5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Kya
T he smell of fire was what first woke me from my sleep. The thickness of the air burnt my nose with each breath I took and I wrinkled it against the strange stench. Propping myself up, my blankets slipped down to my waist, pooling heavily in my lap.
“Mama?” I sucked in a breath and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, blinking through the blackness that still surrounded me. My eyes adjusted quickly to the faint beams of moonslight that lit my small room.
A muffled roaring registered in my ears. My brows furrowed. I didn’t know what it was, but the sound made my heartbeat quicken and my chest tighten. Slipping out of bed, I shivered against the unnatural cold, watching as my breath puffed out in a white cloud in front of my face.
Something was wrong, it shouldn’t have been that cold in the summer months. I nibbled my lip, a nervous energy filling my body and chasing away any lingering sleepiness.
The roaring sound got closer. Swallowing my fear, I carefully stepped over to the window, straining to make out where the noise was coming from.
With the increased volume, I could make out individual voices, each making panicked screams which continued to rise in pitch as they grew closer.
The cries pierced my mind, their strained wails turning my blood to ice and twisting something inside me.
A hoarse scream sounded just outside my window, making me jump back in fright, a whimper clawing it’s way up my dry throat. I wanted mama, but fear had my feet rooted in place. Tears began to prickle at the corners of my eyes as I grew desperate for comfort.
The screaming continued to grow closer just as the wooden door to my room crashed open. I swung around, breath catching in terror, only to droop in relief when mama rushed in. I stepped toward her, gulping past the lump in my throat.
Ignoring my distress, she snatched my arm, making me cry out in shock. Her large hand wrapped easily around my wrist and she gripped it tightly, tugging me toward the door.
“Come Kya, quickly!” she choked out, her voice scratchy. She pulled me into a run behind her, looking back at me with panic-filled eyes that did nothing to dispel my rising fear.
I tripped over my bare feet as she dragged me through the house, her frantic pace making me whimper. I pulled back against her as she raced to our front door.
I didn’t want to go out there. That’s where the screams were. But I couldn’t stop her from throwing open the door to our home and sweeping me out behind her.
Fear and horror flooded my body. The night was ablaze with the rush of chaotic activity.
The screams rang louder in my ears as mama dragged me into the river of people.
Everyone from the village was running toward something—no, not toward something, but away.
It was like a stampede as we tried to flee.
Large bodies pressed against me and in my terror, my arm was ripped from my mothers grip.
“Mama!” I cried, freezing in place as my eyes darted around to find her.
Someone shoved into my shoulder, knocking me to my hands and knees.
I closed my eyes as so many feet began to stomp all over my body, pinning me to the wet ground.
I tried to cover my head with my arms but I couldn’t move them in time before another foot forced it back down into the mud.
My chest grew tight and I tried to draw enough breath to scream for help.
“Ma—”
My cry was drowned out when a boot slammed my head face-first into the mud. I choked on the bitter sludge, a high-pitched ringing filled my ears.
I couldn’t breathe.
I forced open my mouth to gasp in a breath but only mud seeped in. I couldn’t lift my head or move my arms and legs to push myself up. My body began to shake, my mind shutting down from the shock and pain and cold.
Over the roar of the crowd, I heard a sharp crack in my body—then the excruciating pain started.
I couldn’t think about anything but the agony. The searing sensation in my leg overwhelmed all else.
I choked and whimpered for what felt like eternity, until my battered body and confused mind registered that the bodies crushing me had gone.
I pulled my head up to finally draw air into my aching lungs, the mud squelching as I pried my face from its grasp.
I winced with each breath, a sharp pain piercing my ribs.
I managed to look back to check if more feet were coming before I tried to get up to continue to run and find my mother.
A pained cry escaped my mud-covered lips as I attempted to stand.
I glanced at my leg and saw something white and dripping with blood.
My stomach churned violently and I felt a burning in the back of my throat at the sight.
I looked away, breathing heavily to calm the rising hysteria building in my body.
A movement behind me had my eyes widening. My breath escaped me in an icy rush.
Darkness, only a stones-throw away, crawled its way forward, looking for its next victim. Me.
A blood-curdling scream ripped through the night air, “KYA—”
“Ghah!” I jerked up in bed. Sweat was dripping down my heaving chest and I looked around the room frantically, not immediately realizing where I was.
I hadn’t dreamt of that night in a long time.
But the terror of the Glaev coming still lived with me.
I was fortunate to be alive, unlike so many others…
A searing pain drew my gaze to my body. It felt like fire scorching my skin. I lifted the sweat-soaked sheet from my right arm and grunted through clenched teeth.
My breathing came to an abrupt stop and I was almost certain my heart did too. The normally black mark on my arm glowed with soft white light. It was faint and eerily beautiful—despite the burning sensation that accompanied it.
No. No, no, no. Not yet.
