The Trials of Darkness

THE DARKNESS SERIES

BOOK ONE

KATHRYN BREAUX

Copyright © 2025 by Kathryn Breaux. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved.

Publication date: February 3, 2025

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.

Title: The Trials of Darkness

Author: Kathryn Breaux

Ebook ISBN: 979-8-9912957-0-3 || Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9912957-1-0 || Hardback ISBN: 979-8-9912957-2-7

Editing by The Blue Couch Edits

Proofreading by Emily Andriko-Peace

Cover & Dust Jacket Design by Selkkie Designs – www.selkkiedesigns.com

Map illustration by Worldwyrm Maps

Content Notes

This book is intended for mature audiences and contains sensitive content that may be upsetting to some. You must be over 18 to read The Trials of Darkness.

For more information, please visit www.kathrynbreauxwrites.com for more information and a list of warnings.

To anyone who’s felt lost in the shadows.

Chapter 1

The surrounding kingdom burns with a black flame that promises destruction in its path. The roaring fires mimic desperate screams. I look out over my fallen kingdom, my nails drawing blood from my clenched fists. Dark magic swells in my veins as I laugh into the open air. A voice, not mine, slithers from my throat.

“I’m not hiding in the shadows,” my voice reverberates through the damp air. “I am the shadow, and this kingdom should be hiding from me.”

Another entity wields my body as I watch in horror through eyes, not my own as if I am trapped in a long hallway in my mind. I turn to a group of figures, familiar beings standing before me, their bodies defeated both mentally and physically. Their mouths hang open, fear soaking their bodies more than the dripping blood. I hear what I think is a familiar voice in the background, but everything is muffled by the screams and burning structures around me.

Briar!

Briar!

I walk toward my ruined kingdom and turn to face the figures one last time—knowing in my stolen mind that I won’t return—when I’m struck in the back of my head.

I wake up suddenly on the floor next to my bed.

Covered in sweat, I rub my eyes and the knot forming on my head from the fall. My eyes adjust to the darkness that is my bedroom. Being a Wiitch—a Shadow Wielder—my body adapts quickly to the darkness. “My name is Briar Blackbyrne, and I am in Daramveer,” I repeat until my heart stops thundering.

My dimly lit room is freezing, just like I prefer, and the faint outside light stings my bloodshot eyes. I know today will be no different than the others—dull and bleak—but I can’t shake the feelings of pure exhaustion and fear that my reoccurring dreams are changing, and the destruction is growing each time I close my eyes—somehow becoming more real.

This dream has haunted me most nights for the past five years. As a child, I always had nightmares. My mother constantly reminded me that it was due to the ever-present shadows that lurked nearby, although my brother never experienced such horrors.

Being a powerful Shadow Wielder means I am supposed to be fond of the darkness, but the nightmares often leave me hating our magic. As the daughter of the most powerful Shadow Wielder our realm has seen in over one hundred years, I have a reputation, but it isn’t great—especially being the princess of a hated kingdom. My reputation mostly follows me because of my father; many think we share the same beliefs and morals. Over the years, I have begun to wonder the same, and I grow tired of emotionally dealing with his shit; I have become numb, rude, and careless. Most townspeople avoid me altogether, though I can’t say I blame them.

Over the years, magic in our realms has diluted, and people have become accustomed to weak magic flowing through their veins. Most have accepted simple lives, as less magic meant fewer problems—like power struggles that often led to wars in the olden days. As Wiitches, now mainly referred to as Wielders, our magic was conjured through rituals. Basic elements could enhance our magic, but blood was the most powerful, practiced only by the darkest Wielders that still haunt our realms. Recently, most have been content using magic sporadically in daily life, primarily for basic healing rituals. However, not all Wielders were okay with our magic disappearing.

My dreams began to worsen three months after my twenty-first birthday.

On the day my mother died, I willingly let my magic fade alongside her, or I’ve tried to do so all these years. The urge to lose control brings extreme fatigue and headaches almost daily. The darkness deep within me threatens to spiral out of control with each passing year.

I sit on the edge of my bed, letting my legs dangle off the side. I stretch my arms wide above my head and feel a headache coming on like clockwork. My oversized shirt slips off my shoulders as I wipe the sleep from my eyes.

I emerge from bed at half past eleven and throw open my heavy velvet curtains. Gray skies greet me, accompanied by the sound of crashing waves against the harbor. The knowledge of the oncoming storm doesn’t improve my mood either. Sighing, I stride toward my bathing chambers, hoping to wash away the feeling of blood still dripping from my body after the dream.

I glance in the mirror to find an unfamiliar person staring back at me. What was once a stunning, plump, and youthful face now looks hollow while my long hair, darker than the nightmares that haunt me, flows down my side in a tangled mess.

It’s a common trait for Shadow Wielders to have raven hair and piercing green or blue eyes. However, one thing that sets me apart from other Shadow Wielders is my eyes—they’re a deep hazel that could shame a perfect autumn forest.

Lumor Wiitches are the opposite of our magic and aren’t used to living in the shadows. They flourish in the light, and even though our magic is similar, they possess an aura that I have always envied. Lumor Wielders also differ in appearance, often having bright white hair and dark eyes. We live together harmoniously, but that wasn’t always the case when the Great Witches roamed this realm. They kept us divided and favored their own magic over ours. However, in Daramveer we still coexist peacefully.

My strong physical features made me strikingly beautiful among the other Shadow Wielders. Surprisingly, I shared some similar traits with my mother. Our eyes were the same almond shape and color, and I have the same high cheekbones she did. My father has a hard time looking at me these days; he’s been distant since my mother died and my brother, Barlowe, left. Being the King of Daramveer must be taxing, on top of being a total asshole.

After sweeping my raven hair into a messy knot and picking out my most lackluster outfit, I bound through the doors of my bathing chambers, ready to take my leave for the day. Gray slacks and a white button-up are my go-to on most days when I want to blend in. My father hates me in these clothes, so I revel in making him absurdly angry over items of fabric. Most of my days are spent in the kitchen assisting our two head aids, Rose and Lang—the best people in this castle and the only ones I speak to on a regular basis.

A knock on the heavy wooden door makes my heart race. I pull my hand back from the doorknob since no one ever comes to my room without a formal warning these days. Before I can swing open the door to confront the intruder, a note is slipped under the crack.

“Dress like you give a shit about this kingdom today. Someone is here to greet you.”

No guessing at whom this is from; I know it’s from my wonderful father—always leaving me the sweetest notes.

I roll my eyes and stroll back to my armoire to choose a different outfit to piss off my father. The black flowing dress is beautiful and hugs my curves perfectly. However, it’s basic and wrinkled; the perfect touch to obey but still infuriate him by wearing an unkempt dress like this with guests here. No one has visited since my mother died, and my father barely has friends.

The Kingdom of Daramveer is under the strict control of my father, Lornx. Those in this kingdom must obey his laws, or there will be hell to pay. Literally. I may be the princess, but from an early age, I witnessed the act of torturing those who broke the law. By the age of sixteen, I knew what made the strongest of men scream from the depths of their souls. The king is a cruel man, and once his reign started, it didn’t take long for fear to sweep over the kingdom like a curse. By now, I have become so numb to the sound of shrieks that it continues to surprise me how I feel when I wake up from the reoccurring dreams that frighten me every time I close my eyes.

With those thoughts swirling around my head, I make my way to the throne room, where my father always prefers we meet.

Windows line the walls of the wide cold throne room and even though the sun bursts in through the cracks, it still seems dark, as if a shadowy veil hangs over the castle. The hard tile floor echoes with each step I take closer toward the throne. Guards stand against the walls, always lurking in the shadows—only visible if you stare hard enough or catch the slightest glimpse of them shifting. A common trait of all Shadow and Lumor Wielders is their ability to shift. Even the smallest amount of shade or light can be used by talented Wiitches to move throughout the world as mist.

My father’s onyx hair is sprinkled with gray and his eyes are an unnatural green with streaks of black. He’s tall in stature, but in the passing months, he’s changed. His eyes are hollower, and he looks worn—as if his magic is draining more rapidly than others. Wielders are not immortal, but we do experience extended lives if we’re smart. My father is a smart man, but his rapid aging recently could argue otherwise.

I grit my teeth in preparation for my father and his endless bullshit during these meetings as I sink into a memory of how this room used to be—lighter and warmer—when my mother was around. Every few months, townspeople would gather here to discuss the town’s needs with my parents including how the ports were performing and ways to help the people of this kingdom. Those days are gone—distant memories of the past—while he hides, indifferent to any meetings other than ours once a month.

My mother was a Lumor Wiitch, not from this kingdom. She was raised in a harboring town, Brinkym, that was ruled by Kantore—the God of Light and a man who cared for his people. Her passion for healing never faded when she married my father in an arranged marriage.

Blinking away the memories, I sit at the opposite end of the table from my vile father—his perfectly tailored clothes hang off his once-muscled body, leaving fabric to billow around his chest. He nods in my direction as I slump into my chair, ignoring his stare.

“Hello, Briar.” He sighs. “Nice of you to show up late, as always.”

Annoyed, I retort, “Always a pleasure to see you as well, Father.”

“How have you been holding up?” he asks, awkwardly.

“Are you seriously concerned for my well-being? Or is this just a miserable way to pass the time for you?”

He huffs, “Fine, no small talk. You are here for a reason today. In the coming weeks, it’s important that you begin to think about the future of this kingdom. Many things are going to change, and I’m going to need your support.”

I twitch my nose, unsure of how to respond, so he continues. “This kingdom has fallen. When I took over my reign, the people were not welcoming of my… tactics. I fear this has cost me gravely and I need to change things. If people won’t support me, then it’s time we make them. You are an important piece to this puzzle.”

Realizing whatever I say in this moment won’t be of matter, I choose to remain quiet.

I raise my gaze and freeze, my senses instantly on alert from the shift in the room. The breath leaves my lungs as I notice a tall figure standing at the opposite end of the space. The shadows swirl around him like a second skin.

“Your brother has returned from up north,” my father cuts in.

I stand, nearly knocking over my chair, and rush to Barlowe, lunging into his strong arms. He’s taller than I remember, his chest is broader, and I quickly realize he has grown into a warrior. Soon after our mother died, Barlowe left to train with the top commanders at a war camp. Across the Cita Mountains, there is a small camp that holds most of this realm’s deadliest warriors, my brother being first in command. He was born for this position. He could wield a sword and shadows better at the age of fifteen than most grown men could. My brother quickly earned a name for himself in the training camps. No one could take him on and win. His bravery and ruthlessness made him adored by everyone and feared by many.

For so long, I’ve been counting down the days until I have someone else in this castle that I care for. And for the first time in years, happiness dances deep inside me.

Barlowe—five years older than me and over two heads taller than I currently stand—has always been fiercely protective of me. A strong jawline with high cheekbones highlights his features; the cheekbones are a trait we shared with our mother. His black wavy hair is tied back into a low, messy knot, and his piercing green eyes would be noticeable on the darkest of nights.

“Briar!” Barlowe embraces me and laughs. “Look at you.” He pulls back, studying my face. “I can’t believe how much you look like Mother.”

Tears well in my eyes as I notice my father roll his eyes. Affection has never been a strong suit for him. “I forgot you were coming home today, or I would have dressed nicely for you.”

“Don’t let her lie, son. She hasn’t dressed well in years, so why would she try now?” Father mumbles, pushing back his chair to join us across the room.

I ignore his jab and squeeze my brother one more time. “I didn’t expect you home for another few months. Why are you here?”

He smiles, and my heart soars. “Father called me home. We can talk more about that later!”

My father throws him a cautious eye.

“Walk with me! We have so much to catch up on. How long are you staying?” I ask.

“We have all the time in the world, but first, I need to speak with Father about a few things since returning. You know, battle stuff.” He winks, throwing his arms around. “But I’ll come find you soon. There are many things we must catch up on as well, sister!”

“Always with the battle talk, I’m afraid,” I smirk. “But very well, come to my room later.”

Barlowe grins, and our father waves his hand, dismissing me from the room.

I give him another hug without letting my annoyance show before storming past him. “I will make my leave then. Like you said, Father, there is no small talk today.” I move toward the wide wooden doors.

“Oh, and Briar, please stay close to the castle. There are many things we will be discussing in the coming days. As I mentioned, I have things planned for this kingdom, and you’re an essential part of it.”

My father’s wicked grin makes my stomach churn. I bow before slamming the double doors behind me.

Twisting through the narrow hallways, I head toward the kitchen. The rumble in my stomach is a friendly reminder that it’s been over a full day since my last meal. Since my father and I don’t have family dinner times, most of my meals are spent alone listening to Rose and Lang’s constant bickering.

“There she is,” Lang chirps as I cross the threshold. “Whoa! Look at that dress, killer!”

Rose whistles as I slump into the table, a massive grin spreading across her face. Rose is older in years but hasn’t lost any spark, beauty, or unbearable sass. Her white hair falls long down her back but is always tied to avoid any messes while working long kitchen hours. Rose and Lang—niece and uncle—are both strong Lumor Wielders and they’ve watched over me for years. At this point, they’ve been more like family to me than my own father.

Wooden shelves line the stone walls of the kitchen, and the single small window in the corner leaves the space dim. However, the light bursting from the two Lumor Wielders gives it a warm and inviting glow. I was five when I first met Rose and Lang. I was crying outside the kitchen in a small stone nook. Barlowe had said something that upset me, so I ran away. Lang scooped me up and placed me in the same spot I occupy now, and they’ve been comforting me ever since.

“Glad to see you brushed your hair today before coming down,” Lang jokes.

His wide grin shows a row of white teeth that are almost as white as his hair. “I haven’t seen you in days. You must be starving.”

The growl in my stomach answers as a response. “Barlowe returned today. And I received a lovely note from the king that I should look presentable today—with my own flare, of course.” I wink in his direction, fluffing the wrinkles out of my lap.

“Yeah, right.” Lang chuckles. “That dress is beautiful, but those wrinkles would drive him insane. Nice way to piss him off this time of day. However, you look marvelous, Princess.”

I roll my eyes, resting my head back on the tall wooden bench. Before I know it, my nose tingles from the aroma floating around the cramped room. However, I have no appetite. So, I settle for a few apple slices and a piece of toast when Rose says, “How have you been sleeping, Briar?”

No one knows about my nightmares. It’s one thing I’ve never been able to speak about out loud with anyone since they started. “I slept a few hours last night,” I lie.

“Well, good! That’s an improvement. My little spies tell me they see you at all hours floating around the castle like a ghost.”

I smile. Next time, I’ll remember and be sure to scare a few people for entertainment. She returns to her stew, nudging Lang with her arm to chime in on the conversation. Older in all aspects, Lang’s once-blonde hair has turned a pale white. Gray whiskers pepper his wrinkled face, but his eyes show only past youth and always current joy. “Rose, didn’t something show up for Briar this morning?” he shouts over his shoulder.

Rose shuffles in my direction. “Indeed!”

She extends her calloused hand in my direction, years of working in the kitchen leaving her hands lined with scars from cooking and cutting. “Briar, this letter was delivered to the castle this morning with your name on it. I collected it for you since I assumed you’d join us in the kitchen today.”

I look up from my plate of untouched food and freeze. The handwriting on the letter is familiar and something I’ve not seen in years. I snatch the envelope from her hand, earning a huff as she spins, returning to her chores.

This is addressed to me, and without a doubt, the handwriting is my mother’s.

It reads,

“To my shadow.”

When I stand, my world spins. Shock ripples through me as I wave my goodbyes to Rose and Lang, doing my best to keep my composure.

“I’m heading out for the day! I’ll see you both later.”

“You barely touched any food,” Lang yells as I bound out of the kitchen door.

My breath is jagged as I twist through the castle hallways, knowing I’m failing horribly to keep my composure. Tripping on a few steps earns concerned looks from the staff I pass on my way back to my room. I round the last corner and slam into a wall of muscle waiting for me outside my bedroom.

Chapter 2

Barlowe stands unmoving from the hit, arms crossed as if he’s been waiting for my arrival. My ears ring from the collision. “I… thought you’d be longer,” I say, breathless.

His brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

Glancing back over my shoulder, I work to catch my breath. “I… I’m…” I trail off, unable to find the words.

“Briar? What is going on?” Barlowe grabs my arm, pulling me closer to the wall. “Are you hurt?”

His strong hold on my arm doesn’t help steady my trembling legs. He notices the letter in my hand, and our eyes meet in an immediate understanding that it’s something bigger than just a piece of paper. “What’s that?” he asks, reaching for it.

“It’s why I’m all over the place right now, Barlowe.”

“You don’t receive many letters, I take it?”

“Not letters that I think are from our dead mother,” I snap and grab his bicep, yanking him into my bedroom.

This doesn’t need to be discussed where unwanted ears lurk.

My bed is unmade, and the dim lighting makes the area look depressing and cold. The fire barely crackles from the sitting area and books are scattered around the room, not helping the already dusty ambiance.

“You need to explain what’s going on right now, Briar.” Barlowe remains standing near the fireplace, his face still unreadable but his voice harsh.

I stalk to the window, needing to give myself a moment to process. I throw open the heavy curtains, allowing minimal lighting from the gray sky to fill the area. The gloom of the town spreads sorrow through my bones and doesn’t help settle the tension floating around the room. Gathering my thoughts, I turn to him.

He’s taken a seat on an antique chair near the fireplace, his large body barely fitting into the old piece of furniture. “Briar! What the fuck is going on?”

The sudden shout makes me flinch. “Rose handed me this letter just moments ago in the kitchen. I panicked when I noticed the handwriting.” I join him in the sitting area, extending my arm and holding the letter.

“Why would Rose have this? Doesn’t she know taking letters that aren’t hers could get her in trouble? If she was found with this, who knows what our father would have done. He’s more on edge than normal, it seems.”

Barlowe’s eyes refuse to make contact with the letter as if he can’t bear the thought of this really happening right now.

“She wouldn’t have been caught, so don’t be dramatic. She does things for me like that. She’s about the only person in this castle that helps me these days.”

Barlowe rolls his eyes at me.

“I need you to look at this, Barlowe. You would know her handwriting better than me.” I move the letter closer to him once more.

His eyes slowly lower as if taking as much time as he can to make eye contact. Seconds later, his eyes dart away, and he glances toward the crackling fire, sighing. “That’s her handwriting, Briar.”

I nod, a small sob leaving my throat. “Why would a letter come today? After five years, why is this happening on the same day you arrive home?”

He shrugs as if he’s carrying more weight than he’d ever admit. Barlowe grabs the letter and studies it a bit longer this time, “I’m not sure, to be honest, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

“I’m aware of that,” I snap. “But what aren’t you telling me?”

He doesn’t respond.

I snatch the letter from him, rip open the bond, and read:

Dearest shadow,

I ask for your forgiveness for leaving this realm so early. If you are reading this, that means I am not around to tell you in person. As a child, I often told you the stories of the Greats and how our magic came to us. Long ago, there was a horrific battle between two Great Wiitches who were descendants of the God of Shadows, Raddnoke, and the God of Light, Kantore.

These Great Wiitches were cursed with magic directly from those vengeful Gods. Carobon was said to be a direct descendent of the God of Lumor. His magic was made of sheer light so bright it blinded all enemies that crossed his path. And Kalix, the descendent of the God of Shadows, was pure horror, nothingness, and could bring your worse fears to life.

We changed our names from Wiitches to Wielders, and I fear some Wiitches are bringing back the magic that should have been long forgotten. Things will change now, my princess, and I fear for you and your brother. Look for me where you feel at peace, and I will find you.

All my heart.

I turn to look at Barlowe, his eyes already wide, as both of us remain quiet, unsure of what to say. Exhaling, I break the silence, “Please tell me, Barlowe. Do you have any clue what she’s referring to?”

He closes his eyes momentarily before saying, “About the history lesson? No, I have no clue why she would tell us that story. We’ve heard it countless times before.” He pauses. “As far as the other piece, yes. There have been talks in other kingdoms of something greater at work. Something bigger is about to happen. The surrounding kingdoms have been sensing a power shift with the magic like it’s building for something or someone. Many have been concerned and talking lately.”

“Do you think Father is involved?”

“People seem to think so, yes. I’m not so sure. He’s a recluse. I think he just wants to be left alone, but like I said, this letter isn’t a coincidence. Someone was told to send this letter at this exact time. We need to be careful, and you need to stay out of trouble until I can find out what’s going on.”

I rub my temples since my head is pounding like an animal locked in a cage. The exhaustion from not sleeping weighs heavily on me. I toss the letter on the table before us.

Barlowe squeezes my shoulder. “I’m going to have to tell Father about this.”

I snap my head in his direction. “There is no way I’m letting you involve him. He doesn’t deserve to know a thing about what’s happened today.”

“We aren’t children anymore, Briar. As commander of this army, it is my duty to keep our kingdom safe and inform the king. Not telling him vital news is treason. If he found out we withheld this information, we would be next in line for a public punishment.”

I sigh. “I understand. But promise me you will keep this between us for a little while until I can find out what’s going on.”

I grab the letter and move toward the end of my bed. Lifting the mattress, I shove it under the corner.

I turn and meet Barlowe’s gaze. The brother I was once closer to than anyone sits before me, but a stranger is the one who stares back.

“How have things been, Briar? I’m sorry I haven’t written much lately. The training has become more grueling, and those men up there really depend on me, you know?

“I understand,” I lie. “Things have been pretty normal around here. I spend most of my days in the kitchen helping Rose and Lang and the other half of the day avoiding our father. I’m a professional at this point.”

Barlowe laughs, “What an exciting life you live, sister. So… how is Maines?”

“Why do you ask?” I smile, angling my head.

“Just curious.”

Before I can open my mouth, there’s another knock on the door. “What is the deal with people coming to my door today?”

The door swings open with force as Thatcher enters before I can reach the knob. “Hi, sweetheart.” He breezes past me with an arrogance that makes me cringe. “Oh, look, Barlowe is here too. What a fun family reunion.”

Thatcher Madden is third-in-command of my father’s army—below Barlowe and his own father, Elrod Madden. Unfortunately, Thatcher didn’t travel with my brother to the training camps, and he has been competing with him for years. I, however, have been here suffering from his hatred by mere association.

“What in the Gods do you want, Thatcher?” I demand.

“I heard Barlowe the Magnificent returned from up north. Word is he has been beating everyone’s ass at training camp. I heard they were so sick of him that they kicked him out. I thought I’d come to pay my favorite Blackbyrne siblings a warm visit and see if the rumors were true.”

I fight the urge to gag at Thatcher Madden being in my bedroom. That’s one thing I never want to experience again. Thatcher is two years older, and even though he is one of the most handsome men in Daramveer, his personality makes him uglier than the hags in the sewers. He stands heads taller than our largest soldiers and often uses that as a weapon of intimidation. His hair resembles the shade of a ripe blackberry, cut close to his head, and his ice-blue eyes are sharp and stunning but show no soul.

Elrod Madden—my father’s right-hand man for everything—also possesses the same looks and intimidation tactics. I can never understand how his sister, Maines, ended up being so lovely. Maines is what you might call a best friend. She is better than I am in every possible way. She is warm and inviting, and I’ll never know why she chooses to be my friend.

“Thatcher, no one has time for your shit. Please leave and never enter my bedroom again,” I hiss.

I catch sight of Barlowe standing in the corner, moving closer, noticing the energy shift in the room.

“Oh, what I would do to be in this bedroom for other reasons, Briar. Unfortunately, I’m here on business, sweetheart.”

Barlowe is at Thatcher’s throat in an instant, a dagger pressing in at the base. “Say something like that again, you disgusting pig, and I’ll cut your tongue out.”

Thatcher leans into my brother, his lips inches from his face. “There would be a lot of upset people in Daramveer if you got rid of my tongue, Barlowe.” He laughs, unfazed by the blood trickling down his neck.

Barlowe lowers his blade, stepping between me and Thatcher.

“Briar, I thought I’d let you know that our dear Maines will be returning from Eddris tomorrow morning. She’s requested you meet her no later than nine in the morning.” He rakes his gaze over me, making me gag. “I must be off. Barlowe, see you soon; I’m excited to hear about your adventures. Briar, dream of you often.” He shifts out of my bedroom, only an invisible trail of shadows left behind.

Barlowe turns to me with flaring nostrils and dark eyes. “If he ever speaks to you that way again, say the word, and he’s dead. I mean it.”

I nod, but unfortunately, Thatcher has been a pain in my ass since my brother left. The overwhelming feeling of exhaustion hits me hard as the headache continues to pulse in my mind. All I want to do is rest, but dread hits me, knowing when I close my eyes, it won’t be sleep I’m met with; it will be destruction caused by my own hands.

“Get some rest, Briar. I’m going to check on a few things, but let’s meet up in a few hours to talk more.”

I move to stop him from leaving but he shifts faster than I have time to react. I move toward the sitting area as a weight falls over my eyes—the warmth of the fire calming me. My eyes flutter closed as I feel myself drifting away—my shadows waiting for me in my dreams.

Chapter 3

The obscure flames grow higher as the darkness sweeps over my body—black shadows trailing behind me like giant wings ready to take flight. I move toward the ruined kingdom as one figure steps closer, yelling my name in my face, but I can’t see them—only a blurred outline of someone who feels familiar. I glance down, noticing I’m holding weapons. Two gold axes are in my hands, the heads sharp with a hammered detail that covers most of the blade. The weapon’s stunning beauty contrasts the darkness around us as if they glow with power brighter than the vanished sun.

Swinging one axe in defense, I strike the tall figure without a second thought. Blood sprays, and the coppery smell hits my nose as I attempt to blink away the hot liquid running down my face. My brother lies in a pool of blood, my axe protruding out of his collarbone. I try to scream, realizing who I just murdered, but black shadows cover my bloody face and mouth before I can—an actual prisoner in my own nightmare. My body trembles as the darkness rises higher, ready to devour me once more. A silent scream leaves my throat, unable to breach the surrounding shadows. In the distance, someone screams my name—the sound familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Briar!

I jerk awake, my clothes and sheets soaked with sweat. That voice wakes me from sleep each time, but I can never see the face or the person behind it. Everything in my being pulls me to find who they are.

Sitting, I realize I’m in my bed and wonder when I moved over here, remembering I fell asleep in the antique chair. A chill runs through my body as I glance toward the fireplace, the embers barely flickering now in the black ash. Noticing a glimmer in the shadows, the most subtle movement puts my senses on high alert, and I realize I’m not alone.

“Hello?”

I whisper in the direction of my sitting area. A black hooded figure emerges from the shadows, barely hovering over the floor. Horror floods through my system as I scramble backward in my bed, my back flush against the headboard. The creature shows itself, and I wish it had stayed hidden. Long arms and an unnervingly thin body are draped in a black cloak that hangs low, only showing its wide mouth. It doesn’t speak; it silently studies me and my movements. My magic reacts to its presence as I push down the feeling of letting my darkness loose.

My hand moves through my tangled sheets, searching for something to protect me in this moment. I have nothing but the darkness within me to shield myself from this situation, and I’m not willing to consider that possibility. I turn my head toward the creature, ready to fight, but it vanishes.

I’m alone in my bedroom, left with the icy remnants of where the creature once was. I exhale sharply, the memory of my dream hitting me at once. Never have I dreamed of a real face I could perceive in my nightmares. It’s been almost five years to the day since I last saw that exact same creature standing in my room a few nights after my mother died.

I scan the room one last time and step off my bed, faking the courage I’m exhibiting as I head out of the room. I can’t stay in here any longer. As I near the kitchen, I hear Rose and Lang fighting over adding spice to the soup.

Feeling more at ease, I plop down on my usual spot on the bench, which has grown worn from my constant presence, and massage my temples.

“What’s eating you up, Briar? Dare I say you look more gloomy than normal.” Lang laughs, and Rose punches his shoulder and shushes him.

I have no idea how to explain these last few hours to myself, let alone someone else, so I keep my silence. Rose strides over to the table, her composure always perfect, as she puts a bowl of soup in front of me. “I’m not leaving until you eat this, and I live here, so I’ve got a long while to wait. Eat.”

To my surprise, my stomach growls so loud I receive an approving smirk from her.

Still reeling from this day, I finish the entire bowl of soup as another is immediately set down before me. It’s refreshing to be around people who don’t care who I am or what family I was born into. Their bickering continues back and forth as I finish my third bowl, thinking I might have to be rolled out of the kitchen.

Rose moves toward me to take my empty bowl, “One day, Princess, you are going to travel to Brinkym with us. It’s been years since we’ve been back, but you need to get out more! Your father keeps you cooped up too much. Plus, don’t you have a friend that lives there?”

I nod. “I wouldn’t call him a friend. We were children when they used to travel here. The Homberns haven’t been to Daramveer in ages!”

“Well, it’s settled. I’m going to ask your father if we can travel sometime soon,” Rose smiles. “You know, your mother used to spend as much time in here as you!”

“You and my mother were close?”

“You could say that! The castle doesn’t seem so big once you’ve been here for as long as we have. It’s hard not to know everyone.”

I’m startled when the training alarm sounds for the soldiers in the castle. Every day, they train in vigorous combat, preparing for Gods knows what my father has planned. The King of Daramveer also allows any interested castle staff to train in combat. His paranoia is to blame for this, as it ensures that the people closest to him are fighters who would protect him if it came down to it. However, I’m not so sure anyone here would actually save him.

As the Princess of Daramveer, I’ve never been allowed to train, but that doesn’t stop me. I’ve been practicing archery for five years now, training almost every single day, along with whatever other weapon piques my interest. For years, I’ve collected various armor—all brought to me by people within these walls. Putting a “good word” in with the king goes a long way when the kingdom is run on fear. I’ve convinced many people in the castle to do things for me based solely on who I am.

As I walk through the bleak castle courtyard, I am immediately struck by the image of how this castle once thrived. The once stunning flower beds are overgrown, untouched for years, and the tall stone columns are entwined with vines that resemble hands reaching out to grab your throat as you pass by. Nothing in the castle has been the same since my mother died.

The night my mother died, we had been fighting over something trivial. Hours after our clash, I swallowed my pride and headed toward the wing where my mother slept when the head guard, Axl, stopped me. He informed me of the terrible accident that had occurred during a simple healing ritual. My mother had been drained of her magic and life force, unable to heal herself. She had been called to care for a poor family suffering from an illness and left the castle in the middle of the night.

My mother, Arieste, was the head healer in Daramveer and she was frequently called to assist with high-risk patients. She cared deeply for the people of this kingdom and would travel throughout the night to tend to the weak or infirm if they could not make their way to the House of Hedro, the healers’ main housing facility. These rituals could be dangerous, indeed, but never for her. She was strong and could wield the darkness without fear or hesitation.

Rituals were often used for healing purposes. Shadow and Lumor Wielders could call upon their Gods for help and request magic to flow through them to heal the sick. Most were successful in their healing efforts, but not all. Destiny had greater plans for those who were less fortunate, and they were called home to return to their final resting place. The day I vowed never to use my magic again was the day I chose to protect myself and my loved ones in other ways.

I arrive on the roof, the wind greeting me with a gentle push toward the weapons as if taunting me to begin. Since I’m not allowed to train with the others, this place has become a haven for me—an escape from the dark castle walls that suffocate me. I recall the dream I had hours earlier, the golden axes I held in my hand lie on the ground near me—the weapon with which I killed my brother.

It felt so real, so raw, and the darkness within me urges me to choose those weapons today—to wield them in my hands once more—to truly feel the weight of the destruction they can cause. I toss them further away from my station, the feeling making me sick as a loud clang reverberates around the roof.

As I begin, muscle memory takes over as I move through my drills. The tiny flicker of pain from exhaustion makes itself known as the fluid motions fill me with the closest thing to pure happiness and freedom. I twist and lunge through the open outside air. Sweaty, I move toward the roof’s edge, needing to rest my now-aching arms.

Plopping down on the ledge, I dangle my legs over—my stomach dropping for a second at the height at which I sit. I look out over Daramveer and am met with gray skies in return, the sun barely peeking through the clouds, casting a silver light throughout the town. A shock wave of sadness moves through my core as I look over the kingdom.

Daramveer is run down, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow leaks from the cobblestone streets. However, the public continues their lives—seemingly unaware of the darkness that follows so closely. The bustle of people going through their daily duties and the shrieks of children in the distant town below remind me of the once-happy childhood I had with Barlowe and Maines. The simplicity of life from my past is a constant reminder of my misery now.

As I regain my breath and the throbbing in my arm dulls, something catches my eye in the shadows far beneath. My father, Elrod, and Thatcher lurk in the shadows of the courtyard. The distance and whispering make it nearly impossible to decipher what they are discussing as they enter the back door of the castle.

“Where is Barlowe?”

Standing cautiously, I balance on the roof's ledge, carefully watching my footing. A chill runs up my spine at the thought of those three conspiring. A breeze travels around the roof, whipping my hair around my face.

Deciding to return to my training, I steady myself, spinning on the narrow ledge to hop back onto the roof, landing where my weapons are. Thatcher stands in the doorway, shrouded in the shadows of the dark hallway behind him. I realize I wasn’t as discreet as I thought while spying on them below as he shifts in front of me.

“Hello, Princess,” his haunting voice echoes. “What are you doing up here? Be careful. You wouldn’t want to fall, would you?”

I hop down from the ledge and storm past him. “Piss off, Thatcher.” I spit at his feet.

He instantly grabs my arm and pushes me against the stone doorframe, a whoosh of air leaving my lungs as his hot breath beats on the side of my face. “Now, why would there be weapons up here with the Princess of Daramveer?” he whispers. “What would you be training for?” He glances around. “I bet you can’t even pick up this axe with those scrawny arms of yours.”

I forcefully push against his grip; it eases momentarily for me to create distance between us. Acting unbothered, I turn to grab the axe. I’ll show him just how capable I am of wielding this weapon. A blunt force knocks me to the ground, my ears ringing from the fall as I slam into the stone. I feel invisible hands pinning my arms to the ground as Thatcher steps closer, shadows rippling off his massive body and his fingers retracting as if physical claws are trying to break through.

“I wouldn’t do that.” He grinds his teeth. “Maybe if you used an ounce of that magic flowing in those pretty little veins, you’d be slightly more intimidating. Such a waste that a king as powerful as ours has a daughter like you.”

“Get the hell off me, Thatcher,” I hiss, thrashing against his invisible hold.

He chortles. “C’mon, Princess, let’s have some fun.”

Before I can react, he shifts straight to me, his invisible hands replaced with physical ones, and panic swirls in my body.

Still refusing to yield to the magic bubbling inside me, I realize I have only one option in this moment: to fight—not with magic, but with the skills I’ve developed through training. Thatcher is now close enough for me to see the black flames flickering in his eyes. I turn my head, noticing a bit of sunshine peeking through the white clouds as a sudden gust sweeps around us. I close my eyes, hoping he will believe he’s won, that I’m too weak to fight back. In one swift motion, I struggle against his grip, trying to find any weak spots in his hold. My wrist breaks free, and I ball my fists, ready to drive one into his nose.

Black clouds replace the serene afternoon sky, and everything appears to freeze. Thatcher shifts his gaze from my eyes as I seize the moment to drive my fist into the bridge of his nose, prompting a snarl. My knuckles ache from the impact.

Blood drips from his nose. The small droplets of hot liquid fall like rain on my cheeks. I raise my knee, preparing to smash into his groin.

As he lifts his hand to return the blow, Barlowe shifts onto the roof, the sudden impact knocking Thatcher off me and flat on his back. My brother slowly stands, shadows bursting around him like rays of black sunlight, his eyes wild with fury. As children, we always felt linked—as if we could feel the pain the other was experiencing—and at this moment, I’m thankful for that.

Baring his teeth, Barlowe moves toward Thatcher. “Back the fuck off of her.” Invisible shadows slam Thatcher down. “How does it feel to be held down? Do you feel tough now?” Barlowe asks. “I think you’ve forgotten who will rule this kingdom one day, and you will be at her mercy. I know you think she’s weak. But I promise, Thatcher, she isn’t someone I’d mess with.”

Thatcher pushes against his hold, unable to move. Barlowe raises his fist and slams it against his jaw. Blood sprays across the roof as he continues pummeling Thatcher’s face. At this moment, I’m not sure if the blows or the possible drowning from his own blood would kill him. Either would be fine with me.

With a gurgled voice, Thatcher spits, “No one will ever take her seriously,” he gasps, spitting blood from his swollen mouth. “She is a joke since she chose to abandon her magic. I will never acknowledge her as a queen.”.

Barlowe lets up for a moment, pulling Thatcher closer. “And no one is going to take you seriously once I’m finished here, you scumbag.”

He scans the roof, his eyes finding a small dagger next to me. “Briar, hand me that,” Barlowe commands, pointing with a bloody hand. “I think it’s time I hold up my promise and cut his fucking tongue out. Or maybe I should start with one of his hands.”

Thatcher’s swollen eyes grow panicked as Barlowe grabs his wrist.

Standing, I shake the dust off my dress, annoyed at the rip traveling down the side, exposing my hip. I walk to my brother.

“Barlowe, let him go. You don’t want his death on your hands.”

Barlowe snaps out of the daze, his eyes meeting mine. “What?”

“He’s vile and not worth the chaos this would bring.” I glare into Thatcher’s weak eyes. “I promise he’s got what’s coming to him one day.”

Barlowe huffs, releasing Thatcher from his grip. “You must stop being weak and start standing up for yourself, Briar, or he’s right. No one will take you seriously as a queen if you continue to let people walk all over you. You have no idea what’s coming, and I need you to step up.”

Thatcher remains still on the ground. His coughs let us know that he’s still, unfortunately, alive.

My chest heaves—I feel like I can’t breathe.

I take a step away from Barlowe, shaking my head. “I don’t care what’s coming, and I’ll live my entire life hiding in the shadows of this kingdom.”

Chapter 4

As I recall what happened, I move down the stairs, skipping a step every so often. I never expected Barlowe to say those words. They begin to replay in my mind like an unpleasant song. We wrote letters from time to time but always with surface-level pleasantries. I never really let him know what was going on with me or this kingdom.

The distraction of my thoughts throws me off balance, and I crash onto the stone floor, the rip in my dress widening. The skin on my knee tears, sending a flash of pain shooting down my legs. Defeat washes over me as trickles of blood begin to flow down my trembling legs. I start to sob, the tears immediately soaking my cheeks, and I fear my entire chest might cave in.

What else can go wrong today?

I let the tears flow, aware of what might have happened today. My hands tremble as I rise from the cold ground.

Typically, when I’m upset, heading to the kitchen is my first thought. However, something is pulling me out of the castle—like a force of wind pushing me toward a destination I’ve not been to in years.

Crossing the courtyard, I take in my surroundings. Flowers, sunlight, and fluttering banners momentarily blind me as I’m transported back in time. The beautiful memory fades as I return to reality. Now, it feels as if a mist hangs over this castle—a shadowy vision of what once was and what we lost.

I stride past the final gate and the guards, leaving the castle grounds behind. No one even acknowledges my state, bloody and dirty in a ripped dress. I enter the outskirts of town, my footsteps echoing on the cobblestone streets as I head toward the forest that borders the southern gate. The vibrant green of the trees makes the town center seem colorless and dull. As I pass a few townspeople, they bow in my presence, their eyes widening at my condition. It won’t be long before news travels back to the castle.

Maines, Barlowe, and I used to play in this forest all the time as children. We would often dare one another to sneak out of the gates, only to be found moments later by the poor guards hired to watch children all day.

I walk along the grassy path, the soft blades bending under my feet. The forest is peaceful, with birds singing in the distance and the scent of grass and pine drifts toward me as I walk down the trail. It’s been years since I last visited this place, yet I can still make out the gentle lines of the path as the forest embraces me again.

My mother showed me the clearing in the forest one horrible day. She would bring me here to get away from the castle and soak in the tranquility of the surroundings. Being a Wiitch, it’s common to respond heavily to natural elements. Nature has always sung to me like a comforting lullaby. I later showed Maines and Barlowe this clearing, which became our favorite escape for daily adventures. We would often pretend to be in epic battles against each other—we never stood a chance against Barlowe, but we fought like hell to win.

As we grew older, so did his fondness for Maines. There were many times I wondered if he was in love with her. When he announced that he was leaving, Maines decided to start her training as a healer, which led her to spend most of her time traveling and studying at the House of Hedro. I often wonder now if it was just a distraction and if her feelings for Barlowe were mutual.

As I reach the clearing, the forest breeze cools my porcelain skin against the warm sun beating down through breaks in the treetops. I sit by a tree that still shows the carvings we made as children. I close my eyes and listen to the nothingness around me; it’s calm and peaceful. Just as I relax for the first time, the thought rocks me.

“Look for where you feel most at peace, and I will guide you.”

I spring up, glancing in every direction. This must be the place my mother was speaking about in her letter—she’s leading me here to continue her story.

The first time I witnessed my father conducting one of his punishments was when I was ten—that day still haunts me. The King of Daramveer’s preferred method of torment was to make someone confront their deepest fears. As he approached the unfortunate man that day, I saw the light fade from his eyes as he extended his hand, nearly covering the man’s face. Shadows oozed from his hands, wrapping around the man's face. As the man screamed, I knew he was being shown something worse than death as my father cast illusions in his mind.

My mother brought me to the forest that day, to this very spot. I was petrified and never wanted to witness something that horrific again. It always bothered me to know that I could be capable of that same punishment if I ever saw fit.

I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye and freeze. I turn to see the black-hooded figure hovering in the distant shadows. The creature’s long, stretched fingers point toward an area dense with trees, deeper into the shadows. I step back as the unsettling feeling I had earlier fills my body once more.

I keep my gaze fixed on the creature this time, refusing to look away. Gritting my teeth, I peel my gaze away for just a second. I glance in the direction of the way it’s pointing. I notice a lone tree standing closer to the edge of the deep forest and, unfortunately, much closer to the creature.

I inch closer to the tree with an intense awareness. My breath becomes jagged as my heart sinks deeper into my stomach. A twig snaps beneath my foot, causing me to yelp, which only intensifies my already pounding heart. The creature remains in the shaded area, silently lurking in the shadows while I keep a close watch for any movement. As I approach the tree, I notice a small hole at the base, just large enough to conceal something if necessary. I crouch to get a better look and am surprised to find a small wooden box.

I lose focus on the creature as I reach into the hole, extracting the ornate container. The box is adorned with carvings etched into the light brown wood, highlighted in black and gold—it contrasts sharply against the green forest. A low growl draws my attention over my shoulder as a gust of wind sweeps my hair into my face. When I turn to confront the creature, it has vanished, leaving me to continue this journey alone—something for which I am thankful. I cautiously refocus on the box, opening it carefully.

A letter balances on top, and when I remove it, a small glowing crystal is perfectly tucked into the bottom, the black onyx glass shimmering in the dim forest. I react to the stone, vibrations traveling through my body. My shadows dance in its presence like it wants me to touch it, to use it. Without moving the crystal, I place the box down and open the letter.

Chapter 5

My shadow,

During the final battle, many kingdoms were laid to ruin, and many people perished. Hundreds of willing Wielders joined together to fight alongside the Greats. Ultimately, Kalix and Carobon stepped forward to face each other, issuing deadly blows, neither surviving. All who witnessed were too stunned, frightened, or injured to assist their Great Wiitches, leaving them to rot and eventually perish in the wind. From that point on, the world was plagued, and all who were born after that day were damned with magic—darkness straight from Kalix herself or sheer light from Carobon. This, my child, has been a curse ever since, even though many saw their magic as gifts, blessings. Good things can come from our magic if treated with respect, but horrible things can infect this world, too.

I know this forest is special to you… Oh, how you loved the utter quiet that this place could offer.

You’ll be tested soon, and how you manage these tasks will be imperative to the survival of this kingdom. Get focused, Briar, and don’t let your demons hold you back anymore—for I am with you always and closer than you think.

All my heart.

A small sob leaves my throat as the memory of my mother hits my chest like a thousand bricks. I continue to stare at the letter, now trembling in my hands, small water spots from the tears falling from my eyes. Small etchings begin to glow from the stone as if answering to the shadows within me. I slide my finger over the smooth surface of the crystal, and a shock zaps my finger, making me retract my hand.

Placing the stone back in the box, I carefully tuck it back into the tree. This isn’t anything I want to have in my possession until I can find out what the hell this is. However, the letter I’ll keep.

The creature has vanished, but the lingering shadows puts my senses on edge.

Why would the creature be here? Was it waiting on me to find this?

I rise from the base of the tree, slowly taking in my surroundings. The breeze has stopped, and the birds begin chirping their lovely tunes once more. A small twig snapping in the distance sends a rush through my body as I move through the clearing—the crystal I’m leaving behind is a constant thought in my mind.

