the other is the antidote.
As soon as a poisonous one is touched by someone who isn’t trained, they and everyone around them can get infected.
Problem is, they all look exactly the same.
The same pale lines running down the ebony bark, the same twisted branches and massive waxy leaves, all spaced at identical distances like someone stamped them across the forest. And, according to Aiden who can’t stop throwing out facts as we trudge along, all books in the land come from paper milled from these trees.
Kaed and Cook seem to know exactly where they’re going.
They’ve both done this loads of times, so we trudge on in a surprisingly comfortable silence.
I can’t imagine what Cinder Cliffs is like if this is the entrance, but they assure me it’s nice.
After what feels like hours of dodging homicidal shrubbery, we finally reach a clearing.
It’s a little brighter here, though I can’t work out where the light is coming from because the branches knot together overhead.
Something is calling me toward the centre of the clearing, and glancing around, I’m not the only one.
Cook looks downright delighted and saunters ahead of us towards a wide puddle.
Perfectly still. He shimmies off his backpack.
“Oh, this is a good one.” Kaed did try to brief me before we left, but there wasn’t much he could say.
Just that there are trials we must pass to enter Cinder, illusions that change all the time, so no one ever knows what’s coming or how many there will be.
There’s an enchantment on the forest that doesn’t let people talk about the trials once they leave.
I tried to push him, to see what would happen, but his tongue kept getting stuck behind his teeth every time he tried to explain.
I asked him to write it down instead, but the pen flew from his hand.
Cook taps his lips with his finger, pacing around the puddle, looking into it and muttering under his breath. Kaed glances down, then looks up at me and down at the puddle again.
“You have to choose,” Cook says animatedly. “But it’s tricky. Very tricky indeed. You must make the right choice.”
“Or what?” Eira asks.
“Or we lose,” Cook mutters, shaking his head.
“It’s not as straightforward as follow your heart, your instinct.
It’s about what you know.” He taps his temple.
Eira gulps. It’s always nice knowing I’m not the only one who’s scared.
Still, that isn’t why I came. No cowering.
No hiding. No running. I don’t want to look into the water at all. But I do. Hand in hand with Eira.
I peer down, and it’s like staring through a murky window into another world.
I take a small step forward. One minute I’m standing in the clearing, the next I’m there.
Sweat beads along my brow. Violent lava churns across the ground.
In the centre rises a tower of cracked stone.
Kaed is clinging to the very top of it. Barely.
He looks exactly like he did in the cells.
That smell consumes me: iron, magic, wards, and vomit.
He’s broken, bloody, and bruised. Chunks of brick crumble beneath his boots, tumbling into the molten river below as he scrambles desperately.
His fingers slip. There is no smoke coming from his back.
No magic in his veins. No strength in his body.
He’s human somehow. And if he falls, he will die.
I’m standing at the top of the tower, close enough to save him.
I can pull him up and my hands are already reaching for him, but something yanks me sideways, dragging my body toward the other edge of the tower.
A thick iron chain groans as it lowers slowly into the lava below.
People are clinging to it. So many people.
They scramble over one another, desperate to climb higher as the molten river rises up to swallow them.
The chain is hooked to a massive pulley, lowering them inch by inch.
And when they look up at me, every single face is mine.
My green eyes. My freckles. My burns. It’s me.
Me as a child. As a teenager. Me high. Me drunk.
Me scared. Begging for help. The choice twists inside my chest. Them, us, or Kaed.
One or many? Me or him? My heart pounds so violently I can barely hear their screams anymore.
The heat surges when the chain drops another inch.
Panic rips through me and the world shatters, snapping me back into the forest clearing where Kaed paces in tight circles and Eira sits on the forest floor, biting her thumbnail.
It must be Cook who pulled me back into myself.
“You can’t follow your heart here,” he says quietly. “You must use logic. Intellect. These woods read your poisons and push you to find the cure.”
“What’s he doing?” I whisper, finally catching my breath. Aiden strolls carefully between the trees in the distance, hands clasped behind his back like he’s birdwatching.
“Oh. He already passed,” Cook replies.
Of course he did. I tear my eyes from Aiden and rack my brain.
Would I save Kaed over myself? I’d like to think I would, if it came down to it.
The instinct for self-preservation is still there, but it’s transformed into something much quieter now.
Something almost selfless. I’m here, aren’t I?
In a poisonous jungle-forest, letting my mind be torn apart just to learn how to free my dad’s people.
Free Eira. But would I save him over dozens of people about to die?
Use what you know, Cook had said. What do I know?
I know Kaed would want me to save myself.
I know he would want me to save others before him.
That’s who he is. I know him. I know our bond.
My chest tightens. The bond. I know that to free them, to free myself, I must be bonded to him.
And if I am bonded to him, protecting him will matter more than anything else.
More than my own safety. So maybe choosing him isn’t selfish.
Maybe it’s proof that I’m ready. To save everyone.
To save myself. But how can I save anyone if I can’t save myself first?
I stare back into the puddle, knowing what I have to do.
What I must face. Another step towards the puddle and I’m standing on the top of the tower again.
Kaed roars to my left, the cries of the Ashley’s ringing out to my right.
I run to the edge of the tower, close my eyes, and let myself get angry.
Really fucking angry. The anger turns into magic and the magic turns black.
It floods my heart, splits through my chest, and surges into my palms. Black flames and smoke explode from me, racing down the side of the tower, devouring the lava below.
It vanishes, and the ground is swallowed in an inky inferno.
The Ashleys release the chain and lower themselves into it.
Kaed. I spin to the other side of the tower and find him.
His panic-stricken face tilts up toward me, tears spilling from his hazel eyes, the dark tattooed lines on his cheeks disappearing into his rough beard.
His neck scattered with deep, bright red cuts.
He reaches for me, and our fingers brush. Then he slips.
No. It’s a trick. It isn’t real. But my heart doesn’t know the difference.
I stretch lower and grab for him, fingers locking around his wrist, but I’m not strong enough.
My boots skid against the uneven ground as I lean back, every muscle screaming.
I grit my teeth, his hand crushing mine, but he’s too heavy.
He’s slipping. Then I feel a tug at my waist. Another.
And another. Warm hands wrap around me. I glance back, and it’s them.
Dozens of them, linking arms behind me, bracing their feet and holding me in place.
Every version of me I’ve ever been. The scared girl.
The angry girl. The broken girl. The addict.
The survivor. Their strength surges through me.
Our strength. My strength. I roar and pull, feeling something flare in my chest, feeling their power pour into me.
Inch by inch, Kaed’s chest clears the edge.
With one final wrench, we drag him over and he collapses on top of me.
The forest screams. The shrill sound splits the air open and I’m catapulted across the clearing.
Spat out. I hit the ground hard and clamp my hands over my ears.
I’ve pissed something off. Then, silence crashes down just as violently and I drag myself onto shaky feet, finding Kaed there, steadying me with firm hands.
“Did I lose?” What if I ruined it? What if we can’t get in now because of me?
“I think,” Kaed says, a strange, almost impressed awkwardness in his voice, “you broke it.” The puddle is gone, and shards are scattered across the clearing, like watery glass. Eira brushes dirt from her trousers, looking suspiciously pleased.
“Does that mean I don’t have to do mine?”
Cook runs a hand slowly through his golden-brown hair, blinking at the wreckage. “Well, if there is no trial,” he says thoughtfully, “you cannot be tried.”