The mark was given as a blessing from the Gods—or so it was said. It was more reminiscent of a curse.
During the War of the Gods, they gave nearly every fae unnatural amounts of magic so that they could use them as soldiers for their cause.
If the fae didn’t die from the magic overwhelming their mortal bodies, they died fighting for the Gods.
After the war, there was too much unbalance as the amount of magic had gotten out of control, threatening to tear the world apart.
At least more than it already had been. The Gods were forced to stop gifting the fae with so much magic.
The six remaining Gods came together and decided to gift only a select few so that the balance could be kept while still giving thanks to our race for dying during the war.
The Spirits conceded to this, but under a stipulation that only the Worthy could be granted such divine gifts.
And so the Gods and Spirits resolved to holding a Trial to determine who would be deemed Worthy.
The mark—an intricate design of swirls and divine symbols—indicated the chosen few who were forced to participate in the Trial.
Approximately every one hundred years, a new Trial began, providing the Gods an opportunity to each choose one victor that they deemed Worthy. Any God could choose any Marked from any Nation. But not all Gods chose. And not all contestants survived.
My time has come.
The glow was the sign that the Trial was approaching for its contestants—the burning, a warning of what would happen if we did not attend.
It seemed to realize that I acknowledged it because the burning began to lessen until it stopped entirely.
I took this opportunity to touch my Trial mark.
It didn’t feel any different. The slightly raised skin was the same as always, but the glowing remained.
I knew that the marks were given at random, even before birth, but I couldn’t help but wonder: why me?
According to what I had read, it always started ten days after it…
woke up? Called? I didn’t know what to name it.
But I did know that I wasn’t going back to sleep, despite the late hour.
My heart raced from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Whether it was present due to the realization of the Trial approaching or from my nightmare—or both—I didn’t know. And it didn’t matter.
I didn’t have time to dwell on the dream and why my past was coming back to haunt me tonight. I had more pressing worries.
My mind wandered the possibilities of the upcoming Trial for hours.
I tried distracting myself with formulating a plan, something I thoroughly enjoyed doing.
But how could I plan for something when I didn’t even know what to expect?
The tasks in the Trial were always different each time and given in the form of a riddle, some sort of sick entertainment for the Gods.
Knowing what my future held, I studied the recounts of the contestants that made it out alive.
I memorized the complex riddles, all so vastly unique to each Trial.
I understood that the Gods chose based on not only who completed the task but also those who had some unknown quality that they desired.
What qualities? Would I have them? Do I even want to be chosen? Would I make it out alive?
I shook my head, willing my mind to stop.
I didn’t have time to fret over the dreadful possibilities.
Worrying wouldn’t help me survive the Trial.
My mark, and therefore my future, had never scared me until now.
I supposed since I was born with it and I knew what to expect, I had just accepted it.
My scars defined my past and my mark defined my future.
Both were equally a part of what made me, me.
So why was I questioning it now?
I needed to do something, anything other than pacing my room and leaving my thoughts to spiral in anxiety.
“Get ahold of yourself, Kya,” I whispered to myself.
And now that the Trial mark was glowing, it was more easily seen.
I would have to be more careful of going outside the protected walls of Morah.
Those that are Marked risk being killed by the Lords and Ladies, the Worthy, of the Nations—they’re a direct threat to them.
If there weren’t any contestants for the Trial, then there wasn’t anyone who could possibly be deemed Worthy and challenge them for their position.
That was just one threat. Not to mention the Trial itself.
“Breathe. Just breathe,” I said to myself. “You’ve prepared for this. You’ve read every document, every recorded word, of the Trials and you’ve trained your body to handle this.”
I walked over to the glass wall facing east, facing the Temple of Odes.
“Gods, please let it be enough. I just need to survive.” Praying to the Gods, I could only hope that they would listen.
I paced back and forth in my room, recalling everything I had learned, every minute detail that I could remember so I knew what to expect. The only thing I could expect was the unexpected. No Trial was ever the same.
At dawn, I went to my bathing room to bathe and get ready for my training with Malina. I was glad that I was about to relieve some frustration and pent-up anxiety. And hopefully training would help wear me down so I could get some rest tonight. Or maybe that was a bad thing.
I stopped halfway down a step, my chest tightened as my breathing increased when I realized that I might only have ten days left to live. My vision blurred with unshed tears as I ground my teeth in anger.
I don’t fear death .
Did I want to sleep off that precious time? Did I want to even go and die a gruesome death rather than defy the Gods and have them take my life right then and there?
No.
NO!
My fists clenched and my eyes hardened.
I could do this. I would do this. Even if I only had a few days left, I refused to spend it as a coward, giving in to my panicked thoughts. I pushed the fear to the recesses of my mind, then continued down the stairs with determination in its place, and anger.
I don’t fear death. But I will not die.
I would survive the Trial of the Gods.