I take my time passing each tree as I head in the direction of the castle. The shadows twist around the dark pockets of the forest as I keep my wits about me. The soft forest floors change to cobblestone as I make my way back into the outskirts of Daramveer. Giggling children run past me without a second glance, off on their way to create their own adventures to craft their own destinies.

Crossing into the tall iron gates, I continue to move unnoticed. The tall stone structure towers over me. Since abandoning my magic many years ago, I haven’t traveled in the shadows by shifting in years. Why hide when no one cares if you exist? Lights flicker inside the castle windows as I make my way back inside.

Recalling the marking on the crystal, my mind travels back in time to one of my mother’s many lessons on performing rituals. As Wiitches, rituals were a significant part of conjuring our magic. However, over the years, our powers developed to run on their own—like an ever-present current flowing through our bodies. Even though Shadow and Lumor wielders could call on magic at will, large bursts required rituals that raised magic straight from the Gods themselves. Etchings, mainly known as Rigils, were used as portals for the magic to pass through to access a deeper type of magic that was necessary.

The Gods treated us fairly, continually granting us magic when needed for the betterment of this realm. Over the years, some Wielders have learned to access dark magic through Rigils and blood. This magic was said not to come from the Gods but from their corrupted descendants who cursed our lands long ago. The markings on the crystal were unlike any I had seen before, and the feeling I got from touching it screamed bad news.

I arrive at my bedroom. My door’s slightly ajar, and panic washes over me.

I say a silent prayer to the Gods and push against the sturdy wooden frame, the rusty hinges squealing down the long hallway. I step into the room, prepared for the worst. Barlowe sits still in the sitting area, slumped on the antique chair, his hands pressed against his head.

“I didn’t know you could relax, Barlowe,” I say, marching up next to him. “And yes, I accept your apology from earlier. You were an ass, you know that?”

He slowly raises his eyes to meet mine. “I told Father about the letter, Briar, and had I not been interrupted by the asshole himself, I would have told him about Thatcher as well.”

Shock hits me as I’m once again reminded that I don’t know this person sitting before me. Time changes people, even if you can’t admit it to yourself.

“You swore you’d keep the letter between us for a few days until we figured something out,” I snap. “And Father wouldn’t have believed you about Thatcher anyway. He would chalk it up to be a dramatic fight between the two of us.”

“Thatcher’s actions will catch up to him one day. I’ll make sure of that, Briar.”

I storm closer. “Please stop saying his name. I don’t give a fuck about him. Why would you tell Father about the letter? Does your word mean nothing to you?”

“What did you expect me to do, Briar? He had to be looped in. Does the safety of this kingdom mean nothing to you?”

I turn my back to him, blinking away the tears in my eyes. “I care about our mother, and since you’ve been gone, it’s clear you care little about her—or me—anymore. I know these letters mean something, and I’m going to find out what.”

“Father didn’t deny when I confronted him about a change coming to Daramveer. He agreed. He told me that an announcement was coming and we were both to meet him in the throne room tomorrow night. Thatcher seemed to already know what was going on. Something dark has changed our father, so why wouldn’t you write to me and tell me about this? About Thatcher’s actions?”

“You are right. Something is going on in Daramveer, Barlowe,” I say. “I didn’t want to worry you. And to be honest, I’m having a hard time deciding if I want to share anything with you again—I don’t know that I can trust you again.”

Barlowe slowly stands, moving with a warrior’s grace as he steps in my direction. The abruptness catches me off guard as I flinch at his growing presence. He grabs my shoulders. He stares at me with a fierce intensity. “Briar, I never moved on from Mother dying or leaving you.” His grip tightens. “You can trust me. I’m doing this for your safety, and you’ll understand one day.”

I nod, and he continues, “Father is preparing to do something, and I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you from what’s to come. In the meantime, I need you to trust me. I know you abandoned your magic long ago, but now is the time for you to access it again. You are going to need it.”

My eyebrows shoot up in response. I’m not willing to entertain the idea of unlocking my magic, not now, and he has no idea why.

“What?!”

“You will understand soon. Just know that I love you very much, Briar.” Barlowe moves toward the door, letting the silence linger between us for a moment longer. “Those weapons you keep on the roof aren’t going to cut it for what’s coming. I think you’ve felt the change coming for a while.”

He shifts into the shadows, a mist the only thing left behind.

My magic has been desperate to leave my body for years now—the overwhelming sense of pain I feel hiding my true self rocks my body with an unwavering shock each day. But in the days following my mother’s death, I vowed to never use my magic again. The powers given to us are a curse, and the Gods we all so blindly worship took her from me. Beautiful things can come from our magic, but I also saw when my mother died that many curses can come from Wielding. It helped make my decision easier to never use my magic again, and maybe I could protect people around me by doing so. Unlocking my magic won’t save this kingdom. It will destroy this kingdom and all those around it. I’ve seen it playing out in my dreams for years and the darkness that lives inside me should never see the light of day.

The feeling of being in control of my life slowly slips away as I collapse into the chair by the roaring fire in my bedroom. I didn’t ask for these events to happen, but I always knew in the back of my mind that something would test me. From the chair, I watch the pink sky gradually turn into its typical shade of black, wondering what the days ahead will bring.

A chill runs up my spine as I breathe in the crisp night air and mentally prepare for battle. As I drift off to sleep, I’m once again confronted by the recurring nightmares that haunt me.

Chapter 6

The world around me is lit by a black flame—the structures are in ruin, and a shadowy smoke rises from the fallen brick. As a prisoner myself, I turn to look with unfamiliar eyes toward the figures I know are standing there—they always are. Bloody and beaten, they watch me with such sorrow, knowing I’m the one who’s caused the damage around them. I open my mouth wide enough to scream, but the darkness around me swells, a mist creeping into my mouth, drowning out the sounds desperate to break through. I look down to see my brother once more lying in a pool of blood at my feet. As the mist sets deep in my soul, I no longer see the figures before me, only outlined bodies.

In the distance, a voice screams my name—I’m unable to get to them as always.

Briar!

A firm hand presses against the small of my back as Thatcher steps beside me, a crown atop his head. He looks at me with a smirk, revealing the lack of soul behind his dark eyes. Devastation settles deep in my core as he leans down, parting my lips with his, his vile tongue sweeping into my mouth. I attempt to resist, but the darkness compels me to open for him.

As we part, I face the crowd once more and scream, “My darkness welcomes all to join. I am the Queen of Daramveer, and those who choose to defy me will witness their worst nightmares become realities.”

My breath is uneven as the small grasp I have on humanity disappears. I move my gaze to Thatcher’s one more, but he’s vanished. The others also become mist in the wind.

My eyes crack open, a daze still hanging over my head. “I’m Briar Blackbyrne, and I am in Daramveer,” I say aloud.

The orange light peeking through my heavy curtains tells me that it’s mid-morning and I’ve missed my meeting with Maines. Each dream makes me more desperate to hear the voice calling me. Every time I hear that voice, my nightmares end, and I can’t help but feel like it is growing nearer each day.

My stomach rolls as I launch for the bathing chambers, unable to make it before spilling my stomach onto the floor.

Regaining my strength and wiping the remnants off my mouth, I move fully into the bathing chamber, gripping the ledge of the sink. I look up, not recognizing the face in the mirror, and splash freezing water on my face. A stranger meets my stare in the reflection when I notice my eyes are profanely black.

Launching myself backward, I slam into the firm stone wall, the impact rattling my entire body. When I look back at my reflection, my eyes have returned to their normal autumn shade.

You’re seeing things, Briar.

A knock on the door snaps my attention from my reflection. Shaking off the unnerving feeling, I stumble through my bedroom toward the thick wooden door.

Maines Madden stands, arms crossed, on the other side of the threshold with a smile that could melt the coldest hearts. “Where the hell have you been?” She enters with a huff. “I told my idiot brother to let you know I was coming and when to meet me. Did you oversleep aga—” Breaking off and looking more closely at me, she grabs my shoulders. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” She ushers me toward the sitting area, the orange glow from the fire reflecting off her shoulder-length black hair.

“Hi, Maines,” I manage to squeak out before she wraps me in a hug so tight I fear my eyes may burst out of my skull.

She points to my favorite chair and snaps, “Sit down this instant. You look like trash, and you smell like it, too. You better tell me what’s going on right now.”

I take a moment to look at her. Her stunning face gazes at me with an intensity that could intimidate any grown man—a trait shared by the entire Madden family.

Maines’s fair complexion complements her raven hair perfectly, and her ice-blue eyes could haunt your dreams. Coupled with an infectious smile, she is a force of nature—she knows how to get her way, no matter what. Our families have known each other since before I was born so Maines has always been around, even when I wished to be alone. She is the same age as me and was raised by her father and brother for almost her entire life. She lost her mother as a child, which is an unfortunate bond between us.

I start from the beginning, purposefully leaving out my recurring nightmares.

Once I’ve finished the many details of the past twenty-four hours, I’m met with a stare that burns into my very soul.

“What are we going to do?” Maines sighs.

“Well, I don’t really know. How does one prepare for mystery? Barlowe didn’t seem to know what our father’s true plans are either. So, I guess we wait.”

She nods, picking at her lip. “Your father having a plan makes me nervous. There’s no way that Thatcher and my father aren’t in on this. They’ll take any chance they can to kiss your father’s ass,” she snorts.

Scratching the back of my neck, I look out of the large window in my room. Maines grabs my hand. “We will figure this out, Briar, and I’m here for you every step of the way.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She stands, the chair scooting back at the force. “However, one thing we aren’t going to do is mope in your bedroom all day. Let’s go to the kitchen. If I’m hungry, I know you are probably starving.”

Before I can protest, she yanks me up and pulls me out the door. We stroll down the long hallway, hand in hand, as my mind drifts back to when we ran down these halls as children. Now, as adults, we do the same—though neither of us is smiling this time.

We turn the corner into the kitchen to find Lang alone, working on a few dishes. Maines rushes up behind him, poking his side before giggling and dodging his swing. “Shit!” Lang yells as Maines clutches her stomach, laughing. “You’re going to give my old ass a heart attack, you little jokester.”

Maines plops down on the kitchen bench beside me. “I’ve missed you, Lang. I thought that old heart of yours could use a kick start this morning.”

“Where is Rose this morning?” I ask, rolling my eyes at their antics.

“Oh, she went to town. We were running low, so she’s off to gather a few things. Spices and whatnot—nothing crazy,” he replies, returning to his routine.

Maines slings her arm around my shoulder, pulling me in. “Briar, I missed you so much while I was gone. Please travel to Eddris with me one day.”

“I missed you too. I have a few things that need healing since you’re back—starting with this knot on my head.” I reply.

She glances at the back of my head and chuckles. “You have a lot of things that I can try to heal, starting with that hair.”

Lang looks up from his chores. “Maines, I tell her all the time to brush that hair of hers, but she never listens.”

“When you two are done making fun of me,” I say, “we’d love some food.”

Lang booms a laugh, shuffling to make us a plate.

Maines turns, studying me for a second. “But really, what are those marks on your arms?”

“Just from training,” I lie.

She flashes me a concerned look. She always senses when I am not being truthful about something.

“Lang,” Maines calls out, changing the subject, “when is Rose returning? I’d love to see her!”

“She left for Eddris this morning for some spices. She won’t return for a few days, I’m afraid. You’re stuck with me.”

I cut into their conversation, “Why would she travel all the way there? You said she went into town?”

He shakes his head. “I said she went to town, not our town. Either way, we heard that the port stopped harboring ships the past few days, and it’s going to stay that way for a few more. We thought it would be best for her to get a jump on things before we ran out.” He shrugs, turning his back to us once more.

The Kingdom of Eddris is known for housing the top healers of this realm and is governed by a powerful Lumor Wielder, Tressilian Hart. He rules with kindness—something my father would never do—believing that all people are equal regardless of their title or magical ability. Eddris was founded on fairness and the tall white towers—overgrown with the bluest flowers—made it breathtaking. Rumors claim that the streets sparkle like diamonds and that even the air carries a euphoric scent. I had only ever heard of its beauty, of course.

Daramveer and Eddris, at many times throughout history, had a civil relationship with neighboring kingdoms. My father was ruthless, but he wasn’t a fool.

Maines and I share an unsettled look, and Lang continues to shuffle around as if we don’t exist.

As Maines opens her mouth to break the silence, the training alarm blares, echoing throughout the castle. The guards' footsteps reverberate through the kitchen, rattling the pots as they move one by one through the narrow hallway. With one wild grin from Maines, I sense what’s about to happen and prepare myself. Before I can object, she grabs my arm and whisks us both up to the roof. We tumble into a tangled mess on the rough stone. The sun’s glow blinds me momentarily with the shocking contrast to the dim castle. I narrow my eyes and squirm against her grip.

I push her body off mine. “Gods, Maines!” I snap, rage making my teeth grind. She knows I refuse to use magic directly or indirectly. “Shift all you want, but don’t drag me with you.”

She keeps laughing on the ground.

I shout, “How dare you!”

She rolls around, facing the doorway leading back into the castle, and her expression changes from childlike happiness to unholy calm.

Barlowe leans in the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Maines spring up from the ground. “Look at what the shadows blew in,” he teases.

Her demeanor changes from playful to nervous.

“The same thing could be said for you. Long time no see, Barlowe.” She grins.

He pushes off the doorframe and stalks closer to where we stand.

“Hello, brother,” I roll my eyes, still annoyed at our last exchange.

“What brings you home, Barlowe? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” Maines blushes.

“Family matters to attend to. The men up north can handle themselves for a while—plus, the view here is much nicer. I needed a change of scenery,” he says, looking her up and down. “You haven’t changed much.”

The intensity coming off them is hard to ignore.

“Wait, what do you mean family matters?” I interrupt.

Barlowe peels his gaze off Maines and meets my stare. “I told you; Father had an announcement to make. He thought it was best if I was here, so he told me a few weeks ago to prepare to be home.”

“You’ve known about this for weeks and this is the first time I’m hearing about this? What the hell is that about?”

“Briar, I figured it had nothing to do with you, so why mention it?”

I curl my fists. “I’m a part of this family and kingdom, too, in case you’ve forgotten while you’ve been away. No one seems to give a shit about if I’m in the loop or not these days.”

Maines steps forward. “You know that isn’t true, Briar.”

I spin on my feet, facing her. “Oh, of course, you take his side. Ask Barlowe what happened with your brother.”

Maines narrows her eyes. “You know I’m on your side. I’m just diffusing the situation.” She throws her arms. “Wait, what the hell happened with Thatcher?”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I mumble, “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

She drops the conversation and looks at me with wariness. “The king making an announcement is a big deal for everyone in this kingdom, so I’m not surprised he asked your brother to be here. That’s all I was saying.”

An unexpected bang startles all of us on the roof, the distraction welcoming. Most of my training equipment lies on the ground from a strong gust of wind.

“What do you do up here, Briar?” Barlowe finally speaks.

“She kicks ass! Right?” Maines winks in my direction.

“Sure do, and I’ve been wanting to kick your ass since you returned home, Barlowe.”

Before he can react, Maines grabs a fallen sword, and we spring into action, backing him against the stone ledge of the roof. Laughter bursts from our throats as Barlowe attempts to twist away but fails to do so.

“Get the hell away from me. You two are crazy,” he jokes, completely defenseless.

I step back, allowing Maines to move closer to Barlowe, pressed against the ledge. His eyes widen at her mere presence. While she is quickly becoming known as a healer in Daramveer, news of her beauty has spread far and wide, and I’m certain Barlowe notices it too.

“Barlowe, are you holding back? I thought you were Daramveer’s war commander,” she giggles.

She turns to me to boast when he springs off the ledge, knocking her down as he lands above her, both of his muscled arms on each side of her head.

Barlowe glares deep into her piercing blue eyes. “Say the word, Maines, and there will be no holding back from me anymore.”

Her lips part, and her blinking becomes rapid as he slowly stands, his hands brushing the side of her face. She springs off the ground, brushing the dirt off her clothes from the tumble.

“Get a room, you two,” I remark, trying to ignore the exchange altogether.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Briar,” Maines backtracks, but her stare doesn’t leave Barlowe.

He pauses, thinking of his next words carefully. “Maines knows exactly what you mean, Briar, and someday I’ll gladly do that.” Backing toward the doorway, Barlowe says, “Maines, if you continue to impress me with your fighting skills, I may drag you up to the training camps to join the Daramveer army.”

“No way. I’m too busy healing the poor men you injure up there to subject myself to that kind of torture.”

“Please, both of you, be in the throne room no later than seven this evening. Father is having everyone meet for the announcement.” His gaze is slow to leave Maines as he looks her up and down. He shifts into the shadows, and Maines exhales, her shoulders relaxing.

She refuses to look at me for a few moments. I turn again to ignore the awkward encounter to pick up a few of the fallen weapons scattered around the roof. The small dagger that rests by my foot makes a thought enter my mind:

Take some of these back to your room.

After the past few days, there is no way I’m going back into the castle unarmed in the slightest. I break the silence, “You still have a crush on him, don’t you?”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Briar, I’ve not seen him in years. Any crush I had is long gone. He made his point when he left five years ago. We had different priorities.”

I have a hard time believing that, but I nod.

I move to the edge of the roof. Over the past few nights, my dreams have become more real—as if preparing me for something coming—and I can’t shake the unsettled feeling within me. Looking out over Daramveer, my kingdom, thunderclaps in the distance rattle the ground around me and direct my gaze toward the lone isle of Andorwood. In a flash of distant lightning, my eyes catch sight of the outline of a ship heading in our direction. But as quickly as my eyes adjust, it vanishes. I can’t help but shudder as I feel a looming presence heading toward us.

Maines walks up beside me, taking my hand. “Things are going to change soon,” she warns. “Something has been twisting in my guts for days, and I have a bad feeling—a bad feeling about you, Briar.” She turns to me, fidgeting with her hair. I see a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. “That’s why I came home—to make sure you are okay.”

Tears now form in my eyes, matching hers. I squeeze her hand.

“I know you aren’t telling me something,” she continues, “but that’s okay. When you are ready to talk, I’m here. I always have been, and I always will be.”

The loving tone in her voice makes my heart break. There are many things I haven’t told her over the years, and I just hope she forgives me one day when I do. I recall the night my mother died. Maines didn’t leave my side for days—screaming at anyone who dared come near my room as I crumbled. She took care of me then and always has. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to like I have for the past five years.

We look in the direction of the Southern gate toward the forest that holds so many dear memories for us. “I’ll always be here for you too, Maines.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” I smile, and my chest aches at the dishonesty.

Chapter 7

Istep across the threshold of the throne room, stunned by the lengths my father went to for the announcement he’s been hinting at. Fresh red flowers drip from the chandeliers and lavish banners hang from the windows, whipping in the chilled breeze. The moonlight casts diamonds on the stone floor, shimmering like stars in the night sky. Various meats, loaves of bread, and pastries of all sizes line the tables covered in black cloth.

I strut through the crowded room, my black dress adorned with gold flecks that resemble snakeskin, one of my favorites. The back section has the townsfolk gasping at how low it tapers down my spine, nearly revealing my behind. My black hair is styled, swaying back and forth as I walk past.

I weave my way through the whispering crowd of townspeople and castle staff, anticipation weighing heavily on us all. My brother stands beside our father on the throne. The crown atop the King’s head makes it even more evident who he is. I catch a glimpse of my crown in the chair farthest from him. I haven’t worn it in years and don’t plan to begin tonight.

“Hello, family,” I mock.

Barely acknowledging my presence, he responds, “Nice of you to show up tonight. Briar, my daughter, tonight is important—I’m doing this for the betterment of the kingdom. Please know that as I move forward with this announcement.”

My brother only nods.

I scan the crowd for Maines, desperate for a friendly face, only to find Thatcher. Holding back the urge to gag, I revert my eyes back to my brother, a small bruise painting his cheek blue.

That wasn’t there earlier.

“Barlowe,” I lean closer, trying to break the awkward silence, “Maybe if you and Maines hadn’t been rolling around on the roof earlier, you wouldn’t have a black eye.”

His head slowly travels in my direction. I smirk, expecting a sarcastic remark, but I’m met with a stare that leaves me feeling hollow. A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I’m so sorry I was gone for so long. You never deserved to be left here alone…” he trails off.

The King of Daramveer steps forward and a hush falls over the crows. He gestures for Barlowe to join him. My lower lip starts to tremble as I’m left standing behind them.

“Thank you all for gathering here on this magnificent evening. We have many things to celebrate tonight—Barlowe has returned from up north, his training is complete, and will now take the role of Daramveer’s War Commander!” The crowd claps in a thunderous boom.

“We are the strongest for thousands of miles, and those who are against us should fear us.” He points to Barlowe, who remains calm, with no smile. “But we need to expand our allies. Briar is a few months away from celebrating her twenty-seventh birthday, and as a duty to this kingdom and it’s time she steps up as so many of us have over the years.”

He turns to me, grinning. “No more will you hide in the shadows, Briar Blackbyrne. This kingdom will be forgotten no longer. We will join forces with another and rebuild this shattered city.” I step back, needing to feel space between myself and the crowd. “A competition will soon begin to win my daughter’s hand in matrimony. The winner of these trials will marry Briar—our kingdoms will be linked as one, ruling across the realms. We will host different kingdoms as they travel here in three days’ time. Once again, this kingdom will thrive—we will bring back riches like never before.”

The crowd erupts into a roaring explosion of excitement and applause that rattles my core. I stumble backward, barely able to keep upright. My vision blurs as Barlowe turns. I refuse to let the tears fall down my face in front of this crowd.

He’s pawning me off.

He’s using me to get what he’s always wanted.

I spot Thatcher in the crowd, laughing wildly.

My father steps back, allowing the crowd to continue their celebrations. “Are you thrilled, Princess? Now you can do something useful with your life instead of wasting away in this castle.”

Before I can respond, he spins around to the crowd, basking in their applause. Barlowe drags me to the back of the room behind my father’s large throne. “Briar! Blink, move, say something,” he demands.

“I’m going to kill him,” The shadows deep inside me bubble up, nearly breaking through the surface.

He embraces me. “You aren’t going to kill him, Briar. We will find a way to get you out of this, I promise. I’m not going to let this happen.”

Those words mean nothing to me now. I am numb. I push against his hug as he staggers back, confused at the unnatural strength I just showed.

My eyes turn black amidst my tears.

“I have to get out of here.” I shield my face as I sprint through the back doors of the room.

Someone shouts from behind me, a familiar voice but different from the one that screams my name in my nightmares. I listen this time, and what I hear pushes me faster than I’ve ever run before.

“Run, Briar!” Maines screams from the distance, doing her best to hold off the guards.

I blast through the castle doors leading me toward the north gate. The shadows of the night dance off each column of the castle as I enter the courtyard.

You’re almost there.

Keep moving.

My lungs bark in protest as I violently strain to keep up the speed at which I move through the grass, like a deer through the forest. If I make it, I can disappear. I don’t know where, but I’ll figure that out later.

“Going somewhere, Princess?” I smash into a hard body, the impact making my teeth ache. Thatcher had shifted in front of me, stopping me from making my exit.

“Move the fuck out of my way, Thatcher,” I spit, my lungs filled with fire. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Actually, this does have something to do with me. I have big plans for my future, and one of those plans involves winning your hand in marriage during these trials,” he cackles wickedly. “Bringing you back to your father right now will show him how wonderful of a husband I’ll be to his daughter, don’t you think?”

He lunges to grab me, but I dodge his hands. Before I can regain my composure, he shifts again, wrapping his arms around my waist. A scream leaves my throat that isn’t all mine. Squeezing me tight enough to crack my ribs, he shifts us into the castle, the blurred night passing us by as we return to my father’s study.

The impact from the shift leaves the room spinning as we land with a thud. Breaking free, I spin, throwing my entire body into my swinging fist that lands directly on his nose.

“You fucking bitch,” he howls. “I’ll make you regret that once you’re mine, Princess.”

I stare at his face—hints of bruising still pepper his jaw from my brother’s beating. It probably took the healers hours to fix the damage he caused. I move to throw another punch when the door swings open, shadows pouring in like a fog entering the room. My father steps over the threshold, his eyes blazing with hatred toward me.

“That’s enough, you two.”

Stepping forward, Thatcher rubs his nose. “My king, I caught her escaping near the gates. I stopped her at the last second and brought her back.” He bows in his direction.

I roll my eyes as my father dismisses him to the corner.

“How dare you embarrass me like that in front of our kingdom. This marriage is for your own good, you ungrateful shit. You will go through with this and let these men compete. You will do this with grace and dignity, and you will not act like an animal, or the people you love will pay.”

I stare back with an intensity that could light the world aflame.

He doesn’t back down, “This kingdom needs allies, and you’re my ticket to get them. Isn’t that right, Barlowe?”

My brother enters the study, refusing to make eye contact with me. I rush in his direction, my nails digging into my closed fists. “You knew about this and didn’t tell me? You lied to me again!”

“Why did you truly think he came home, Briar? He’s also been helping me recruit only the best and strongest men to compete for your hand in marriage. He’s known for weeks,” the King of Daramveer cuts in as I stand there, flabbergasted.

“Briar,” Barlowe whispers, “I never wanted this to hurt you. Father said this was for the betterment of the kingdom, and as head of this army, I must think of the people.” He cuts his eyes in our father’s direction. “Trust me.”

“Trust you? Think of the people?” I scream. “What about what’s best for me? You’re going to force me to marry someone who doesn’t see me as an equal but as a link to the kingdom? I’ll never go through with this. You both are dead to me.”

Barlowe turns to our father and says, “I agreed to help, but not like this. She didn’t deserve to be publicly humiliated with zero warning.”

“You know how I like to do things, son. Don’t think for a second, I don’t know what you’ve been up to. Are you questioning how I run my kingdom?”

Barlowe turns to me again, a flicker of hurt showing in his sharp eyes. “I told you to trust me, Briar, so please trust me.”

The thought of trusting him ever again makes me laugh. “Trust you? You are as insane as father. He must be casting illusions in your mind for you to believe the shit that comes out of his mouth.”

Thatcher shifts across the room, slamming my back into the stone wall. “Don’t you dare talk about my King in that manner.”

I glare into his piercing eyes. “Watch out, Thatcher. You wouldn’t want another hit to your face. I fear it’s making you uglier each time.”

He growls in my face.

“That’s enough!” my father snaps. “Briar has had a lot thrown at her tonight. Let her return to her room—undisturbed. Guards will be outside your door should you think of running again.”

Pushing past my father and Barlowe, I curse under my breath.

Before my hand reaches the door, my father cautions, “And Briar, please be in the throne room at a decent time tomorrow morning. We have many things to discuss before the trials begin. You will help this kingdom accomplish many things.”

Chapter 8

As I round the last corner before my room, three guards wait outside. “Welcome back, Princess. Congratulations on the announcement,” one bows. “Your friend is waiting for you in your bedroom. She didn’t give us a chance to turn her away. I hope you don’t mind.”

They halt before my door and part for me to enter.

I slam the door behind me, knowing who awaits. Maines sits by the lit fireplace, her feet propped up and her face like stone. “I thought I was going to have to kick those guards’ asses to let me in your room.”

I plop in the chair beside her, exhaustion weighing heavily on my shoulders.

“That was a shock I didn’t see coming. You aren’t going to go through with this, are you?”

I hesitate to tell her what just happened in my father’s study. “Your brother is competing—did you know?”

The sudden change on her face is answer enough. “Gods, no! I had no idea about any of this. I’d never let you marry my brother. He's a monster.”

It seems like all the men around us in this castle are monsters.

“We need a plan to get you out of this, Briar,” Maines chimes in again.

“Come on, Maines. There is no way out of this, I’m afraid.”

She stares at me for a second. Her piercing blue eyes show no fear, no hesitation, unlike mine. “Let’s run away then! I can make us money being a healer and you can start a farm or something. We’ll change our names and move far away.”

It’s impossible not to grin at her even though my stomach twists from the news. She’s a fool. “I’m not starting a farm and I’m not running. My father will make me comply—there’s no way around this without him killing me or worse.”

We sit in silence for a while before she tries again. “I’m sorry, Briar. I know this is horrible. Your mother would have never let this happen. She would have fought for you. Now, you must fight for yourself but not alone—I’m with you!”

The words ring in my ear: you must fight for yourself. I stand, the chair flipping backward.

“Whoa!” Maines yelps.

“You are an absolute genius, my friend.”

“Well, I know I am most days, but are you going to tell me why?”

I smirk. “No, but you will know soon enough.”

The day I decided never to use my magic again, Maines was there for me, understanding and never judging. The only thing she asked was that she teach me how to fight to protect myself. We found the area on the roof together and she made sure I knew how to fight from that day on—just as Thatcher had taught her. When Barlowe left, most of her days were spent in the eastern part of town at the House of Hedro. The House was founded by my mother and named after her maiden name, Hedro. Though Maines’s focus was on healing others, I think she was also working to heal herself as well.

Anyone lucky enough to train at the House of Havengart in Eddris typically went on to make a name for themselves. My mother started her journey there before returning to Daramveer to open the House of Hedro. I felt a pang of jealousy when Maines announced she would be leaving for a year to train at the House of Havengart. To walk through the halls where my mother trained and to feel closer to her is something I’ll never experience. Maines was a skilled healer and was quickly becoming one of the top healers in Daramveer.

“Are you going to make me beg?” Maines raises her brows.

I smirk, “Maines Madden begging? If that happens, I’ve seen it all.”

“Fine. I’ll trust you on this one, but once you’ve completed this ‘plan,’” she quotes the air, “you’d better come to find me.” Maines demands.

“I’ll see you later," I say as I push off from where I’ve been pacing. “I need to go see my brother. I think he’s been planning something all along, and now I have a plan too." As I leave Maines by the fire, I rush toward the door when the memory of the armed guards outside halts me in my tracks.

“Shit,” I curse, pausing in front of my bedroom door.

Maines watches me from across the room, a grin already forming on her face.

“I can’t leave that through my door; they will tell my father or follow me. Or both.”

She nods and walks toward the open window, the night sky being our perfect camouflage. “We could shift,” she looks at me wildly. “I know where he was heading. He asked me to meet him. I’m late anyways.”

My nose crinkles at the thought of Maines and my brother. I weigh my options at this moment. “Fine,” I snap.

“Hold on,” she squeals as we become mist.

I can’t get a good breath as we move through the shadows. Figures and shapes fly past us, but the fast movement makes us invisible. Even the most talented shifters can’t travel more than a few miles at a time without feeling drained and hollow.

We land, stumbling outside of the castle in a small back courtyard. It’s out of sight to anyone walking around the grounds and, I guess, could be considered romantic under starlight. The dark columns loom over our bodies but create a decent shield from any unwanted sights.

My legs wobble beneath me as I try to regain my composure from the shift, my insides feeling as if I’m still moving.

“Gods!” Maines yelps as she grabs my arm, pulling me further into the darkness and shielding us behind a tall pillar.

I snap my attention to her because of her odd behavior, but as I do, my eyes catch sight of not one figure but two. Thatcher and Barlowe stand before us, not quite in the open, but not entirely concealed by the shadows.

I move closer, making sure to stay in the shadows that cloaks us. Barlowe remains unmoving, his back to us as Thatcher’s teeth grind, anger pouring off his body like a swarm of darkness.

“What the hell would he be doing out here?” I whisper to Maines.

The conversation grows louder as their voices become audible.

“I knew you would try to stop this, Barlowe. You are weak. This kingdom will fall because of you and your sister,” Thatcher thunders in the dark.

“Caring about your family doesn’t make you weak. It would be best if you tried it sometime. I’ve spent the past year working to stop you monsters and your foolish plans. This won’t work,” Barlowe steps closer, challenging Thatcher with words. “No wonder your mother left you and your father before she died. I’d be miserable, too, if I had to spend my life bound to someone like you. It’s just a shame that Maines was left to be raised by you two assholes. This will get you all killed. I just hope I’m around to see that happen,” Barlowe retorts.

“It’s unfortunate you feel that way. We could have accomplished great things together, but you had to run off and become a traitor to this kingdom, your own family. You knew the plans we had for this realm—the power we could have wielded together—but you chose her, your sister who abandoned her magic and this kingdom many years ago,” Thatcher tips his head back and laughs. “You chose to attempt to ruin our plan and didn’t think we would find out. I’m not sorry for this. Consider this a welcome home gift from your father. You deserve it.” Thatcher strides forward with a force that would knock any grown man to the ground, the movement happening quicker than my eyes can follow.

My brother stands unwavering in Thatcher’s overpowering presence, a gurgling sound coming from one of them. Thatcher spits in my brother’s direction and glares at him. A branch under my foot snaps, causing Thatcher’s gaze to shoot in our direction before he shifts out of sight.

Something’s wrong.

My gut twists, and the hair on my neck raises. The out-of-control feeling I experience in my nightmares starts to creep over my body.

“Barlowe.” Maines moves cautiously around the pillar toward him. He remains unusually still, not reacting to her voice. She cuts her eyes to mine as we bound across the yard toward my brother.

“Barlowe,” I call, “I know what we can do. I think I figured out your plan.”

A familiar coppery smell hits my nose, panic setting in as Maines twists his body around and screams. His large body slumps to the ground, his hand pressed against the hilt of a dagger that protrudes out of the base of his neck. Placing his head in her lap, Maines starts to work on the area, her intensity growing by the second. I can’t wrap my mind around what’s happening. Thatcher stabbed him.

Maines trembles as she inspects the wood. “We have to stop the bleeding,” she demands. “I need you to apply pressure where his hand was.”

Barlowe lies motionless. His stare is fixated on Maines as blood now soaks her clothes, her body seemingly so small next to his.

“Briar!” she screams again as I kneel next to my brother in a daze, doing as she instructs. His eyes slowly move to my face as a tear falls from his eye. This can’t be happening.

“I think the dagger was laced with something—poison maybe—but I can’t tell. The blood is leaking too fast to get a good look.” She places her hands over his neck, replacing mine. A dark shadow flows outward straight into his open wound.

He flinches, a groan leaving his throat as the magic enters his body like a snake. “Nothing is happening—why is nothing happening, Maines?” I shout, bile rising in my throat.

Maines’s eyes dart back and forth as her calm composure slowly disappears. “I… I need to go to the castle to grab some supplies. There is no time for ritualistic healing; we need to stop the bleeding and fast. It’s not clotting like it needs to. Something else is making the wound leak faster than normal. Keep the pressure on his neck as hard as you can, Briar, and do not let up. Put your entire weight on him.” She shifts into the shadows. I’m alone with my brother, standing over his fallen body, soaked in blood.

This can’t be real.

Barlowe speaks, his voice barely a whisper through the blood filling his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you dare close your eyes, Barlowe! Keep them open and on me!” I cry, “Please don’t waste energy trying to speak.”

“I need to tell you something. I wasn’t there for you after our mother died. It broke me when she passed, and I ran away from the hurt, from you.” He coughs, blood peppering my face. “I was a coward, but I’ve been fighting since that day to make things right.” His unsteady hand grabs my face. “I love you and need you to fight for yourself. You are strong—stronger than I ever have been.”

Tears stream down my face, as I listen to my brother’s strong voice start to fade. “Tell Maines she wouldn’t have been able to save me or stop this from happening. I wish I had more time with her, but I will wait for her in another life.”

“Stop this madness. Right now. You are going to make it. You can’t leave me again!” His grip starts to slacken, and his rough hands fall to the ground. “Focus on my face. Don’t shut your eyes. Don’t you dare close them, Barlowe! Don’t leave me!”

The ground vibrates from my scream. “I need you.”

Maines shifts into view—breaking my attention from him for only a second—carrying a few vials of potions. Seeing my state, she gasps, “My bag!” Sprinting in our direction she continues, “Someone moved or took it. I couldn’t find any of my things where I left them.”

She crashes to the ground next to us, assessing his fragile state, “Oh, Gods.”

“Barlowe, I need you to fight. Open your eyes!” I scream, inches from his pale face.

Maines frantically moves her hands over him, black shadows slamming into his unconscious body. His back arches off the ground from the force of the magic entering his body.

“Fuck!” She pounds her fists into his strong chest. “Briar, I can’t do anything for him. Not without help.”

I begin to sob as I watch the color drain from his strong face, his hands growing colder by the second. “I can go get someone, Maines. We have time.”

Tears fill my eyes, my vision blurring through the sobs.

“No, don’t go,” she cries, pressing her head against his chest, clutching his blood-stained shirt. My eyes widen as she lifts her face, ghostly pale against her dark hair. Her lips tremble as her body starts to shake, still holding Barlowe’s hand. “I just felt his heart stop, Briar. He’s gone.”

I stare at my brother’s lifeless body, refusing to accept what Maines has said. Just like in my nightmares, Barlowe lies before me with a wound on his neck.

An unholy scream leaves my lips as I crumble to the ground beside him. Darkness bubbles in my body as the anger hits me with a force so strong I’m left breathless. Maines pulls my arm, standing before me. “We must get up, Briar! If anyone comes out here and sees us, your father will have us killed.”

She stumbles backward as our gaze meets, and I know what she sees—I feel the shift.

My hazel eyes are gone and replaced with an unnatural black. I walk a few paces away, letting the darkness build in my chest for the first time in years. I can feel the wind shift around us as a black flame encases me like a tight hug from an old friend. The overwhelming feeling of my repressed magic flowing through my veins leaves my body tingling as I look at my hands, shadows dancing in my blood-soaked palms.

I stare back at Maines, her mouth agape, and I know two things with absolute certainty: the old Briar Blackbyrne is gone, and my brother lies before me.

Dead.

Chapter 9

The next three days are a blur, filled with rage and exhaustion that cripples me every time I open my eyes. Thatcher killed my brother, likely on my father's orders. The King of Daramveer announced what he claimed was an unfortunate incident—a lie that led the town to believe someone had shifted into the castle grounds. Someone killed Barlowe in cold blood, sending a message to the royal family.

Thatcher kept a casual calm about himself as the castle buzzed with panic that the murderer was still out there, waiting to strike—he never realized Maines and I hid in the shadows. Maines has kept busy, studying the blade we pulled from his throat. She confirmed it was a poison, but not anything she’d seen before. Her inability to save him left her broken, and we’ve done an excellent job of avoiding speaking about what happened over the past few days.

Maines has searched through papers, books, and scrolls, seeking anything that might guide her in the right direction—all with no luck so far. The men vying for my hand in marriage will arrive tomorrow, and even though the castle is in a state of panic, the town still buzzes with excitement. The names of the competitors haven’t been disclosed—the mystery maintaining high anticipation.

I feel numb, shattered, and have somehow swallowed my magic once again.

Barlowe said I was strong, but he was mistaken. I feel weak—too afraid to unleash that part of myself just yet. That’s something I’ll reserve for Thatcher. I don’t care if he gets hurt. Keeping it caged for the past five years has given me some sort of stamina to lock it back up once more. The intensity of my magic trying to escape pounds on my head like an animal trapped, desperate to break free.

My bedroom feels like a cage with guards posted outside day and night—keeping tabs on me and monitoring my every move. I move from my bed, shuffling to the sitting area near the roaring fire, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. I haven’t had a nightmare since my brother died, which is the only thing keeping me going now. When I sleep, all I find is dark, nothingness, and a silence that is louder than the screams I once heard in my dreams.

Maines enters my room, purple bags weighing down her eyes and her perfect hair a tangled mess. She flinches when she meets my gaze, anticipating that my dark eyes will pierce her soul like they did the night my brother died. “Can we talk about what happened?” she asks as she plops down in the chair beside me. I know she hasn’t come to terms with what happened, and neither have I. “Someone needs to know the truth. We can’t let my brother get away with this,” she insists.

“No,” I say, defeat lacing my tone.

“You won’t even entertain the idea? I can’t eat. I can’t sleep knowing my family is capable of this, Briar.”

“We can’t tell my father we saw what happened because he ordered Thatcher to kill him. Didn’t you hear what he said before he stabbed my brother? Barlowe told me he was going to stop what our father was planning and that I should trust him. I’m trusting him right now and going to find out what my father is doing.”

“Fine. Then we’ll find out what Barlowe knew. It must be something significant if it got him killed.” The words hit my chest as she continues, “I’m researching the poison that was on the blade. It’s ancient and not from this kingdom. A few healers at the House of Hedro are helping me, even though they don’t know why.”

“Maines,” I blurt out, “I need to work on using my magic again. Little by little so I can control it. It’s rusty, but it’s time to awaken what lives deep in me.”

A spark of interest forms on her drained face, but before I have time to register her next move, she slaps her hand around my arm and shifts us to the roof.

“Again,” Maines huffs.

Bent over, I’m barely able to grasp my breath, sweat pouring off my brow.

“Briar, you can barely shift ten feet. You’re going to have to push yourself to get better. Now, shift!”

My magic feels like an itch, like an ever-present tickle in my throat that is desperate to be scratched. I focus and allow myself to do what used to come so naturally as I become mist.

The weightless feeling of my body zipping through the air makes me nauseous as I land nearly twenty feet away from where Maines stands this time. “Better but not great,” she barks. “Again!”

Dizziness hits me like a shock wave, but the pain I feel with it is a welcome sensation—it’s the first thing I’ve felt in days. “I need to catch my breath, or I’m going to pass out, Maines!” I gasp.

She rolls her eyes, yelling from the distance. “You won’t have time to catch your breath if you are in a bad situation and need to get out. I need you to dig deep! Don’t think, just shift.”

Gritting my teeth, I concentrate once more, fully allowing myself to tap into the darkness within. Words from my father and Thatcher replay in my mind—fury becomes my driving force—as the anger from my brother’s murder fills my core. My vision blurs as my body propels forward. My once-solid body turns to mist as I whip through the air like a black gust of wind, shadows trailing in my path.

Landing with a thud, I turn to assess my distance, expecting another lashing from Maines. I blink in shock as I now stand in the courtyard, a healthy distance from where I once stood on the roof. Cheers and applause in the distance let me know that I’ve finally impressed my teacher. I glance up to see a small figure clapping on the roof high above.

As soon as I regain my bearings, Maines shifts beside me, smiling broadly for the first time in days. The sun moving across the sky casts a pleasant shadow amid the blazing light as the day transitions to dusk. The extended training has both exhausted and fulfilled me.

“That was great! A few hours of practice, and you can already do that?” She embraces me tightly. Pulling back, a small tear forms in the corner of her eyes. “Your brother would have loved to see that after all these years.”

She looks at me with such sorrow in her eyes as the mention of my brother slices me in two.

“Thank you,” I respond.

She lowers her head. “Why are we doing this, Briar? Working on controlling your magic again? You swore you’d never use it again but never told me why.”

I want to be honest with her, but I can’t, not yet. I open my mouth, hoping the wrong words don’t flow out when Thatcher rounds the corner.

“Well, if it isn’t my exasperating sister and the beautiful princess herself. I see you two are doing nothing of the matter.”

My fists clench. Maines grabs my arm as if trying to hold me back from doing anything stupid. Her hands tremble against my arm.

“Keep moving, Thatcher,” Maines snaps, her voice slightly wobbling. “Doesn’t the king need his shoes polished or something?”

He cackles, “It’s such a shame Barlowe got himself killed. It’s a daunting task picking up the pieces he left behind.”

My eyes narrow, fury rising in my chest as the darkness starts to swell like a trigger being set off. Black shadows spark on my fingertips, earning Maines' attention as her eyes widen. A wall of darkness shoots from my palms, hitting Thatcher in the chest.

His body flies backward, landing with a crack.

Maines grabs my shoulders, shaking me. “Oh Gods, Briar. Your eyes. Snap out of this.”

The feeling of my magic diminishes and I choke down the blind rage that almost took over. Thatcher stands, brushing off the grass peppered on his black armor. “You could have killed me, you bitch. I’m sure your father will be thrilled to hear about this. His daughter, using her magic again.” He laughs and says before leaving, “There may be use for you, after all.”

Maines trembles but steadies herself, saying, “Your eyes! They turned black again. I’ve only seen that happen once, a long time ago, from someone whose powers were far beyond the norm. You must tell me what’s going on.”

Still amped from the power in my veins, I scream, “I can’t!”

Her jaw snaps back at the intensity leaking from me.

My shoulders slack. “I’m sorry. I can’t explain all of this, not yet, but I will soon.”

Maines breathes deep and slow as she calms her pounding heart. She closes her eyes, letting the wind whip her hair around for a moment. “You promise,” she says, her eyes softening as she looks at me once more.

“I promise.”

Grabbing her hand, I whisk her away toward the courtyard columns, hidden from castle staff or anyone passing by nosey enough to try to hear what’s going on. The dead vines brush against my skin as we move to a dark corner. “I know what I need to do to challenge my father—to find out more information about his plans—and I’m going to need your help.”

Chapter 10

Istand on the large balcony just outside of the Great Room. I grasp the stone railing, afraid I may fall, as I lean—overlooking the miles that stretch before me across the Kingdom of Daramveer. This used to be my favorite place in the castle. Most mornings, the sun was an expert artist, painting the sky pink and purple hues that awed me. For a moment, each sunrise, I forgot about the bleak kingdom that loomed below. The port has reopened to welcome travelers from other realms—many ships now dock at the harbor, their white sails blending with the clouds above. The waves crash against the sides of the boats, and I squint to make out a faint figure disembarking along with two white horses.

The wind seems to pause as the figure steps both feet on the solid ground of Daramveer. I swear the person raises their head to look toward the castle, and a shock moves through my core as if responding to new eyes staring at me.

A hand touches my shoulder, interrupting my intense stare that causes me to yelp as I spin around to see Rose.

“Briar! I didn’t mean to startle you. I was bringing up a few dishes and saw you standing here. I should have expected that reaction; you seem quite lost in thought.”

I only ever see Rose in the kitchen; the lighting bouncing off her face makes her undeniably stunning, and a familiar twinkle in her eye I’ve never noticed before catches me by surprise. “It’s fine! I just didn’t expect anyone to be joining me.”

I glance at the dock again. That person is gone, but I swear I can still feel the weight of their stare.

“I… I heard the news of your brother. It’s heartbreaking. Then, for your father to make you continue with this competition like nothing happened. He’s lost his mind…”

I grab Rose’s hand and pull her to the side of the doors. “Don’t talk like that! No one can hear you speak about the king that way, or he’ll have you killed. The castle isn’t safe right now. I need you to be careful of everyone—especially him.”

“Briar, I’ve never been afraid of him and I'm not going to start now. Your mother did what was best for her family by marrying him, but she never stopped standing up for what she believed was right. Do you think what’s happening in this kingdom is right?”

I shake my head.

“Then fight, Briar. With all you have. Listen to those around you trying to help guide you. Don’t shut the darkness out. Let it guide you.”

She grabs my hands, her lovely dark eyes staring into mine like black pools of diamonds. “Go get ready, Princess. You are meeting the men you may marry soon. We mustn’t get you upset.”

She winks and moves back into the throne room with feline grace. I look over the bleak kingdom once more, a sigh making my chest cave in. “Oh, and Briar,” Rose shouts from the doorway. “I left something in your room that I think you are going to like.”

An unfamiliar smell lingers in my bedroom as I slam the door behind me, the hinges rattling against the stone wall. I close my eyes for a moment and lean my head against the thick wooden door, taking a minute to breathe. Suddenly, my senses jolt, and I snap my eyes open.

My heart pounds when I see it.

The creature that haunts me stands once again before my fireplace, its black cloak absorbing the light from the fire. I stifle a scream, aware that even the faintest sound would bring the guards rushing into the room.

“What do you want?”

The figure hovers over the cold floor, its face hidden by the lip of the hood. Its sharp finger points in my direction without responding, spiking the hair on my arms. A chill moves across me like the touch of an icy finger.

Is this what Rose left me?

I shake my head in confusion. “Me?”

The creature remains deathly still—the darkness oozing from its presence sucks the life out of the room as the fire even stops crackling. Refusing to turn away, my feet backpedal as my back presses against the stone wall.

“I see you, Briar Blackbyrne. The real you,” the creature hisses, its deathly voice entering my mind.

A few months after my mother died, this creature visited my bedroom. Grief weighed heavily on me as I was in and out of a daze for weeks. I never knew if what I saw that night was confirmed real until now—in this moment, it stands before me once more. The creature screams, the sound slamming into my mind as I crouch against the wall, covering my ears. I expect the guards to charge in, weapons drawn, but my door remains shut.

My eyes travel to the creature, its wide, crooked jaw unhinged as a scream echoes only in my mind. The fire resumes crackling, no guards enter, and the darkness has eased—mine being the only remaining. I unfurl my body, standing on weak legs and I move across my room to where the creature stood only seconds ago. Ash peppers the rug, and a stench lingers that I know to be death. Another letter sits on the table from my mother.

To my shadow,

You must be brave. Your father had this planned long before now. You are in control of your own destiny—fear not of the things that help you. Embrace the darkness within to guide you.

All my heart.

Chapter 11

As my heavy feet move toward my armoire, I shake the feeling of the creature haunting me. Dressing to meet the man I may marry is an important task if you care, and a few gown options come to mind. However, when I open the ornate doors, a new dress hangs among the heavily worn ones.

I lift out the dress, my eyes wide at its beauty. A note falls to the ground:

Go show those men who they should really fear.

Love, Rose.

A grin spreads wide across my face.

The gown is a dark red, infused with black crystals that cascade down the front like rain sliding down glass. The back dips low and hugs my curves, while the front slit nearly exposes the dagger strapped to my thigh. A small train trails behind me as I secure the final piece in place, sweeping my raven hair back. I finish by applying a thin onyx line across my eyes, making my fiery autumn eyes twinkle like a crisp fall evening.

The throne room is quiet as I arrive early, just as my father suggested. He sits alone on the throne while guards and castle staff move about, preparing the final details for the celebration just moments away.

“Don’t you dare disappoint me tonight, Briar,” he mutters, exhaustion lacing every word. “This kingdom is counting on you, and I won’t stand for any errors in the process. We’ve already lost too much for something else to do wrong. Do you understand?” He doesn’t even make eye contact with me as he spits orders.

“Yes, Father, I understand. I’d never disappoint you.” The lie feels great rolling off my tongue. I know he can detect the sarcasm in my tone. “I know how much your image means to you.”

He finally raises his eyes to meet mine, the first time we’ve really looked at each other in years. His green eyes remind me so much of Barlowe, and the pit in my stomach pains me from his stare. He extends his calloused hand in my direction. He holds a crown—my mother’s. It’s a true work of art—solid gold with black crystals swirling around the peaks like diamonds infused with vines begging to touch the sun.

“Briar, I’d like you to wear this tonight.”

I allow myself time to breathe and grab the crown before responding, “Father, I will never work with you or for you ever again. But I will wear this crown if only to signify the change I’ll bring to Daramveer once you are gone.” I smirk, placing the crown on my head, the weight of his stare heavier than the gold.

“I hope you don’t regret those words one day,” he threatens.

We both sit, making ourselves as comfortable as possible. The wide doors across the room swing open, and people start to file in—my heart pounds like thundering footsteps on the hard floor. Residents of Daramveer, along with some unfamiliar faces, fill the space faster than my eyes can adjust. Nerves dig deep into my core, and my hands begin to tremble as hundreds of stares fixate on us. The ceremony won’t start until all the competitors have lined up. My father will make his announcement, followed by the introduction of all the men competing for my hand.

A member of my father’s court steps forward and nods to signal that it’s time to begin.

My future starts now.

Silence descends upon the crowd as a sense of anticipation flows through the room like an invisible fog. Several men enter the throne room, and I brace myself—I am about to meet the suitors vying for my hand. One by one, they line up in front of the throne—the crowd parting for them as their mentors file in behind. Seven men stand before me; some I recognize. Yet, none of them realize that an eighth contestant will soon be introduced.

Thatcher Madden stands with his father, Elrod, at the front of the line—a wicked grin painted on his face. He wears his finest black armor, and the hilt of his sword shows slightly over his broad shoulders. The arrogance leaking from him makes me gag. He bows in my father’s direction, ignoring me altogether. He rises with a wink, and my father’s voice booms through the crowd, making the first official introduction.

Cromwell Grey, the son of Daramveer’s wealthiest family, stands next in line alongside his father. His wavy black hair falls messily across his green eyes, and he smiles without any kind intentions behind the gesture. The Grey family has numerous royal connections to realms far beyond the reach of this kingdom. Joining forces with this family would greatly benefit my father by establishing connections to other realms. They are exceptionally skilled Shadow Wielders. Cromwell is one of the King of Daramveer’s rising war commanders and is always striving to be at the top. Unsurprisingly, he jumped at this opportunity as soon as the announcement was made.

Graven and Bardot Thornfield stand next in line, with their mother, Calia, close by. Calia was once a mighty queen of a fallen kingdom, Cammon, which has never recovered from a war fought long ago. The twins stand taller than most with long white hair half-tied back, their dark eyes revealing no souls behind them. Their reputation as talented Lumor Wielders precedes them, but bitterness seeps from their very beings. The devilish twins and their mother are desperate to reclaim their royal status and rebuild their kingdom. Since her husband passed away a few years ago, Calia has been pursuing my father—there has always been an unusual connection between the two of them that people can’t overlook.

Oak Hombern is one of the few competitors I recognize due to his blond hair and large dark brown eyes. A scruff covers most of his cheeks, and his hair is unkempt. Oak and his father stand before us from the Kingdom of Brinkym. They possess royal looks and status as they are first in line for the throne. During the summers, they often traveled to Daramveer. The Hombern family has grand Lumor powers and vast armies, which likely explains why they appeal to my father.

The room grows colder as Silas Nastronde, prince of the most notorious Kingdom of the Forgotten and Rebels, steps forward with no mentor standing beside him. The Nastronde family has a reputation in the Kingdom of Andorwood that may be even worse than my father’s. Andorwood shelters many criminals and lost noblemen while its people possess dark magic that some may argue surpasses ours. Shadows ripple off his back like black wings as his eyes meet mine, his mouth parting slightly. An intensity shines behind his bright green eyes—a scar running down his brow—causing me to break my stare. He continues to study me like a hunter stalking his prey. Something about him compels me to want to run away from him and toward him at the same time, as if the darkness within me responds to his.

I know him, but how?

Gratitude fills my core as the last competitor steps forward, breaking my gaze from Silas. The Prince of Eddris, Rohhit Harte, moves forward gracefully, a halo of light glowing around his entire body. He bows respectfully in my direction, with his mentor, Nolan, standing beside him. We’ve never met before, but many stories about their family have gone around over the years. They are fair and noble and treat their kingdom as if they are all royals. Lumor wielders have an unmistakable lightness about them. However, his is different, brighter, like electricity moving through the room in his presence. However, there was a dark rumor about his family and some practices that went on at the House of Havengart—but no one has ever been able to confirm nor deny the rituals being performed there as unnatural. Nolan was adopted into the Harte family as a child as a second son of the royal family.

My father turns to me with a nod and stands before the competitors. “Thank you all for coming. We have many things to celebrate tonight. The joining of potential armies for protection to all who claim Daramveer their land and the joining of kingdoms through marriage.”

The crowd claps with excitement as I roll my eyes. My attention snaps to Silas, whose intense stare still burns a hole in my core.

“There will be a series of trials held to prove who is the strongest amongst us and who is worthy of the Princess of Daramveer. These tasks will not be easy, nor will they be for the faint of heart. Danger lurks in every trial, and you are putting your lives on the line to prove your worth.”

The clapping crowd continues as each of the men stands unwavering.

“Some may perish, but that will only show who is the strongest. The mentors and I have discussed it, and we all agree to the terms. From this moment forward, if you choose not to compete in these trials now that you have committed yourself, death will immediately follow your decision.”

The crowd grows quiet, and the men remain unfazed.

I cut my eyes toward Silas to find him still looking at me. My cheeks flush, but I harshly mouth, “What?”

My father’s booming voice peels my gaze away.

“Now, please celebrate tonight, for the tasks shall begin tomorrow.”

The crowd continues to applaud. The King of Daramveer steps down from the throne, turns toward me, and gestures for me to follow him to the competitors. Annoyance bubbles in my chest as I smooth out my dress and stride toward my father. He stands among the mentors and men; a laugh escapes from his throat, causing the hair on my neck to stand on end. I didn’t know he was capable of laughter at all.

“Competitors, meet my daughter, Briar, the Princess of Daramveer.” A smile forms on my face that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “And Briar, please wish our guests a warm greeting.”

“Welcome to our wonderful kingdom. I’m so happy you are all willing to die for my father’s gain.”

Silas booms a laugh, my attention snapping to his once more as he winks. The others show no sign of amusement.

My father interrupts with a cough, “I believe she means Daramveer’s gain. We are very lucky to have you all here.”

“Now, the mentors and I have many things to discuss for the upcoming weeks and trials. Please, Briar, stick around and get to know these men, as you will be married to one soon enough.”

He turns without another word, the mentors following suit as I’m left standing before the seven men, their focus fixated on me.

I turn on my heels and bump into Calia Thornfield. “I just wanted to thank you, Princess. An arranged marriage isn’t something that most girls dream of. I know this from experience since my marriage was arranged—but it also blessed me with two beautiful children. Not everything that comes from it is bad. Your father has been helping me make plans to rebuild my kingdom, Cammon. Offering my sons is the least I could do to show my gratitude. He is a good man, and our families together could become very powerful.”

“You obviously don’t know him very well if you think he is a good man.”

“Yes, he does have his flaws, doesn’t he? I know him well, if you would believe me. We’ve known each other for many years.” She breaks eye contact. “I knew your mother through him as well.” Calia smiles, “She was a wonderful person. You favor her looks.”

“Yes, I know. I’m very lucky I had a mother like her.”

She bows in my presence. “I hope we can grow closer over the coming weeks of the trials. I will be spending a lot of time with your father, and I would love to get to know you more, Princess.” She bows once more and continues through the back doors of the room, following my father—likely to his study. Outside a handful of times, I’ve never entered that room, nor have I been asked to.

Thatcher steps forward, inches from my face. “No need to stick around getting to know you, Princess. I know all I need to know. Isn’t that right?” he says with a wink before continuing through the crowd. Cromwell laughs, trailing behind him, desperate for his attention, as they disappear into a sea of people.

Ignoring Thatcher’s arrogance, I return my gaze to the remaining men before me. Silas watches Thatcher move through the crowd, a piercing stare showing no kind feelings toward him.

“I suppose we will get to know each other better in the coming weeks, gentlemen,” I say, breaking the silence.

The Thornfield twins continue talking amongst themselves with no regard for me speaking. Rohhit bows before striding off, likely to find Nolan, his mentor.

For longer than many can recall, Eddris and Andorwood have been rivals, disgust with each other’s kingdoms that dates back close to the Great Battle. Eddris holds the lightest of Lumor Wielders, whereas Andorwood holds the darkest, most foreign of Wielders—the differences too strong to ever forge a peaceful connection.

Andorwood is a far eastern kingdom that houses many outcasts, criminals, and fallen noblemen from both wielding magics. The only way to reach this lone kingdom is by ship, and it’s been said that once you make it there, you don’t leave. Creatures dwell on this land that could haunt your darkest nightmares, and supposedly, the people who lived there aren’t any better. Only talks of death and devastation travel from Andorwood.

Silas continues to watch me with his piercing green eyes that hold something dark before turning to stalk through the crowd, paying no regard to Rohhit, whose stare from nearby could crack the thickest stone.

My shoulders slack, thinking everyone has left my side, and I sigh with relief.

“It’s nice to see you again, Princess.” The lingering voice startles me. Oak Hombern remains, a sly grin across his face.

“Hello, Oak,” I reply. “It’s nice to see you and your father again. It’s been a while.”

He smiles. “Indeed it has, and you certainly have grown up. It’s been years, hasn’t it? Remember that time we almost died on one of your crazy adventures you demanded I partake in?”

I lower my head with a soft laugh. “And you are not the annoying boy I remember either. You almost died from fear if my memory serves me right. Please tell me you’ve become braver in your older years?”

Oak laughs, “Sure haven’t.”

As children, Oak and his father visited every summer. I looked forward to their return each year, and when the cold spring days turned hot, I knew they would be arriving soon. They would visit Daramveer for a month, giving Oak and me plenty of time to run around the castle grounds. He was close to a second brother those summers. It’s weird now. When his father stopped returning each summer and the warm days turned cold, so did my heart.

The silence returns once more as he leans in closer, playfully nudging me, “I’ve missed you.”

I can’t help but smile around him. It’s like the years between us have never changed anything. He’s still the annoying little boy I ran around with every summer like a wild animal.

“I know you don’t want this to happen—marrying someone you don’t know or love, I get it. But we all have something to prove here. And I think we all have something to lose. These trials are going to change a lot for our kingdoms, so I thank you for going through with this.”

I ponder his words for a second. “You all have a lot more to lose than you think, Oak. Your life isn’t worth fighting for me. You don’t have to fight for me.”

“Believe me, Briar. I know that. I’m not here to win. I’m here to have fun.” He winks.

"This is not a game, Oak.”

His smile fades, “I’m aware of that, Princess, but if entering these trials helps you in any way, I’ll fight to the end. I hope you know that. My father is here to help, too. We know something greater is going on in Daramveer. We could feel the shift in Brinkym.”

I trust Oak, and he’s going to be of use in the coming weeks. I know it.

“I’m sorry about your brother. It had been years since we spoke, but his death was hard,” he lowers his voice. “When you find out what’s going on, let me help. Please.”

Oak is brilliant and always has been. He feels the shift. I know it, but I can’t risk his safety until I know more. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Oak.” I glance at the ground and back up. “And thank you for saying that about my brother. He cared for you as well.”

The conversation dies once more, and Oak pats my shoulder. “See you soon?”

I turn, my long hair whipping his face with a huff. “See you soon, Oak. These types of things aren’t really my style, but you know that. It’s really good to see you.”

He bows without another word, accepting my leave. I won’t be missed at this party. Even when all eyes are upon me, I’m still invisible.

Chapter 12

The guards supposedly watching me didn’t even notice me leaving the Great Room, distracted by the buzz of the party. This castle used to host many gatherings like tonight’s. Crowds and music would fill these walls until the late hours of the night. As a child, I often would sneak out of my room to watch people stumble around the castle grounds, disappearing into the night and dreaming of when I would be old enough to attend. Now, I’m desperate to get far away from anything related to this celebration.

My senses come alive at the feeling of someone behind me. “Wouldn’t you rather be at the party than follow me around all the time?” I hiss over my shoulder, hoping the guards halt in embarrassment.

To my surprise, Rohhit Harte stands behind me, his hands tucked into his beautifully tailored clothing. “Hello, Briar. We didn’t have the official honor of meeting properly. I saw you leaving, so I wanted to introduce myself before you retired for the night.”

The Prince of Eddris smiles, and I’m speechless. He is unlike any man I’ve seen before. His ice-white hair against his midnight black eyes that twinkle with each breath sends excitement through my body. Many Lumor Wielders live in Daramveer, but none like this. Eddris was known for housing some of the most beautiful people in the world, and he does not disappoint. The prince has a sense of light in the way a sense of light as if he floats on air—yet something about him makes me cautious, my darkness on alert.

“Hello, Prince, it is nice to formally meet you as well,” is all I manage to squeak out as I continue to stand frozen in his presence.

What the hell is wrong with me? Speak, Briar.

“I’m most looking forward to getting to know you better, Briar. Your beauty is well known across many kingdoms, but I can assure you, the rumors don’t do you justice.”

My face reddens at the compliment. “Thank you, Rohhit. I’m glad you won’t be subjected to marrying a hag.” I can’t help but grin.

He laughs, “If the Gods grace me with enough luck to marry you, that is.” I don’t answer as he stares, studying me for a second longer. “Very well, Princess. Good night.” He bows before spinning on his heels and making his way back into the crowd.

I storm into my room, the door slamming against the stone wall, then shutting behind me as I collapse face down on the cool sheets.

My room is insignificant compared to the other areas in the castle I could have chosen, but I prefer this chamber. It’s smaller and has fewer spaces for shadows to lurk. My oversized bed sits against the back wall closest to the window. The wooden headboard is lined with vines carved in the oak to perfection, while the heavy crimson curtains give the room an eerie tint.

My senses, already on high alert, tingle as something shifts through my room. Standing, I rip the slit of my dress back, exposing the dagger strapped to my thigh—I grab the decorated hilt when I feel his presence.

Silas Nastronde lounges around the fire, his feet propped on the edge of my favorite chair.

“That’s an antique,” I hiss, the dagger fully unsheathed now. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

He chuckles, his piercing eyes traveling to mine. “Those are such filthy words to be coming out of the mouth of a princess, don’t you think.”

I grip the dagger firmly as he stands. His large body towers over mine, the top of my head barely reaching his chest. I refuse to back down, not in my own room. He steps backward, his back flush against the stone wall and his muscular chest directly in my sight as I point the blade at his throat.

Even though I could slit his throat at any second, his chest rises and falls steadily, showing no signs of fear.

“I’ll ask you again. What are you doing in my room?”

He remains utterly unfazed by the dagger now pressing into his olive skin. “Is that how you greet all your new acquaintances? By pushing them against a wall?”

“Only the ones who break into my bedroom,” I reply.

He leans closer to me. “Should I greet you the same way then, Briar Blackbyrne?”

My cheeks redden, and my gaze drifts to his chest at my eye level. I am instantly curious when I spot a few small scars peeking out from the top of his shirt. A flicker of emotion crosses his eyes for just a second, too brief for me to decipher what he's thinking. In an instant, his entire demeanor shifts as if he’s just becoming aware of how close we really are.

He blinks and hesitation laces his tone. “I can’t believe it's you.”

My heart skips a beat, and I lower the weapon. Stepping back a few paces, my head tilts to the side, “What are you talking about?”

Ignoring my questions, he responds, “I traveled a long way from Andorwood to meet you. I didn’t think you’d have a dagger at my throat so soon.” Silas looks down, our eyes meeting once more. “Plus, I saw how bored you were speaking with Rohhit in the hallway, so I thought I’d provide you some entertainment when you arrived back to your room.”

Like mine, Silas’s father, Malachi, has interesting punishment tactics. As a child, Silas made a name for himself, winning fights and defeating grown men who were much larger than he was. He was known to be ruthless and reckless, in addition to being ferociously handsome. Many women would risk their lives moving to Andorwood for a husband like him, and something about his voice lingers in my mind like a pleasurable melody. He was powerful, strong, and dangerous when provoked.

“No thanks.” I bite my tongue, “I’ve had of enough men telling me what I can and cannot do for the night.”

He stares longingly into my eyes as I refuse to break my stare. I feel a familiarity with him that immediately piques my interest.

“Now, please get the hell out of my room before I call the guards or handle you myself,” I caution, pointing the dagger back in his direction.

He pushes off the wall, closing the small distance between us. “I’m pretty sure we’re here fighting for your hand in marriage because your father doubts his own guards and wants to grow Daramveer’s army. I can promise you I’m not afraid of them.” His eyes travel down my body, sending a thrill through my core. “You, on the other hand—you frighten me, Briar Blackbyrne.”

Shadows flicker off his body like shooting stars as he winks, walking toward the door. “Oh, and I’d watch yourself around Rohhit if I were you. Don’t get too attached. Haven’t you always heard that nice guys finish last? Where’s the fun in that?” He shifts, leaving a trail of shadows in his wake.

Tonight has been enough, and I am ready to fall into the nothingness that my sleep has blessed me with these past few nights. I strip off my dress, leaving only my bare body and a dagger on the sheets. I close my eyes and welcome the darkness of sleep—the only darkness I haven’t minded in these past few days. I’ll need rest for what’s coming.

Black flames devour the world around me. I stand before a group of figures I once knew, no longer in control. The power flowing through me feels familiar but foreign. My eyes look down to see my brother lying in a pool of blood I created. Here, I killed my brother, and I know deep down he’s not alive in either world I visit anymore. I glance toward the castle of Daramveer, ash billowing into the skies. Thatcher holds my hand as I try to scream, the black flames taking over once more, not allowing my voice to break through.

Briar!

The voice screams in the distance as I try to run in its direction, but I am stopped by Thatcher’s grip.

“Finish this,” he screams.

Black fire shoots from my palms toward the figures before us, colliding with a boom that rattles my entire body. The smoke clears as I blink through the haze to find no one remains. I fall to my knees, desperate to be awoken from this nightmare, as Thatcher rips my hair back, exposing my neck. “You are weak. You must fight. Let the darkness loose, you coward.”

He throws me on the ground. Anger floods my chest as I stand, the darkness turning on him. “You will pay for all the hurt you’ve caused in this world and others. I promise.”

Covered in sweat, I jolt awake.

“I’m Briar Blackbyrne, and I live in Daramveer,” I say aloud, regaining my composure. Scanning my room, I notice a note, likely pushed under the small crack of the door, lying in the middle of the floor. I leap from the bed, the sheet traveling with me.

“Today’s first task – archery. 3 pm. Do not be late.”

Chapter 13

Ihead through my heavy door, knowing there is something I must do before the most important day of my life, which may cost me everything. Navigating the hallways, I find myself standing in front of my father’s study, a room in this castle that I’ve only entered once before. Axl, who has been a guard to the King of Daramveer for years before I was born, brought me here the night my mother died. I waited for hours on his leather couch with my brother before he returned home, leading us to believe he saw her passing as an inconvenience.

I slip into his study, and his head snaps from the scattered papers he reads. “Briar,” he mutters. “You weren’t who I was expecting. What do I owe this wonderful pleasure?”

My gaze drifts to the painting above the fireplace, my mother’s smiling face making my heart ache. The resemblance is striking. No wonder he finds it hard to look at me. “I’ve been thinking, Father. You want me to do something with my life so badly—well, I believe I deserve to fight in this competition alongside the men for my hand, for my honor.”

A thunderous laugh booms from his throat as he tips his head back. “Delusional, just like your mother. You are to be seen as a princess, not heard, and especially never to fight. You’ll do no such thing.” He returns to his papers. “Now, please leave. I am expecting someone shortly for an important meeting.” He swipes his hand in my direction, dismissing me.

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Come three o’clock, I will compete in the first trial and all following, and if I win, I get to choose when and whom I should marry.”

He narrows his eyes, his harsh gaze slowly finding mine once more.

He hears the challenge in my voice, and he’s not one to back down. “To go against the King’s orders is to defy your entire kingdom. That is punishable in public ways, I’ll have you know, and I don’t think you would want to be humiliated in front of your future husband. It's a bad look.”

“Then I defy this kingdom and disobey you. I will do what is right for me. When the competition starts, I will stand alongside those men, and I will fight for my own hand. I will marry when I choose and to whom I wish. I demand this as the future Queen of Daramveer. And you won’t stop me.”

Bowing before him, I spin on my heels, panic surging through my body at what I’ve just proclaimed. My hand reaches for the knob when an unseen force slams me into the wall, my lip bleeding profusely as my face crashes against the rough stone.

“If you won’t listen to your father, your king, then you won’t attend the competitions at all. I don’t need you there to have them continue—I don’t think you realize that.” He grinds his teeth, now inches from my bleeding mouth. He shouts toward the study door, and four guards rush in, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me away from my father as I try to claw my way toward him. “You need time to think about this, Briar. I’m not sure what’s got into you, but I think some alone time will do you well. You are used to being alone anyway. I’ll give the men your regards.”

The unfamiliar guards swing toward my already bruised lip, and my vision fades to black.

My head throbs as I slump against the cold stone floor. My lip is coated with a thick layer of dried blood from hitting my face on the door. I quickly check to ensure my teeth are intact and feel relieved to find them all perfectly in place. Even the dim candlelight stings my eyes as I adjust to the gloom surrounding me, the gray stone walls quickly becoming suffocating. A thick wooden door sits in the far corner of the room and seems to be my only way out. I sit up, dizziness hitting me harder than the guards did as I grasp the wall, hoping I don’t pass out again. I stumble to the door and pull on the handle. It’s locked.

Shit.

My head throbs, but I burrow down, drawing in my magic to move through the shadows and out of this dungeon. As the mist takes me, I crash into the stone ceiling and land with a thud on the hard floor, my body ringing with pain from the fall. My father clearly has wards protecting this room to stop magic from being used.

I scan the room and notice a small ritual site in the far corner. Rigils line the walls in various patterns in a red liquid, which I quickly realize is blood. Mine. No wonder my magic won’t work. It’s warded specifically to keep me in. I slide down the stone wall as I attempt to slow my pounding heart.

Think, Briar, think.

The competition will start soon, and I know my father will keep his word—keeping me locked here until it’s over. He’s done worse things to people who didn’t speak to him the way I did. Tipping my head back, I scream until my lungs burn, bile rising in my throat. It’s over, and I ruined my chance before I ever got one. The candlelight continues to dance against the darkness, casting small shadows that float around the room as my attention shifts to something more significant.

The creature haunting me stands in the corner, a whirlpool of darkness enveloping its terrifyingly thin body. I spring to my feet, fear threatening to spill my stomach onto the ground beside me. With no weapons and nowhere to run, it has me this time. However, a quick death at the hands of this creature seems better than rotting in the King of Daramveer’s dungeon. I can’t help but wonder where the other prisoners are—the empty shackles rattle against the unyielding walls.

The creature remains frozen in the candlelight as if the wards are also affecting its powers, even though I know that isn’t the case. It got in here with me somehow. We study each other for a second longer before the door flies open, slamming against the stone wall. The crash rattles my teeth. My mouth falls open as the creature slowly turns its gaze to mine as if nudging me to leave the room. I peer through the open door and am greeted by an unnatural darkness waiting for me.

“No way I’m going through there with you right behind me,” I snap. The creature descends further into the darkness. “Why are you helping me?”

The creature points its bony finger in the direction of the exit. “Go!” it hisses.

The shriek makes my ears ring with pain. I scale the walls, my back scraping against the stone, until my feet cross the threshold of the room. My magic returns once again as a sudden surge of power flows into my veins. I glance over my shoulder to thank the creature, but the room is empty. If I hurry, I have time to make it to the first competition.

Ishift, landing a healthy distance away to not cause any commotion to the gathering crowd. I hear my father’s voice boom from the nearby canopy as I lower my head, asking an innocent townsperson to borrow their cloak. His eyes widen when he realizes who I am and he quickly removes it, handing the fabric over. “Princess,” he stutters.

“Please be quiet.” I lift my finger to my lips, motioning him to remain silent.

I navigate the crowd completely unnoticed as I make my way toward the armed men, ready to begin the trials.

The King of Daramveer stands before the large gathering. “You will compete in the order you were introduced last night. This order will continue throughout the competition if you make it to the end. A winner and a loser will be claimed for each task, and as a reminder, if you choose not to go forward in these trials, you die. At the end of the trials, whoever is left standing with the most wins under his belt will be deemed our winner and win my daughter’s hand in marriage. The Princess of Daramveer has recently fallen ill, so she may not be joining us for the upcoming trials. I will send her your regards.”

No one stands between me and the men now as I stay at the edge of the trial. The cloak conceals part of my face, and a small barrier keeps me separated from the trial. My palms begin to sweat, and a sense of unease travels through my core. I make eye contact with Silas as he tilts his head in my direction, confusion washing over his face. His gaze lingers, and one eyebrow raises slightly.

Silas mouths, “What are you doing?”

I shake my head. I press my finger against my lips.

Thatcher begins to turn his head in my direction, and I freeze. Silas knocks into his body, causing a quick distraction to ensure my cover isn’t blown. A scowl forms on Thatcher’s face, and he huffs something at Silas. A small bout of gratitude fills me.

My father continues, “Thatcher Madden of Daramveer. You were introduced first. Please step forward and begin.”

Thatcher steps into range of the first target, raising his bow. Exhaling deeply, he closes one eye and releases the first arrow, hitting the bullseye. Cheers erupt from the crowd, excited for the official kickoff to the trials. Moving to the next target, he fires his second arrow, finding its mark. Another perfect bullseye. He bows to the audience, earning squeals from the women as I roll my eyes, remaining hidden. The last target stands between him and potential victory, the distance nearly impossible to hit when my father intervenes.

“As I mentioned before, these trials will be both mentally and physically demanding. You are here to showcase your strength and the lengths you are willing to go to win. Hitting a target is easy, but how will you respond when faced with a greater challenge? Guards, bring out the actual final target.”

Four large men cloaked in black robes push a man toward the final mark, his frail body barely shuffling forward. The crowd gasps as they place him in front of the large target and begin to chain him there.

My father continues, “Your final target today will be a criminal—a filthy prisoner of Daramveer due to disobedience. Let this serve as a reminder of what can happen to you should you choose to back out of this competition. Each competitor will be doing my job for me, so I appreciate the day off. Now, please continue Thatcher and aim for his heart.”

A silence descends upon the crowd as they stand still, unfortunately, accustomed to the punishments the King bestows upon his prisoners. A heavy tension fills the air and for a moment, I believe the entire crowd holds their breath.

Arrogance leaks from Thatcher as he steps forward, readying his bow. The man before him trembles, knowing these are his final moments. In the distance, I can’t help but notice Thatcher’s mouth. A constant chatter leaves his lips—as if he’s whispering to the Gods to let him perform well. Seconds later, the arrow is released and looks perfect to the naked eye. The man slumps to the side, the rusty chains holding him in place. Blood begins to trickle down the man’s chest as the arrow remains protruding from his lifeless body. I feel as if I might be sick. I glance to the side, noticing a small group of healers standing nearby to assist with the bodies once shot. A familiar healer, Eden, keeps a firm eye on my father as the arrows fly.

The judge at the far end of the field, nearest to the motionless body, yells, “Miss.”

The crowd gasps. Even though the man’s heart was missed by less than an inch, the damage is already done to his already frail body.

Cromwell follows suit with the other competitors, firing arrow after arrow. The cloaked men bring in a new target each round for the competitors to aim for their hearts. The men show no hesitation, knowing that if they choose to step down, they will likely join those chained to the target.

Perfect bullseyes and near misses on the final targets set the tone for the first trial as the prisoners continue to slump to the side, unconscious with each arrow that was fired. The winner of this competition will be determined by hairline differences. The judges move from target to fallen men, assessing the arrows embedded in their flesh before turning to my father, ready to make their final decision.

The crowd is eerily silent, waiting for the results as I approach the men and cross the barrier. The targets before me pulse, and anticipation settles deep in my core.

It’s now or never.

All the onlookers notice my movement and turn to see what the fuss is about.

I remove the black hood covering my face, my black hair flowing through the breeze like a promise of death. “I’m Briar Blackbyrne, Princess of Daramveer, and these men stand here today to compete for my hand in marriage.”

The crowd claps cautiously as I notice my father rising slowly from his throne.

“I have decided that I will marry whomever I choose, whenever I choose. I will marry for love, respect, and honor, not because my father demands it.”

I turn to find him seething with anger, but he doesn’t move. I know I have one chance to make my declaration, and the pit I feel in my stomach from having to do what’s next will haunt me.

“I have decided that I will fight for my own hand, my own freedom, and my own honor.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd as I spot Maines, a smile lighting up her entire face. I reach forward and grab an unused bow. Locking the arrow in place, I steady my breath and aim at the first target.

“Briar!” my father shouts. “Don’t you fucking dare. Do not release that arrow.”

I close my eyes and think about what my mother and brother would say. They would encourage me to fight, so I will. I calm myself, aim, and release the first arrow—nausea washing over me as I anticipate what awaits me at the final target. The silence from everyone is deafening as my arrow strikes the mark on the cloth. The arrow tears through the thick fabric and crashes into the wood, echoing throughout the trial. I swiftly move toward the next target, my feet thundering with each step. I repeat the same motion: breathe, aim, and fire.

Perfect shot.

My father’s voice echoes toward me.

One target stands between me and victory as I draw my final arrow; the man’s lifeless body hangs, chained to the target that feels miles away, his body not yet removed from the judges—my only chance.

The man’s head slowly rises, and black blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. Desperation fills his eyes, and I know he wants me to fire the arrow. He wants his life to end and the pain to stop. He’s tired of suffering. A tear falls from the prisoner’s eye, and I hear someone in the crowd let out a quick sob. My heart breaks.

I inhale sharply and say a silent prayer that I’ll be forgiven one day for my actions.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

My eyes settle on Thatcher as I see him getting ready to lunge in my direction. At that exact moment, I catch sight of a small shadow slinking toward his planted feet. Maines weaves through the crowd, directing her magic toward her brother. Within shooting distance of the final target, he lunges to stop me but is halted by an invisible hand that wraps around his ankle. He crashes to the ground with a thud as I release the last arrow toward a man who perhaps never deserved this. A man with a family. A man who I am about to kill.

The world comes to a stop, and the prisoner locks eyes with me. Tears stream down my face.

The arrow travels at a speed the naked eye can barely follow as I close my eyes, hoping my rebellion hasn’t cost me everything, my soul included. The arrow finds its home, a perfect shot directly into the man’s heart. I fight back the urge to crumble as his head slumps forward once more and will never rise again.

I can’t be weak in front of these men, not for what’s coming and the plans I have.

The judges rush to the man, quickly assessing the shot before shouting, “The Princess of Daramveer is the first trial winner.”

The crowd bursts into a thunderous round of applause, and the men I’m officially up against appear as if they’ve seen a ghost.

I blink in realization at what I’ve just done: the rebellion I’ve declared against the King of Daramveer. Instead of running as I have in the past, I soak in the cheers from the townspeople, ignoring the fact that I’ve just killed a man. Glancing over my shoulder, I wink at the competitors with no remorse showing in my eyes even though I’m moments away from collapsing.

Challenge accepted.

My father is upon me within seconds of the declaration, grabbing my arm so tightly I fear it may snap in two. He grinds his teeth in my face. “You little shit.”

He smiles at the crowd and waves as he shifts us back into his study, slamming me against the leather couch. He snarls in my face, and pushes off me.

“How dare you embarrass me like that. You should be ashamed. What would your mother think of this? Your brother? You have embarrassed us all. You can’t truly expect to win this. You have no idea what’s in store, and not to mention, you just murdered a man.”

“Embarrass you? You’ve embarrassed yourself. You just locked up your daughter instead of letting me be my own person—you’re using your own daughter for gain due to your paranoia. Pathetic. They see right through your antics, Father. You will never be taken seriously. I’ll murder hundreds more if that means beating you at your own game.”

The words taste sour leaving my mouth.

A hand collides with my cheek as my father stands before me, his chest heaving with rage. “You had best stop right there, Briar, before you are the next one being punished in front of this entire kingdom. I’ve warned you once already. Don’t make me do it again. Do you think you’d be embarrassed then if you were strapped to a target?”

The shadows rip around him like a dark chaos.

“If you want to compete in this competition so badly, then go ahead. I grant you permission. If you die, the blood is not on my hands, and when you are beaten at the end of this, you will marry whoever wins immediately. You will forever be linked to Daramveer, not as a queen but as a prisoner. And if these trials get too much for you, remember, if you back out, you die. That rule applies to you now as well. Do we have a deal?” He extends his hand.

My jaw strains so tightly that I fear my teeth might shatter. I will not hide in the shadows any longer. I will not fear what lives within me. Instead, I will fight, and I will show my father what his daughter is truly capable of. Extending my hand, I take his. “Deal.”

As our hands touch, pain shoots down my arm like a lightning bolt, causing me to jerk my hand back.

“Very well, Princess. I do hope you know what you’ve just got yourself into. Let me get back to the competitors and crowd and do what damage control I can. Let’s hope for your sake you haven’t ruined everything.”

He steps out of the room, leaving me alone in this study for the first time in my life. I glance down at my hand, still tingling with pain. A dark vein runs down my middle finger as I tuck my hand into my pockets and look around.

Chapter 14

Books, scattered papers, and scrolls clutter my father’s desk—the room looks no different than a few hours before. I glance toward the closed door as I make my way to his massive oak desk sitting in the middle. I scan the various scrolls for any information that could be useful, but half of the papers are in an old language long forgotten by Shadow and Lumor Wielders.

I move around the room, looking at the bookshelves covered in dust—a musty smell tickles my nose as I crack open an ancient text bound in thick leather that catches my eye. The book feels heavy in my arms as I turn the pages slowly. I notice a marking scribbled at the bottom of a page—the same marking I found on the crystal in the woods. I tear out the page and place it in my pocket as the crackling of the wide fireplace catches my attention.

As I near the violent fire, the black flames call to me in a whisper. My eyes squint against the blaze stinging my vision as I spot a figure standing amid the flames, burning.

Fear washes over my body like the flames before me as the figure emerges, its black cloak completely engulfed. It strides across the carpet, leaving burning footprints in its wake. I step back into the desk, the wood pressing into my legs as the creature approaches.

Even wrapped in flames, I know this is the creature that haunts me. My shadows swell inside me, trying to provide protection. The air drains from my lungs as a wall of darkness surrounds me, creating a barrier between me and the burning figure. It attempts to push through the shadows—its face pushes against the barrier, creating a horrifying shape against the darkness.

The creature behaves as if it wants to touch me, coming closer to me than it has in the past. It knocks against the wall of darkness once more, and I shut my eyes.

“It’s here,” the dark creature whispers, pointing to my chest.

Fear sets in alongside desperation, and my stomach rolls—my magic thunders within me, almost as hard as my pounding heart.

“What are you?” I ask.

“Nothing of this realm, child, but I see you. The real you and what lies inside. Do you know what lurks beneath your surface?”

I attempt to move backward, but the desk prevents me from gaining more distance. I gasp, my body rigid and too frightened to scream. A few books tumble to the ground, producing a loud bang that echoes through the study.

The door flies open as Axl steps through, the creature vanishing as if it never existed. My shadows dim in its disappearance. “What are you doing in here?” he asks.

I can’t shake the slight tremble when I say, “My father left me in here after my grand announcement. I hope you didn’t miss it, Axl.”

He shakes his head before responding, “No one in this kingdom missed it. You’re lucky he hasn’t punished you yet for your defiance. I know that wasn’t easy—are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” My chest feels as if it’s caving in. “But I sure am lucky, aren’t I, Axl.”

We both know that’s a lie as I stride past him, hoping my false confidence doesn’t create any suspicions.

“Let me know what I can do to help, Princess,” Axl mumbles as I leave the room.

Maintaining my composure for just a moment longer, I turn the corner and race up the stairs back to my bedroom. The twisting walls of this back hallway never become easier to navigate at full speed as I bounce off each wall, sustaining my momentum. I collect myself as I near my bedroom, anticipating that the guards will be waiting for me.

“That was quite the stunt you pulled today, Princess.”

I roll my eyes, pausing for a moment before shouting around the corner, “Please piss off and find someone else to bother.”

“I’m beginning to think you speak to everyone that way. Or am I just special?”

Silas leans against the heavy doorframe, arms crossed, exuding a calm poise that sends a chill down my spine. His composed demeanor radiates confidence while his handsome face remains striking—even in the dim candlelight.

I stop inches from him. “I will speak that way to whomever I please, whenever I please, Prince. You are no exception here.”

“I guess I’ll allow it,” Silas breathes, towering over me. “Since you said it so nicely.” The corners of his mouth twitch.

My chest flutters as I suppress the feeling, pushing past him. He stops me, his rough hand against my soft skin that sends a tingle rushing through my body.

“You know, a lot of people would be afraid to speak to me that way,” he remarks.

“I think you might have forgotten that I also have my own bad reputation, Mr. Nastronde. I haven’t seen a single thing that would make me afraid of you.”

“Yet,” Silas smirks.

His gaze remains steady on me, and my stomach twists in knots at how close we are. His hand glides down my arm and gently touches mine as my entire body tenses.

“Was there something I could help you with, Silas?” I push, retracting my hand.

“I saw you in the crowd out there today and knew you were about to cause a scene. I just came to… check in,” he mumbles, clearing his throat.

My eyes shift up and down his body as I recall our encounter. “Thank you for not saying anything or trying to stop me.”

“I have a feeling there aren’t many people who can stop you once your mind is made up, Princess. Plus, it wasn’t my place to ruin the fun.”

We stand closer than most would in a typical conversation as if a gravitational pull exists between us. A sound echoes down the stone hallway, causing me to flinch. It wouldn’t be wise to get caught speaking privately with a competitor.

“Don’t do anything reckless during these trials, Briar.” Silas frowns. “I can’t always keep you safe, and it’s haunted me for years—I just didn’t know it was you. And…the trial. What you did today, what we faced today, would unsettle anyone. If you need anything or want to talk, just let me know.”

He moves a strand of hair from my face. My legs start to wobble. I try to understand what he’s talking about as I replay his words in my mind.

“Why do I know you? How do I know you?” I blurt out.

He stays focused, his haunting eyes reverting to their usual, intense gaze. “I’m not sure how you know me, but I know precisely where I remember you from.”

I narrow my eyes. “Well, are you going to tell me?”

He chuckles. “So impatient, Princess. I think what we have going is fun. We have plenty of time to get to know each other better. I have somewhere I need to be, but we have more to discuss, don’t we?” He turns, walking down the hallway without another glance. My heart gallops as I burst through my bedroom door and lock it behind me.

However, nothing feels safe about a lock these days when someone around me could shift inside and slit my throat.

I push Silas out of my mind and walk to my sitting area. I take the small piece of paper from my pocket and examine the mark I remember seeing on the crystal. Nothing about it makes sense—this is not a Rigil I’ve ever encountered before. Maines would know more about this.

A knock sounds at the door as I burst from the chair, assuming Silas is back to bother me once more. “Silas, please go away. Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” I swing open the door to find Maines and Rohhit standing before me. A massive grin spreads across her face.

The light radiating off him is nearly blinding in my dark bedroom. The crimson curtains remind me of the blood leaking from those poor men, making my stomach roll. “Does Silas Nastronde visit your room often, Princess?” He angles his head, waiting for my response.

Maines grins wildly behind Rohhit, clear of his view.

“Gods, no! Only when he wants to be a pain in my ass.”

Rohhit nods, the side of his mouth twitching upward. “I see. Well, I was coming to check on you after the riot you caused during the first trial, when I ran into this one.” He points to Maines, who waves from behind him. “Oak has told me many stories of the two of you as children. I’d very much love to hear the stories from you one day.” He smiles. “However, I’ll leave you two to speak in private.”

He turns and continues down the long hallway, his light illuminating the darkness around him.

“Wow,” Maines sighs as she moves into my room, plopping down in her usual spot. “Maybe you should go through with this, Briar. I’d be okay with men like that after my hand in marriage.”

I swat her arm. “You are a pig.”

“So, you are really going to do this, aren’t you? Fight alongside those men?” Maines’s grin quickly fades.

“Yes. I am. It doesn’t seem like I have a choice in the matter now, either. I’m going to win.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that, but I worry about the in-between. This is going to be dangerous and we truly don’t know what we are up against yet. You just killed a man. I need you to be honest with me, Briar.” Her serious tones make the room shift, a cold breeze traveling in from the open window. “We’ve seen what Thatcher can do on his own. The stakes are high. He’s dangerous, Briar, and I’m scared. Is something going on that I don’t know about?”

I remove the paper tucked in my pants and place it on the table before us. “I found this in my father’s study.” She blinks, not understanding what I’m showing her. “It’s the same marking I found on the crystal in the forest. With a note from, I think, my mother.”

For once in her life, Maines is silent. “How do you know these letters are really from your mother?”

I move to sit in my favorite antique chair—the deepest blue fabric with trees embroidered around the middle. “I’m not sure. Something about them just feels familiar.”

She shakes her head slowly, studying the small torn piece of paper and my face. “So, this is all linked, you think? Your family, the trials, this crystal, and the marking. Where is the crystal? Maybe it can help us figure out what’s really going on?”

“I didn’t touch it nor bring it back to the castle. It felt… off. I left it in the forest. I figured it was one of my mother’s ritual crystals, not an important piece to this insane puzzle.”

She flashes me a concerned look. “Briar, I don’t know why, but something tells me you are the only person who should have their hands on that crystal. We can’t let anyone find it, so it’s probably best that you leave it hidden in the forest.” She grabs my hand. “I’ve been studying the poison that killed your brother at the House of Hedro. It’s ancient and like nothing we’ve seen for hundreds of years. I’m not sure how my brother got his hands on something like that, but if it’s anything to do with your father, these trials just got a lot more deadly.”

I stare at the ceiling, memories of the last few days replaying in my mind. “Are you okay, Maines?” I ask.

“I’m struggling, Briar. I can’t stop thinking about my brother and what he did to Barlowe. I can’t sleep without having nightmares of Barlowe gasping for air or my brother standing over my bed, ready to slit my own throat.” She lowers her head in her trembling hands.

“I know exactly what it’s like to have nightmares that leave you feeling haunted. Thatcher won’t get away with this, Maines. I can’t stop thinking about it either. When the time feels right, and I can ensure we are safe, we will go to someone. We will tell them the truth, and I’ll do what I can to bring justice to Barlowe.” I take her hand, trying to steady her.

She raises her head, tears pouring from her piercing blue eyes. “He died because I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t heal him—I’m supposed to be a top healer. How many other countless people will die because I fail?” Her soft cries turns to sobs.

Tears form in my eyes as well. “You did everything you could, Maines. We were both there and couldn’t stop it. Researching this poison could save many people if we run into this again. He knows we did everything we could.” I wipe her tears. “Losing someone changes you, but every day gets easier to live with the pain. Let’s take this one day at a time, okay?”

Maines only nods—her breath still quivers, and I squeeze her hand. Maines has watched me fall apart many times over the years of our friendship. Even though I want to sob alongside her, I will remain strong for my friend right now.

“You need to focus on the next trial, Briar. Everyone is expecting you to compete.”

“I’ll absolutely be competing if I want to live— I’m going to be fine. I don’t even know what I should prepare for or what I should focus on. Who knows what my father has up his sleeve.”

She begins to pace, brushing the tears. “Being the daughter of Elrod Madden has its unfortunate perks.” She stares at me before responding, “I know what the second trial is and when it is—you aren’t going to like it.”

Chapter 15

The howling wind rips through my braided hair on the dock, the black water rolling before me with no bottom in sight. The second trial was announced shortly after Maines told me what she discovered—swimming to Shadow Isle.

In Daramveer, a swimming competition was held yearly. Since our town was the largest surrounding port town, people traveled from all over to witness the grueling competition. However, in recent years, the race has been banned due to so many people going missing in the black waters. I know there are things that dwell deep below the surface but only a few creatures travel to the water break. My mother never let me get too close to the water’s edge as a child. She always warned of things unseen that could drag me down and never let me see the light of day again.

In no order, due to the nature of the trial, we stand at the edge of the pier. My heart beats harder than the crashing waves below us. The crowd quiets as my father emerges, his footsteps thundering on the dock. “Today, we have gathered for the second trial, and it is my honor to welcome the Princess of Daramveer as our newest unexpected competitor.”

The crowd cheers as all eyes are on me.

“The rules are quite simple. At the sound of the horn, swim to the middle island—if you would like to live, please avoid what lurks beneath. I’d like at least a few competitors to return in one piece.” He points in the distance and smiles. The island looks like a speck on the skyline. “On the island, there are bags containing items that could be vital to your survival in these trials. Choose wisely or choose none—the choice is yours. If you return without one, consider yourself the loser.”

I scan the horizon, counting the strokes I think would take the most talented swimmer to make it—one thousand at least.

“One rule,” the king says, surveying the competitors. “No shifting.”

I stand alongside the men who tower over me. I’m already at a disadvantage due to my size and their wingspans being miles longer than mine—however, I’m fast and light compared to their large bodies. I have a chance if I can keep up the pace. The rules are straightforward, but I know this will be grueling. I glance at Oak, who stands closest to me, and his concerned look does little to ease my nerves as we all step forward, some crouching to propel themselves faster into the darkness. “Competitors at the ready,” the King of Daramveer shouts.

Silas turns his head in my direction. I attempt to ignore his intense stare, but our eyes meet. His brow furrows as he mouths, “Swim. Fast.”

The horn sounds, but I remain on the dock for a second, watching the others disappear into the black water.

“Briar! Jump!” Maines shouts from the crowd behind me.

I take a deep breath and dive into the icy water without a moment's hesitation.

The crashing waves muffle my hearing. I lift my head above the water to see Thatcher leading the pack, swimming with arrogant ease—Silas and Rohhit close behind. The twins don’t trail far off, while Oak, Cromwell, and I follow at the end. Black water fills my eyes and mouth as I gasp for air, pushing with all my might to keep up with even the slowest of the men. My hands and feet start to tingle from the freezing water as I begin to remember why I hate swimming.

I narrowly avoid a kick from Oak as the splash of his wake is only inches in front of my face, making it nearly impossible to see what’s ahead. I’m gaining on him while the adrenaline propels me forward. Oak begins to struggle as the burn from the freezing water quickly weakens our muscles. Another burst of energy pushes me forward as I pass him. I don’t have to win—I just can’t lose. Various plants under the water begin to brush against my legs as we swim further with each stroke. Each vine pulling at my frantic legs sends a rush of panic through me.

I continue my strokes, my arms shooting overhead with each crashing wave that engulfs me. Somehow, joy finds its way into my system, knowing I’m not dead or last when a gargled scream erupts from Oak. The sound stops me mid-stroke.

I glance behind me through the waves, but Oak is nowhere to be seen. Fear grips me harder than the rolling water—I’m scanning the horizon for any sign of him when something grabs my ankle.

Water rushes over my head as I’m pulled down. A sharp pain shoots through my leg as I thrash against the force dragging me toward death. My vision blurs in the darkness but I continue kicking, desperate to strike whatever has its claws in me.

A figure swims into focus next to me, a wide grin spreading across its face and revealing rows of rotten, gray teeth. Long fingers tighten around my ankle as the water shifts from black to crimson. The creature’s gray body flails beneath me—both graceful and horrifying.

A scream rips from my throat, bubbles blinding me momentarily as I lose focus. Seconds are all I have. With a flash of black, I expel what magic I can muster at the creature. It screeches as its grip loosens, giving me just enough time to swim toward the surface.

My lungs burn as I spot Oak, unconscious and sinking deeper into the water.

I push my body through the water toward him, though my leg is numb—the creatures zip past, confusing my sense of direction. My lungs scream for air, but I keep moving. Oak reappears in my sight just as another creature nears, ready to grab him again. I raise my arm despite the water slowing my movements. A surge of black shadows erupts from my hands, colliding with the creature beside Oak. It’s blasted backward, disappearing into the black water.

Exhaustion threatens to overtake me, but I push forward, swimming the final few feet to Oak. I grab his arm and kick for the surface—my muscles screaming at me to stop.

Breaking through the water, I take a deep breath, holding Oak tight. I realize the creature pulled us toward the island as if working in tandem with the horrifying things that reside there. I whisper a quick prayer, grateful that we encountered only one. My lungs expand, and the breath of air is euphoric.

The others stand on the island, watching with horrified looks as we approach—Silas stands waist-deep in the water, as if he was about to jump in after us but didn’t.

Making it to the shore, I drag Oak onto the sand. I turn to see what the others are staring at, and a gasp leaves my mouth. Those same creatures line the horizon, their hollow black eyes barely breaking the surface of the red-stained water. They wait, knowing we have only one way back to Daramveer, and it’s not shifting.

I quickly realize that we won’t be so lucky on the way back.

Silas grabs my arm and pulls me from the freezing water. “Gods, Briar. I told you to swim.”

I jerk my arm back. “I was! And if you didn’t notice, I’m the only one who stuck around to save Oak. Winning must be more important than saving someone’s life!” I hiss.

The foaming tides cover my ankle, and it burns. Deep cuts streak up my leg, blood pooling around my foot. Maines will need to heal this immediately, assuming I make the swim back.

He steps closer, noticing my wound, water trickling down his scar. “That’s where you are wrong, Briar. You have no clue what I am willing to do for the people I care for.” His gaze burns a hole through me. “We need to get that healed. Can you move it?”

I ignore his questions, rolling my eyes. I limp past him, the pain already slowing my walk as Oak jolts awake. Water pours out of his mouth as he coughs out black fluid. “What the fuck was that thing?”

“Serpyndens,” Rohhit says, tossing us each a bag we were to collect. “Some say they’ve been around long before the Great Wiitches walked this realm. Horrible creatures that feast off the flesh. I’ve never seen them this close to the surface, though. Something must have awoken them.”

Silas’s gaze remains on mine as the weight of his secrecy crashes against my body, just like the waves.

What isn’t he telling me?

“Wait,” I interrupt Rohhit. “Where are Thatcher and the others?”

We glance at the patch of trees in the middle of the island as Rohhit says, “We don’t know.”

The unsettling feeling of standing on this island causes my stomach to churn. The blinding white sand contrasts sharply with the dark forest, straining my eyes. The beach seems to stretch for miles. Eerie gusts of wind swirl around us, and I swear I can hear whispers in the breeze as my body shudders. Legends say that once your feet touch the sand, unseen creatures will deceive you—luring you to a terrible death. Many have died on this island and remain, their souls forever trapped—joining the creatures that tricked them. I’ve never met anyone who has confirmed these legends as true, until now.

I kneel beside Oak, slapping his back as he continues to cough. His breath is sharp, and he gasps for fresh air. “Briar, without you…” he mumbles.

“I know. You don’t have to say anything.” I smile.

“Briar! Please help me. Can you hear me, little shadow?” A voice echoes around us all like a haunting whisper. The hair on my neck stands.

My attention snaps to the forest. That calm voice, I’d know it anywhere as my heart falls to my stomach.

“Did you hear that?” Rohhit asks and moves a step closer to us on the beach.

My face pales. “That… that was my mother’s voice.”

“That’s impossible.” Silas cuts in as we stare at the large forest wall.

“I… I swear…” I haven’t heard her angelic voice in years. “Something isn’t right.” I grab Oak’s hand and pull him to stand. “I think we need to leave.”

“No way am I going back in that water right now,” Oak snaps.

We can’t swim back yet—none of us would make it due to the exhaustion—but I fear we may not have a choice.

“Silas!” a deep voice booms from the forest's darkness.

“Gods!” Silas’s entire body seems to rock backward. “Please tell me I’m insane and just hearing things.”

I whisper, “No. We heard that. Who was that, Silas?”

He looks as if he’s going to be sick. His hands tremble as he nervously adjusts his soaking shirt. “My father, Malachi.”

“Nope. That’s impossible! He’s in Andorwood, nowhere near here,” Oak chimes in as I squeeze his hand tighter. The waves roll over our ankles as I pedal backward, desperate to get away from whatever is in that forest.

“Oak. Honey? Where are you?” a cheerful feminine voice calls out from the forest this time.

He stands motionless. “Okay, we need to leave.” He shudders as I glance at his face. I know who that voice was. I’ve met her before—Oak’s mother.

“Those voices aren’t real,” I warn. “We can’t listen to them.”

“Rohhit. Hurry! We need you. Your mother needs you. Raven, she’s hurt!”

I release Oak’s hand and move toward Rohhit. He looks as if he’s seen or heard a ghost, but that voice is no ghost. “Rohhit, that was Nolan’s voice!” I whisper, trying to stay calm.

Rohhit finally breaks his stare from the forest and looks down into my eyes. “Briar, we need to leave. Right now.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into the ankle-deep water once more. “I’ll go first and hold off the Serpyndens. You have to swim, and you’d better swim hard, Princess.” His intense gaze locks onto mine, his dark eyes sparkling against the bright blue water.

I nod and glance back at Oak and Silas—who remain unmoving on the sand—their backs to Rohhit and me.

I bound toward Oak and Silas, my ankle screaming in pain, ready to pull both of them into the water when I suddenly stop. Neither of them blink, they just stare ahead in a trance-like state. Silas steps forward in the direction his father’s demanding voice while Oak follows his mother’s sweet call. Rohhit dashes for Oak.

Silas tears his gaze away from the woods, his empty eyes locking onto mine.

“Silas?” I question. “Can you hear me?”

I take a step closer to his, lightly touching his hand to guide him toward the water’s edge. For a moment, I swear he hears me, but that moment fades as he propels his body forward, sprinting in the direction of the harsh voice. Oak does the same, barely escaping Rohhit’s grasp.

“Fuck!” Rohhit yells.

“Those creatures will kill them,” I shout back, and we take off after them. As we near the forest, I lose sight of Oak and Silas. My ankle feels as if it’s going to give out, but I let my adrenaline carry me forward.

Chapter 16

“My shadow. Find me.”

I snap my eyes shut, blocking out my mother’s sweet voice. The magic within me protects me from listening, and I can block this out more than the others. I turn my head to see Rohhit doing the same, and an internal struggle occurs as he ignores the voice in his mind.

“This way!” Rohhit grabs my hand as he dodges the fallen branches with grace. I’m in awe, watching his body move as if it’s weightless. “They went this way. If we see any creatures, we need to be prepared. Okay? You need to be ready to fight if we have to, Briar! I’m not sure what state we will find Oak and Silas in.”

He releases my hand as we move toward a cluster of trees so dense that no sunlight can penetrate the canopy. We step into the woods, and the wind pauses. The stillness sends a shiver up my spine. Silas and Oak stand together, unmoving, like before. But what stands before them is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

A creature—half as tall as the surrounding trees—leans down in front of their faces, its long neck extending from its body. A black cloak hangs off its thin brown form, resembling tree roots. The creature notices us through the brush and stands, towering over us. Its wide, hollow eyes lock onto ours, and I feel a wave of nausea. The darkest black fills its eye sockets, ready to consume the souls of its victims. Looking into those eyes, I’ve never felt more hopeless—as though it drains all the joy from me.

“Briar. Please help me. Come closer, little shadow.”

Rohhit remains frozen beside me.

“It’s speaking to me, Briar,” Rohhit whispers, his voice tight with fear. “In Nolan’s voice. I… I want to move closer, but I’m resisting. I’m not sure for how long I can, though.” His face scrunches, using every ounce of strength to ignore the temptation.

With the creature in view, its voice no longer mimics people in our lives but reveals its real voice-harsh, piercing, and utterly terrifying. Its voice hisses into the open air, spreading through us like a disease. Somehow, Rohhit and I both resist, but the tension is unbearable. Rohhit glances my way as I widen my stance, my ankle still bleeding beneath me. I call my magic to the surface. Rohhit does the same, lightning crackling around his large body—a blinding and powerful aura. As I step forward, my shadows swirl around me like a dark hurricane.

The creature smiles, revealing rows of rotting, sharp teeth. I smell its breath as drool drips down its chin. The stench of death from past victims fills the air like a cloud. We run toward Silas and Oak as a blast of darkness bursts from my palms, slamming into the creature’s chest. Rohhit fires a flash of lightning immediately after, the creature stumbling backward, giving us only a second to focus on the others.

I step in front of Silas. “Nastronde, you need to wake up!” I snap my fingers in front of his face. “I need you to help us! Please.”

He doesn’t respond.

I move to Oak, repeating the same action as Rohhit continues blasting Lumor magic toward the creature.

Where are Thatcher and the others?

I spin toward the creature, another powerful blast leaving my hands. Shadows snake around it, knocking the creature down with a thud that reverberates through the forest floor. We’ve bought some time, but not much. I feel my magic becoming weaker with each push.

I cup Silas' face. “Please, Silas. Blink. Come back! Come back to me. We need you. I need you!”

I squeeze his almost limp hand tightly, but he doesn’t respond. There’s something there, though—an echo of a deep connection.

He remains in a trance, his piercing green eyes fading. The creature’s illusions are showing him horrors, pulling him into unspeakable nightmares. “Silas,” I beg, slapping his face. “Please, damnit!”

I glance toward Rohhit, who’s struggling to wake Oak with no success. But when I look back at the creature, it’s a second too late. The creature swings its arm, and I scream as I’m thrown through the air.

My back slams against a tree, my lungs struggling to catch a breath. My ears ring, and my vision blurs. I can make out the creature’s silhouette stepping closer, ready to finish the job. The world seems to pause as the trees fade, my eyes adjusting to the impact. The creature’s voice vanishes, and I swear I hear my mother’s voice this time urging me to get up, to keep fighting.

Rohhit sprints to my side, shooting bolts of light at the creature, doing everything he can to hold it off.

“Are you okay? Briar! Can you hear me?” Rohhit screams in my face, but my mind is scrambled from the blow.

Rohhit wraps me in his arms, knowing his magic is diminishing. We don’t have much time left. He shields me from the encroaching death behind us. Through hazy eyes, I see the faint halo of light around his body—it’s fading fast. A light shield remains around us, offering me some comfort in the chaos.

Silas looks around frantically, searching for something or someone. When his eyes land on me, the intensity in his gaze is unmistakable. His hands tremble as he brushes a strand of hair from his face—he’s afraid, not just for himself, but for me. A flash of relief appears in his eyes at the sight of me unharmed.

Rohhit unwraps his arms from my body, his hands still quivering slightly. “Are you alright?”

I don’t break my stare from Silas as I get up from next to Rohhit, “Yeah, I’m alright, I think.”

“Are you okay?” I return the question.

“Yeah, Briar. I’m fine.” Rohhit smiles.

I nod and rush to Silas, looking him up and down for any signs of him being injured.

“I’m fine,” he snaps.

“You don’t seem fine!” I snap back.

His shoulders slack, “I’m glad you are okay. But don’t worry about me.”

He steps closer, his large frame looming over me as he places each hand on my arms. Our gazes meet, and a fire ignites between us.

“We need to get back to the beach,” Rohhit says, breaking the silence. He grabs Oak’s arm and pulls him up. “We’ve made it this far, now let’s make sure we all make it back to the pier.”

Oak nods. “Let’s get the fuck off this island.”

I nod, pushing toward the beach. “Let’s go, and if we run into the others, I have a plan.”

The waves crashing against the white sand are almost serene, peaceful—like we hadn’t just come inches from death. We gather our thoughts, grabbing the bags we were instructed to retrieve for the trial.

Thatcher emerges from the dark forest behind us, water and blood mixing on his clothes. “That was quite a show you all put on. Briar, I’m impressed. We watched the entire thing.” Thatcher stalks toward me with Cromwell, Graven, and Bardot close behind.

“We could have died, you asshole.” I spit.

Thatcher moves toward me, a dark energy rippling off his body—my eyes widen at the sight. He grabs my arm, pulling me toward the water’s edge. My blood seeps back into the black water, but Silas steps in front of him, shadows flickering at his feet.

“Touch her like that again, and those Serpyndens and the creatures of the forest will look pleasant compared to what I’ll do,” Silas warns. His green eyes are burning with hatred.

Thatcher pushes me forward, causing me to stumble into Oak and Rohhit. Thatcher seems hesitant about fighting me with the others surrounding us. “Fine. You all are about to be useful to me. Here’s how the competition will go. You’re going first. Face those things.” He points to the still water, a chill creeping over my skin as something waits beneath the surface. “When they’ve dragged you to your deaths, we’ll swim back to the dock. She doesn’t stand a chance with that leg.”

“You’re a fucking coward,” I say, stepping forward to challenge him.

I nod toward Oak, Rohhit, and Silas. “But okay, Thatcher. We’ll go first.” The island feels much larger now as I plant my feet in the sand. I glance at them, hoping they understand and will follow me. The beach has likely witnessed its share of deaths, with the bones of the fallen buried beneath the sand.

Thatcher laughs as I walk with Oak, Silas, and Rohhit into the icy water. My blood turns the waves red from my bleeding ankle. I turn once more. “Now!” I scream, sending a black flame from my palms into the chests of the remaining competitors. The blast knocks Thatcher and the others all to the ground.

I spin with adrenaline-fueled speed, diving headfirst into the freezing darkness, the bags heavy on our backs. The cold waves rush over me, the sound of Thatcher’s curses fading behind us. I catch up to the others as we swim for our lives, but the waves seem to hesitate. The Serpyndens wait beneath us, ready to strike.

Being at the back, I’m the first target. Claws rake across my legs. A scream escapes me, knowing I’ll be dragged under unless I hurry. Oak and Rohhit lead the way, with Silas swimming beside me to help me fight through the pain. They’re prepared to confront whatever challenges us.

Behind us, Thatcher, Cromwell, and the twins enter the water. Fury drives them forward, but I’m unsure who I fear more: Thatcher or the Serpyndens hiding beneath the surface. I see Oak disappear under the waves again, and Rohhit stops swimming, yelling for Silas. Silas dives under, but the sense of relief lasts only a second.

The waves envelop me once more. I’m jerked underwater, and the pressure of the grip surrounding me is suffocating. It’s not claws that hold me down but the hand of a man. I look down to see Thatcher’s wicked grin through the dark water.

I kick toward him, my scream muffled by the water. My lungs burn, panic rising as numbness overtakes me. My magic swells within, like a dark force shielding me. A surge of power erupts from me, sending Thatcher deeper into the water and propelling me toward the surface.

I swim as hard as I can, following the light. Rohhit grabs my hand, pulling me up. I gasp, my lungs filling with the sweet air. “Swim!” he commands, his voice cutting through the waves.

I look back in horror. Serpyndens surround Cromwell and the twins. The twins fight together, but Cromwell is alone. I watch in shock as the Serpyndens tear into him, the water turning crimson. His desperate screams fade into the rising water as he disappears.

Finally, and with the last of my strength, I grab the edge of the dock and pull myself up. A hand wraps around my arm, helping to pull me from the water. I hit the dock with a thud. Silas kneels over me, propping my head against the dock’s jagged wood. “Your ankle. Maines! Get over here.”

“I’m okay,” I lie through the pain, scanning my body as Silas watches me with concern. He brushes water from my face, never leaving my side.

The twins return, and Calia embraces them both, relief washing over her. My heart aches as I look out at the water, knowing Cromwell won’t be coming back. His father stands at the pier’s edge, head low in grief. He knows.

Maines rushes to me, wrapping her hands around my leg. “Briar! Holy Gods, you scared me to death!” Her grip sends pain through my exhausted body.

“Just fix my ankle, please.”

She examines me quickly, her eyes landing on the large gashes across my leg. “I can heal this quickly, but you’re going to want to bite down on something.”

Silas quickly scans the dock and hands me a piece of leather from one of the bag’s handles. “Here. Bite down hard.”

I bite down as pain shoots through my leg and shut my eyes. Silas stays close, his hands holding me still.

Maines places her hands over my ankle, and a black light flows from her palms, knitting the skin back together. My back arches as the pain peaks, but Silas holds me down. The leather strap falls from my mouth, and a scream escapes me.

“Hang on, Briar. She’s almost finished,” Silas says, his voice calm.

I glance at him, my eyes unfocused. He mouths, “You can do this,” gently brushing the fallen hair from my face.

Maines finishes the healing. “You’ll be sore for a day or so,” she says, smiling.

The bag from the island is beside me. Relief from my ankle almost makes me groan. “Wait,” I say. “We need those for the next trial. Give them here.”

Maines grabs the bag and tosses it over her shoulder. “Shit. That’s heavy. How did you not drown with this on your back?”

I shrug, a thought crossing my mind: Thatcher was behind Cromwell.

In the distance, Thatcher’s laugh cuts through the crowd. He’s standing with Elrod and my father, their hands on his shoulders. My father doesn’t even check if I made it back alive.

“Our winner, Thatcher Madden!” my father declares. The crowd erupts into applause. Deceit flickers in Thatcher’s eyes as he faces them, basking in his win.

My teeth grind as I limp forward. “Liar!” I scream, my voice strained from my sore ankle. “He was behind me the entire time. He cheated.”

Thatcher’s eyes darken. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone saw me swim to victory.”

My father steps forward. “Enough with the public declarations, Briar. Do you have proof, or are you upset Thatcher will probably be the overall winner?”

Rohhit places his hand on my shoulder. There’s no way to prove Thatcher’s betrayal, and speaking out will only make me seem crazy. “No, I don’t have proof. But he tried to kill me. Looks like he’s good at killing Blackbyrnes,” I whisper, my gaze narrowing.

“Another absurd accusation, Princess.” Thatcher sneers.

Silas steps forward, standing by Rohhit.

My father booms, “Thatcher is today’s winner. We shall celebrate.”

The crowd begins to dissipate as they are ushered back to the castle. Silas places a hand on the small of my back, sending a thrill through me. My gaze meets his, and for the first time, I see softness and understanding in his eyes.

As we walk away from the pier, I glance back at the water. Cromwell’s father still stands there, waiting for someone who won’t come back. A painful memory strikes me as I, too, waited for my mother to return after her passing. Grief swells in my chest. This could have been avoided if my father had never ordered these trials.

“He wasn’t forced to enter these trials, Briar,” Silas says, breaking the silence. “We did this willingly. Some of us have deeper motivations than others.”

I turn, the cold sea breeze whipping my hair across my face. “Thank you for what you did in the forest, but I need you to stop pretending to care for me.” The fading cheers of the crowd echo around us.

He steps back, his usually strong façade faltering. “I’m sorry if I come on too strong, Briar. I’ve waited years to meet you. Now that I’m here, I can’t seem to help myself.”

“You act like you know me, but you don’t,” I snap. “You do these insane things for me, saying vague things without explanation.”

I step in his direction, prepared to challenge him. The sun is beginning to set behind us, draining the color from the sky. His face pales as I speak. For a moment, I think I’ve lost him. But then, I remember thinking I lost him on the island.

“I feel like I know you somehow,” I says softly. “But I need you to tell me more. Why do you bother me so badly?”

“I’ll explain everything at the right time, Briar. Please don’t push me away until we get that chance,” he pleads, his voice strong but tinged with worry. His lips quiver with the weight of his words.

I sigh but can’t resist. He takes my hand, and when our fingers touch, a force surges between us. He presses his forehead against mine, and for the first time, we both simply let go and relax into each other.

“What do you want from me, Silas?” I ask, my voice trembling.

He pauses, his green eyes connecting with mine. The intensity between us builds as he whispers, “Everything.”

Chapter 17

“Let’s get started,” Maines paces in front of the roaring fire in my room.

It’s taken me two days to recover from the cold I felt after the second trial, as well as the healing of my ankle. I rest my head in my hands as the exhaustion, unfortunately, hasn’t gone away. When we returned from the pier, Maines brought the bag I had carried back from the island, along with books she borrowed from the House of Hedro.

The bag contained two familiar gold axes and a letter that read: “These will be used for the next trial. They may be your only way to survive the night.”

Maines continues to pace around the room, flipping through the dust-covered books from the House of Hedro’s library. “There has to be something in here that will point us in the right direction of what this crystal and its markings mean,” she huffs.

“Can you please stop pacing? You are making me nauseous.”

I can still feel the waves rolling over my body as I attempt to steady my stomach. I haven’t seen any of the other competitors since leaving the dock—even Silas hasn’t come to my room. Cromwell’s father hired a few townspeople to help him search the dark waters immediately following the trial, but nothing was recovered. It’s like he never existed. The only relief I have is knowing his father didn’t witness what happened to him. It’s an image I’ll live with the rest of my life. The unsettling feeling doesn’t help my stomach.

“We have to find out what the markings on the crystal mean,” she continues.

Rolling my eyes, I stick my foot out into her path, the abruptness catching her off guard. She trips, falling to the ground with a bang.

“What the hell, Briar!” Her perfectly polished hair now a mess, making me grin despite the gloomy atmosphere.

“I told you to stop pacing.”

Still laughing, she joins in, clutching her stomach. Brushing the hair out of her face, she says, “Do you feel better now?”

“I sure do.”

She plops down into the chair next to me, grabbing a book on the table. Her cheerful tone quickly disappearing. “That’s the first time I’ve laughed in a while.” She fidgets with her hair for a moment. “I’ve not been myself.”

I shoot her a soft smile. “I know, and that’s okay, Maines. I haven’t been myself in a long time either.”

She nods. “You were right, by the way.”

“About what?”

“Every day seems to get a bit easier. I know things aren’t great right now, but I feel a change coming. I’m unsure if it’s good or bad, but I can feel it. It’s keeping me moving forward. I need just to stay busy.”

“I think a distraction is good right now. We can focus on finding out what we need to know about this whole mess and work together one day at a time.”

A distraction. The memory of Silas lounging there flashes in my mind. I can’t get this man out of my head like he’s infected my brain with thoughts of him.

Stop. Focus.

“I know a way we might be able to obtain more information, but I don’t think you'll like it,” I say.

“Dare I ask?”

“Since I found the letters from my mother, a creature has been haunting me. Always lurking in the darkness but vanishing as quickly as it appears.”

Her mouth drops open. “Excuse me? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was trying to hurt me at first, so I didn’t want to put anyone in danger. I don’t think it’s trying to harm me. I think it’s interested in me.”

There are still a few things Maines doesn’t know about the real me, so I continue the story cautiously. Not everything needs to be disclosed—I must keep her safe.

“Okay. So, we need to find this thing, ask for its help, and hope it doesn’t kill us in the process?” She scrunches her nose.

“That’s exactly what I think we need to do.”

A knock on the door quickly makes my stomach roll again as Maines snaps her head toward the sound. “Were you expecting someone?”

I move toward the door, muscle memory kicking in—I’ve had unwelcome visitors every day since the trials were announced. Cracking open the heavy door, I peer through the narrow split. Oak Hombern sways nervously, waiting for me to fully open the door.

“Hello, Oak. It’s nice to see you dry.”

He grins, loosening his shoulders. “Hey, Briar, may I come in?”

I step aside, allowing the door to swing open. He shuffles past me, his gaze finding Maines. “Oh! Hi, Miss Madden,” he mutters.

She barely acknowledges his presence. “Hello, Hombern.”

“What can we help you with, Oak?” I ask, moving back toward the fireplace, my body desperate for the heat.

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did during the trial. You could have left me, but you didn’t. So, thank you.”

“You are welcome. No one deserved to die that way. I want to think you would have done the same for me.”

“Always.”

Oak is handsome, his aura radiating a calming effect on anyone who meets his gaze. His eyes are almost charcoal black. As a Lumor Wielder, he possesses a lightness similar to Rohhit, but he’s different—he’s more serene. His thick, golden hair falls in shaggy waves below his ears, and his lower face is adorned with a bit of scruff, while his pouty lips reveal bright teeth. I glance at Maines, who has lifted her gaze from the books. Her eyes are wide as she stares at the man standing before us.

“What are you looking at?” she barks.

“What are you studying?” Oak ushers to the table, picking up the leather pages. He removes a pair of glasses from a pocket near his chest and rests them on his perfect nose.

“Stop! That book is older than you can imagine. You can’t just pick it up so carelessly,” she yelps.

He flinches and gently puts the book down. “Apologies. I didn’t know you cared so deeply for ancient texts,” he smiles.

She drops her gaze, annoyance clouding her expression. “You don’t know a thing about me as far as I’m concerned, Mr. Hombern.” Maines moves to focus on him as he stares at the books on the table.

“Now you are the one staring, Maines.” Oak doesn’t lift his gaze from the text.

She sizes him up, her eyes landing on his face once more. “Nice glasses,” she teases.

“I’m more than just muscles and good looks, Maines.”

What the hell is going on?

Watching the sparks between them, I cut the silence. “We love to read ancient texts in our spare time. It’s a real page-turner.”

They both stare at me unamused as I join them around the crackling fire.

“That looks familiar.” He reaches for the small torn piece of paper where the marking sits.

“What do you know about this!” I demand.

“In Brinkym, we spend years learning various ancient texts in school. They think it’s valuable to know history. You don’t learn things like that in Daramveer?”

“Gods, no. They teach us to fight before we learn to read in this kingdom,” Maines says.

Oak nods, shrugging. “All I know is this isn’t a good marking—and it’s not the Rigil used for common rituals. Why are you studying this?” Confusion twists his features.

Maines and I swap a look, a silent conversation between us. She moves toward the books and opens a marked page. “Can you read this?”

Oak leans in, his body nearing hers. Her entire body grows stiff at this closeness.

“I can’t exactly read this word for word, but this paragraph talks about ancient magic dating back further than the Great Wiitches. Poisons crafted from dark liquids—blood—I think. From creatures that dwelled deep in Andorwood caves.” He glances at Maines, their eyes meeting, sparkling. “Why are you studying this?”

“Barlowe died because of this poison, that’s why. And Briar may have found a stone in the nearby forest that had a marking on it we’ve never seen before.” Maines speaks, her voice tight as she speaks my brother’s name. She steps back, creating distance between herself and Oak.

“How the hell would someone in Daramveer have access to this poison? It hasn’t been around for hundreds of years, and it’s not from these lands.”

“That’s exactly what we are trying to find out,” I cut in.

Oak keeps flipping through the pages while Maines hovers nearby, watching carefully. Looking over his shoulder, he breaks the silence and says, “If I could see more of these, I might be able to help further. At least I could translate some of the text to gain a better understanding of what we’re dealing with.”

She narrows her eyes. “We? We don’t need a partner. Briar and I plan to figure this out on our own. Thank you, though.”

“Well, good luck reading this without me. I’m not sure why I’m hanging around if I’m so unwanted.” He straightens up. “Thanks again for saving me, Briar. I owe you one.” He stands, brushing off the dust peppering his pants from the books.

He turns to walk from the sitting area when I groan, “Stop, Oak.”

Maines snaps her head in my direction, looking annoyed. “We are going to need help, and for some foolish reason, I trust you after all these years.”

A grin spreads across his face, showing a row of white teeth. “Perfect. Let’s get started tomorrow. I’ll meet you both here, and we can head to the House of Hedro. I’ve always wanted to see it and the healers running around.” He winks at Maines before exiting.

“What the fuck, Briar,” she fumes.

I lock the door behind Oak and move back to Maines, who is once again pacing around the room.

“You don’t trust anyone, but for some reason, you’re willing to tell him everything?”

“Yes, I do trust him. He’s a good person. Can’t you feel his aura?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to feel anything from him, but that’s fine. We’ll head there early tomorrow. The women are going to love him.”

Many hours later, my eyes sting from staring at the textbooks, a wave of exhaustion hitting me harder than the second trial did. I finish reading, and close the third book, but I’m no closer to finding anything. Old stories of the Great Wiitches and wars from long ago fill the pages, but I can’t decipher any of them. We’re going to need Oak to help us read the ancient text.

I glance at Maines, her eyes closed and her breath deep. Her legs are propped on the table, and her head is tilted to the side, a quiet snore escaping her lips. I chuckle at her current state before moving toward my bed to grab a blanket for her. Just having her here makes me feel calmer—I pray that sleep will come quickly to me tonight.

Finally, I flop onto my bed and let out a soft groan as the cold sheets meet my skin. I force myself to relax, beginning at my fingertips and working my way down. A deep breath escapes me as thoughts of the past week race through my mind.

Block it out, Briar.

Sleep.

Images of my brother’s body and rising black waters make my heart race. I swear I can feel the Serpyndens clawing at my ankles. Fear takes over as I kick my legs to make sure it’s my imagination. For a moment, I question whether I’m having a nightmare or if my dreams are slowly becoming a reality.

Sighing, I sit up in bed. Maines lies still in the exact position, sleeping gracefully. Scanning my bedroom, my eye catches sight of the moving curtains against the outside breeze. The slow movement reminds me of the creature haunting my reality when I realize I’m not staring at curtains anymore and Maines and I aren’t the only ones in my bedroom.

The creature wears its familiar black cloak; however, this time, I see its face. Its thin lips, or lack thereof, are pursed—like it's studying me—surprised I’m not asleep. Its eyes are an unholy black and gray, and cracked skin coats its body. I glance at Maines, my eyes wide, as she continues to sleep peacefully, unaware of what lurks near her in the shadows.

My whole body stiffens as the creature’s gaze slowly travels to Maines. A dagger, along with both axes lie on the floor beside my bed. They may stop the creature, but I’ve got to grab them first should it lunge. I drape my leg over the bed’s edge, prepping to grab whichever weapon I can reach first.

“What do you want?” I ask, not knowing if I genuinely want the answer.

The creature snaps its lifeless eyes in my direction, noticing I’m reaching for the steel. It points its long, great fingers in my direction as if I’m to stop moving.

“Okay, I won’t grab anything if you promise you aren’t going to hurt us,” I whisper.

It responds with a nod.

“What do you want?” I ask again, my voice quaking.

The creature moves toward Maines, and panic swirls in my chest as I leap from the bed, grabbing the dagger tightly in my hand. It freezes, retreating further into the shadows by the adjacent wall. Once more, the fire casts no shadows on the obscure creature.

“Sorry,” I whisper, trying not to wake Maines. “You make me nervous.”

Again, the creature nods and floats back in its original direction toward the books scattered on the table and floor. A sudden gust of wind rips open a book, flipping the pages rapidly on the small table near Maines.

The book halts on a specific page. However, the distance makes it too far for me to read. I creep a little closer as Maines stirs, slowly opening her eyes. A scream rattles through the room as I spring into action to calm her before anyone outside is alerted.

“Maines!” I grab her shoulders. “Look at me. It’s not going to hurt us.”

“What the fuck is that thing!”

The hair on my neck rises as I spin around, but the creature is gone. The unsettling feeling casts a shiver through my body. “Shit, Maines! You frightened it.”

“I scared that thing. Are you insane? That creature almost scared me to death!”

“That is the creature that’s been haunting me. It was showing me something before you woke up.”

Maines throws up her hands, “Next time, can you warn me that you’re inviting it to our slumber party?”

“I’ve been trying to think of a way to get it to show up, but this time, it just came on its own. It made the pages turn!”

I leave Maines to gather herself and kneel before the book. The paragraph is in ancient texts. However, the bottom of the page reads relic rituals.

“Damnit.” I slam the book down, unable to read anything.

Maines kneels beside me, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “We’re going to figure this out, Briar. I promise.”

I glance at her, defeat overwhelming me. “How can you be so sure after everything that’s happened? After everything you’ve been through?”

“Because what happened in my past doesn’t define who I am now. And moving forward is the only way we can move. You taught me that, Briar! A wicked smile stretches her lips. “Plus, I know someone who claims to be savvy with old texts.”

Chapter 18

Maines and I got little rest after the creature’s appearance. We couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that lingered over us. After marking the page in the book, we decide to head to the roof for some fresh air and combat training. With our hearts already racing, we thought it would be a good idea to get our blood pumping.

Back in my bedroom, we get dressed for the day—both of us in pants and white button-up shirts rolled to our elbows. The healers in Daramveer didn’t wear attire that would distract them from their work or patients. I thought that wearing Maines’s clothes would help me blend in—I didn’t want to stand out more than I already would.

The anticipation becomes impossible to ignore as we wait for Oak to arrive. Maines isn’t the one pacing around this morning. “Will you calm down? You’re going to walk a hole in that beautiful rug of yours,” she quips.

“I’m just nervous. I haven’t visited the House or seen these women since my mother passed. People are going to mention her when we arrive,” I answer.

“I know that, Briar. It’s because your mother left a mark on this kingdom, and the House wouldn’t be here without her. People miss her just like you.”

Just like Maines, my mother spent many sleepless nights at the House of Hedro, tending to the sick. She cared so deeply for her work and the people of Daramveer. But it also meant I spent more time alone at the castle with my father and brother than I would have liked. My mother’s passion for healing left a lasting impression on this town. During healing rituals, she would help cast mental illusions to allow people to face their fears or say final goodbyes to loved ones. I was always in awe of her ability to care so deeply for the people.

A heaviness fills me at the mention of her. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her voice echoing down the hallways or her contagious laugh.

“Plus,” Maines continues, “Oak is going to be such a giddy little boy with all the women around. Focus on him making a fool of himself instead of the mention of your mother, if that helps.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“It’s barely dawn, and you are already talking about me?” Oak bursts into the room, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “The only thing that makes me giddy is the sight of you this early in the morning.”

Her face reddens as she ushers past him without a second glance.

“Come on, you two. We can pick on each other all day, but I want to beat the town crowds.”

As we move across the courtyard and toward the castle gates, the quiet of the morning is a relief. Luckily, not many people are out yet—no one is around to question or be suspicious of a princess gallivanting off with a competitor and a healer.

My nose scrunches at the stench rising from the gutters. The cobblestone streets are filled with trash from last night’s tavern visits. Rats scatter beneath our feet, the smell wafting into the air.

“Ah, I love this smell in the mornings,” Maines jokes, earning a laugh from Oak.

Once, this kingdom was rich. As the main port town for miles, it was easy for people to earn an honest living. Traveling sailors brought exciting new life to the city, but that all changed five years ago when Daramveer lost everything, including my mother.

Years ago, when my mother, Arieste, was alive, Daramveer was breathtaking. The stone castle soared above everything, surrounded by mountains that once felt like a shield. Now, those mountains feel like a prison, confining everyone under my father’s dreadful reign. Flowers as deep blue as the ocean and rich purples once shaded the castle and town. The way the flowers overgrew made it seem as if they spread over Daramveer like a plague. The shimmering halls flickered in candlelight, the haunting melodies leaving you both whole and tormented.

The House of Hedro has always been renowned for its beauty—both in its structure and the women within. The sun shimmers off the side of the stark white tower, resembling diamonds embedded in its walls. People would travel from all over to seek healing from the workers inside—if they could survive the journey. Others simply visited to admire its beauty.

Though the healers don’t live in the tower, many spend so much time there that it might as well be their home. Maines’s family lives close to the castle—my father built Elrod the most beautiful house in Daramveer after his wife left. She died a few years later. We were twelve when she succumbed to an illness. That’s one reason Maines was so remarkable when my own mother passed—she had faced the same horrors I was enduring. Her mother’s death sparked her interest in healing at a young age—she wanted to learn how to save people from terrible diseases. When she couldn’t save Barlowe, I noticed the light in her dim, but I know it will gradually return.

As we enter the iron gates of the House, the guards give Maines a passing glance. Oak’s mouth falls open as we approach the pillars—towering over us as if we are just specks in the world.

“Okay, you two. Since we can’t stay more than a few hours, we have a lot of ground to cover. The library is in the basement. I doubt many healers will be down there at this time, but if they are, please keep your eyes to yourself. They are studying to save people’s lives, and they take it seriously.”

I’m in awe watching Maines transition from her loud, funny self to Daramveer's top healer. She gives Oak a warning look. “Follow me and keep your hands to yourself, Oak.”

He smirks.

We enter through a back door that leads directly into the basement. The dimly lit hallway feels cold and damp. We descend a winding staircase, which opens into a vast room. Books line the walls from floor to ceiling, and scrolls clutter most of the desks scattered throughout the room—the scent of dust and paper overwhelms my senses.

“Where the hell do we start?” Oak whispers.

Maines rolls her eyes and points. “The ancient texts are typically in this section.”

My gaze follows her hand to the back section of the library, which looks even dustier than the hallway. She turns on her heels, whipping her hair into Oak’s face. I snort a laugh and follow quickly behind.

“We'd better get started,” she says, setting a few in front of Oak, who flinches as they hit the wood. “We only have a few hours to read everything we can in here.”

Sitting next to her, I grab the closest book. Rigils line the pages, which I’ve seen often throughout my life when I studied as a young Wielder. My mother often practiced drawing these for her healing rituals—various circles and triangles can be used for different rituals to call upon the Great Wiitches.

After hours of unsuccessful research, I peel my eyes away from the words, glancing around the room. My eyes sting in the dim lighting, and my neck aches from my curved spine. Oak’s head rests on the table, his glasses twisted around his eyes. I hear his slow breaths. He’s asleep.

Maines notices as well, kicking his leg under the table. His head shoots up, immediately throwing Maines a vulgar gesture before smiling.

She softly giggles, returning her gaze to the text.

Stretching, Oak stands, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He grabs a new book from a nearby shelf, fixing his glasses before flipping through it. He casually shuffles back to our table.

Oak shouts, “Holy shit, I found something!”

A shushing sound emanates from deep within the library, causing him to flinch, feeling embarrassed.

“Look at this,” he continues in a whisper, making his way back to the table near Maines’s back. “It’s the marking you showed me in your room.”

I snatch the book and focus on the page. The words surrounding the marking are in a language I don’t understand. “Can you read this?” I ask.

He leans forward, placing both arms on opposite sides of Maines. His large body towers over her. Her face flushes, as she pretends to concentrate on the words. Growing impatient, I begin tapping my foot on the floor, earning a grin from Maines. She motions me to stop.

“I’m not sure I’m reading this correctly,” Oak says. “It’s not very translatable in our language today, but I think it says, ‘Those who walk in the darkest realms aren’t always lost.’”

“Are you sure?” I snap, annoyance bubbling in my throat.

Oak shrugs. “I’m almost positive, but it doesn’t make much sense. It’s not easy to translate.”

I rush back to where he found the book, snatching two others and sprinting back to the table. The books fall from my arms. “Fuck!”

Maines slowly pushes away from the table. “What is that?”

I look down at my feet, and my face pales.

A perfectly folded letter peeks out from one of the books. Kneeling, I feel my hope rise as a thought flickers in my mind—it’s from my mother. I nervously unfold the paper and quickly scan the text. My shoulders slump as I realize it’s nothing more than an old note, likely left by a healer from years past.

Defeat rises in my chest as I gather the books and shuffle back to the table.

“Maybe there’s something else in here that can help,” Oak says cheerfully.

“There is nothing here,” I snap. “My father probably has everything valuable locked in his study.”

“Briar, you are right!” Maines exclaims, snapping my attention. “The books we need aren’t here. They are in the castle.”

Oak’s eyes widen, realizing what she is insinuating.

“There is no way we can get into my father’s study to find what we need. He always has that place guarded and locked down.”

They both nod in agreement and Oak steps forward. “Well, we’re going to have to find a way around them, aren’t we?” A wicked smile forms on his face, and I’m instantly reminded of when we were children.

He leans close to Maines, and her cheeks redden. “Do you trust me, Miss Madden?”

She snaps her head in his direction. “No, definitely not.”

He grins. “You will.”

That smile can only mean one thing: he’s thinking of a plan that could get us killed.

Chapter 19

Seeing as it’s been days since the second trial ended, and the third hasn’t been announced yet, maybe we’re being given a break after Cromwell’s death. My father still hasn’t tried to speak to me since our conversation in his office. Maines returned to the House of Hedro to continue her research and care for her patients, while Oak acted as if our adventure out of the castle never happened.

I have spent the last few days adhering to my routine, avoiding unwanted company, and chatting with Rose and Lang in the kitchen. Rose remains suspicious when the subject of my mother comes up, but she doesn’t pry. Silas continues to occupy my thoughts, and I can’t help but wonder what he has been doing in the meantime. Whispers of the third trial being announced soon ripple through the castle, creating a buzz of excitement. The extra guests make the castle feel vibrant—almost whole—again.

A small ceremony was held the day after Barlowe’s death, where a tree was planted in his memory. I didn’t attend, and no one cared why. The new tree symbolizes life and rebirth, which is ironic since it grows in soil filled with tragedy.

I haven’t visited the site where the tree is planted. I haven’t been brave enough. The challenges that lie before me are going to require bravery, so it’s time to pay my respects. An intense pull drags me from the castle walls and outside to the small green courtyard where my brother took his last breath. The sky is filled with soft white clouds, offering a bit of shade as I kneel beside the young tree, still growing on the barren ground.

“What am I going to do, Barlowe?”

The tree sways in front of me. My eyes begin to well up—pooling with sorrow—as tears fall to the ground. “I can’t do this without you. You never deserved this. You should have stayed away forever if returning meant this. This is all my fault.”

I bury my face in my hands as a soft sob escapes my lips. The wind stops, the birds cease chirping, and the world seems to pause, granting me a quiet moment to grieve. “Something is wrong with me, brother. Darkness surges inside my chest, desperate to be freed. I’ve kept it at bay all these years, but it’s becoming harder. I need to understand what’s happening. I need your help. I need to know what you knew.”

For a moment, I let myself remember us as children—racing through this very courtyard—full of dreams that now seem far away. Barlowe never wanted to rule Daramveer. He told me from the start he would step down and let me become queen. His passions lay in combat—becoming a top commander, leading men to victory, and basking in the glory of war. He wanted songs and stories told about him around campfires and would have gone to the ends of the earth to achieve this glory.

The tears continue to fall. “I love you.”

I place my hand on the soft earth, and the grass tickles my fingers. In this moment, all I want, more than life itself, is to have my brother back.

“He knows that.”

The words shock me, and I jump to my feet, quickly wiping the tears from my eyes. My father stands behind me, his hands tucked into his perfectly tailored jacket.

“How long have you been standing there,” I snap.

“Only a second.” He states, moving closer. His presence makes me instinctively step back. He sits near the tree, avoiding eye contact. “Things are only going to get harder. I hope you’re prepared. I’ll stop at nothing to finish my plans. And believe it or not, Briar, I wish you had never gotten involved.”

“You brought me in from the start. The blood being shed is on your hands—the destruction you're causing is all due to you. Don’t attempt to make me pity you.”

He nods. “I’m aware, and that is something I can live with—can you? Let’s remember that you also have blood on your hands. You are not so innocent in these trials either, Briar. We are more alike than you wish to believe.” His eyes darken as he takes a relaxing breath. “I’m doing this to see who is the strongest amongst us. Your mother and I were married through an arranged union.”

The mention of her makes me flinch. “I’m aware.”

“We were very young back then, deeply in love at first. Over the years, we drifted apart. I never repaired our relationship—I never even attempted to. I filled my time with other important things and people, and I’m on the verge of achieving what I’ve always desired. Yet, I do regret allowing my relationship with your mother to fade. Maybe things would be different.”

I snarl, “But you don’t regret her dying? Does it even bother you that she’s gone?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he rises from the cold ground, never meeting my gaze as he walks toward the castle. The air around me seems to lighten as his darkness fades away, but the hurt within me deepens. He may be a monster, but he is still my father. I remain in the courtyard—absorbing the peaceful breeze flowing through my thick hair, the soft grass tickling my legs—as I sit once more, staring at Barlowe’s tree. I swear I hear the wind whisper something in my ear.

Maybe a bit of combat will ease my thundering heart.

As much as the constant pestering bothered me, I couldn’t help but appreciate the distractions provided by the trials. After finishing my training, I towel off my face, sweat beading on my forehead from the morning sun. At this moment, the thought of a bath sounds more pleasurable than anything else when a sudden change in the air stops me. Spinning on the step, I’m blinded by the sunlight—except for a tall, dark figure blocking half of the opening to the roof landing.

“Hello, my Briar,” the deep voice carries down the stairs. Goosebumps rise on my skin as I instantly recognize the accent—Silas.

“Hello, Prince.” My lip curls, “At this point, it’s safe to assume that you are stalking me.”

“You haven’t seen me in days; I would be the worst stalker ever, don’t you think? Or does that make me a great stalker?” He grins, stepping down the stairs, his presence growing.

My stomach churns with excitement. “Well, I suppose it depends on who you're asking. I’m more accustomed to you entering my bedroom uninvited.” I roll my eyes and turn around.

“Would you like to invite me to your bedroom next time, Princess?”

The tone of his voice—serious and hungry—turns my core molten. Biting back the urge to run up the stairs toward him, I reply, “I don’t think there will be an invitation extended anytime soon.”

Not waiting for a response, I continue down the stairs. The dark stone walls feel suffocating. “Briar, stop!” he calls after me, and I freeze. His deep, longing voice—calming yet commanding—makes my heart race.

I slowly turn. My gaze meets his as he continues, “I thought we might talk.” He moves down the stairs, shadows swirling around his muscled body.

My darkness pulses when he’s near, yet I can’t pinpoint where I’ve encountered him before. “What would you like to discuss, Prince?” I play along, nearly laughing at his awkward attempt at conversation.

“Daramveer is different from Andorwood,” he says, slumping against the stone wall, arms crossed as if unsure how to speak to me. “Andorwood is dark and cold. The people there aren’t ones for casual conversation. I apologize if I seem short on words. Besides a few close friends and my horses, I haven’t had anyone to talk to over the years.”

I understand that feeling more than he knows.

I nod. “Maybe Daramveer isn’t so different. That happens here a lot, too. I’m not exactly the most liked person in the castle.”

He smiles, his posture softening. “You? Not popular? I find that hard to believe. You’ve been so warm and welcoming.”

The sarcasm drips from his tongue, and I chuckle. “Yes, that’s the reputation I hold. The Princess of Daramveer, the 'kind-hearted’ ruler of a despised kingdom.”

“I saw your horses when you arrived,” I add. “I was on the balcony watching the ship’s dock. Your ship is quite impressive.”

He nods, a smile still lingering on his lips. “So, you were watching me? Who’s the stalker now?”

I playfully push him at the comment. “Are your horses staying in the stables? I’d love to see them sometime. My father thinks riches are more important than companionship.”

“Yes, they are,” he laughs. “I’ve threatened the stable boy to keep them well-cared for. I’d love to show you someday if you aren’t too afraid to be alone with me.”

I smile. “That poor stable boy. Please don’t scare him to death. And I told you, Silas, you don’t scare me.”

“I’m sure afraid of you, my Briar.” His gaze burns into mine, but he claps. “It’s settled, then. Our first date.”

His looming intensity grows, yet happiness sparkles in his eyes as I blush.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Prince,” I say with a wink. "I’m just flirting for the sake of the competition. I get so bored in this big castle. I must entertain myself somehow.”

He smiles, the conversation quieting.

“Where have you been the last few days?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Have you missed me?” He takes a step closer, his presence towering over mine.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve mostly been with my horses, Xena and Myah,” Silas says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “They’ve been through everything with me. They’re family. I owe it to them to keep them safe.” He glances down, deep in thought. “It may sound silly, but they were my escape. I’d ride for hours through the mountains of Andorwood. Not the safest thing for a child or even an adult, but it was safer than being around my father.”

I smile. “I have my escape, too—the forest on the outskirts of Daramveer. There’s a clearing I run to when I need to get away. It’s always calmed me.”

I spin on my heels, continuing down the narrow stairway, calling over my shoulder, “You aren’t horrible at conversation. You should just relax more.”

“Don’t forget about our date,” he yells after me.

“I could never forget about you, Nastronde.”

I continue down the hall, a new feeling flickering in my chest—trust. For the first time in a while, I hope it doesn’t fade.

As I approach my room, guards stand outside. My mood instantly falters. Their attention snaps to me, and my steps echo down the hall.

“What do they want?” I wonder aloud.

“Good afternoon, Princess,” one of the guards says. “Your father instructed us to continue watching over you as the trials grow more dangerous and your brother’s murderer is still on the loose.”

Rage burns within me. “My father doesn’t give a damn about me—only his own gain. Go find something else to do.”

Footsteps echo as Thatcher strides toward us, the twins following. “Now, Briar. I don’t think it’s wise to speak of the king that way. It isn’t a good look for the princess to use such foul language. It detracts from your beauty, sweetheart.”

I storm toward him, shadows swelling around me. For a second, the twins’ eyes widen at my challenging demeanor. “You don’t like it when I curse? Fuck off, Thatcher. You walk around this castle like it’s yours, but you’re sadly mistaken. I know what you did, and don’t think for a second you’ll get away with it.”

Surprise flashes across his face, quickly masked by a casual calm. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but I didn’t come to start a fight. I came to ask you to attend tonight’s festivities with me. We should be seen together. After all, you’ll be my wife soon.”

My head snaps back. “What are you talking about?”

He looks toward my door. “Oh, I see you haven’t been in your room yet. More details should be inside,” he whispers. “Think about my offer. If you think about speaking of what you know, I’ll make sure you end up like your brother.”

He walks past me, nudging my shoulder. The twins follow, laughing to themselves.

A note lies under my door as I enter the room:

Please join the Blackbyrne family in honoring the competitors as the trials approach their halfway mark. Let us celebrate this glorious time with drinking and dancing.

The thought of being in a room full of people uninterested in my well-being leaves a burning sensation in my throat. A few hours remain until I must fake a smile.

I approach my wardrobe, surrounded by various gowns from Rose’s travels to Eddris. A dark onyx dress captures my attention. Crafted with emerald crystals that twist up the front, it feels as if it were designed by the Great Wiitch herself. The dress fits flawlessly—the shoulders draping to showcase my sharp collarbones.

For the first time in a while, I look at my reflection without flinching. I see a strong woman. My hair shines, my muscles peek through in all the right places, and my skin has an olive glow thanks to the grueling training.

I apply a thin line of black across my eyes, dust a hint of pink on my cheekbones, and add matching emerald earrings in my ears before stepping out of my room.

The dim hallways feel unsettling, but I glide toward the celebration.

“I’m getting tired of your antics, Princess,” a rough voice whispers in my ear as Thatcher steps from the shadows, slamming me against the wall. His grip sends a sharp pain down my arms. A shriek escapes as my vision blurs.

“I know what you were implying earlier, and now I need to know just how much you saw that night.” Shadows coil from his hands, one snaking up to choke me.

“Get the fuck off me,” I rasp, struggling to get free.

“Are you okay, Briar?” Nolan asks, stepping around the corner with Rohhit.

“I’m fine, Nolan. Thank you. Just dealing with some unnecessary irritations. Thatcher is one for the dramatics.”

“We were coming to assist you to the celebration. You look stunning tonight.” Rohhit steps forward.

I smile weakly, trying to ignore the lingering anger that burns in my chest. The red handprints on my arms from Thatcher’s grip are a painful reminder of the encounter, but I won’t let it show. I won’t let him win. Rohhit takes my arm and walks beside me as we continue down the hallway toward the throne room, while Nolan trails behind us, giving us space. There’s something about him that feels both familiar and strange. “Thank you for that, by the way. I could have handled myself, but it wouldn’t have been so easy.”

Rohhit smirks. “I want to ask many questions, but I won’t pry. Talk to me when you are ready. If he touches you again, it won’t go that easily for him.” His golden hair radiates in the candlelight, and his dark eyes are haunting but inviting.

“Well, thank you again, but I can promise you, Thatcher won’t ever touch me that easily again,” I reply.

We stare at each other for a moment longer before we reach the wide door. The celebration has already started as Nolan passes me with a smile.

“Shall we?” Rohhit asks, his hand gently resting on the small of my back. A thrill runs through me at his touch as the wooden doors swing open, and the entire room pauses to look in our direction.

My race reddens due to the attention, but Rohhit seems to enjoy it. He stands taller, his hand moving from my back to his sides—a true gentleman. Our gaze meets again as he nods and moves forward through the crowd, leaving me standing there, all eyes on me.

Chapter 20

The throne room is barely recognizable. What was once a cold, imposing space is now filled with bright, fragrant flowers that make the air tingle with life. Lights hang from the ceiling, mimicking falling stars against the backdrop of the darkest sky. The windows are wide open, allowing a fresh breeze to filter in, making the room feel lighter than it has in years.

Townspeople are dressed in their finest clothes, and the competitors wear polished armor, each showcasing their muscular bodies, drawing appreciative gazes from those around them. The women and men in the room watch in awe, some even openly admiring the competitors.

The music fills every corner of the room, its deep bass haunts the space and reverberates through my chest. Daramveer’s music has never been upbeat, but there’s something about it that always soothes me, even in the most chaotic moments. The bass rattles my heart and draws me into its rhythm. As a child, I would often sneak down to my parents’ parties just to listen to the orchestra—the haunting melodies calming my restless mind. The crowd moves with the music, their bodies swaying as if guided by the notes. Women twirl with their partners, graceful as leaves dancing in the wind. I long to join them, but I know better. Any attention on me would only attract more eyes, and I’d rather not risk it.

I make my way through the crowd, searching for Maines in hopes that she’s already arrived. Instead, I’m met with lingering gazes from people who don’t treat me as a person but as a trophy for their entertainment.

I never dress in such gowns, and the looks I receive around the room instantly make me feel uncomfortable—in this instance, I fake my confidence as I strut toward them.

“You look stunning.”

I turn, finding Silas standing inches behind me. The look on his face isn’t one I’ve seen before, jealousy mixed with pure hunger. It makes my knees wobble.

“Thank you, Prince. You don’t look bad yourself,” I lie, my heart rate increasing with every breath.

He looks fantastic, his black hair slicked back to perfection. Candlelight dances off his eyes, casting a devilish sparkle that I wouldn’t mind getting lost in. He smiles, his gaze traveling down my body, landing on the marks forming on my arms.

“Who did this to you?” His eyes darken as he takes my hand.

“It’s nothing.” I try to move my hand from his grip, but he holds steady. “From the second trial.”

A forced smile crosses my lips as I shift my gaze back to the crowd, hoping to change the subject quickly. “I’m fine, Silas. You can stop being overprotective.”

“Briar, the second trial was days ago. Injuries wouldn’t be that noticeable at this point, and I did not notice those yesterday. Who did this? Was it Rohhit?” he demands. “After all, you two showed up together.”

“Oh, are you an expert in bruises?”

“I’m not going to ask you again.” A breeze stirs in the room, and I realize how serious his tone has become. Shadows curl around his hands, an obvious sign of the anger rising within him.

“Good! Then don’t ask me again. You know I can handle myself, Silas, and I’m telling you I’m fine. I don’t need you hovering over me.”

Hurt replaces the anger in his eyes, and I feel a stab of regret. “My Briar, if anyone hurts you, tell me.”

“You are actively competing against me to take the little bit of freedom I currently have away from me. You have no right to speak on that matter, and if I choose not to disclose things to you, that is my choice! Mine! And I’m going to hold on to my choices while I still can.” The harsh tone echoes around us, “And don’t call me that. I’m not yours!”

A few curious glances flicker in our direction. Silas sighs heavily before bowing, his voice softer now. “I don’t think you mean that—I hope you don’t mean that. But very well, Princess. Please enjoy your night.”

He turns, walking toward the balcony, leaving me standing there with only my words.

Don’t follow him, Briar.

Walk the other way.

I push aside my internal thoughts and storm after him, unable to resist—his presence draws me against my will.

The balcony is empty except for Silas, the soft glow of the moon casting long shadows across the dark stone. The subtle sound of waves against the pier rush around us.

I step next to Silas, placing my forearms on the railing as I inhale the fresh air. He doesn’t meet my gaze but speaks instead, his voice low. “Something about you makes me insanely protective.”

I glance out over the kingdom, the stillness of the night drowning out the lively celebration behind us. His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. “When I first arrived, and you looked at me—really looked at me—something clicked. I know you don’t understand, but I know you, Briar. There are things I’ve chosen not to disclose yet, too.”

I stare at him, unsure of what to say in response.

“My father chose not to join me when I mentioned that I wanted to travel here. He said that coming here would be my undoing. I truly don’t believe he cares whether I return or not. Our relationship isn’t the best. He thinks this competition is a distraction from something larger at play, and I agree with him for once."

Silas is brilliant. He senses that something is off as well, but given what I know, I keep my mouth shut. This isn’t the right moment to reveal what Maines, Oak, and I are truly after.

“Silas.” I touch his hand. “I’m sorry for shouting. I’m not asking you to protect me. I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of these trials. You all are risking your lives for no reason.”

He returns the gesture and grabs my hand back with a gentle squeeze. “You are the reason, Briar.”

His stare melts my soul as he looms over me. He sweeps a strand of hair away from my face and gently places his strong hand on my cheek. “I will protect you, no matter what. Whatever that entails, even at the cost of my own life.” He pauses, “And I won’t call you mine anymore. Not until you’re ready for that. I’ll wait a lifetime for that moment if I must.”

And I believe him.

He leans down, his lips brushing against mine, and my body reacts instantly—my core burns, my heart races. His tongue teases the entrance of my mouth, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

When he pulls away, his smile is full of mischief. “Is this our first date?”

With a laugh, I push against his strong chest, unable to stay mad at him. His hand travels down, cupping my ass and pulling me closer as our mouths nearly touch once more. My body vibrates with exciting nerves. Something within me responds to his touch as we work in perfect unison. Our darkness calls to each other, desperate for more. I completely forget that I stand in public, where the gaze of the other competitors could be upon us, watching whatever is happening between us.

“What the hell is this?” A voice travels through the night air.

Panic surges through me, and I push Silas away, though his stare never leaves mine—hunger still evident in his eyes.

“Hello, Miss Madden,” Silas responds, stepping a few paces away from me.

I instantly feel the need for his warmth again and crave his dark strength wrapped around me.

Maines steps onto the balcony. “I’m clearly interrupting something, but I do need to speak with Briar. It’s quite urgent.”

Silas bows to her with practiced elegance. “No issue, Maines. I’ll make my leave.”

He leans in, his voice low, only for me to hear. “Next time, there will be no interruptions. No distractions. You’ll be mine, Princess. However, you desire.”

He walks back into the crowd, leaving a trail of shadows dancing behind him. He weaves through the people, his gaze briefly meeting mine before he disappears into the throng.

Maines turns to me, a wide grin on her face. “My Gods, were you just making out with the competition?”

“That’s none of your business,” I snap, but my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You interrupted before I had the chance.”

After giggling some more and earning a glare from me, she turns serious, saying, “Oak has a plan. He wants us to meet him by the kitchen in twenty minutes.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been hanging out with Oak behind my back?”

“Only a little.” Maines grins. “But he’s got a plan, and we don’t have time to waste.”

As Maines and I approach the kitchens, I catch a glimpse of Oak, who’s standing just out of sight, his smirk full of mischief. “What’s the plan?”

He ushers us toward a nook outside the kitchen, his tone low. “We’re going to break into your father’s study. Now.”

I freeze. “How do you suggest we do that? My father always has multiple guards around him.”

Oak shrugs, his confidence unwavering. “Not tonight. With your father occupied, there won’t be anyone around. I saw him cornered with Calia, the twins’ mother.”

His overconfidence sends a bead of sweat down my spine. “We can’t shift in and out. There are wards that only open to his presence. If we get caught, we’re dead.”

“I know,” Oak says, his grin widening. “That’s why Maines will stand guard. You and I will go in, search for clues, and I’ll translate what we find.”

Maines nods, barely reacting to Oak’s bombshell.

I glance between them, annoyance creeping in. “When did you two plot this?”

Maines smiles smugly. “Don’t worry about what I do in my spare time with this fool.”

Oak chuckles. “She’s a pain in my ass. Always using me for my brain.”

I roll my eyes. “This is a bad idea, but I don’t disagree that this might be our only chance.”

Maines and Oak exchange a high five, and my stomach clenches. This isn’t going to end well.

Chapter 21

We head back to the party for a while just to show face. We need to be seen so that people can vouch for us being there. I am the first to leave. It’s not uncommon for me to slip away from these parties unnoticed, and my father won’t care. Oak left next, excusing himself for some fresh air, and headed for the balcony. Once the coast was clear, he moved back inside the castle, closer to the study. Maines was the last to go, distracting a few of the men with flirtations before heading for the door, leaving them rejected and embarrassed.

We meet in the hallway, just a few turns from my father’s study. Once we enter, there’s no escaping by magic. The claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in there sends chills down my spine.

“Okay, you have fifteen minutes to look around. I think anything longer than that, we are pushing our luck,” I whisper, glancing at the time.

Maines stands post around the corner, the hallway most likely someone would travel down.

Oak and I move toward the door, praying it’s unlocked. To our surprise, it opens with ease, the feeling of excitement and caution moves through my entire body.

Grabbing Oak’s wrist, I pull him toward the desk. Numerous books and scrolls sit, cluttering the area. Taking the closest one, I flip through the pages, trying to find anything that looks remotely like the crystal’s markings. My hands tingle with adrenaline as I notice the pages slightly trembling in my hands.

Oak flashes a look my way. “If you don’t calm down, you’re going to leave sweat stains on the pages.”

I roll my eyes and exhale, trying to do what he says.

“I’m not seeing anything different than at the House of Hedro,” Oak admits. “We don’t have much longer to search before we overstay our welcome.”

I feel the panic rise in my body as I know this may be our last shot at finding something in this study. I reach for the drawers, expecting them all to be locked like before. “Oak!” I gasp. “These were locked the last time I was in here.”

Oak rushes to the back of the desk. One scroll lies deep inside the drawer, hidden from plain sight. When I unroll the scroll, my heart stops at the sight of the marking.

“That’s it!” I shout, louder than intended. “That is the exact thing I found on the crystal.”

Oak leans in, taking a closer look. “That’s no Rigil I’ve ever seen before. It’s old, and I don’t think it’s something we should ever mess with.”

“What does it say?” I ask. “We need to hurry.”

He reads the script on the following pages as I scan the room, nervousness taking over. A slight knock on the door makes my heart fall to my stomach. Our time is up and sweat forms on my brow.

“This is taking too long,” I whisper.

The door opens. Oak grabs my hand, pulling me under the desk. My father enters the room with someone trailing him. I peek around the corner. Elrod follows him in and Calia is by his side, holding his hand. They move into the room, speaking in hushed tones that I can barely make out.

Oak looks at me with wild eyes and places a finger to his mouth.

My stomach twists with terror. If we get caught, we’re dead. My father won’t care that I’m his daughter. To him, this will be treason. A public punishment would be the least of my fears, and I’ll have to convince them we were doing something far more inappropriate than reading.

Oak peers around the desk, trying to get a closer look, but when he jerks his large body back, his hands shake slightly. He barely fits behind here to begin with.

Where is Maines?

He grabs my hand to steady my nerves. It doesn’t work.

“How dare you try to go over my head with this, Elrod,” my father snaps. “Are you trying to make me look stupid?”

We hear a thud behind us that makes my shoulders shoot upward. I slowly gaze around the desk to see Elrod lying on the floor at my father’s feet. Calia standing over him proud.

“Lornx, I would never make you look foolish. I didn’t go over you; I was merely trying to implement the plan faster,” Elrod begs.

My father steps closer to him, standing on one of his hands, and a groan leaves Elrod’s mouth. “If you ever make me look stupid again, I will kill you and your family.”

My heart drops at the thought of Maines.

“My king, I would never. Only your word and plan will be followed from now on,” he winces.

“Very well, we are getting closer to the rituals being completed. You must trust me and your son to complete them. Thatcher will do what needs to be done, and you know that!”

He offers Elrod a hand, pulling him up.

“The stone is safe, and your only concern is making amends with our guests. You are the one who looks foolish.”

Elrod shuffles out of the door, leaving my father and Calia standing before the fire. “Every day, we are closer, my love. This will be different soon. You’ll see.” He caresses Calia’s face. Her wide grin toward my father leaves a pit in my stomach.

I jerk my head under the desk, hitting it slightly on the desk. A quiet thud travels to my father as he looks directly at us, hiding behind the thick wood.

Oak closes his eyes in preparation to fight or be killed. I can’t decide which, and I’m instantly hit with a memory of the trouble we used to get into as children. I guess things haven’t changed much. The king takes a step toward us, following the sound of a loud crash coming from outside of the door, breaking their gaze toward one another. Calia pulls him toward the door, swinging it open, nearly taking it off the rusty hinges.

A massive exhale caves my chest in as I breathe for what seems like the first time in ages.

“Holy shit,” Oak whispers, “we need to leave. Immediately.”

I quickly move from behind the desk, pulling his large body with me. We didn’t have enough time to finish reading the scroll. We quietly slip into the hallway.

Maines rushes around the corner. “Gods, I thought you two were dead!”

“We need to get to my bedroom immediately so we can talk. Don’t say another word.”

I grab both of their hands and shift through the shadows of the castle hallways. Mist takes over my body as I grunt, pulling the weight of two additional adult bodies.

Landing with a thud, I release their hands, my breathing jagged from both Maines and Oak.

“Impressive, Princess, it’s not easy carrying people during a shift,” Oak applauds.

“Sit down and shut up,” I order, gesturing to the sitting area. I collapse into a chair, the antique creaking under my weight. “That was a complete failure. We’re no closer to finding anything out, and I think I lost five years of my life in fear.”

Oak slumps into the chair beside Maines, attempting to throw his arm around her. She bats him away with a huff, making Oak smile, his white teeth shining in the light cast by the fire. “I wouldn’t say it was a failure, Princess. I got enough from the text to point us in the right direction. I know what the markings on the crystal mean, possibly even do.”

“What!”

Maines pushes his arm. “Go on!”

Oak takes a second to get the translation accurate, “The script was super specific and extremely lengthy, but from what I gathered in those few seconds, the marking means… resurrection.”

“No offense, but nothing good can come from your father having his hands on a resurrection stone.” Maines breaks the silence. “What do you think he’s planning to do?”

I rack my brain, thinking about the conversations I had with Barlowe, but nothing concrete comes to mind. “I’m not sure, but I don’t like it. My mother must have had something to do with this.”

“What happened while you were in the study? It didn’t look like a pleasant conversation by the state my father left in,” Maines asks.

Oak leans back, rubbing his temples.

“My father threatened him,” I explain. “He told Elrod not to make him look foolish again and that Thatcher would complete the rituals. But we still don’t know what that means. He also mentioned that Thatcher would do whatever was necessary, which makes me nervous.”

Maines nods in agreement. “Believe me, I know Thatcher is rotten. He always has been. He’s no brother of mine.”

Oak stands, knocking over his chair with force. “We’re getting in over our heads. What can we really do? Your father is the king. If we step out of line, he can have us killed.”

I don’t disagree with him. “I know. But whatever he plans to do, we have to stop him.” My stomach tightens as I feel like I’m beginning to understand his plan, but it’s still unclear.

“For far too long, I’ve hidden in the shadows, scared of my own potential. It’s time I start acting like the queen I will be one day. The queen I want to be one day.”

Maines blinks rapidly, her face breaking into a slight smirk. “I’ll gladly honor you as my queen one day.” She bows in mock reverence, acknowledging the declaration I just made.

“We will make Daramveer a better place. Together,” I say, and she nods.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make our future brighter, my queen. I’ll serve you until the very end.”

I stand, the weight of their eyes on me nearly overwhelming. “Let’s hope the end doesn’t come sooner than later.”

“I’m going back to the House,” Maines announces. “Now that I know the crystal’s potential use, maybe I can find more information in the library.”

Oak winks at her. “I better go too. My father will want to discuss more about the upcoming trial. Let me know if anything comes up—unless you want me to come with you, Maines.”

She rolls her eyes but moves closer to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “We’re going to figure this out. I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Oak shifts, a trail of light following him as he disappears.

Maines slouches, her voice softer now. “Get some rest, Briar. You’ll need all the energy you can get.” A shadow takes her place as she disappears from my room.

Alone, I feel the weight of emptiness press down on me. I used to prefer being alone, but with Maines and Oak around, I realize how lonely I’ve become. The next trial will be announced soon, but I won’t tell Maines that. I need to focus. Thatcher may have a plan, but little does he know that we’re forming one of our own.

Chapter 22

News of the third trial spread quickly throughout the Kingdom of Daramveer. My father summoned all the competitors and their mentors to the throne room for the announcement. As we gather, my father stands near his cold throne, all eyes on him, just the way he prefers. Once polished and gleaming with wealth, his throne has dulled over the years—an afterthought he never bothered to restore to its former grandeur.

“Today, competitors, we are here to learn more of the third test—the trial of darkness. This will be the longest of the four and potentially the deadliest.” My heart sinks at the thought of being alone with these men again.

“The trial will begin soon. All you need to do for now is wait. Your goal is to survive and make it back to the castle. Whoever returns first is crowned our winner.”

Another vague explanation that leaves me questioning everything.

“You chose an item during the second trial. Whatever your bag holds will be the only thing you may use during this trial. No shifting,” he snaps, glancing at each of the men slowly.

A thought flickers in my mind as I recall the two gold axes I carried out of the freezing water that day. The weapons are beginning to become a part of me. Thank the Gods he’s giving us something to defend ourselves, but my stomach turns thinking about what the others may have left with.

Each mentor looks concerned for the competitor before them. Silas stands alone, unfazed, and unafraid. My father doesn’t move toward me but walks closer to Thatcher, where Elrod is stationed. Nolan huddles around Rohhit, while Calia chats with her twins in the far corner. Silas dips his head, lost in thought.

As I make my way through the crowd, Thatcher steps in front of me, blocking my path. “I look forward to the next trial,” he sneers. “It’s always so much fun, isn’t it? I’m especially looking forward to being alone with you again.”

My nails dig into my palms, preparing to swing when Silas appears, placing his hand on the small of my back. A thrill runs through my core, but I remain focused on Thatcher.

“Does being an asshole ever bore you, Thatcher? I’m bored, aren’t you, Briar?” Silas flashes a smile in my direction.

I nod as he moves me forward, taking me with him. Thatcher clicks his tongue.

We step out of the room, the hallway empty except for us. “You didn’t have to do that. I told you I can take care of myself.”

“I know I didn’t have to. Believe me, I’m very well aware of what you are capable of. I told you, though, that I’m protective of you and very much enjoy getting on Thatcher’s bad side.”

I lower my head, my cheeks flushing. “I suppose you are going to stalk me during this next trial?”

“Well, Princess, though we are in a competition, I can’t let anything happen to the person I’m fighting for,” he says with a wink.

I want to trust him, but something in my gut resists the urge to let go. It's almost as if he can read my mind because he adds, “You’ll trust me one day. I’ll do anything to make sure of that.”

Moving around his large body, I glance over my shoulder, smiling. “Maybe what you should be concerned about, Prince, is if you can trust me.”

Silas laughs. “Maybe you are right.”

We stand for a moment, our eyes locked as he briefly touches my hand. “I’ll do what I can to help in the trial, Briar. Call me possessive if you want, but I’m serious. Nothing will stop me from protecting you.”

I nod. “Does worrying about me all the time cause you any health problems?" I can’t help but chuckle at my own joke. “I’ll catch you later, Nastronde.”

He tilts his head back and laughs, showcasing his strong neck. I watch him for a moment; his laughter is infectious before I take my leave.

“You are something, Briar!”

Imake my way to the kitchen, leaving him behind. Rose and Lang will help calm my racing heart. It’s been days since I’ve heard their banter, and I’m eager for a distraction. The kitchen is quiet, which isn’t surprising, given that it’s later in the day and dinner preparations haven’t begun yet. Lang stands in his usual spot, while Rose hovers nearby.

“Your eyesight is going, old man,” she snaps. “Do you even notice how much salt you just put in that dish?”

Lang snorts, shooing her away. “The only thing wrong with me is you being a pain in my ass.”

Rose booms a laugh, nudging his shoulder as she whisks away to tend to other kitchen chores.

“Briar!” Rose cheers as she spots me.

Lang whips around with a wide grin on his face. “You look great! We heard news of the third trial being soon. Shouldn’t you be prepping?

“Well, it’s hard to prepare for something you know nothing about, isn’t it?” I sigh. “Again, my father only made vague mentions of what is to be expected, and we don’t even know for certain when the trial will take place.”

“You best watch yourself around those men. I don’t trust ‘em,” Lang barks.

Rose adds, “We all know this. You wouldn’t trust anyone going after our princess, would you? But I don’t disagree. This trial isn’t going to be easy. You need to focus and work on a plan.”

I don’t respond. She’s right—I have no plan or any idea what to expect.

The conversation dies down as they return to their duties, leaving me sitting in my usual spot. Rose quickly shuffles over to me, noticing that Lang is busy making his usual mess.

“Another letter came today.” She winks, and my suspicion that she knows more looms over me.

“Thanks, Rose.”

She hangs around for a moment longer, just staring, seeing if I will react to what she just handed me. When I don’t, she nods and walks away. The handwriting is unmistakably my mother’s. I pray to the Gods that this will give us the answers we desperately need.

Instead of rushing to my room like I’ve done in the past, I stay seated for a moment longer, trying to compose myself.

“Rose,” I call out, “where did you say this came from again?”

She smiles and shrugs. "It arrived this morning. I’m not sure about anything beyond that.”

Before excusing myself, I study her a minute longer as she keeps a casual cool with her features. Lang and Rose wave over their shoulders as I head toward the door. I make it a few paces down the hallway when I collide with a body.

“What the fuck!” I curse.

Maines lies on the floor. “Gods, I’m so sorry! I was running to find you.” She stands, rubbing her neck.

“I found something,” she says, glancing around before whispering, “About you know what.” I grab her arm and shift us to the roof, landing with a thud.

“That hurt!” she grumbles, touching her arm.

“Sorry, I’m a bit on edge, and my bedroom doesn’t even feel safe these days. Rose handed me another letter.”

Her eyes widen. “What does it say? Have you opened it?”

“No, I crashed into you before I had the chance,” I respond.

“Sorry about that. I think I found something about the crystal, so I was in a panic about finding you.”

I nudge her to continue.

“It’s old, exactly like we suspected,” she says, pacing. “And it can be used in rituals to resurrect the dead, but there are rules. You must complete several rituals in a specific order, in a certain setting. It’s detailed, Briar. And time sensitive.” She stops pacing and looks me in the eye. “It’s bad news. I’m not sure how your father got his hands on this, but according to the texts, it was lost over a hundred years ago and was supposedly never found.”

My mind races. “You don’t think he would be trying to resurrect my mother, do you?”

Maines slumps against the stone wall, her face grim. “Briar, it says that if someone is brought back, they don’t return the same. They come back... worse. Like creatures from another realm, forced to walk this one again. It’s unnatural.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine. The idea of bringing someone back from the dead hasn’t been practiced for centuries. Many healers use illusions to communicate with the deceased for closure, but never in physical form. The consequences are too great. It’s dark magic, forbidden long ago. My darkness stirs uneasily in my chest at the mention of this black magic.

“What conditions are needed to make the rituals work?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“That’s the problem.” Maines sighs. “I couldn’t find exact instructions. It’s like that information was wiped, just in case anyone came looking. I could get into serious trouble for studying this.”

“Well, my father must know how to make the crystal work. We need to figure it out.” A chill runs through me. “We also need to find out who he’s planning to resurrect—and why.”

“I’m going back to the House to keep digging. I’ll ask around to see if any of the healers know anything about this dark magic.”

I nod, turning toward the stairwell. “Fine, but don’t disclose anything unnecessary. We don’t need anyone getting suspicious.”

She smiles and shifts into a dark mist, leaving me standing on the roof alone.

The letter in my hand feels heavy, as though it’s full of secrets I’m not ready to uncover. I glance down and open the letter.

My shadow,

Creatures lurk where you are heading. Dark and dangerous creatures hide in the woods. Stay out of sight and survive. That is what you must do in this third trial, Briar. Let your darkness be a beacon in the night. Find the ones you love and stay together.

All my love.

My mother knew about my father’s plans for years, these very trials. But why didn’t she warn me? Did she think I couldn’t handle the truth? I turn to head down the stairs, fists clenched tightly. I look out over the Kingdom of Daramveer. The sun dips behind the clouds, casting pink hues across the sky, the last barrier before it rests for the night.

A sigh escapes my lips. I may not return to this spot. I may not survive the trials. But one thing is certain: I am Briar Blackbyrne. I will fight. I will use the darkness inside me to try to win.

I dig my nails into the railing and look toward the forest. I’m not sure what’s coming, but I know where it’s starting.

Chapter 23

Black flames burn inside my body—I grit my teeth, the pain flowing through me as shadows swirl around my palms. Figures stand before me as always, except this time, I recognize them—though they’re typically faceless—to be friends. Whoever is controlling my body doesn’t allow me to react as my eyes darken in their direction. No loving feelings toward the figures, only rage. A familiar voice screams my name, but only my heart knows that. My mind forces me to continue what needs to be done.

I step over my brother’s fallen body—blood pooling around his shoulder where my axe once struck. My soul screams, but my body continues forward. Thatcher stands beside me, a devilish grin forming on his cracked lips. The shadows sting my palms as I gaze down, realizing I’m standing in the middle of a ritual site. Thatcher begins to pray to the Dark Shadow Wiitch, Kalix. Unfamiliar Rigils swirl up my arms. My head tips back as the darkness flows from the ash-covered ground into my bruised body. Finally, a scream successfully leaves my lips as I’m thrown backward, landing on my back. A hand cracks through the earth, grabbing my ankle and dragging me through dirt and blood.

This dream is different. It’s changed. Branches snap beneath my body, and I snap back into my own mind. I’m not in my dreams, no. Someone just shifted me, and I’m physically being dragged. I’m awake. This isn’t a dream. I attempt to thrash against the grip holding me, but I can’t move. My body is limp along with my vocal cords.

Scream, Briar!

My world goes black.

Blinking slowly, my vision becomes clearer. Darkness crowds in—the towering trees looming over me like deadly hands reaching down. I gasp, sitting up as the forest feels suffocating. The smell of mud, grass, and Dyisen—an herbal medicine used by healers to drown magic—fills my nose. I was drugged and dragged.

The feeling I was experiencing wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Someone brought me out here. Fear floods my body as I realize the third trial has begun, and I’m alone.

The gray, cloudy sky makes it hard to see. The moon barely peeks out from behind the clouds, not gracing me with any light from the night sky. The forest is silent, and fog moves through the trees like a pathway, leading me deeper.

I know this forest.

The other competitors must also be out here, but unfortunately, they are not what I fear most in these woods. As children, we ventured into the woods but always kept a safe distance from the darkness that lurked in its depths. Sometimes, things would call to us, but my mother always told us to ignore it. I realize now I’ve experienced one of these creatures on the island, and I’ll do my best to avoid it here. Shadows can’t hurt you if you don’t acknowledge their presence. The creature that’s been haunting me would be a welcome gift compared to what really lurks deep in this forest.

Think, Briar. Think.

I glance down at the sack I picked up on the island. My two gold axes and their sheaths bring a wave of relief. Attaching the holsters to my back, I braid my long black hair and toss it over my shoulder. The weight of the axes pulls at me like an unyielding force. I tighten my boots, feeling the strain on my injured ankle, and take a moment to thank the Gods I’m wearing pants. Pushing the sleeves of my blouse up to my elbows, I head north, feeling the pull like a beacon of light in the dark.

The forest seems to move with me—shadows casting faces on the trees and boulders as I pass. My breath hitches with each sound that echoes across the forest floor. No other sign of life has made itself known, and I pray to the Gods that it stays that way—even though I know that’s wishful thinking. I repeat this mantra, trying to build false confidence while I still have the time. I continue for what seems like hours, each tree blurring together, causing me to lose track of my location. No streams trickle nearby, and the breeze has stopped, making the silence unbearable.

A crack breaks the stillness—a snapping twig—and I sink slowly behind a tree, hoping it’s a competitor and not something worse heading my way. Barely breathing, I sit still, waiting as the figure creeps closer. One axe is drawn, my knuckles screaming against the grip, the other hand resting on the throat of my second axe, ready to strike.

The forest pauses.

Graven Thornfield enters the clearing, his white hair shimmering in the dim moonlight. The twins are never separated, but I guess they thought it fair to do so for this trial. I remain motionless as my target approaches. I don’t want to kill him, but if it comes to a duel, my weapons will swing and find their home.

He fumbles through the darkness, the drugs still lingering in his system. I can smell his fear. Some Shadow Wielders can see well in the dark. I’m one of them, which gives me an advantage in this trial. I can’t help but pity Graven at this moment.

Peering around the tree, my foot slips, causing an additional branch to slide across the forest floor, the crack piercing the silence. His attention snaps in my direction, and he staggers toward me, his footing uneven on the jagged terrain. I notice the weapon over his shoulder—a crossbow. He’s not even properly armed.

If he doesn’t see me, I’ll let him go by. Every step he takes sounds like an alarm to anything lurking nearby. I wait for my chance to slip behind him and keep heading north, aligning our bodies. I hide in the shadows. His palm glows as he lights up the world around us, revealing my hiding spot while I crouch lower, praying he doesn’t spot my shadow.

It’s unwise to shine such a light in complete darkness. Those who flourish in it will come searching.

He grits his teeth and slowly turns toward me. I pounce, my body colliding with his as he yelps, his shriek breaking the silence.

“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, clasping my hand over his mouth.

Graven thrashes against my hold, biting my palm and sending a jolt of pain through my hand. The shock throws me off balance, and I tumble to the forest floor at his feet, giving him a second to lunge on top of me. Both axes fall to the ground with a loud thud, out of my reach.

“Hi, Princess,” he breathes, his voice too loud.

My eyes widen. “Graven, please be quiet. You don’t want to draw any more attention.”

“Shut up. Locked away in your pretty castle for all those years, you know nothing of the outside world.” His breath warms my face.

“Graven, I’m not joking. Be quiet!” Panic seeps into my voice as I imagine what might be headed our way.

“I think it’s time for you to be quiet.” He sneers. “And you’ll be the one begging when I’m done with you. It would be such a shame if you died. All the shit you’ve caused, your father would be happy if you were out of the picture. He’s promised us more than you could ever offer.”

So, that’s it. My father has promised them all something for entering these trials. My mind snaps to Silas.

Is he in on this?

My eyes widen as I notice a nearly invisible claw reaching down from the tree above Graven. Razor-sharp fingernails snake through the air between us. In the darkness, I see dead skin dangling from its rotten bones. A Figgawen, a creature neither alive nor truly dead, waits above, ready to strike.

“Graven, you need to run. That way!” I shout, pointing to the north, where I know the castle stands.

He laughs. “You think I’m afraid of you, Briar? You made us all look like fools when you entered this competition. We’re just fighting to prove you wrong at this point. We laugh at you behind your back.”

The impact of his words strikes my chest, but it is overshadowed by the creature’s movement. The Figgawen hovers, its claws nearly brushing Graven’s long blonde hair. It smiles in our direction, aware it has at least one of us within its grasp. The stench intensifies as it crawls down the tree. I widen my eyes, my heart racing. The Figgawen is too close.

“Run!” I scream.

The Figgawen pounces with unnatural speed, punching a hole through Graven’s thick throat.

Blood sprays across my face as its claws nearly blind me. Graven’s body goes slack, his eyes wide with terror as I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed by his large body. The gaping hole in his neck tells me everything I need to know. He’s dead.

I grab my axes, get to my feet, and the horror before me leaves me too horrified to move for a second. The creature begins to feast on Graven’s body, its talons ripping into his flesh. I remain frozen in fear, watching the gruesome scene. Slowly, I backpedal—retreating into the shadow of a large tree—hoping the creature doesn’t notice me slip away.

An awful scream rings through the forest, throwing me off balance. I continue to move quickly, vision blurring as the sounds of cracking branches echo around me. I know I’m being followed, and I won’t stop until I’m far away enough to escape.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the trees sway as the creature leaps from one branch to another. It’s closing in on me.

Turning back around, I run for a cluster of tightly grouped trees. If I can make it there, I might lose it.

Stay out of sight.

I crash into a hard body, my teeth rattling from the impact. Thatcher stands before me, Bardot close behind, his face ghostly pale. Blood coats Thatcher’s arms, and I pray he hasn’t reached the others.

“Keep running,” I pant, my voice hoarse.

Thatcher grabs my braid and pulls it tight, causing a shriek to escape from me. He’s going to rip it clean off my head.

I try to speak, but pain spikes in my head as I claw at his arm to make him stop.

“Where’s Graven?” Bardot hisses. “We heard a scream.”

The trees stop swaying. The creature has become invisible again, waiting in the shadows.

“I don’t know where Graven is, but I heard that, too. You should look that way,” I force out, pointing in the direction the creature stalks.

They laugh at my flailing. “Stop acting scared. I thought a shadow princess like you would love this kind of darkness. You’re proving how worthless you are. I’d be embarrassed to marry you.”

Bardot snorts and adds, “Yeah, we’re just trying to win your psychotic father’s approval.”

“I’m getting sick of you three,” I snap. “If you want to go after my father so bad, just do it and leave me out of this.”

Thatcher leans down, tugging my hair so my face moves close to his mouth.

I spit, “Fucking pig!”

He jerks his head back, disgust in his eyes. “Filth. You’ll pay for this.”

An unnatural scream echoes through the darkness like crashing waves. The sound distracts Thatcher for a moment, and I take my chance, ripping my hair free from his grasp. Pain radiates through my head and neck as I flee.

Screams of men erupt behind me, propelling me forward with terrifying speed. A twig snaps to my left, and I turn to see the creature standing in the shadows. Its black cloak nearly disappears against the trees, but its glowing eyes capture my gaze.

I take in a sharp breath, realizing too late that I’ve reached a drop—a cavern that would kill anyone who fell. I try to stop, but my body rolls over the edge, my arm catching a single rock. My legs dangle from the cliff while my heart pounds in my chest. The sound of slapping water below fills my ears.

Fuck.

The weight of my body is too much, and my magic is completely drained from the sprint. I can’t shift. The creature floats toward me, a thin hand reaching down, offering me its cold, bony touch. Desperation overrides my hesitation, and I swing my hand toward the creature, barely feeling its grip as it pulls me from the edge. It sets me down gently, as if I weigh nothing.

I scramble back, breathing heavily.

The creature points east.

“Wait!” I call as it begins to vanish into the darkness.

It spins, hearing something in the dark. A scream escapes its hollow mouth, shaking the trees. I spring to my feet, following its directions, still unsure.

East, toward the Cita Mountains, where creatures worse than death dwell and further away from the castle.

Find the ones you love and stay together.

Chapter 24

Water. I need water. I pause to rest against a nearby tree. Where are the others? Maines will never believe the stories I’ll have for her once I return… if I return. A memory flashes in my mind of our childhood, daring each other to explore the forest and see who could venture the furthest. She always beat me, no surprise there. I wish she were here.

I stand on shaky legs, taking in my surroundings. With the darkness on my side, I narrow my eyes and focus, looking through the trees rather than at them.

As I hone in, I swear I can make out a faint shape about a half mile away. Its movement suggests it’s a competitor, but then again, I’ve been wrong before. It’s limping. No sounds break the silence, so I take a moment to holster both weapons on my back. Sticking to the shadows, I move with grace, stalking toward what I hope is a competitor. Considering my options, it must be Rohhit, Silas, or Oak. None of them would kill me—I hope.

The trees open into a clearing, and as I move toward the figure, I’m exposed. With nothing to keep me hidden, I sprint across the open space—too nervous to walk—my magic completely drained by the lingering effects of the drugs. I peer around a tree, seeing that the figure isn’t limping anymore—it’s on the ground. Unmoving.

I pick up my speed, moving through the tall grass. As it comes into view, I see Rohhit lying unconscious on the forest floor, bleeding. I kneel beside him, scanning his body. A pool of blood spreads out from a deep cut near his ankle—his Achilles tendon was severed.

“Rohhit! Can you hear me?” I shake his body, but he doesn’t respond.

I’ve got to get him somewhere hidden. We’ll both die if we stay here with no protection.

Refusing to drop my weapons, I realize I’ll either need to carry or drag him. I lean down to pick him up, but his body is heavier than I anticipate. He’s a large man—heads taller than I am, his shoulders twice as broad. This isn’t going to work.

“Sorry, Rohhit,” I say, grabbing both his arms. “Hold on.” I take a deep breath, pushing off with all my strength, and begin dragging him toward the mouth of the Cita Mountains.

Only tales of courageous travelers who dared to journey this far into the forest had ever been shared. My arms tingle with anxiety as I bear his weight, hoping to avoid dragging us to our doom. Exhaustion hits me hard, and Rohhit stirs in my grasp.

“Can you hear me?” I lean down, grasping his face in my hands. His eyes flutter open, only to close seconds later. “Rohhit, if you can hear me, I need your help. I can’t carry you alone. Do you have any strength to move?”

A slow nod moves his head.

“Okay! On the count of three, I need you to push with your other leg toward the opening right there.” I point. “Can you do that?” Another slight movement gives me hope. “Alright then. One…two…three!” I grit my teeth, pushing with all my strength to the mouth of a cave, only a few steps ahead. A sob leaves his throat as blood leaks from his leg with every movement. “Stop! I can do the rest.”

His body goes limp again, his head falling to the side.

With a mountainous roof over our heads, I gently lay him against the side of the cave. The large stone walls offer some shelter and the tiny drips of water echo from the cave’s depths.

“That’s a good sign,” I murmur to his unconscious form.

Animal bones line the far cave walls—a bad sign—but I don’t tell Rohhit. The dark mountain hums with our presence, its constant echo vibrating from the hollow cave behind us. “I’m going to look around just outside the cave, okay? I need to find a few things to heal you.”

He doesn’t respond, but I feel better leaving him with some shelter. Plus, I’m not going far.

I step out of the cave’s mouth, surveying our surroundings. I know the castle lies northwest, but traveling miles with Rohhit isn’t an option right now. The moon peeks from behind the clouds, granting a small shine of light. The black trees sway in the breeze, making the hair on the back of my neck stand.

It’s just trees.

I move forward, quickly and carefully, trying to avoid any noise. A few natural supplies will help me attempt a healing ritual on his leg: water for cleaning, a crystal, and mud to pack the wound. Infection can wait. Blood is the strongest tool for performing rituals, but it’s dangerous. Too much power flows through those who use blood, yet desperate times call for desperate measures. My mother showed me many times over the years how to do basic rituals, and right now, I wish I had listened more.

I glance over my shoulder. The cave is still in view, but I feel safe enough to travel a little further into the forest. Rushing water reaches my ears as I approach a small creek. Making a makeshift bucket out of a few branches and leaves, I fill it with water to clean the wound. Satisfied, I spin to head back to the cave when a cold gust of wind hits me.

I crouch, my eyes straining to see through the trees. Someone is creeping toward the mouth of the cave, toward the unconscious prince. Abandoning the water, I sprint through the trees, closing the distance.

I reach behind my head, drawing an axe and placing my other hand on the throat of the second one, ready to throw if needed. Peering around the rocky wall, I see a figure kneeling next to Rohhit. The figure’s back becomes familiar as I approach. I’ve seen this head many times, and I slowly enter the cave, both axes drawn now.

“Back the fuck away from him, Oak,” I snap.

He jerks his body as my eyes catch the massive sword on his back, a dark, charged crystal embedded in the hilt.

“Briar! Holy Gods. You scared me to death.” He flinches.

Inching closer, I don’t release my grip on the axes. “I said move back. Now.” Anger swirls around me. The breeze whips my hair to the side as my darkness becomes overly protective of the fallen prince.

“Okay, okay!” Oak raises his hands in surrender. “I was just checking to see if he was alive. This doesn't look good! Shit, you look bad too, Briar!”

Remembering the cuts and blood on me, I bet I’m a horrific sight, emerging from the darkness of the forest with two gold axes clutched in my bleeding hands. Oak, however, is untouched. Suspicion runs through me.

“Where have you been?” I ask.

He keeps a healthy distance between us but lowers his hands. “I’ve been running around this fucking forest, hoping to find you. Have you heard those screams?”

Unfortunately, I know exactly what caused those sounds. “Yes, I believe I’m the reason behind those bellows you’ve heard. I’m hoping to avoid any more until morning.”

Oak sinks against the rock wall opposite where Rohhit lies. “He’s going to die if we can’t stop the bleeding.”

“I know. I briefly left to find some water. I need a crystal, and I was going to try a healing ritual on his leg.” My eyes drift to the sword on his back. “Give me that weapon.”

Shock dances across his face. “I trust you and all, Princess, but that’s the only thing I have to protect myself. I’m not just handing it over.”

“I don’t want to keep it, you idiot. I want the crystal on it. It may work to start the ritual. But the more you complain, the closer we are to losing him.”

He hesitates but finally pulls the sword from his back. “I know a few things about healing. Let me help!”

Remembering that we still need water, I point deeper into the cave. “Fine, go get water. I won’t risk you going into the forest unprotected. Bring it back.”

Oak takes one look at the darkness and animal bones before standing with force. “Gods, no. I’m not going back there unprotected either!”

I rush toward him, grabbing his fresh shirt with my bloody hands. “He’s going to die, and it’s because you were too afraid to get water. Maines is going to laugh in your face when I tell her, you coward.”

He pushes my hands off his clothes, assessing the stain. “How dare you call me that! I’m anything but!”

He marches into the darkness, and a grin forms on my face, knowing that the mention of her worked.

Men and their fragile egos.

I rush back to Rohhit. “I’m going to make it better. I’ll take the pain away as soon as I can.” I brush a strand of his hair from his face. His blonde hair is brown with dirt, but he still radiates a light. “Please give me a sign that you can hear me.” I check his pulse, a faint heartbeat thumping back.

I guess that’s sign enough.

Carefully, I place his head on my lap and remove my outer blouse to keep him warm. My bare skin is exposed underneath, and I snicker, imagining Oak’s expression when he sees me. The cold mountain air brushes against my skin, raising goosebumps. I wrap Rohhit snugly in my shirt, doing my best to cover him. He stirs, making me jump. Any sudden movement keeps me on edge.

“I’m here, Rohhit! You’re going to be okay.”

Scooting the sword closer to me, I study the crystals on the hilt. Stunning stones in rich greens and black twinkle, even in the darkness of the cave. They’re small, but they might work. I grab a rock and carefully wiggle the crystal free, cautious not to break the precious stone. I wedge the rock under the prong and apply some force. The stone finally falls into my hand.

A yell deep in the cave snaps me out of focus, nearly causing me to drop the crystal. Wincing, I clutch it and spring to my feet, preparing to fight whatever Oak has disturbed. He sprints toward us, adrenaline propelling him forward.

“What the hell are you yelling about?” I snap.

“There… there were bats! Thousands of them! And something ruffled them!” He pants, crouching to rest his hands on his knees. “And I swear to the Gods I saw something in the water.”

“And to think, I almost apologized for calling you a coward earlier.”

He continues to catch his breath. “I don’t know how you Shadow Wielders handle darkness so well. I hate this shit.” His gaze travels to my chest, his eyes widening.

Snatching the water, I return my focus to Rohhit, kneeling beside him.

I begin to draw a wide circle around his body with the dust from a rock. Oak watches me work with intensity.

I pause. “Can you draw Rigils? I can, but you may be better at them.”

He scrunches his nose. “I have some experience, yes. Lumor Wielders are often taught the basics at a young age, but how and if you continue to practice is up to the Wielder.”

He moves closer, dipping his finger in the dark liquid pooling around Rohhit’s leg. “Blood is a strong conduit. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

I nod. The wall beside him will make a fine canvas for the ritual. Drawing the Rigil with near perfection, he looks back at me, ready for me to begin. Four circles with a straight line down the middle decorate the wall, blood dripping from the markings.

Clasping the crystal, I dive deep into my magic, praying something comes forward, even with the drugs still in my system. I close my eyes, relaxing my entire body, trying to replenish whatever I can from my overpowering exhaustion. To my surprise, the crystal begins to glow. I silently pray to Raddnoke for the strength to save Rohhit’s life. Magic bubbles within me as the glowing crystal casts shadows across the stone wall, illuminating the cave's mouth. My hair moves as if there’s wind, though there’s none.

“Briar, are you sure about this?” Oak whispers, but I ignore him and continue praying to the Dark God.

The pain intensifies, coursing through my body, and sends shockwaves to my nervous system. My body urges me to stop, but my internal darkness cries out for me to continue as the crystal starts to mold to my hand. Just a few more seconds.

Once the crystal is fully illuminated, I can place it on his leg and let the magic flow inside.

The black glow continues to build, and the pain becomes unbearable. I grit my teeth, pushing forward, praying.

Oak’s voice reaches my ear. “You need to stop. This doesn’t feel right.”

It’s almost complete, just a few more seconds. A drawn-out groan leaves my mouth. I can’t do this any longer. It hurts. It’s burning me. I place the stone against Rohhit’s ankle, and it glows in the darkness.

Even as the pain intensifies, I hold on.

I can do this. I can help him.

My arms go numb, and my vision blurs as my head snaps back, nearly touching my shoulder blades. A silent scream erupts from my mouth, and my world turns black.

Chapter 25

I’m no longer kneeling in the mouth of the mountain. I realize that I’m standing in someone’s house in the heart of Daramveer. A crowd of people stands before me, their backs turned in my direction. The dim living space has been cleared of furniture to make room for a healing ritual. I blink through the haze and find my mother sitting before an elderly man on the brink of death. A sob leaves my throat at the sight of her, alive and inches from me. Expecting the people to turn, they remain focused, and I remain invisible.

My mother leans closer to a loved one, hovering over, watching the ritual be performed. I can’t make out their exchange, but my mother’s eyes show nothing but love. Her hands gracefully move over the elderly man’s torso as she assesses the internal damage that likely occurred from an infection. House calls like this weren’t uncommon for the healers who worked at the House of Hedro. Those too sick to travel were never ignored. Skilled healers would travel all hours of the night if necessary.

The ritual necessities around the patient and my mother seem similar to how I left the cave moments ago. My mother holds a crystal, saying silent prayers to Raddnoke to help her heal this man. Her hair swells like a strong breeze traveling through the still room.

The black crystal begins to illuminate, not with a white light but a black glow, the opposite of light—the kind of darkness that promises to devour any soul. Markings begin forming on the crystal when I realize I’ve seen those Rigils. She continues to chant and whispers into the stone, not noticing the ancient texts glowing. The breeze pauses, and the room goes silent, waiting. The hair on my neck stands, and my breath hits my chest.

“Mom, let go of the crystal,” I say, but no one hears.

My mind goes back to the forest. I felt darkness leaking from the stone, and the electricity traveling through me was anything but pure.

“Mom! Gods, let go!” I scream again.

My mother’s head snaps back, and the onlookers jolt, many gasping at the sight. A scream leaves my mother’s mouth as the black light from the crystal moves from her hands into her body. Soon, the shadows are engulfed, and my mother can no longer be seen through the shadows moving around her small body.

Tears stream down my eyes as I realize I’m watching the moment my mother died. The night my internal light went out. The family members watch in shock at the terror unfolding before them.

Rose bounds from the kitchen, throwing extra supplies into the air, a failed attempt to get there faster. She crashes to her knees, a blast of light leaving her palms toward my mother. A small opening forms in the shadows as Rose grabs my mother through the crack. Her lifeless body is snatched from the darkness and lands in Rose’s lap, a pained sob leaving her throat. I try to stand but can’t move.

Drifting further away, I stretch my arms out, begging to stay, to help.

“No!” I sob as my body turns to mist. The figures fade into the distance, and I’m ripped from the vision, leaving my mother’s lifeless body behind.

I wake to find myself on the cave floor, still clutching the crystal tight as blood trickles down my arms. I hear my name being called.

“Briar, don’t do this to me. Open your eyes.”

With a renewed focus, I spring up, but dizziness sends me crashing back down. The darkness envelops me once again.

Seconds, minutes, hours—I'm not sure how long it's been when I finally wake up on the cave floor, still battling through the third trial. I slowly sit up, a headache and brain fog almost blinding me.

Rose.

Why was Rose there when my mother died?

I scan the cave, expecting to find Rohhit dead. He sleeps soundly in a different position than when I fainted. Blood is no longer leaking from his leg, and I notice his chest rising and falling in a perfect rhythm.

Oak is asleep as well, curled in the fetal position.

Coward. I probably scared him to death.

I snort at the sight. But why are they all sleeping? Someone should be awake, keeping guard until morning.

“You can relax, Briar. I told them to rest.”

The hair on my neck prickles as I slowly turn. Silas sits leaning against the stone wall at the cave’s entrance, his arms resting on his propped knees. “Your scream echoed through the mountain. You best be happy to see me and not hundreds of creatures sitting here.” He rubs his head, looking exhausted. “You really gave us quite a scare, Princess.”

I twist my body to face him so I don’t disturb the others, and he continues, “Rohhit is going to be fine. The ritual almost killed you, but it did save him.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’d never forgive him if you sacrificed your life for his. However, the bleeding has stopped, and he’s resting—thanks to you.” His deep voice flows through the cave like a dark lullaby.

I glance toward Rohhit’s sleeping body.

“His leg seems to be healing. He’ll likely be out for a few hours and limping for a few days. Oak, on the other hand, is exhausted from nearly shitting his pants.”

The corners of my mouth twitch.

He returns a soft smile. “You look awful.”

“You don’t look your best either, Prince Nastronde. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you truly look tired.” I try to stand, but my legs give out under me.

In an instant, Silas is there, guiding me back to the cold cave floor. “Don’t try that again.” His strong hands wrap around my waist. “You need to give your body a little time before you spring up like that.”

I listen and take a moment to relax. Then, my gaze shifts to his emerald eyes. Silas is only two years older than I am, but his eyes seem older. They carry dark memories that no one should experience in a lifetime, especially not at such a young age. He meets my intense stare, and I swear I see a flicker of pain in his eyes before he quickly turns his head away.

“You are freezing.” His arm moves from around my waist. “Take this.”

He removes his outer shirt, exposing his muscled arms and chest. Small scars pepper his skin. I take his shirt and wrap it around my bare shoulders. “That looks nice on you.” He smirks. “Get some rest. I want to show you something before the others wake.”

“Thank you, Silas.”

“For what?”

“For everything.” I smile, and he reciprocates.

Moving closer, I rest my head on his chest, longing for his touch and warmth. We gaze out over the forest for a moment, neither of us speaking, only the sounds of our breaths filling the silence. He takes my hand, gently tracing his fingers around mine. The slow strokes feel tender. I glance up again, studying his face for a moment. His sharp jaw and the worried expression on his brow convey so much.

“I’m okay, Silas,” I whisper.

He looks at me, his brows slightly furrowing. “When I got to the cave, you were unconscious.” He pauses, still drawing small circles around my fingers. “Oak told me what happened, and I didn’t believe him until I saw your face. Your eyes were closed, but you looked horrified.”

I grab his hand. “I’m okay, Silas. I promise.”

He nods, and I know he doesn’t believe me.

“You said you wanted to show me something. Show me!”

He gives me a cautious look before it’s replaced with a wide grin as he stands. He extends his hand for me to take. I take his hand as he pulls me up with a gentle force, making sure I’m stable before he continues forward. “They’ll be fine,” he says confidentially. “That ritual you performed seemed to cast a ward around this cave. No one should be able to see it, let alone enter here with a nasty shock.”

He doesn’t drop my hand as he walks deeper into the cave.

“I’m not going back there! Oak said he saw something.”

He pulls me along, “He’s probably not wrong, but don’t you trust me?”

Not making the mistake of leaving my weapons, I hostler my axes and allow him to guide me deeper into the darkness.

“I’m going to earn your trust one day, Princess. I don’t think you’re foolish for having concerns. I have heard I have a reputation.”

Being from Andorwood comes with zero trust and many rumors that cast the kingdom in a poor light. Knowing he will one day be the king there sounds like a curse—worse than me being Queen of Daramveer. The ‘King of Creatures, Death, and the Forgotten has a nice ring to it. Some rumors speak of creatures larger than the mountains themselves dwelling deep beneath Andorwood. However, no one has ever seen one or dared to ask a resident about it.

I can’t imagine a child being raised there—at least, I had a somewhat normal childhood. The things he must have experienced at such a young age make my heart break. As we continue deeper into the cave, my eyes travel to his face, drawn to the white scar so close to his left eye. It cuts directly through his eyebrow, leaving a bare spot where the injury healed over time. It’s faded over his life but noticeable, even in the darkness of the cave.

“It’s from when I was a child,” he says. “My father had an interesting way of punishing me. Instead of basic punishments for speaking out or just being a child, I was forced to fight like an animal in a cage. Some mistakes during these fights almost cost me my life. I learned to prepare and study, and those errors stopped.”

Sorrow fills me as I can’t imagine a child ever going through that. Yet, my childhood with my father wasn’t much better.

“This scar came from one of those fights with a man much older than me. I was around twelve, if I remember correctly. It’s a reminder now that I cherish.”

“A reminder of what? That your father is a horrible man?”

He snorts in amusement. “That every morning I wake up—it’s a reminder that I can fight, but I don’t always have to choose to fight. Some battles are worth fighting, and I’ve learned over the years that some aren’t. You, Princess, are worth that fight.” He squeezes my hand as if letting me know I don’t have to respond. Something about him feels familiar—like we’ve known each other for much longer than the trials.

As we delve deeper into the cave, our conversation falls silent. The only sound surrounding us is the gentle trickling of water from the rocks above. A drop of water breaks loose from the ceiling, hitting me on the nose and causing my whole body to jump at the sudden sensation. Silas shifts his attention to me, noticing my flinch. He chuckles softly before turning to face me. His strong hand reaches up to my face, gently wiping away the water.

His thumb glides from my nose to my cheek before he gently cups my face. The intensity of his gaze sends electricity coursing through my body. His eyes meet mine, and even in the darkness, his piercing green eyes radiate light. Eyes that usually display composure and intensity now reveal a hint of concern.

I scared him earlier.

“I thought you were going to die earlier, Briar.”

Before I have a chance to speak, he brushes my cheek once more. I lean into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment. Just before I can open them, his lips gently meet mine. He pulls away just as quickly and says, “I’m sorry.”

His lips quiver slightly, but his hands remain on my cheeks.

“Don’t be.”

He releases my face but doesn’t break eye contact as his hands slowly travel down to find mine again. My whole body tingles in his presence as he pulls me toward whatever he wants to show me.

As Silas stops, my attention whirls to what lies in front of us. Before me is a body of water. The trickling sound I heard earlier came from here. This is where Oak saw something. However, this is not a normal body of water.

Beneath the surface, the water sparkles like fallen stars from the night sky. The droplets cascading from the rocky ceiling strike the surface in a rhythm, as if the water is serenading us.

“How did you know this was here?”

He lets go of my hand, and my body once more craves his touch. “We have similar caves throughout Andorwood. I suspected there might be one here. This one, however, is quite spectacular,” he replies.

The sparkles underneath the pond dance like diamonds floating. I try to move closer, dazzled by the lights, but Silas stops me. “It’s deceiving. The beauty of the water pulls you in, but you mustn’t enter. Creatures cast images in hopes of luring you to the water’s edge. Their goal is to drown you. Beautiful but deadly if you don’t know their secrets.”

“But Oak retrieved water from here earlier!”

He stares at the water, the light reflecting off his eyes. “And Oak is a damn fool. A lucky one but a fool.”

Narrowing my senses, I can see a small set of eyes peering above the water through the darkness. The creature’s eyes are an unforgiving black as it waits for us to move closer. “Are they Serpyndens?”

He keeps his focus on the pair of eyes staring back at us. “They are similar. They are descendants of the same common creature, but worse.”

The creature moves, showing more of its slender body. Its gray, wet head, attached to an abnormally long neck, is plastered with black hair.

Silas notices its movement and steps between me and the water. He shifts my body backward, away from the immediate danger. Understanding that we’re not getting closer and that we’re not its prey, the creature vanishes back into the water. The lights of the fallen stars fade on the surface. We can no longer see the shimmers, but instead, we see the bones of the unfortunate souls who stumbled into this cave for shelter and water.

I gasp, stumbling backward, relieved the creature is out of sight. Silas chuckles softly. “It’s fine. Seeing things like this can save your life one day. They can’t leave the water.”

I nod and continue to move to the far wall. My shoulders relax as I realize we are completely alone.

Silas follows my lead as we sit a healthy distance from the pond against the cave wall. No longer in fear of a creature grabbing my ankles and dragging me to my watery death, I take a deep breath. Butterflies dance in my stomach from being this close to him once more.

“Briar, I know you won’t believe me, and you don’t trust me yet. But for years… I have longed to meet you—find you—for I have only called to you in my dreams.” He shifts closer, turning in my direction.

“Dreams?” The similarity between us knocks the wind from my lungs. “You dreamed of me? You are the one yelling my name?”

He takes a moment, pondering thoughts in his own head. He places one hand on my cheek, the other moving into my hair. My breath hitches at the touch as he pulls my face closer, our lips nearly touching.

“I’ve dreamed of you almost every night for five years. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. Standing in blood, surrounded by ruin. I would scream your name until my own voice grew hoarse—trying to save and protect you—but I failed every time. It was like you couldn’t hear me. I would wake exhausted and desperate to find this woman I called to nightly. When I heard the news of a competition of deadly trials to win the heart of Daramveer’s Princess, Briar Blackbyrne, my world stopped moving. I knew it was you, and I’d travel across any ocean, put myself through hell, and die trying to save you. However, I’ve never been able to figure out how I knew your name in my dreams. Something connects us. It’s as if the Gods whispered it to me, pushing me to find you, to help you.”

That’s how I know him. Why he’s so familiar. I’ve heard him cry my name for years. I lean closer and breathe him in. Silas. The one I’ve also been desperate to find for so long—the man who wakes me from my darkest nightmares.

Our mouths collide as I grab the back of his neck. His kiss is deep, almost feral, as if he’s longed for this moment for ages. A shock moves between my legs as the need for him grows. I deepen the kiss—my desperation taking over—our teeth clashing as I move closer to him, inviting our bodies to touch. He groans into my mouth, his hand becoming tangled in my hair. He slowly lays me back, making sure not to break our deep connection. Returning the desperate feeling of needing to be touched, he moves his large body over mine. I can feel him hard over me as my hands reach down, curious about what lies beneath his clothes. Impressive.

Desperate for more friction, I grind my hips against his body, a moan leaving my mouth. “Silas.” His hands begin to explore my body. Trailing down closer to my middle and back up, grasping my full breasts under my thin shirt.

“You are beautiful.”

He moves to my neck, his tongue licking every inch of my sensitive skin. He continues to move his mouth lower as his hands release my breasts and move to the waist of my pants, pulling them down. The cool cave air hits my skin, and a fire burns between my trembling legs.

“Oh Gods. Silas!” I moan.

He moves between my thighs and pauses, looking up at me. “You will be my only God, Briar. I will happily praise and bow to you. Say the word and I’m yours.”

My vision blurs at his touch so close to my center, my body burning for more of him. His tongue sweeps around my most sensitive area before he looks up at me again as if savoring this moment, his piercing eyes looking at me. His fingers plunge into my wetness as my back arches off the cold floor, the only thing keeping me from bursting into flames. He pumps his soaked fingers in and out as his head lowers once more, his tongue joining in. I run my fingers through his dark hair, my moan echoing through the cave. Pleasure clouds my vision as he places one hand over my stomach, keeping me still so he can better devour me. I hear a muffled laugh come from him as I know he’s enjoying my spasms.

“Silas!” I rasp.

I open my eyes to enjoy the sight of him before me. I could live in this moment for a lifetime. I watch him work, my prince drinking in my wetness like his thirst for me can never be quenched.

Tipping my head back, an explosion of electricity moves through my body as the release I was desperate for claims me. A cry escapes my throat as I arch my back, moving my center closer to his face, praying he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue to pump in and out of me, his rhythm quickening, as my core continues to clench around him.

“Fuck! You are magnificent.”

“Don’t stop,” I beg, clawing against the stone floor.

“Such a greedy girl.” He smiles against my center.

Getting up, he flips me onto my stomach, his pants falling to the ground with a thud. The cold stone against my thin shirt makes me gasp, my breasts aching for more of his touch. His hands dig into my hips, likely causing bruises, but the sensation of pain mixed with pleasure almost sends me over the edge again. My breathing hitches as I anticipate what’s to come. Him.

A loud bang startles us from the opening of the cave. “Shit!” Silas yells. “What the hell was that?”

Before we can exchange a look, Oak’s scream in the distance tells us all we need to know. The wards must have failed.

“Run!” I say, quickly dressing. Silas does the same.

He bounds toward me, grabbing my face. “I have many things planned for you, Princess. Next time, there will be no distractions.” He smashes his lips into mine, and for a moment, the others don’t matter. A smile forms at the corners of my mouth as Silas slaps my ass, sprinting to the mouth of the cave toward the noise.

Chapter 26

We round the final corner, the noises growing louder. “We should have never left Rohhit and Oak,” I whisper.

Silas squeezes my hand in response. “I’d say it was worth it but you care for them—I won’t let anything happen to them.”

Peering around the rock, I spot Thatcher and Bardot standing with weapons drawn, clearly catching Rohhit and Oak off guard. Thatcher holds a bow with an arrow locked into position, his typically strong arms now trembling under the pull of the weapon. Bardot holds spikes, ready to throw.

Rohhit lies on the ground, propped on his elbows, still unsure of what’s happening. I’m relieved to see him conscious, color returning to his face. Oak stands between them, a sword drawn, no fear in his gentle eyes. One of my axes lies beside him, and panic floods me—if Thatcher notices it, he’ll know I’m here.

It hits me that Silas doesn’t have a weapon. I whip my head in his direction to ask, but before I can speak, he lunges around the corner, shadows rippling off his incredibly toned body.

“Ah, Prince, I’m so glad you could join us. I was just getting ready to finish the job. You all are starting to be a pain in my ass,” Thatcher sneers. His eyes flick to Rohhit. “Such a shame you had to be looped in with them. We had big plans for you.” His gaze lands on the ritual residue beside Rohhit, and a wicked grin forms on his face.

“Fuck off, Thatcher,” Rohhit rasps, using all the strength he has.

“The King of Daramveer and I have too much on the line for a group of idiots to mess this up. Where is Briar, by the way? Her father made me promise to keep her safe—well, alive. Her condition really doesn’t matter,” he laughs.

Thatcher’s mocking only makes the shadows around Silas grow. Rage leaks off his taut body.

Oak and Silas share a quick look of understanding. Oak heaves his sword toward Thatcher and Bardot. The blade cuts the air with precision.

What the hell are they doing?

Thatcher blocks the sword with his bow, the weapon nearly snapping from the weight of the blade, but he laughs. “Pathetic.”

As the distraction blinds the others, Silas extends his arm. A black light bursts from his hand, throwing Thatcher and Bardot against the hard wall. Their heads slam into the stone.

The commotion echoes through the forest as I sprint to Silas. “What the hell? How did you do that?” Confusion races through my mind. “The Dyisen has been suppressing our magic.”

“The bag I chose on the island. It was magical. I got to keep it as my weapon during this trial. I shifted here when I heard your scream. That’s how I got here so quickly.” He brushes a hand against my cheek, and my face turns pink.

“Can you two do this later? We need to get the fuck out of here,” Oak cuts in.

A scream rattles the mountaintops from a close distance. Rohhit tries to stand but fails. Oak grabs him by the waist. Thatcher and Bardot lie unconscious near the inner walls of the cave.

“We need to leave right now,” Silas barks.

I holster my other axe, a plan quickly forming in my mind.

“Silas, you need to shift Rohhit out of here. He won’t be able to run.” I demand.

Oak nods in agreement.

“I’m not leaving you here, Briar. You heard what’s heading in our direction.”

I move toward him, grabbing his strong shoulders. “If you don’t shift him right now, we’re all going to die trying to save him.”

Panic laces his hard exterior as he towers over me, letting me hold him a moment longer.

“Shift him now. Try to come back once he’s safe. Toward the castle, the clearing I told you about. You’ll know it when you see it. You’ll be safe there. We’ll meet you there when we can.”

The scream moves closer, making us all jolt. Knowing we must move fast, Silas kisses me deeply. His tongue sweeps thoroughly through my mouth, as though kissing me for the last time.

“I told you I would protect you,” he murmurs, his breath ragged against my lips. “This is me failing to do so, and I hate myself for it. I will find you as soon as I can.”

His grip releases my face, leaving me feeling empty in the cold cave. He moves swiftly toward Rohhit, wrapping an arm around his waist. With one final glance in our direction, Silas vanishes into the shadows, taking Rohhit with him.

I turn to Oak. “You ready?”

He leans down to grab his fallen sword. “Do I have a choice?”

We take off from the cave, leaving Thatcher and Bardot behind. Bounding through the trees, I feel a pull in the direction I’m leading Oak. He’s not going to be happy with me, but I have a plan.

I lead us back toward the Figgawen I narrowly escaped earlier. Oak keeps up well with me, effortlessly passing through narrow trees with his broad body. The scream continues to grow closer. We are running out of time.

Instead of staying silent, I let out a scream, letting the creature know exactly where we are.

“What the hell are you doing?” Oak yells from behind me.

“Keep running!” I snap, my lungs filling with fire.

As we approach our destination, the trees become less of a green blur and more familiar. Only a few more turns stand between us. I stop near the edge of an almost invisible ravine. Oak stops breathlessly beside me.

“What the hell, Briar! Are you insane?” He crouches to his knees.

“Yes.”

“You need to listen to me,” I say, panic bubbling up. “Behind us is a drop, at least five hundred feet. I know this because I almost fell to my death earlier.” Shock hits his expression, but I continue, “There’s a Figgawen nearby. It chased me earlier, and I think it’s been stalking us ever since.” Oak’s arms raise in objection, but I stop him. “Whatever’s following close behind is going to run straight for us and the ravine. Wait for my signal. When it’s time, we’ll jump out of the way.”

“Yes, you are insane.” He sighs. “This isn’t going to work.”

Fear hits me as I somewhat believe it won’t either, but I don’t tell him that. “We have no other choice. We can’t outrun this creature. The Figgawen’s been hunting me since we started the trial.”

Oak shakes his head. “Gods, Briar. You sure know how to attract friends. Alright. Let’s do this.”

Standing together, we face the darkness before us. I inhale deeply, drinking in the forest air, fearing this may be my last time doing so. For the first time, it feels easy to face this darkness alongside a friend—family.

However, the eerie silence is unsettling, given what lurks in the nearby distance. Branches crunch a few feet ahead of us, to the right and left. Oak grips my hand, keeping us steady and prepared. A breeze sweeps through our bodies as the trees stop rustling. A sudden drop in temperature makes my teeth chatter. A face that inspires nightmares peers around a tree to our right. The Figgawen. Hollow black eyes lock onto mine. The creature’s long gray fingers become visible as it crawls on all fours around the tree, its entire body coming into view. Long black strands of hair cascade across its face, flowing down to its visible ribcage. A grin spreads across its haunting face, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth and an unnaturally long tongue.

“Gods,” Oak whispers, holding my hand, stepping slightly in front of me.

The Figgawen’s leg snakes over its head, crawling toward us with an unsettling calmness, a true predator after meek prey. I stand tall, not showing how petrified I am in its presence. A crack in the distance to our left catches the creature’s attention for only a second, allowing me to exhale, realizing I’ve been holding my breath.

The noise to our left grows louder, and I sense a new enemy lurking nearby. Finally, it reveals its form. A tall, thin creature walks almost humanlike through the tree line. Never in my life have I seen anything so horrifying. This creature makes the Figgawen seem pleasant. A breath escapes my burning lungs as if the creature is draining the life out of me. Pale skin covers its face—no mouth, no eyes—but somehow, it stares directly at us.

“Princess,” Oak breathes, refusing to take his gaze off the creature to our right. I hold my stare on the creature to the left.

“I’m so sorry, Oak,” I gasp, preparing to die alongside someone I never thought I’d see again—a friend. “Run. Please. I will distract them.”

He snaps his attention to mine. “You are insane, Briar. I’m not leaving you, now or ever.”

He squeezes my hand so tight, I fear my hand may break, his body shielding mine from the death ahead. He’s ready to take the first blow. Oak. My friend. My family. Prepared to die together.

“You little shit!” Thatcher screams, moving through the tight trees. Bardot stalks close behind, unaware of what trails us so closely.

I flash my eyes back to the vanished creatures. “For once in your fucking life, Thatcher, please be quiet,” I beg.

“You think you can leave us there to die? You have no idea who you’re messing with, Princess.” He stomps toward us, the twin at his heels.

Bardot’s eyes show little emotion. Devastation shines through as he mourns his brother Graven. A piece of him is broken, lost… dead. I can’t help but feel sorrow for him. The loss of someone so important leaves a mark on your soul, darker than any tattoo.

Thatcher and the twin storm approach us, shadows and lightning colliding from the Shadow and Lumor Wielders who threaten us. Their backs face the black forest, pushing us closer to the ravine while keeping them unaware of the creatures nearby.

A snap in the distance makes Thatcher spin toward the forest. “What was that?” he asks.

Both creatures move in tandem, revealing themselves once again, crawling like beasts toward us. Thatcher’s bow is immediately ready as Bardot follows suit. The creatures growl with hunger as they close the distance. Oak and I prepare to fight, remaining committed to our plan. The sun peaks over the horizon, casting a crimson line across the sky, echoing the bloodshed that’s about to occur. The magic in my veins starts to react to the danger as the effects of the drugs fade from my system. The creatures before us savor the scent of fear.

My eyes catch Thatcher lowering his bow, his fists clenching. I feel the magic running through his veins once more. The creatures lunge, teeth gnawing, ready to tear us to shreds. I peel both axes from my back, holding my ground. Oak stands strong beside me, without fear of death. Together, we will fight and welcome the darkness.

Thatcher flashes a smile in my direction before shifting from our view. At this moment, I know he’s cheated once more. The effects of the drug do not weigh as heavily on him.

Oak screams, “Can you shift?”

I do a quick pulse check of my magic. “No, it’s not strong enough yet.”

From the looks of Bardot, his answer is the same. The twin hurls his spikes toward the creatures with extreme precision. Slicing through the Figgawen’s skin, it pauses for a moment before barreling forward again. He continues to throw them faster than shooting stars.

The creature to our left sprints closer. Its faceless features blur as a wide black mouth forms, ready to drain us of life.

My knuckles whiten from the grip on both axes. I widen my stance, ready to swing.

Grass and soil kick up behind the creatures. Their speed increases, closing the final gap before us. My focus breaks as Bardot steps in front of Oak and me with no emotion or movement behind his dark eyes.

My mouth falls open. “Bardot! Get back!”

He turns to face us, his back to the creatures only a few feet away. His eyes fill with tears as he looks past us, out over the ravine. The sunrise shines in his dark eyes.

With all his might, he pushes Oak and me sideways to the ground. Neither creature lets up. They lunge on top of him, forcing him backward, closer to the drop.

“He’s going to fall!” Oak gasps.

“No, he’s leading them over the edge!” I add. “He’s trying to help us.”

Bardot fights for only a moment, thrashing against the strength of the two soulless creatures. Both beasts quickly overpower his muscular frame. Their claws rip into his flesh, mixing the crimson liquid with the rising sun. My gaze meets his one last time as a smile blossoms on his face, brighter than the first light of the new day.

In his final attempt, he seizes the beasts with both hands, binding them together forever as he throws his body backward over the edge.

A wicked laugh erupts from Bardot as the creature shrieks, falling to reunite with his brother once more. Brothers bonded so deeply that they will face the darkest realm together.

Oak and I sit in stunned silence, the threat to our lives dissipating with Bardot over the ledge. Dawn breaks over the mountaintop, and golden rays beat down on my skin, chasing away the darkest night of our lives. The vibrant glow of pinks and oranges works together in perfect harmony, like conjoined twins in the sky.

“Things just got complicated, didn’t they?” Oak sighs, rubbing his shaggy blonde hair, scooting closer to me.

I rest my head on his shoulder as we gaze out over the vast valley and sea before us, a new dawn breaking over the horizon. Our gaze turns toward Andorwood, its darkness contrasting sharply with the rising sun, sending a chill down my spine. We sit in silence for a moment longer, catching our breath, our lungs still expanding rapidly.

“We need to head back to the castle soon. I can only imagine the rumors spreading now that Thatcher’s back first. We need to fill Maines in on everything,” I finally speak, breaking the silence.

“I wish she were here. Not in danger, but here now. I’ve grown quite fond of her being around,” Oak says, looking over the ravine.

“She would have known exactly what to do. She’s amazing like that,” I reply, my voice quiet.

He sighs, pondering. “I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I stand and pull him to join me. We need to find Silas and Rohhit; I know exactly where they are. The rising sun quickly starts to shine down, chasing away the shadows. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that the shadows swirling around us are only going to become darker.

“Let’s go,” I say, mustering the last of my strength and heading toward my future—whatever the hell that means.

Chapter 27

The feeling of needles moves through my body as I shift, feeling more like I’m dragging myself through mud instead of shadows. Exhaustion weighs heavier on me than the grief I feel for the twins. They were brought into this world together and left together, as they always wanted.

The forest clearing comes into view. I slow my shifts as Oak appears beside me, breathless. “Oh, thank Gods, we’re here.”

He collapses onto the soft grass beneath our feet. Like a magnet drawing me forward, I walk across the clearing, unafraid of the open space. The brown hues of the trees combined with the vibrant wildflowers remind me of how gloomy the deep forest can be. The bright morning sky, with its white and blue, peeks through the green treetops as Silas and Rohhit come into view. Tucked behind an old oak tree, they sit, speaking to each other while Silas gestures wildly. I can sense his anger from here. My heart begins to race at the sight of him.

My Silas.

His senses perk up at my presence, and relief floods my entire system like a shock wave. I fall to my knees. Oak lies face down, basking in the sun’s rays shining through the clouds. Silas is near me in an instant, throwing his arms around my body.

“My hands,” is all I manage to say. Silas grabs my arms, examining them. He flashes a look toward Rohhit as he makes his way over to us.

“Look at this,” Silas mutters to Rohhit. “Have you ever seen this?”

I glance at my hands for the first time. The adrenaline wears off, and pain takes over. Black veins snake up my fingers, a blinding pain pulsating through my palms.

I gasp, snatching my hands back. “Don’t touch me.”

Silas shifts his eyes to Rohhit, and a silent conversation passes between them.

“I’m right here! What is this?”

“I’ve never seen this. When did it show up?” Rohhit asks.

“Well, I definitely didn’t have this before I started the trial.” My mind snaps back to the ritual and the burning sensation I experienced when I had the vision. “The ritual. It happened then,” I say with certainty.

“Maines will know what to do,” Oak says. “It doesn’t seem to be spreading, so maybe it will go away, or you have a cool new marking, Briar!”

No one laughs. Silas continues to stare at me, concern written across his face. His gaze does nothing to ease my nerves.

“We need to get back to the castle. I can only imagine what Thatcher is telling the others about this trial,” I groan, not wanting to face what’s before us. Silas bends down and plants a kiss on my head, a gentleness behind his hard eyes.

Rohhit and Oak share a look.

“Anything you two need to tell us?” Oak snorts.

My cheeks redden as Silas slaps his knees, standing in a huff. “Let’s get going,” he commands.

Stepping off the soft grass and onto the filthy cobblestone streets, the air feels different, foul, like doom hangs over the kingdom. The streets that once held memories of a virtuous kingdom now only seem to absorb sorrow and darkness from the people walking these paths. No townspeople congratulate us as we pass—they only gasp at our appearance.

I can only imagine what we look like. Oak is covered in mud and grass, with minor cuts all over his handsome face. Silas’s hair is wild and muddy, and exhaustion hangs over him. I glance down at my own body, and I fear I look the worst. Rohhit’s limp is still visible. Thick, dried blood coats our clothing, and minor cuts are scattered on my cheeks from the branches assaulting my face.

When we near the castle, the tall, black iron gates tower over us like shadows. The left gate is slightly propped open, allowing anyone to step through. A few guards stand watch as they stare, letting us enter easily, as our presence isn’t unwelcome. As we make our way back to the grounds, the castle courtyard is empty, a true ghost town.

Maines bounds through the door, her eyes wide and wild. “Holy Gods,” she gasps. “You all look awful!” She wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight, and a shooting pain travels through my sore body. “You smell worse than you look, which is saying something.”

Maines scans Silas and Rohhit from head to toe, checking to see if they are okay when her gaze lands on Oak standing behind them. She pauses for a moment, catching her breath before springing forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Oak returns the tight embrace, nuzzling his face into the curve of her neck. Relief glimmers in her panicked eyes as she pulls back, her cheeks flushing a bright pink.

“I’m happy to see you, too, Maines.” Oak flashes a grin.

“Is everyone okay? What the fuck happened?” she asks.

“We are okay but have much to fill you in on,” I quickly add.

Silas is immediately beside me, placing his hand on a small part of my back. The unexpected touch startles me. His protective behavior is impossible to ignore. Maine’s eyebrows shoot up. “Looks like we might have a few things to discuss.”

We step into the stone walls of the castle. The overwhelming sensation of being trapped once again washes over me, but I feel less frightened with my friends surrounding me like a protective shield—my family. Maines turns the corner, guiding us down the winding halls toward the throne room. “Everyone has been waiting for you all.”

The men enter the throne room without hesitation, ready to face my father and their mentors.

Maines snatches me back, not letting me cross the threshold just yet. “Briar, something changed last night. Your father is different, looks different even. Talk around the kingdom is a ritual that was held while you were away. It shook the entire town.”

“Do you know what it was?”

“No, thankfully, I was at the House of Hedro. My father, though, is also affected. You’ll see. Something is off.”

I nod, readying myself to enter the throne room. I cross the threshold, wishing I wasn’t covered in dried blood. The air is thick as a sense of dread looms through the crowd standing before my father. He looks worn, almost drained, and I can’t help but think of my mother the night she died in a similar state.

“Briar! Welcome,” he says from the throne.

Guards line the walls, and the mentors stand around him as if they are a part of his court. “Congratulations are in order for our returning competitors. We’ve waited patiently for your return.”

The small crowd claps as Thatcher huffs. A few members of the staff part for me to make my way to my father.

“Thatcher Madden is our obvious winner once more! However, we will honor our fallen, the Thornfield family.” My father glances at Calia, her hand placed on his shoulder as if holding him down. “Calia, your boys were brave and risked their lives for the betterment of this kingdom. They deserve to be recognized for that bravery.”

She nods, making direct eye contact with me in the crowd, and slightly rubs my father’s shoulder in thanks. No emotion shows behind her dark eyes, and something seems off about her as well. She leans to whisper something in my father’s ear as he straightens.

I approach my father and notice the difference Maines mentioned. Cheerful insanity lurks behind his eyes, and his mannerisms are off—fidgety—as though something is trying to break through his skin. A foul smell hits my nose, making my stomach churn. I wonder if the others notice.

Keeping my hands behind my back, I bow before him, standing beside Silas. The others—Elrod and Thatcher included—remain behind, surrounded by their mentors.

“Thatcher told me of your bravery during the third trial, Briar. Quick thinking saved Prince Rohhit from dying. A ritual was performed to save him!” The small crowd claps in my honor. “Without your bravery, Princess, we would no longer have the Prince of Eddris, and that would be such a shame. I know you will do great things in your life.” His eyes snap to Rohhit.

I move my hands from behind my back, and my father’s attention shifts from the prince to my markings.

“We faced many challenges together in the third trial. These men around me have shown bravery and many skills that will make them valuable allies I hope to rule alongside one day,” I say.

My father stands, his knees weak, and claps at my speech. “I’m glad you now see the benefits of this, Briar. Your mother would be proud.”

I wince at the mention of her. The air around us thickens. We need to leave before any wrong words set him off.

The King of Daramveer walks toward the competitors, standing before them all. He stops in front of Silas, not breaking his intense stare. They stand at the same height, so their eyes meet directly. Disgust begins to radiate from Silas, as I think he can smell my father's stench.

“Competitors,” my father shouts in Silas’s face. “Rest, eat, and enjoy the castle grounds at your discretion. We have our final trial coming up, and you will need your strength.”

His gaze travels up and down Silas one last time before he spins on his heels toward Calia.

A heavy exhale leaves his chest as my father retreats into the back door of the throne room. My mind snaps to the vision of Rose. I must find her. Without waiting for anyone, I move through the crowd.

Whispers reach my ears. “She is going to ruin our kingdom. She’s selfish, just like her mother.”

I stop dead in my tracks, turning toward the man who dares speak of my mother. Shadows manifest around my body as shock spreads across his face when he realizes I can hear him. I stomp toward him, invisible shadows ready to attack. I dig deep, grabbing the remaining magic I have.

“How dare you speak of my mother in my home.” I slam him against the hard wall, a boom causing multiple onlookers to glance our way. “Speak like that again, and I will know. I swear to the Gods, I’ll find you. You’ll regret those words the moment they leave your miserable mouth.” My hands tighten around his throat, rage building in my chest. His eyes widen, oxygen leaving his lungs as he claws at my grip, begging to be released. I blink at him through the fury, my vision blurring as I feel the change. My autumn eyes disappear into the darkness.

“Your… eyes,” the man manages to stutter.

I grit my teeth and move closer to his ear. “Then let my eyes haunt you, fill you with fear. Let them remind you to be cautious with the lies you speak.”

The man nods, his eyes widening as my grip loosens around his throat. Discolorations form on his pale skin. A desperate gasp escapes him, and a few people rush to his side. I spin around to see Rohhit and Nolan standing behind me.

“Briar, you need to step away from him,” Rohhit says.

“You need to move and leave the room, Princess,” Nolan adds.

“I… I don’t know what came over me.” I step away from the crowd.

The need to feel invisible takes over. “I let it take over. I wanted to kill him for speaking of my mother.” I refuse to look up from the ground.

“You let what take over?” Rohhit asks plainly. Both men stare, their eyes burning a hole in my chest.

“The darkness,” I respond.

Neither of them asks further questions, and at this moment, I’m glad Silas isn’t beside me—his questioning wouldn’t be so forgiving. “I need to get to the kitchen to see Rose!” Tears form in my eyes, but I bite them back.

“Well, let’s go, then!” Nolan escorts me forward. “We’re starving anyway.” Through the chaos, a smile finds its way to their faces.

Walking down the hallways, Nolan breaks the silence. “I know what it feels like to be an outcast. My whole life, I’ve felt out of place and unwanted.”

I look at him, his gentle blue eyes complementing his white hair, but something darker lurks behind them. “I was adopted as a child. Rohhit’s mother, Raven, took me in when she didn’t have to. I’ve lived with Rohhit my entire life.”

The way he looks at me sends a wave of familiarity through me. As a child, I don’t remember the royal family visiting from Eddris, but I swear I’ve met him before. It’s the same look I’ve seen in Barlowe. His eyes, I’ve seen them before, but I can’t place where.

“I’m sorry about your family. It’s hard losing people you love,” I reply, understanding his pain all too well.

“The differences between our losses are significant. I never knew my parents. I didn’t have the chance to love them. You lost people you cherished, but to me, it’s an honor to have known such dear and wonderful individuals to miss. Some people never have the fortune to experience such love. I only recently learned more about my parents.”

A calmness runs through me as he smiles down at me, the familiarity hitting me in my chest. “You found your parents?” I can’t help but ask.

He nods. “I believe so. I haven’t told Rohhit yet, so please don’t say anything.”

I shake my head, curiosity running through me.

Where have I seen that smile?

I glance back at Rohhit, who is giving us space to talk. His limp is still prominent, not completely healed from his foot almost being removed. “Your foot still hanging in there, Rohhit?” I joke.

“I’m not ready for foot jokes just yet, Princess.” His smile stops me in my tracks. “You saved my life, Briar. Thank you. I hadn’t had the chance to tell you yet.”

“It was nothing.” I nod, lying.

We enter the kitchen, and anticipation hits my stomach at the thought of seeing Rose. Lang stands in his regular spot, tending to his many dishes. The kitchen feels empty, with his body filling the space. Spices fill my nose as I breathe deeply, taking in the mouthwatering aroma of the food. “You can sit here, " I say, pointing to my worn spot on the bench. “I’ll grab us something to eat.”

Nolan refuses to sit. “I’ll get it. You rest.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Sit for the Gods’ sake.” My smile quickly fades as I turn and walk to Lang.

“Where is Rose?” I demand harsher than intended.

“She isn’t here,” Lang replies, barely acknowledging me. He turns and makes eye contact with the two large men sitting in my usual spot. His eyes shoot up. “Prince Rohhit,” he bows respectfully. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Lang ignores Nolan, a face of disgust flashing across his expression.

I notice the exchange, brushing it off as typical Lang protectiveness. I grab Lang’s arm. “I need to know where Rose is.”

He lowers his head. “I found a note that she returned to Eddris this morning, so I expect she’ll be gone for a few days. She said she had a few things to tend to. I didn’t ask questions, Briar.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Can you please let me know when she returns? It’s urgent that I speak with her.”

He nods, still refusing to make complete eye contact with me. I grab a few apples and a hearty loaf of bread, tossing them in their direction, barely missing Nolan’s head. Rohhit huffs a laugh as I stride past them. “If you want anything else, just ask Lang. He’s the best cook in this realm.”

I bound through the threshold, off to find Maines.

Chapter 28

As I walk through the castle, I feel haunted by the recent events. Thatcher walks these halls a free man, even though my brother’s blood is still on his hands. Keeping this secret will keep Maines safe, so even if it kills me to walk around knowing what he’s done, I’ll take it to my grave if I must.

I wrinkle my nose at my stench, realizing I’m still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, stained with old blood. Bathing comes first—I’ll only be mocked by her if I show up in this condition. My bedroom door creaks loudly as it opens. It feels like forever since I’ve been here, and just as long since I’ve had time for my own thoughts. The constant buzz of people has accustomed me to noise, but now, I crave silence. I peel the rotten clothes from my body and let them fall to the floor with a thud.

Looking in the mirror, I see my face splattered with blood, now black from the time that’s passed. As I unravel my long braid, my hair falls down my back, the dark blood mixing with the strands, the texture crunching under my fingers. My under-eyes are heavy and the purple tint of my skin makes my eyes pop in the dim light of the bathroom.

Stepping into the hot bath, dark water runs over my body, slowly draining away. When the water finally runs clear, I plug the drain, letting the clean water surround me. I rest my head against the back of the tub, closing my eyes before slipping under the water. I let out a scream that churns the water, like a wave crashing over me.

Think, Briar! What does all this mean?

Still submerged, the sensation of waves crashes over me again, and I feel like I’m slipping back into the second trial. My mind races. I’m okay. Just breathe. I’m in my room.

When I open my eyes, a black figure stands over the tub. My head breaks above the surface, causing water to pool over the edges. As the water clears from my burning eyes, Silas comes into view, smirking against the far wall.

“Gods!” I yelp. “Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“Hello, Princess.” His eyes grow hungry at the sight of me. “Sorry to startle you.”

“It’s quite rude to interrupt a lady during her bath. Haven’t you heard? But I suppose you’ve never been one for invitations,” I reply, propping my arms against the edge.

He kicks off the wall and moves toward me with feline grace. My breath catches as he kneels to become eye-level with me. Picking up a cloth, Silas dips the soft fabric into the water and begins to wash my body. The warm water trickling down my skin almost makes me groan.

He lifts my chin with his finger, our eyes meeting. “I failed you in the third trial. I left you.” His eyes show deep sorrow.

“You didn’t have a choice. I asked you to save Rohhit,” I say.

“There is always a choice, Briar. I chose wrong. If you had died in place of Rohhit, I would have killed him to make it even. I hope you know that.”

I reach out, cupping his cheek, my bare breast exposing itself. “Tell me what you meant when you said you dreamed of me?”

He glances down, his eyes darkening as he swallows hard. “You tell me something of importance first, then I promise you’ll learn more from me.” He winks, and I release his face, angling my head.

I lean back against the porcelain tub. “I believe my mother is leaving me letters.” My gaze remains forward.

“But your mother…”

He trails off as I slowly look at him.

“I know how it sounds, but the clues are there, and I swear it’s her handwriting. I feel something when I read these letters, like whoever wrote them shares a deep connection with me.” I continue, “My mother was brilliant. She was the light in this dark kingdom. Kind, joyful, and patient—all the things I am not. She held this kingdom together for years, and I think she’s the reason people stayed for so long. I think they continue to stay because they’ve seen how this kingdom can thrive when light shields the darkness. The letters are under my mattress. I can’t seem to get rid of them. They make me feel like my mother is here, watching over me.”

He pauses, a silent understanding passing between us, then sighs. “I understand how that feels. To stay in a horrible situation because of someone so bright. You fear that if you leave, your world will be consumed by absolute darkness.”

I respond, my voice laced with calmness, “Who knows where our futures will take us? I think that’s the exciting part about living. Each day is new and holds the unknown. Destinies can be changed—fates aren’t always set in stone. We decide our futures.” I return the smile. “Now, it’s your turn to answer my question. A promise is a promise, and I take those very seriously.”

I lean closer to him, resting against the edge of the bath as he acquiesces. “My family has a reputation for being careless, ruthless, and awful in many ways. But that isn’t the case for all of us. My father casts his disgusting ways onto his entire family by mere association. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done questionable things throughout my life, but there are good people in Andorwood. I hope you meet them one day. I hope you see for yourself where I came from and why I’m the way I am.” He smiles, but there is sadness behind his beautiful green eyes.

Still rubbing my back, his eyes travel down and back up. “For years, I dreamed of you. I didn’t know it was you until I heard your name and the announcement of these trials. When I arrived and saw you in the flesh, my world changed. My world changed for you.”

He lowers his head as if thinking carefully about his words. “In my dreams, you stand before me, destruction surrounding us. I scream your name, but you don’t listen, or you can’t hear me. My entire body—my soul—begs me to protect you, but I can’t. For five years, I’ve watched you choose a darkness like I’ve never seen.”

A tear forms in the corner of his eyes. “I’ve known you every night for years. What I feel for you is deep—it’s a need I’ll never fill, and I can’t fight it. Believe me, in the beginning, I tried. But I gave in. I gave in to you. I vow to protect you, to worship you, and to always bow to you as my God, my queen.”

I force him to look deep into my eyes with my hand. “I’ve heard you. In my dreams, someone calls to me. Silas, I don’t respond to your call because you save me. Every time I close my eyes, you’re the reason I wake up from my nightmares. My darkness deep within calls to the darkness inside you.”

He blinks at me, unable to speak at what I’ve disclosed. He’s not alone in these nightmares. He’s with me, and always has been.

His mouth collides with mine, a hunger in him unlike what I experienced before, as the weight of the world lifts from his shoulders. His hands become tangled in my wet hair as he leans closer, the lip of the tub blocking our bodies from connecting. He lifts me from the bath, water spilling all around us. The cold air against my naked body makes me gasp. Silas moves toward the bed, kicking open the bathing door. He hugs me tight, my bare skin against his muscular body.

He lowers me onto the soft sheets, gentle and caring. My hair pools around me like black water. He stands over me, slowly removing his shirt but never allowing his eyes to leave mine. The light from the fire dances off his toned stomach as he crawls toward me, his body towering over mine. A thrill runs through my already molten core as I spread for him, desperate for his touch. He kisses me once more, and a moan leaves my throat at his taste—our taste together. Perfect.

He parts my legs further with his knee as he lowers his body onto mine. My hips begin to move against his, seeking the friction I crave. His hands wrap in my hair, and his kiss becomes wilder as he jerks the hair at the back of my head, exposing my neck. A yelp leaves my mouth from the sudden pain mixed with pleasure.

He travels down, making sure no area on my body goes untouched. His mouth wraps around one firm nipple as he sucks hard, his arousal nearly breaking through his pants. My hands move down his body toward the area I’m desperate to feel. I take my time exploring his body, my nails digging into his back on the way down. I reach into his pants, wrapping my hands around his hardness. The length of him is enough to make me gasp. A feral groan leaves his mouth as he twitches against my touch. My other hand travels down to feel my own wetness. Silas’s hand immediately grabs mine, stopping me from touching myself.

“So impatient, Princess,” he says, his voice deep and serious.

His hands and mouth leave my body, earning a huff from me. “No!”

He leans up, staring at my bare body. His gaze is almost as sensual as his touch. “Stunning.” Silas grins wildly. “I promised you we would continue what we started last time—I plan to do so with no interruptions this time. Let me show you what our darkness can do together and what I can do to your perfect body.”

Hunger fills his eyes again as he grabs both of my hands, pinning them above my head. “Now, you are going to stay still until I tell you to move. Do you understand?”

I giggle, excitement making my heart race. “I understand,” I nod.

His eyes darken as he licks his lips. “Fantastic.”

Shadows swirl around his body as he removes his pants. His hand continues to hold mine on the bed, his other hand slowly moving to my center, finding my wetness as he plunges his fingers deep into me. A gasp leaves my mouth as I try to move my arms, wanting to claw at his touch.

“What did I say, Princess? No moving until I say so.”

I jerk under his touch when I feel invisible hands move toward my breasts, shadows made straight from darkness, cupping each of them as he smiles, pleased with my uncontrollable twitching. His fingers slowly pull out, and I groan at the empty feeling.

He clicks his tongue. “You truly are impatient, aren’t you?”

“Silas!” I moan, desperate for more of him, already about to come undone.

He lowers his body over mine, his hardness teasing at my entrance. He stares into my soul, crashing his mouth into mine as he plunges his length into me with a hard push—a sob leaving my throat from the feeling of being intertwined. I claw at his back, and he groans into my mouth.

Release clouds my vision as I scream his name. His pumping quickens as I pulsate around his length, my core clenching tight around him. He doesn’t slow as I ride the high, arching my back as if floating into the clouds.

“Fuck!” I gasp.

He changes the pace, moving slowly and so deeply that I fear he can’t go any further. He’s to the hilt in my core, and the need for more doesn’t ease as I come back down. With another deep thrust, he shoves himself deeper once more before a low, feral moan leaves his mouth. Silas tips his head back as he comes deep into me, still moving until the last second.

He kisses me deeply, slowly, and thoroughly.

He stares deeply into my eyes. “Say the word, and I am yours, Briar.” He kisses me again before pulling away. “Or don’t, and I’m still yours until we travel to the darkest realms and after.”

Expecting no response from me, he lays beside me on the bed. Moving a piece of hair from my face, he kisses my forehead. I could live in this moment forever.

“You are mine, Silas, and I am yours. Darkness and all.”

We remain tangled together until sleep finds us both easily. We stay this way until the morning sun beats into my window, surrounded by golden light rays.

He lies next to me as I turn to face him, watching his back rise and fall with steady breaths, showing he’s still in a deep sleep. Small scars paint his back with white and dark purple lines—scars that hold memories he hasn’t wanted to talk about yet. I trace one scar with my finger and listen to the calming sounds of his breathing—sounds that mean he is safe. Scooting off the bed, I grab his shirt and throw it over my head before heading to the bathing chambers. I splash cold water on my face, needing to feel energized after a long night with Silas.

A knock thuds on my door.

Shit.

Peering around the door, Silas still sleeps, undisturbed by the knock. I barely allow the hinges to open as I peek through the silt of the wooden frame. Maines stands, hopping around, impatient as ever.

“Hi,” I whisper, not fully opening the door.

Maines wrinkles her forehead. “Can I come in?”

Fiddling with my hair, I glance back at Silas. “Now isn’t a great time. I’m just waking up.”

She pushes the door open. “What do you mean it isn’t a great…” She trails off at the sight of Silas naked in my bed, the sheets barely covering his muscled ass.

She snaps her attention to me once more, noticing the shirt I’m wearing, which nearly hangs to my knees. “Gods,” she laughs. “Now that’s a sight to see! The Prince of Darkness, asleep in your bed.” She steps back, giving me space, but whispers with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you some tonic later.”

“Can I help you with something?” I huff.

“Well, we found something,” she says, failing in her attempt to stay quiet.

“We? What do you mean we?”

She pushes the door open further, revealing Oak standing there with a wide grin. “Hi there, Princess! Long night?”

Silas pushes off his hands, raising his head off the pillow, sleep still heavy in his eyes. “Good morning, everyone. Enjoying the view?”

He pulls the sheets up with a groan, turning his bare back to us.

“Actually, I am,” Maines jokes. “Get up, Nastronde. You’re looped into this mess now, and as much as I like to pretend not to like you, we need your help!”

He slips off the bed, the sheets following wrapped around his hips, and growls, heading toward the bathing chambers before slamming the door. “Well, someone isn’t a morning person, are they?”

Maines and Oak laugh as they enter the bedroom, hand in hand.

“Okay, enough, you two!” I snap, getting more annoyed by the second.

Spinning on my heel, I follow Silas, closing the door behind me and leaving Maines and Oak by the fireplace. He steps forward—now dressed in whatever clothes he found on the floor—and grabs my face with an intensity that instantly makes my core feel molten once more. He kisses me deeply, brushing a strand of hair that has fallen from my face, unconcerned that Oak and Maines can hear us.

“I have a feeling they’re going to catch me up on everything?” he asks.

“You’re in this now. I hope you’re ready,” I reply, grabbing his hand.

Silas softly smiles. “I’m always ready, my Briar.”

My response is kissing him in return, deep and slow. If the others weren’t right outside, I’d scream his name again. I dress and slip out of the room, joining my friends around the crackling fire.

“So, the resurrection stone?” Oak cuts the silence.

Silas blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

Squeezing his hand, I pause, letting Oak continue. “We found some additional text on the steps you must take to bring someone back. The longer they’ve been dead, the more extensive the process. You must complete the ritual in the presence of the four main elements. The process isn’t quick, but it’s doable.”

We stare at him as Oak recites what they’ve learned, sounding like he’s been studying for years. “Air, water, earth, and fire must be involved… and blood. Lots of it for the final ritual. If they are not performed in that order or skipped, it will be incomplete and won’t work. The stone can resurrect however many people you’d like, but there is a large cost: your magic, lifeforce, and soul if you continue to bring people back.”

“Thatcher,” is all I manage to say. “My father is using Thatcher to complete the rituals. It’s what he meant in the office, Oak! Our magic is already riled up during the trials from fear, anticipation, excitement, and the rituals. The bouts of magic aren’t noticeable since there is already such a surge. Doing this on his own would have caused too much suspicion!”

“I knew something was off during the second trial,” Silas cuts in. “When I arrived on the island, Thatcher, Cromwell, and the Twins were in the middle of the island instead of getting back in the water to win. I didn’t think anything about it at the time.”

“That means Calia is in on this, along with your father, Maines,” I add.

“So, it seems like he’s completed three of the four rituals then,” Maines joins in. “Air, water, and earth!”

Oak shakes his head. “No, Thatcher was knocked out during the third trial. I don’t think he ever completed one, so we have more time. They’re going to have to start over.”

Dread flushes my face, the color draining. “We don’t have time. Thatcher didn’t complete a ritual in the third trial… I did, within the earth element—the forest.”

“Shit,” Silas chimes in for the first time since the conversation started. We all glance in his direction. His head dips low, his mouth forming a thin line.

“I would have never let Rohhit die, Silas. You know that. I knew something was off when I blacked out and had the vision of my mother.”

“Briar, you didn’t just black out. Your body hovered over the ground. A silent scream was being ripped from your mouth like your body was desperate to get rid of whatever was being held inside. Tears were streaming from your black eyes. I couldn’t come near you. Shadows were swirling around you like a black veil,” Oak explains.

I lower my head. “When the ritual started, I saw my mother. The same thing happened to her. It’s what killed her. Rose was with her that night, but I don’t know why yet.”

We all exchange looks, the crackling fire blocking the silence from becoming unbearable.

“You were pure darkness, Briar, unlike anything I’ve ever seen or felt. What was moving around you was ancient. Your hands glowed black, the darkness snaking through your entire body like a disease. When I arrived, I pulled you from the shadows. The shadows around you didn’t hurt me. Oak tried, and it nearly took his hands off,” Silas adds.

I glance down at my hands, the black veins barely visible. “We’re going to have to continue to compete in these trials. We can’t let Thatcher successfully complete another ritual. And we’re going to have to break into my father’s study again. I know there’s something in there that we missed.”

“I’m coming with you, then,” Silas cuts in. “You aren’t doing this alone.”

Maines claps her hands. “Well, then it’s settled. You two are going to break into his study… again, and we’ll keep watch. I’m great at distractions, remember? I’ll poke around to see if I can find out what the fourth trial entails.”

For some reason, being closer to finding the truth doesn’t make me feel at ease. I need to speak to Rose to figure out what happened the night my mother died. I know this is all connected, but I don’t know how. Maines and Oak gather a few books and place them in her satchel.

“We should all meet back up tonight! Oak, you are coming with me,” Maines says.

“To the ends of the realms, Miss Madden,” he replies with more meaning behind that than she realizes.

Oak follows her through the heavy doors, shutting them with a thud.

“I’m going to go ask some questions. Stalk, if you will, since you think I’m an expert on that.” Silas winks. Rolling my eyes, he closes the gap between us. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. See if you can find anything that could help us in the texts here.” He kisses my forehead and moves down to my mouth; a soft kiss sending a shock through my body. He shifts from where he stands, shadows lingering where he stood.

We don’t have time to wait until tonight. While my friends are away from danger, I’ll do what needs to be done, and I’ll do it fast.

Chapter 29

The castle halls are silent as the excitement from the trials fades with many of the fallen competitors. An honor was held for Cromwell and the twins. Cromwell’s mother’s sobs echoed through the crowd while Calia blankly watched my father speak, unable to accept her son’s death. She remained on the grounds long after the ceremony concluded, as if she were stuck to the earth, forever frozen in their memories.

My father stayed by her side for support.

I left no note or any signs of me leaving my room in case Silas returned. I don’t want him to know what I’m doing and try to stop me. I lost my family; I can’t lose anyone else I care about, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I care deeply for Silas. It’s as if we’ve known each other forever, as if we’ve lived many lives together.

Peering around the corner toward my father’s study, Elrod and Thatcher stand beside the door, waiting for my father to emerge. The darkness moves around them like a black curtain, shielding them from danger. The door flies open, and my father floats out with Calia at his side. Shadows pour off them as if they are one silhouette, connected somehow, that I don’t understand. Neither speaks as they stalk forward with purpose down the hallway.

I remain hidden in the shadows as their figures fade in the distance. One corner stands between them disappearing and me making my move. My foot shifts forward, but then Calia stops in her tracks. My father and the others continue around the corner. I freeze against the cold stone wall. Calia slowly turns, blinking through the darkness as if she knows someone is nearby. She’s smart.

She steps in my direction with a heavy foot, and my father shouts from around the corner, “Calia! Now.”

She remains frozen, her gaze locked in my direction as I continue to hold my breath. Whipping around, she disappears around the corner with the others. A heavy exhale escapes my lungs. Something is off about her—but what?

I creep forward, my stomach twisting the closer I get to the study, every creak sending waves of nausea through me. The door is unlocked, and I open it as I silently pray to the Gods. The rusty hinges squeal as I carefully push the door open, revealing an empty room. It looks no different from the last time Oak and I were here, which feels like ages ago. My feet barely move forward, passing the fireplace, unable to ignore the painting of my mother and father. Time seems to slow as my eyes meet my mother’s, frozen in time, precisely how I remember her. She is stunning and full of life.

My father’s desk is cluttered with books and papers—the same ones from last time—as if he hasn’t been here in weeks. I flip through the pages of the books before me, but there’s nothing new; my chest tightens with an overwhelming sense of defeat. My mother is gone, and I’m no closer to discovering the truth. Barlowe died knowing something important, and I fear I’m next in line if we don’t hurry. The study is cold, despite the roaring flames from the fireplace. As a child, I always wondered what my father did in this room; he would stay cooped up for hours each night studying.

Moving from the desk, I see a drawer slightly ajar. My eyes shoot up, knowing this drawer was locked last time. Carefully, my hands creep to the handle, pulling it open with a loud squeak. It's empty.

Shit.

Refusing to accept failure, I pull the drawer with force, opening it wide enough to reach my arm deep inside. I lose sight of what I’m doing and rely on my feelings. My fingers sweep across the back, unlocking a small hinge, and I cautiously grab what’s inside. A zap travels up my arm, causing me to drop the small pouch and glance down at my hand. Black veins become visible, my magic reacting to this room or what’s in my hand: a key.

Scanning the room, the only door leads to the hallway. My eyes move toward the painting once more, and my body vibrates in its direction as I tiptoe toward the fire. The radiant gold flames roar before me, and I don’t allow myself to get too close to the heat.

Something whispers in my ear, “Move closer. Touch the flame.”

I spin around, but only my shadows exist here as company. I grit my teeth and reach my arm toward the flames. Golden sparks reflect in my eyes, and the fire draws near, its heat stinging my hand. My fingers brush against the fire, but instead of the burning pain I expect, a warm pressure meets my skin. Before me, the fire turns black, and shadows whip around, mimicking the illusion of flames as they wrap around my body. A scream escapes my throat as the fire engulfs me, pulling me into the fireplace behind the blazing world of darkness. My eyes snap shut as I brace for death to greet me once and for all, but it doesn’t come. I crack open my eyes to find I’m standing behind a thunderous fire. I’ve been transported behind the flames, and the office still sits untouched in the red glow.

The fire feels hot against my back as I move down the narrow hallway tucked behind the flames. Darkness flickers on the stone wall as the light from the fire dims the further I go. The hallway twists and turns, and it seems like I’ve been walking for hours. When I reach the end, a heavy door stands before me. My hand trembles as I grasp the key tucked into my pants.

I press my ear to the door, hoping to gain some insight into what this room holds: silence.

Sliding the key into the slit, I turn it to the right, hearing a successful click. The silence inside is louder than a scream traveling through an empty room. Sweat beads on my forehead as I push the door open, revealing nothing but darkness.

“Hello?” I whisper into the nothingness. “Is anyone in here?”

I steady my hands and shove the door wider in one swift motion, hoping the abruptness will frighten whatever might wait inside.

“Briar?” The faintest whisper travels to my ears, making me jump.

“Hello?” I repeat, moving further into the room.

Rose moves into view, her face almost unrecognizable.

“Oh Gods!” I run toward her, kneeling beside her chained body. “Are you okay? What is going on?” Panic rises in my chest.

“You shouldn’t be here! You don’t have time,” her voice barely manages to get out. I blink twice, exhaling sharply. Her voice rasps, “Your father did this. He found out about the letters. He has the resurrection crystal. I… I know you know what that means by now because I’ve been leaving you hints over the past few weeks.”

Shock travels through me. “Wait. What? You told me those letters were from my mother?”

She slowly shakes her head. “Arieste and I planned this years ago. We knew this day would come, and we would be ready to prepare you. We suspected that your father was planning to use the stone, but… I never knew he would try to sacrifice your mother.”

Tears form in my eyes, but I remain quiet, allowing her time to speak. “Your father killed your mother.”

The ground beneath me starts to spin. “No. That’s not possible. He wasn’t even here when she died!”

“She tried to stop him, Briar. Your father changed once he learned of a crystal that could resurrect the dead. Your mother was researching how to destroy the crystal for years. The night she left to tend to one of her patients, yes, he was out of town, so I traveled along with her. The crystal she used was charged with black magic. Magic no wielder has been able to handle in hundreds of years. He used her as a test to see if she was a vessel, someone who could handle the flow of power since she was so strong. She wasn’t.”

The vision pops into my head of me performing the ritual for Rohhit. The power I felt running through my veins, the darkness—it was easy for me to handle, but my mother wasn’t strong enough. My father tricked her into using that crystal.

“Why would my father need someone to handle that kind of magic?”

“Because Kalix needs a strong vessel. The Great Wiitch can’t live in just any Wielder. The rituals would be useless if a vessel isn’t available to possess.”

The wind leaves my lungs, and I feel like I’ve taken a blow to the stomach.

She grabs my hands, keeping me steady, her chained hands bleeding and weak. “For years, your father has been angry that our people grew complacent with using minimal magic. He’s desperate to bring that powerful magic back, thinking it will curse us once more with greater wielding abilities so he can rule all.” She notices my hands, the black veins painting my skin like a faded tattoo. “Briar, what is this?”

I jerk my hands back. “The third trial. I performed a ritual to save Rohhit’s life using a crystal… from my father’s borrowed sword.”

She blinks hard. “Listen to me: If he sees your hands, he will know.” She coughs, blood splattering on the floor.

“He will know what, Rose?”

“These trials were always a distraction, a test to see who amongst us is the strongest for him to use as a vessel during the final ritual. He wants to try to use the crystal again. If he sees your hands, Briar, he will know that you are a vessel for Kalix to walk this realm again.”

I stare at her, unable to process what I’ve learned. I knew all along that something about me was different, and I knew that five years ago, something greater shared my body with me; I just had never realized it until now.

“I think I’ve known that, Rose. I just couldn’t admit it.”

She begins to sob, her eyes fluttering closed.

I move closer, grabbing her face. “Why did you risk your life to write these letters?” She coughs again, blood trickling from her cracked lips. “Rose, please! Why were you with my mother, helping her the night she died?”

She opens her eyes, the whites turning a visible red as they flutter against the dim candlelight. “Because that’s what sisters do.”

She collapses next to me, her eyes tightly shut. Tears stream down my face, causing my vision to blur in the darkness. I hold her close, rocking back and forth, a sob escaping my throat. “You can’t leave me,” I scream. I check her neck, praying for a heartbeat to return. A faint pulse sends a tremor through my body as I start to delve deeper into my magic than I ever have before. For so long, I hid my powers, what I was capable of, and how I could wield them. Not anymore.

I shift, only to crash into the ceiling. Powerful wards protect this room from leaving. I must leave now, refusing to leave without her. I scan the room, hoping to find anything to help at this moment. I look where Rose crawled from blood. A box is drawn on the stone wall with five lines almost completed in the center, out of view for anyone who peeks inside.

“Rose! You were trying to break the wards yourself,” I shriek, knowing she doesn’t hear me.

I immediately notice the blood leaking from her leg. I sprint to the wall, studying the markings—a Wiitch’s Rigil. This should open the wards for only a few seconds, but it will allow us to escape.

“I’m sorry, Rose, but this is going to hurt.”

I dip my finger into the fresh wound on her leg as she groans against the pressure. I need blood to complete the lines. I hurry back to the wall, finishing the markings as red liquid drips from my finger. A few more lines and a wide circle conclude the ritual, making the magic clash with the wards surrounding us. The blood glows with a bright white light before vanishing into the wall itself. A small quake ripples through the room, and instantly, I feel the ward lift, my magic bubbling in response like an explosion in my mind. My darkness seems to relish the ward’s opening, allowing me to dig deep, realizing I have only a few moments left to get us out of here and to safety.

I grab her waist when I hear the door rattling from the outside.

“Hold on, Rose. I know where we’re going!” I whisper. My body turns to mist, nothingness, pure darkness as the wards open. Adrenaline fuels my magic to shift faster than I ever have. The quick movement makes me feel like I may spill my stomach as the weight of Rose makes my body scream in pain. Our bodies leave the prison cell for help, heading toward the House of Hedro.

“What the fuck!” Maines nearly falls to the ground as we crash into her room. “Rose! Briar! What happened?”

Catching my breath, I mumble, “She lost a lot of blood. Please. Please help her!” Without another word, Maines bounds toward Rose’s limp body. She shouts down the hallway for another healer to assist. I’ve seen the woman who enters, but I’ve never met her before.

She bows in my direction. “Princess! It’s nice to meet you.”

Maines sharply cuts in. “Now is not the time to be proper. We have but a few minutes to save this woman’s life.”

The woman curtsies in my direction before quickly assisting Maines—her intensity rippling through the room. Eden, another woman I’ve encountered many times before, rushes in and starts to evaluate me.

“I’m fine!” I bark, trying to keep an eye on Rose, my aunt.

“You need to sit down. You just shifted miles; that’s hard on anyone, even with someone as powerful as you, especially carrying another person.”

My eyes snap back to her gentle face, a Lumor wielder, evident by her pale hair. “What do you mean someone as powerful as me?”

Eden keeps her head down. “Princess, I’ve been around a lot of people during my years as a healer, and I’ve never felt magic radiating off someone the way I feel it from you right now. We sensed something change before you even arrived.”

I ignore her response and let her assess me. With elegant grace, black shadows flow from her hands as I notice her studying my own, a weary look painted across her face. “You’ll be fine in an hour or so, Princess.” Eden stands. “Rest for now. Your friend is going to be okay.” She refuses to make eye contact with me, as if it pains her to look into my eyes.

“Thank you!” I attempt to say, but she rushes from the room.

I turn my head toward Rose, who lies still on the ground, now surrounded by three healers. Maines offers me a small smile, as if to reassure me that Rose will be okay. I sink into the chair, resting my head against the firm leather. I drift off to sleep, the darkness following me wherever I go.

Chapter 30

Nothing stands in Daramveer but ruin and the now-familiar figures before me—always bloody and beaten by my hands. Barlowe lies at my feet, a brutal slash from my axe across his body, the wound split wide and deep. Thatcher stands beside me with a twisted grin on his face. He’s celebrating the fall of the kingdom and what’s to come as we rebuild together in a world that we rule. I try to move, try to scream, but my movements are sluggish, like I’m trapped somewhere deep in my body. My hands raise in the direction of the figures, black veins now covering my arms completely. I watch the tattoo-like lines creep toward the center of my body, fully taking control. I am not in control, and for the first time, I know who drives my body—Kalix.

Someone screams my name in the distance, the voice sounding more familiar than before. I try to listen, to respond, but my hearing is muffled like I’m floating underwater. I feel trapped and completely submerged. Thatcher ushers me forward—toward the fallen kingdom and the still-standing castle—where we will rebuild a world created in fear, darkness, and chaos.

Briar!

The voice sounds like it’s right in front of my face—a voice I now know.

Briar!

I open my eyes to see Silas standing before me in the House of Hedro. Still heavy-eyed, I rise from the bed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, anger fueling his shadows. He wraps his strong body around mine. “You’ve been out for twenty-four hours. Maines let us know where you were. I went to your room and found it empty. I almost ripped the town apart trying to find you.”

I nearly burst out of bed. “Rose! Where is she?”

“She’s okay. She lost a lot of blood and has a long road ahead of her, but she’s going to be okay.” I nod, trying to understand through my intense mind fog. “Briar,” he cups my face. “I thought something happened to you. I was ready to burn this kingdom to the ground to find you.”

His lips brush against mine, and my body instantly relaxes as I kiss him deeper, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling his body closer. He pulls back, a hungry smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. “You need to rest. And before you decide to run off again, please think of the people who care for you next time. Times are too dangerous right now for you to be doing shit like that, Briar.” He grabs my hand.

I rest my head against his chest and relish the feeling of being surrounded by him. Guilt rushes through me. He's right, but I did that because I was thinking about them.

The healers bustle around the rooms, treating each patient like they never tire. The House of Hedro has a light about it—a feeling of rebirth—even with the death that unfortunately looms here. The white, airy rooms counter the darkness from the streets, and you almost forget that you’re in the heart of Daramveer.

“You’re awake!” Maines shuffles into the room, not an ounce of exhaustion weighing on her. “Rose is going to be okay. She is lucky you found her when you did. She wouldn’t have made it much longer.”

My blank stare is answer enough that I’m not interested in speaking.

“Briar, the healers won’t ask questions outside of those necessary for recovery—everything here is confidential. We take a vow of secrecy, so don’t worry. Whatever happened between you and her is safe here. Since Lang thinks she’s traveling, I also think it’s best that it remains a secret she’s here. Your father can’t know.”

I nod my head. “I agree,” I whisper. As much as I want to feel relieved, the weight of what Rose disclosed to me hangs heavy on my shoulders.

“We need to get back to the castle and find Oak,” I stand, barely keeping my legs from buckling.

“He knows we found you. He was almost as concerned as Silas. Ready to take down the castle if he needed to find you quickly. They were quite the team,” Maines nods in Silas’ direction.

I’ve never seen Silas look so tired, but his eyes are drained and worried, and I can’t help but feel bad knowing I caused it.

A few silent moments pass, and finally, I reveal, “I know what my father is planning, and we need to find a way to stop it.”

They exchange weary looks, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, we can pack up and head back. Rose is going to be fine here. I have my top healer, Eden, watching over her. I’ll come back and check on her in a few days when she’ll likely have regained consciousness.”

Silas grabs my arm, keeping me steady. Shifting would be the fastest way back to the castle, but there is no way my body can handle that right now.

Maines takes off her jacket, placing it over the back of a chair. “I’m going to go ahead and shift to find Oak. Can you two make it back in one piece?”

Silas flashes a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.” Maines shifts, leaving Silas and me alone once more—the silence driving me wild. “Let’s get going.”

As we leave the House, I glance behind me. The brilliance of the structure takes my breath away. The tower itself looks as if it’s growing toward the sun like a flower, desperate to reach the warmth above and escape the bleak kingdom below. After being in the darkness of my father’s study and then the House, the fresh air tickles my nose. Silas grabs my hand and pulls me forward through the gates.

“I have a surprise for you,” he smiles.

Two horses wait for us at the gates—the strong, beautiful creatures similar to those I once loved as a child. Silas cuts his eyes to mine as my mouth opens wide, thrilled to ride again. Daramveer used to have many horses, but years ago, my father sold most of them to surrounding kingdoms with open terrains to gather more riches.

“Myah and Xena? These are your horses?” I shriek, like an excited child, jumping in place.

A deep laugh booms out of him. “Yes, I wanted you to finally meet my friends. Plus, don’t you think it’s time we have our first date?”

A burst of energy hits me as I rush toward them, my excitement overwhelming. The two white horses tower over me, their legs long and powerful, making the House of Hedro seem small in this moment. A slight difference is visible between the two, with gray spots marking one of the beasts' noses. Their beauty is breathtaking, embodying pure strength and stamina.

“That’s Xena. She’s been mine since I was ten. Her mother was my father’s horse. When she was born, my father trained her, and she was a gift. The first and only gift he’s ever given me.” He points to the stark white horse as she meets his gaze and snorts in delight, her long gray mane flowing in the breeze like she’s proud he’s speaking about her.

“The one with gray spots is Myah. She’s gentle but strong. You don’t want to get on her bad side—just like you, Princess,” he laughs. “I’ve had her almost as long as Xena. During one of my father’s punishments, the man I was fighting had her chained. When…I killed him, I took his horse and vowed to give her an amazing life, better than she would have received from that monster. We’ve all been inseparable since—like family.”

I press my hand against her cheek. Her piercing blue eyes shine into mine. She nudges me back as if saying hello. “They are both so beautiful.” The widest grin graces my face, showing all my teeth. True happiness in this moment casts away all darkness. I turn to Silas to see him staring at me with just as much delight.

“What?” I ask, still giddy.

“You are beautiful,” he replies.

My face reddens as guilt flushes through me once more about my earlier actions. “I’m sorry.” I lower my head.

“I know,” he responds. “You just scared me, is all. I’ve waited so long to be with you, and I don’t want to lose you now, Briar.”

“I promise I’m not going anywhere.” I flash him a soft smile. “Can we ride them?”

“Well, that’s why they are here, of course.”

I mount Myah, lightly kicking her side as we begin to trot toward the castle—the small movements causing pain to radiate through my sore body. Silas follows me, allowing me space to ride in silence through Daramveer. The sunset acts like magic before us—a promise that the sun will return to bless us with another day. I can only hope to live long enough to witness a few more magical moments like this.

The town around us is quiet, and most houses are dark for the night.

“Briar,” Silas cuts the silence. “I’m not sure why I’ve dreamed of you for so long or why we are connected, but my life for so long has been filled with a darkness that I think you can understand. However, when you are around, I feel lighter. I know you were cautious of me—I can’t say I blame you—but I intend to protect you and those you care for. I will work the rest of my life to prove to you I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The horses’ hooves echo down each dark alley we pass, sending an uneasy feeling through my body. An instant shift puts us both at full attention. Silas glances in my direction, refusing to make eye contact and risk distraction.

“Myah,” he clicks his tongue, “Stay close.”

The horse follows, moving closer to Xena’s back, indicating a genuine trust between the two beasts. The breeze seems to pause as we move down the cobblestone streets, and darkness creeps over the tops of the buildings.

A hooded figure steps into the road, blocking Myah from moving forward. The suddenness startles the horse, causing her to rear up and knock me backward. The fall makes my ears ring as I land hard on the street. The hooded figure advances, revealing himself as a man I’ve never seen before but who is clearly an elder Wielder. “You will bring this land to ruin. You are darkness, and you are evil.”

He raises a sword as I pedal backward, trying to escape the swing. Sparks fly, the sword landing mere inches from my body. Rage boils in my chest as shadows begin to dance in response. I slowly rise, preparing to fight as Silas kicks the man in the chest. Stepping over his fallen body, he places his boot firmly on the man’s throat. The man grabs Silas’s leg, but he remains unmoving, only applying more pressure to the struggle. “Stop!” the man cries.

Silas’s eyes darken, his voice rasping and hard, “If you try to harm her while I’m around, I will kill you. If you try to harm her while I’m not around, I will hunt you. Then I will kill you.” Silas moves inches from the man, towering over his frail body, “And if you even so much as think about harming her, I will haunt your dreams, your nightmares, and the harm I will do to you will make you wish you never have a thought again.”

The man’s eyes turn wild, “You are a fool. Don’t you see it! She will kill us all one day. Don’t you feel it? What’s inside her?” He points a trembling finger in my direction.

Silas leans in closer, “I’m warning you. Not another foul word toward the princess.”

“She… is… death.” The man hesitates but continues, barely a whisper leaving his shriveled lips.

Silas grabs the man’s throat and shifts out of sight. I slowly rise, whipping my head in all directions. I steady Myah and rush to grab Xena’s reins, “Shhh,” I whisper to each horse.

“Silas!” I yell, my voice bouncing off the stone walls surrounding us. The night seems to freeze as I search in each direction for a shadow, a figure, a noise—anything to tell me where he took that man. Myah and Xena pause, focusing on something moving and lurking down the dark alley. Even the blackest nights aren’t as dark as the shadows billowing from the thin road.

Then I see the creature that’s been haunting me slide into view, the horses raising up in fright. A scream freezes in my throat as it approaches. I cover my ears, hoping to block out the unnatural hissing from its mouth, “You know what you are now, don’t you!”

I crouch down, wrapping my arms around my body, and the horses stomp and snort wild above me.

A gust of wind whips my hair in my face as Silas comes into view, no man or creature anywhere to be found. “Are you okay?” he runs to me.

“What did you do to him,” I ask, unsure if I want the answer.

“He’s dead, that’s what I did to him. I made him regret stepping in front of us,” he stalks past me, petting Xena gently.

He lowers his head for a moment, regret flashing behind his eyes, but quickly disappears. Leading Myah closer, I stand before Silas, planting my feet. “I never asked you to do that. By acting out like that, you are no better than my father or yours. We need to stay focused, Silas,” I snap, my chest heaving with anger.

He cups my face, raising my chin toward his. Even with blood splattered on his face, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. “Briar, I want to murder any man who even looks in your direction. If a man puts you in harm’s way, I will make no promises of my actions.”

My face moves toward his, our lips inches away from touching. “If you ever do that again without my say, without true need, we won’t be having this civil conversation. Understand? If you care for me, then you will respect my wishes. Enough people have died—we shouldn’t be the reason more deaths are happening.”

He nods, but no regret shows behind his eyes, “What scared you while I was gone?”

I glance back toward the black alley, where fog remains where the creature disappeared. I’m still unsure how to explain this thing, so keeping it a secret is best for now.

“You shifting away with that man so quickly is what startled me, Silas,” I lie, the deceit tasting bad on my lips.

He gives me a cautious look as if he doesn’t exactly believe my words, “We should get going. I don’t want another crazy person to come out of the alleys after us.”

We mount our horses and move on again once they have calmed down from the events. We ride in silence together, but one thought weighs heavily on my chest, and I need answers. “During the third trial, one of the twins told me that my father promised you things as an incentive to bring you all here. Daramveer has a terrible reputation, so I can’t imagine everyone would be eager to risk their lives competing for me.”

He remains quiet, pondering his following words, “Yes. That is correct. Your father asked us all what we wanted to sway our decisions to come to Daramveer. I, however, do not know what the others were promised. I only know what I asked for and was promised.”

The horses continue to move forward down the stone streets in perfect unison. “Well, what did you ask for?” I pry.

He grins softly, glancing around the town and doing a quick survey of our surroundings. “I asked your father to keep you safe, to promise me that nothing bad would happen to you. When he allowed you to enter this competition and fight alongside us, our promise was broken, and that’s when my allegiance to him died.”

My lips slightly part, my mind racing, “Out of everything you could have asked for, you asked for that? My safety?”

He nods, “Briar, I don’t need much in my life, but I need you to be safe, so I asked for the one thing I want more than anything.” He turns his head, searching all around us.

I’m in disbelief at this man, who is so utterly dedicated to me and willing to do whatever it takes to keep me safe. The houses around us are dim as many of the residents are settling down for the night. We continue through the town together in silence, and with Silas around, I know I’ll never be alone again.

The gates before us send a shiver down my spine. The black vines resemble hands reaching out to grab us, desperate to trap us inside once more. The guards hear us approaching and rush to open the gates with a loud creak. The hinges hardly budge, allowing us to enter through a narrow crack in the gate. They bow in our direction as we both nod in thanks. I tilt my head toward the old stables, signaling for Silas to follow. A stableman ties up Myah and Xena and greets us, assuring that they will be well cared for. Silas presses his face against the beast, sharing an unspoken bond between them.

“Don’t let a soul touch them, you understand. Exactly what I told you before still stands. I’ll be back when I can to see them.”

The young stableman quickly nods his head.

Maines meets us outside my bedroom, Oak nearby, eager to hear what happened. My room feels cold, but for once, I’m glad to enter my room without a roaring fire. After what I experienced in my father’s study, I could use a break from the flames. We gather around the sitting area, with Maines sticking close to Oak and Silas settling in behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “When you’re ready, Briar.” They all angle their heads, waiting for me to begin.

“I’m a vessel for Kalix,” I start strong.

Maines jerks her hand back, and Oak’s jaw drops. “What the fuck!” Maines gasps.

Without seeing Silas’s face, I know he kept a calm composure.

“My father held these trials as a distraction—he’s completing the rituals to resurrect Kalix in hopes of bringing back a strong, uncontrollable dark magic.” I breathe, readying to continue, “He’s seeing who is the strongest, to see if they are a worthy match—a vessel. These markings on my hands prove that I can handle that magic. I already have.” They all stare at me with wide eyes.

“The third trial awakened something in you, didn’t it?” Oak asks.

“I’ve known something was deep within me for a while now.”

They all remain quiet about my confession, but I have more. “My father killed my mother thinking she was the vessel for the Great Wiitch. She wasn’t strong enough, but he was willing to risk that.” Tears fall down my cheeks as the vision floods my memory.

Maines chimes in, “I found something more about the rituals. The fourth ritual must be completed on war grounds, something to mimic the Great Battle. Once the final ritual is complete, the stone is charged enough to raise someone of that caliber. All your father needs are a duel and a fire element.”

“Three against one, those are great odds,” Silas finally chimes in, his voice husky.

“You clearly don’t know my brother very well. He has tricks; he always has. I can only imagine what your father has given him to ensure that nothing goes wrong," defeat laces Maines’s words.

“Well, then we will do what we can to stop Thatcher from completing the last ritual before the finale,” Oak responds.

“We need more help to win this. We are going to need the Prince of Eddris,” I interrupt. “He’s the strongest Lumor wielder in Daramveer and he’ll be someone who can combat the darkness if the time comes.”

Silas rolls his eyes, “Fine. But let me have some fun with wrangling the prince here.” He looks at Oak with a wink.

“Whatever the hell you two are planning, just do it fast. The final trial will be announced tomorrow morning,” Maines groans.

Silas kisses the top of my head before unwrapping his arms from around me. Oak nudges Maines playfully before they walk out into the dark hallway.

“I guess we’ll wait here for their stupid plan to unfold,” Maines turns to me, “You okay, Briar?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Things are about to get complicated, and I fear I’m not strong enough for this.”

She gives an understanding glance, “You are the strongest person I know. Strength isn’t measured by brawn. The strength you possess comes from your soul, your deepest wants, and needs. Your strength through all of this proves that you are the one who is going to save this kingdom.”

“Your mother would be so proud of you, Maines.” I walk toward my open window and peer out at the night sky, the stars shimmering against the tears streaming down my face.

I have always been fine remaining the Princess of Daramveer my entire life. Barlowe would be King, so he chose, and I would gladly honor him as such. If I can’t save this kingdom, I’ll one day be the Queen of Daramveer, the Kingdom of Ruin.

She walks next to me, resting her head on my shoulder, looking out over the kingdom with me. “I said this weeks ago, and I’m going to say it now. We will figure this out together. " She turns, smiling, but fear shows behind her green eyes.

“Promise you’ll say that again once this is all over, even though we have no idea what the future holds?”

“I promise.”

Chapter 31

As dawn breaks through the open window, I peel my eyes open and enjoy the few seconds of silence and peace. The golden rays spill into my room, neutralizing the darkness that swells around me. We talked late into the night, waiting for Silas and Oak to return, but they never did. Overpowered by exhaustion, Maines and I passed out on the foot of my bed mid-conversation.

Grumbling, Maines slides off the end of the bed. “Gods, why did you let me sleep like that? I’m never going to walk normally again.” She stretches her arms wide over her head. Giggling, I rub the sleep from my eyes.

Silas, Oak, and a hooded figure enter the room with a thud that echoes down the hallway, snapping my mind back to the man who tried to attack me yesterday. I leap back on the bed, out of their way, as they wrestle the person to the sitting area, nearly breaking one of my favorite chairs. Oak laughs. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Maines stomps toward them. “Are you two insane? You’ve always wanted to do what, Oak? Kidnap someone?”

Silas glances in my direction, giving me an assuring look. “Oak, you should come to Andorwood. I can barely make it around town each morning without risking getting kidnapped.”

Oak, concerned yet smiling, replies, “No, thanks, Nastronde. I’ll take my chances in Daramveer.”

They rip the person’s hood down, and Rohhit, wide-eyed and seething, sits before us. “What the hell is wrong with you all?”

“We didn’t think you would come on your own,” Oak defends.

“Well, you didn’t ask me either! I’m civilized, unlike you animals,” Rohhit hisses.

Oak huffs, placing his hand on his chest. “How dare you, Prince. I see no animals here,” he says with a smile.

“That’s enough, Oak,” Silas interjects. “We knew you wouldn’t come on your own because you’ve been avoiding us since the third trial. We need your help.”

Standing next to Silas, I add, “He’s right. You’ve barely spoken to us since that night—we’re running out of time.”

Rohhit glances between the two of us. “So, you two, huh?”

Ignoring his question, I gesture for him to continue.

“What do you need help with that entails me being kidnapped?” Rohhit raises his arms, snatching the remaining part of the hood from his body.

I step in front of Silas, knowing he needs to hear this from me to believe it. “My father is going to resurrect Kalix, and we have to stop him.” I show him my hands, the veins barely visible but there, “He suspects I’m the vessel he needs to complete the ritual.”

Rohhit sucks in a breath, gazing at my hands. “You felt it too?” he whispers.

“What do you mean?” I ask, tilting my head.

He stands, rubbing the back of his neck. “When you healed me, electricity traveled through my body. I knew from the ritual's workings that this was something else—something that seemed to linger, screaming at me to avoid you.”

I stare at him for a moment, unsure how to continue. “Look, I know this sounds insane, but we are really going to need your…”

Before I can finish, he responds, “I’m in. But you are going to have to loop in Nolan. He can help.”

Hesitation travels through the room. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get anyone else involved,” Silas says harshly. “It already puts us at risk telling you.”

The animosity between Rohhit and Silas makes the room feel cramped, each ready to strike at any second, although I can tell Rohhit is trying not to play Silas’s game.

“What’s the plan?” Rohhit asks, cutting his eyes from Silas.

“We aren’t sure yet since we don’t know what the fourth trial is. Maines thinks it’s a duel of some sort. The main goal is to stop Thatcher from going through with the last ritual. My father is going to throw everything at us, knowing he’s this close to winning,” I explain.

Rohhit glances between me and Silas, his stare burning a hole in my chest. “So, I’ll ask again. What’s going on between the two of you?” he raises an eyebrow.

Silas steps forward, immediate defense taking over his body. “What about us, prince?”

“Well, to me and everyone around, it seems as if our Princess has chosen her match. I can sense the connection between you two from miles away.”

My face reddens as there is no denying what’s going on between me and Silas. “I don’t think my love life is any of your concern,” I snap.

He chuckles. “Well, in case you forgot, we are technically fighting for your hand in marriage. What will you do if this competition continues and you are to marry another, Briar?”

Silas’s eyes darken. “I’ll die before I let that happen.”

“Oh, it very well may happen, Prince! We are still choosing to compete in these trials, and if at the end of it you aren’t the one standing victorious, Silas, she will marry someone else. On the spot, if I’m not mistaken. You mustn’t forget the promise she made her father.”

Silas shifts forward, inches from Rohhit’s face, pinning him against the wall. “You best hold your tongue. We have larger things in the works here that you have no idea about. Briar will choose her future, not you or her father.” He steps back, dusting off his shirt. “It seems as if someone isn’t used to losing, huh, Prince?” Silas mutters under his breath.

“Will you two stop?” I demand. “You two are acting as if I’m not standing right here. The reason we all continue to fight in these trials is because it’s bringing us one step closer to figuring everything out and stopping my father from committing a horrible act. If we stop now, we lose! I am marrying no one—end of discussion. Stop acting like children!” Their gazes travel to mine, and I move toward them, grabbing Silas’s arm. “We need to focus on what’s ahead of us, and you two fighting isn’t going to solve anything.”

Silas moves a few paces away, giving Rohhit space to step forward. He dusts off his shirt.

Rohhit glares at Silas, “Briar is right. If we don’t work together, none of us may make it out of this competition alive.”

Silas nods in agreement but refuses to peel his eyes off Rohhit as if waiting for another fight to break out.

I step back, gathering everyone back into a circle. “Now that almost everyone is looped in, can we please focus? We are to be in the throne room shortly, and we need a plan.”

Clouds drift slowly in the mid-morning sky, blocking the sun from chasing away the shadows and the heavy feeling of darkness that hangs thick in the air. My resentment toward my father feels like a distant background noise amid the chaos of my life, leaving a familiar sensation burning a hole in my chest. We enter the throne room together as a force—like fog gliding over water—paving a path for the future and those who will lead it. The remaining mentors stand near my father on the throne, anticipation weaving through the room.

He sits with Calia, her hand resting on his shoulder, and I take him in, struck by the sight of his weakened state. Dark circles lie beneath his usually intense eyes, appearing gaunt as if he has been slowly drained of life over the past few weeks. There’s still a darkness surrounding him that sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t help but wonder what he has told them—what lies he has fed them about the reasoning for this competition and his desperation to marry off his ‘lonely’ daughter. Thatcher stands before them—hands tucked behind his back—waiting for us to enter and line up. Oak, Rohhit, and Silas let me take the lead as I position myself furthest from Thatcher, with Oak bridging the gap between us. Maines lingers back toward the exit but remains clearly in sight. Oak made sure to prepare an exit plan for her in case things go awry. I glance over my shoulder, giving Maines a nod.

The King of Daramveer stands on deteriorating legs. “This has been a long road we have all traveled. A few brave hearts have fallen, and I regret to inform you that the true challenges are only beginning.” His voice booms but is broken by a cough. “The fourth trial is upon us, and you will duel against a fellow competitor. The person responsible for the final blow will be crowned our winner and move on to fight in the final round against a common enemy.”

Maines was right—all he needs is a duel amidst the flames to finish what he started. I resist the urge to turn toward her to see her reaction.

My father continues, “Understand?” We all nod in response. “Very well. The Princes of Eddris and Andorwood, Thatcher Madden of Daramveer, and the Princess of Daramveer will compete in a duel. The order will be announced at the time of the trial. Winners will win the Princess’s hand in marriage and more than you could ever dream of.”

A wide grin forms on Thatcher’s face. I shift my eyes down the line of competitors, all looking as confused as I am.

“Ah, yes, I’ve forgotten someone, haven’t I? It was brought to my attention that one of the competitors' hearts is not here for my daughter, as he has fallen for another.” My father’s voice claps like thunder.

I swallow hard, the noise echoing through the silent room. Oak Hombern’s name leaves the king’s mouth as my heart thunders. Everyone is frozen as the King of Daramveer continues, “The longer you stand before me is just insulting—I hope Miss Madden was worth the embarrassment you’ve caused your family. You are hereby sentenced to death.”

My eyes dart to Thatcher, who sports a wicked grin, nodding his head and gazing directly at the back of the room. I don’t have to turn my head to know who is standing there. Maines’s entire body trembles, and I can sense the fear radiating from her body.

Oak steps forward, facing my father with his head high and emitting a bright light that causes lightning to crackle under his feet. “The only embarrassment in this room is you. You know nothing of friendship, family, or of love. And one day soon, you will die—alone—and quickly will be forgotten. I very much look forward to that day.”

I’ve never heard his voice this deep, this rough, and it’s all for Maines. Thatcher is immediately on him, kicking his knee and forcing Oak to the ground—his hands strain around Oak’s throat. Maines gasps behind me, and the sound of feet hitting the stone floor follows. She runs toward us, desperate to get to Oak. Thatcher’s face is inches away from his when I hear it—a bone crack, although I can’t tell from where. I grab Maines’s arm, knowing my father will kill anyone who interferes—even her.

“Let go of me!” she screams, but I hold firm, horror driving my strength. “Get your fucking hands off me!” Her voice cracks, and a desperate sob echoes around us.

My heart shatters.

Oak doesn’t move; he just stares at Thatcher’s face, urging him to end it—to take his life right in front of these people as he squeezes hard on his throat. I notice his left leg goes slack as I realize the crack was from it breaking.

My eyes widen as I see Oak mouth, “Fucking do it, you coward.”

Thatcher throws him backward with force, and we all watch in horror as his head slams against the stone wall.

“How dare you all stand there and do nothing for your friend,” Maines hisses, glaring at Rohhit, Silas, and me. “Cowards! You’ll never save this kingdom if you stand by and allow these monsters to rule. You are no friends of mine.”

Another crack rattles my brain and this time I know I’m the only one who can hear it—my heart breaks in my chest for Maines. She sprints forward, crashing to the ground beside Oak, tears streaming down her face. His eyes are glazed but he returns the stare, looking longingly into her eyes. Blood pools next to him as he pushes up on weak arms. He grabs the back of her head and kisses her—deep and desperate.

“My point is proven. They are trash, and trash can rot together,” my father cuts in. “Get them both out of my sight. If she wants to be with him so badly, so be it. She can die as well.”

Guards emerge from the shadows, covered by the darkness.

“Shift!” I scream, both still in a daze.

Maines snaps her head toward the men rushing toward them. Her hand never leaves Oak’s as she unleashes a surge of power at the guards. They leap out of the way, barely escaping the explosion of magic. She looks at me one last time and narrows her eyes. The woman before me no longer gazes at me with her usual kind eyes—all I see is disappointment as a single tear falls down my cheek. Maines and Oak transform into mist, vanishing into the shadows. The warmth of the floor is the only sign that they were ever there.

“Filth.” Thatcher rolls his eyes.

My fists clench at my sides as I try to swallow down the violence I feel rising. I can’t. The blackened veins grow like tree roots up my arms as shadows swell around my feet—a fire is blazing beneath me. My hands float in front of my body in Thatcher’s direction, and my focus is unbreakable. I hear Silas behind me, “Briar, don’t!”

Thatcher’s eyes widen as I send shadowed hands snake toward him, willing them to wrap around his throat. A gag leaves his mouth as I squeeze his windpipe, daring him to move. My father stands, his mouth falling open as my feet leave the ground—the shadows carrying me closer to Thatcher’s face.

I hear a snarl come out of my mouth that I don’t recognize. “I’m going to kill you, Thatcher. Not now, but soon. Your lifeless body will be a delight to stand above.” I lower my chin, eyes barely peeking through the tops of my lids, as I feel them shit to an unholy black. His breath hitches, and as I realize I’m scaring him, I smile. “Now, until that day comes, I’d like you to feel the pain you cause.” My invisible hands leave his throat and move to his thigh. “I know you wish I was touching your thigh for other reasons, but I have a plan in mind.”

I start to apply pressure, and my teeth grind. A deep guttural scream leaves his mouth as I squeeze harder—his leg bending in an unnatural direction, close to snapping.

My father booms, “Stop!”

A gust of wind breaks my concentration and loosens my grip.

“We will settle this in the duel!” His voice thunders through the room and the burst of power makes him fall against the throne. Calia is immediately upon him, her hands attempting to steady him in his frail state.

I return my gaze to Thatcher, sweat forming on his brow. “Very well.” I push with all my might, invisible hands still attached to him. Thatcher soars backward—slapping the stone wall with his head and slumping to the ground—Elrod already vaulting toward him.

I relish in the darkness flowing through my veins. I don’t swallow it down this time, strutting toward my father. “Who are you?” he questions. Calia’s face slacks, realizing before I ever speak.

“I’m exactly who you wished for, Father.”

A crown sits on the throne beside him, the crown I’ve refused to wear for many years. I pick it up and place it on my head—its proper spot—as I face the crowd. Their stares are unwavering as I step down, stalking past each of them, my shadows creating distance between us. The shadows encasing me feel like an old friend, warm and protective. I make it out of the doorway, turning to face them all once more. Tipping my head back, I laugh, a voice that isn’t all mine leaving my throat. With the wave of my hand, the doors slam shut.

The feeling of a familiar presence perks my senses as I move through the castle.

“Briar, are you insane? He’s going to kill you!” Silas sprints down the narrow hallway near my bedroom.

I turn, my eyes still burning from the change. I tilt my head to the side, studying him. He’s afraid of me. What an exciting change of events. “I think I might be. He won’t kill me, he needs me, remember?” I smile, “I’m done playing these games with my father. If he wants a challenge, he’s got it. If he wants a duel, I’ll give him one.” I flick my finger once more, and my bedroom door swings open, crashing into the stone wall.

Silas steps in behind me, keeping a few paces back, caution evident in his eyes.

"I won't bite unless you'd like me to," I joke as the darkness looms nearby.

The tingles coursing through my body at this moment feel exhilarating.

"I'm not joking right now, Briar. You've just caused a lot of shit. Maines and Oak had to flee! Who knows where they went? You need to snap out of this. You aren't yourself."

"They will be fine—Maines is smart. Did you really think my father would be okay with Oak falling for Maines?"

"You're defending his actions?"

"No, I'm pointing out the fucking obvious." I flick my wrist, and a chair flies behind his knees, making him sit. "That's more like it."

"Briar, it's me. Please stop this. There is darkness in you, yes, but this is something different."

I stalk toward him, straddling him, placing my hands on each side of his shoulders. He sucks in a breath as I lower myself onto his lap, my lips crashing into his. He jerks back, staring into my eyes, and I feel the darkness lift from my vision, the hazel shade returning.

He cups my face. "You can't let this dark anger inside you take over like that. It changes you into something that isn’t controllable. Are you back? Is this you?"

"I never left."

That’s enough to convince him. Our mouths collide as if we are desperate to devour each other. His hands travel under my shirt, pulling it over my head, the crown remaining perfectly placed as I return the favor. His muscled chest pressing against my breasts sends a thrill through my body to my already molten core.

Silas pushes me up, so I stand before him, my bare chest nearly at eye level. He grasps one of my breasts, placing it in his mouth, his tongue working gently over my firm nipple. I tip my head back, hoping to stay in this moment forever with him. My hands travel through his hair and down his back, my nails digging into his soft skin. He releases my breast, and the cold air sends a shock to my system. His eyes lock with mine as he slowly unbuttons his pants, slipping them down to the floor, his hardened length at full attention. I step back, smirking as the excitement makes my center throb. I slowly remove my pants, stepping out of them with a kick to the side. The only thing left on my body is my crown.

His face grins wickedly. "My Queen. My God." His eyes darken as he grips the arm of the chair.

"Leave it on," he begs.

I move toward the chair, kneeling before him, my hands traveling up his thighs. He tips his head back, closing his eyes as I taste him. His length hits the back of my throat, and I hum—delicious.

"Fuck!" he gasps, squirming under my hold.

My wet lips work in tandem with my hands as I begin to bob my head in his lap. His hands tangle in my hair as he guides me, choosing a speed that satisfies us both until he can’t wait any longer and pulls me away by my hair.

Feeling proud, I rise from his lap, my lips swollen while a hunger shows behind his eyes—a desperation. I climb up onto the chair, straddling him once more. He kisses me, his hands brazenly exploring my entire body as his arousal teases at my entrance. I lower myself down, teasing back but never fully committing.

When I’m unable to stand it any longer, I thrust myself down, his length filling me to the deepest level. A moan leaves my mouth as I rock back and forth. He bites my neck, sending pain and pleasure down my spine. My breasts bounce as the speed at which I ride him increases. His fingers dig deep into my sides as he changes the pace, slow and deep. I feel the pleasure building in my core as I grip the back of his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his muscular neck.

“I’m going to do horribly great things to every fucking inch of your body, my Briar,” he moans.

His words are my undoing.

A white-hot pleasure causes my entire body to tremble—my back arching against him—my breasts pressing into his face. I ride the pleasure, stars dancing in my eyes. My darkness is seemingly at bay as I continue to move over his hard body. I could die in this feeling—nothing matters in this moment as I scream his name. He growls into my breasts, holding onto my hips as I pulse around his length. My chest heaves as I come back down, barely catching my breath.

He picks me up in one movement, my legs wrapped around his waist, with his arousal still deep inside me. He throws me on the bed—my breasts bouncing from the movement—and he stands before me, taking in the view.

“My turn,” he growls.

The sight must drive him mad as he thrusts hard into my wetness once more, making me gasp and grip the bedsheets. At first, I was in control. But now he’s fully in command, hammering into me with sheer lust, plunging deeper each time. I don’t think he can go much longer, but I’m wrong—his thrusts continue, wilder now as I know he’s close. Silas tips his head back, exposing his beautiful neck to the air, trying to slow his release.

In one fluid motion, he flips me to my stomach, removing his length from my body—the feeling of emptiness making my body tremble with need.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he demands.

I slowly move into the position, obeying his commands.

“Good girl,” Silas whispers. “You may not listen to me in the outside world but here, you will do as I say.” His tongue does a full sweep of my exposed core, sending a shockwave through me. “Do you understand?”

I moan, leaning back against his face, letting him go deeper as he devours me from behind. Soon, his tongue is replaced by his length, filling me once more. He wildly thrusts against me. Our bodies crash together at a speed he now chooses. Silas grips my hips, his strong hands digging into my sides, as he uses them to drive into me with more force.

Release finds us both as I melt into him. My vision blurs from the pleasure rushing through my entire body.

“Gods,” he cries, spilling into me, heat flooding my core.

He lowers his body to mine, leaning into kiss me deep and slow—still twitching inside me. Silas pulls out of my wet heat as he rolls me to face him. He moves a piece of hair from my face, the strand soaked with sweat.

“Don’t scare me like that again. You can’t let the anger control you like that,” Silas whispers.

I don’t respond—instead, I kiss him. It isn’t anger that floods me; it’s my true nature—the Briar I’ve kept locked away since my mother died—someone I never thought I would need to set free.

Until now.

Chapter 32

Silas and I walk hand in hand toward the fourth and final trial being held just outside the kingdom—near the Cita mountains—in an ancient dueling arena. The cold mountain air whips my face as the sun disappears behind the clouds, offering no warmth. We discuss every possible outcome and element of the duel throughout the night. We know fire must play a role, as indicated by the scrolls, but we can’t figure out how. Already at a disadvantage against Thatcher’s apparent knowledge, I wish Oak and Maines were here more than anything.

The arena is chilling and dark. Its dusty stone floor exudes silence—like a grave yet to receive its dead. Despite my preparations, a sensation of uneasiness lingers like an ever-present sickness settling into my bones. Two axes—my chosen weapons since the second trial—are sheathed at my back as I stand before the fourth trial. An ominous cold shadows us, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ll ever feel the warmth of the sun again. The uncertainty of the order in which we will fight adds additional tension among the competitors.

My father, seated upon a throne erected for this occasion, surveys the arena and the townspeople who have braved the journey to witness this historic duel. The mentors, with Calia nearest, stand close behind him. She whispers something in his ear as the crowd settles and points to us below.

In the center of the arena, the competitors and I face the judge—my father—who rises and quiets the audience with a simple gesture. "Today marks the fourth trial—a duel of strength and bravery among the competitors," he announces, his voice echoing off the stone. "As a gentleman," he smirks, "we start with the ladies first."

A knot forms in my stomach as I take a deep breath to calm myself.

"Rohhit Harte will be the first to compete against your princess," my father declares.

Exchanging a glance with Rohhit, I see the worry in his eyes but nod to affirm my readiness.

"Next, Silas and Thatcher will duel. The victors will face each other in the final challenge. You have only minutes to prepare. Please ready yourselves and take your positions in the arena."

Silas's hand rests reassuringly on my back as he guides me to the sidelines. "You can win, Briar. Remember our strategy and where to aim. I know Rohhit is your friend."

"I don’t want to fight him, Silas," I confess, feeling my stomach twist.

After ensuring no unwanted eyes are upon us, Silas kisses my forehead. "I know, but if you don't fight, your father wins, and all is lost." I nod, checking the security of my axes.

"You can do this. I know you can. Move quick and swing hard."

Facing Rohhit, his smile is tinged with sadness.

I return a soft smile, whispering, “It’s okay, Rohhit.”

As I walk into the arena, I quickly braid my hair and toss it over my shoulder. The crowd's anticipation builds like thunder in the distance. Rohhit positions himself a short distance away. In one last act of defiance, I face my father and narrow my eyes. My gaze could ignite fires as I mouth, "You're dead when this is over. " A laugh escapes me as the absurdity sinks in.

"Begin," commands the King of Daramveer, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Rohhit faces me, regret in his eyes, then charges. I widen my stance and draw my axes, ready for combat. "Come on!" I yell into the biting wind.

As he approaches, I notice he is unarmed. "I'm not here to fight you, Briar, but we need to put on a show. Knock me out, stab me—I can endure it. I’ve suffered much worse recently," he declares.

Shocked, I barely dodge his feigned punch, which ignites the crowd's excitement. I retreat, searching his eyes—deep pools of unresolved sadness.

Why the sorrow?

With a spin of my golden axes, I prepare to engage, knowing my aim and purpose—my hand, my life, my kingdom. I lunge, my braid snapping like a whip behind me. As he leaps, I duck, intentionally missing his legs with my blades to avoid actual harm.

He spins, urgency in his voice. "Do it, Briar! You have to end this because I won’t."

I pause for a moment in understanding—he won’t hurt me.

I attack then, aiming for his shoulder, but he rolls away, evading my strike. The crowd gasps. I immediately swing again, closing my eyes, hoping I don't kill him by accident. He dodges the blow again, falling over a broken rock. While he’s down, I take the opportunity to boast in the crowd's celebration, giving him a moment to collect himself. I shove both axes over my head and yell, spilling out all the hurt deep within me—the frustration, the betrayal. The guttural scream echoes through the arena and the crowd stops clapping, shaken at the release I just performed. Something snaps.

My eyes blink, and black covers my hazel eyes.

I turn in Rohhit’s direction, the darkness taking over my body. "Briar," he steps back a few paces, sadness replaced by fear in his eyes. A deep breath expands my lungs as I try to control the rage seconds away from breaking through. A thought flickers in my brain,

Don’t let the darkness control you—you control it.

It would be so easy to kill Rohhit with whatever lives inside me fully present and ready to strike. I stalk toward him like a creature after its prey. Closing the gap, I lift my axe over my head—blinded by the darkness—and prepare to kill him.

Rohhit’s fist thankfully hits me before I can make my move. I fall to the ground, snapping back into my body. He’s immediately on me, pinning my arms to the cold ground. I grit my teeth, swallowing down the uncontrolled sensation flowing through me, and blink back into my own eyes, my own body—a spark of relief flashes across his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Blood drips down my face from the strike, the coppery taste hitting my tongue.

I hear Silas scream from the sideline, “Get the fuck off of her!”

With a quick nod, I kick him off me, my axes swinging wildly. He tumbles to the ground with a thud that echoes through the mountains. I spring to my feet and close the gap between us as he turns, bracing for the impact of my axe. Instead, I drive my heel directly into the back of his ankle, targeting the injury from the second trial. He screams as he collapses again, clutching his leg in agony. I loom over his fallen body, meeting his tear-filled eyes.

"Do it, Briar," he whispers.

I take a deep breath and grasp the knob of my axe, driving it into his temple.

The thud resonates through my body, sending vibrations straight to my heart. I gasp for breath as his body relaxes—the pain momentarily erased—as he lies unconscious at my feet.

The crowd erupts into a thunderous roar. My father announces, "The Princess of Daramveer is our first-round winner."

Cheers and applause fill the air as guards enter the arena, lifting Rohhit's limp body. Healers rush to his side; Eden nods at me, reassuring me that he will be fine. My guilt weighs heavily—more burdensome than the axes in my trembling hands. Slowly, my gaze shifts to my father, who towers over the scene. I slide one finger across my throat, reminding him of the fate I promised him when we finally face each other.

"Next!" he bellows, his voice filled with fury, allowing no time for reflection.

Realization sinks in that the others must compete next—Silas. He must face Thatcher, who will stop at nothing to kill him just to punish me. Under the awning, away from the crowd, I pass Silas. His expression is stony. He grabs me forcefully, pulling me into a deep kiss. His tongue explores my mouth as if savoring me for possibly the last time. He pulls away to rest his forehead against mine, staring intently into my eyes.

"Whatever happens, you will win—you will rule—just don't lose yourself to the shadows," he advises. "Fight whatever is inside you. It can only control you if you let it. You are in charge of your destiny, my Briar."

A tear rolls down my cheek, which he tenderly kisses away.

"Don’t cry, my queen," he whispers, then releases my hand. The loss of his touch shatters my heart.

Thatcher stands in the arena, his bow ready. I watch Silas step into the combat zone, feeling a piece of my heart go with him.

They face each other, the wind eerily calm as if holding its breath. "Begin!" my father commands from above, and my heart skips a beat.

Thatcher charges like a rabid dog. Silas remains composed, his breathing steady. As Thatcher nears, Silas transforms into a black mist, disorienting him.

"Coward!" Thatcher yells into the void.

Silas reappears inches from Thatcher’s back, a sword now in his hands—Oak’s sword from the trials. My eyebrows lift in surprise.

How did he get that?

He swings, narrowly missing Thatcher’s neck, then ducks, as Thatcher prepares his bow to shoot Silas. I spot droplets on the arrow’s tip.

"Silas!" I scream from the sidelines.

Though he doesn't look away, I know he hears me—his gaze drops to the dripping poison. My throat tightens with a sob, knowing that it’s the same poison that killed my brother. Thatcher releases the arrow, which whistles past Silas's head, splashing the deadly liquid close to him.

Silas returns the attack with grace, demonstrating the skills of a seasoned warrior. He shifts again as Thatcher recovers, appearing just behind him. He lands a powerful kick, sending Thatcher stumbling forward into a rock. Silas is relentless, swinging his sword down in a killing stroke, but Thatcher rolls away at the last second. Sparks fly from the rock, striking Thatcher in the eye.

"Fuck!" Thatcher screams, clutching his face.

Silas laughs darkly. "I thought you could use a scar like mine," he taunts.

"I’m going to fucking kill you," Thatcher yells, leaping to his feet, blood dripping from his cheek. He swings an arrow at Silas’s throat but Silas dodges.

I edge out from under the awning to get a clearer view of the two men’s struggle for survival. Rain begins to fall, mourning those who have fallen and those who might soon follow. The arena’s stones turn slick, mirroring the combatants and their flashing weapons. The heavy rain complicates their footing, causing Silas to receive a solid punch from Thatcher.

Blood streams from Silas's nose as he regains his footing and charges forward, tackling Thatcher to the muddy ground.

The crowd gasps, riveted by the brutal spectacle. As the rain creates a curtain around them, I move closer—squinting through the downpour to discern their blurred figures. Thatcher, bleeding and furious, kicks Silas in the ribs, eliciting a stifled groan.

Driven by desperation, I attempt to rush into the arena, but the guards restrain me. Thatcher looms over Silas, reveling in his apparent victory.

Silas glares up at him, undaunted, even as the rain blurs his vision. Summoning all his strength, he launches a powerful scream and shifts behind Thatcher—Thatcher spins around, allowing Silas to strike him squarely in the face. Blood sprays from Thatcher's mouth as the crowd watches, enthralled by the fierce battle.

Driven by the ferocity of the moment, Silas stands, not a trace of fear in his eyes—only fierce determination as the rain drenches both fighters. Thatcher recovers quickly, his face twisted with fury as steam seems to rise from his rain-soaked body. His fists clench so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Silas, poised and ready, widens his stance, aware that prolonging the fight could wear Thatcher down, opening an opportunity for a decisive blow.

Suddenly, Thatcher unfurls his hands, releasing a spray of mud from his palms directly into Silas’s face. Temporarily blinded, Silas stumbles, clawing at the mud caking his eyes.

"Fucking cheater!" I scream toward my father, outrage echoing through the rain.

He merely watches, a cruel satisfaction in his gaze as he savors the conflict below.

In that moment of distraction, Thatcher notches another arrow, this one aimed straight for Silas’s heart. My mind races with panic, memories of past horrors flashing before me as the arrow flies true.

"No!" My scream pierces the storm—a chilling echo of terror—as the arrow embeds itself in Silas's chest.

The scene unfolds in slow motion—Silas's body jerks from the impact, standing momentarily as if suspended by invisible strings, then collapses into the mud. I break free from the guard’s grasp and sprint into the arena, my heart breaking with each step.

Thatcher stands triumphant, his laughter mixing with the cheers of the crowd as my father proclaims, "Thatcher Madden is the victor of the second round!"

Ignoring the celebration, I rush to Silas’s side, his blood mingling with the rain, forming a crimson pool around him. Kneeling beside him, I barely notice the sharp stones cutting into my knees.

"Silas," I sob, touching his face, cold and pale under my fingers. "Oh Gods, please."

Healers swarm around us, Eden placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "We need to move him now, Briar."

"Eden, it's the poison! The arrow—it was laced with that ancient toxin Maines was researching. It killed my brother!" I cry out, desperate, as I brush his damp hair from his forehead and kiss him gently. "Don’t you dare leave me, Nastronde," I whisper fiercely. "My darkness calls to yours. Fight it. Come back to me."

I swear I see a faint flutter in his eyelids as the healers begin their urgent work. They carefully lift him, rushing toward the medical tent. "Don’t you let him fucking die, Eden!" My voice is raw with emotion, a threat borne of despair.

As the guards pull me away, the announcement for the final round booms overhead. "Ready, Princess?" one guard demands gruffly. "It's time."

I wrench away from their grasp, fury fueling my voice. "Get the fuck off me! Give me a minute!"

Despite my protests, they drag me to the starting position at the arena's edge. "No time to waste, princess. The King's orders. The final round starts now."

As I face the arena, darkness swirls within me, my axes pulsing with a life of their own, hungry for vengeance. The rain begins to ease, providing a brief moment of clarity as I fix my gaze on Thatcher. He stands atop a pile of stones—bloodied, yet smirking—challenging me to step forward.

The voice of my father booms again, filling the air with foreboding. "All should be honored to witness such valor. We now proceed to the third and final round: The Princess of Daramveer versus Thatcher Madden, the newly appointed Chief Officer of Daramveer's Army."

My breath catches. Thatcher now bears Barlowe’s hard-earned title—Barlowe, whom Thatcher had murdered.

"Fight hard and true," my father's voice rings out, a twisted smile in his words. "Begin!"

As the command echoes, the rain stops completely, leaving an unsettling stillness. Thatcher stands ready, his black armor glistening—his red eyes burning with madness. His appearance is nightmarish, as if he's a creature forged from the darkness itself.

Clutching my axes, my hands tremble—not with fear—but with a raging fire within. Thatcher casually picks up Oak’s fallen sword, tossing it with ease, flaunting his readiness for the final confrontation.

This fight will be anything but fair. His deep-seated hatred for me and my brother might override any need to keep me alive for the ritual. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m fully prepared—steeled for this moment—ready to unleash the powerful force that has been simmering within me all these years.

A primal instinct surges as I prepare myself—broadening my stance—ready for the pain and determined to fight. It's finally time to face Thatcher. It’s time to end this.

Chapter 33

Thunder claps overhead—stirred by the storm or the Gods, I cannot tell.

“I said, begin!” my father’s voice booms across the arena.

Thatcher mockingly bows in my direction, his eyes locking onto mine as an evil grin spreads across his face—his lips and teeth caked with dried blood, creating a ghastly sight. He charges at me in a full sprint. Fear surges through my veins, overwhelming the growing darkness within me. His wild eyes send waves of panic coursing through me, making my axes feel impossibly heavy. I swallow the fear as best I can and match his speed, lunging toward him. We collide, darkness swirling around us, obscuring the view for the spectators above. A curtain of black clouds envelops us as our weapons clash, sparks flying like shooting stars. Fire.

“I know what my father’s planning,” I hiss through the pain shooting down my arm from the impact, exhaustion already taking hold as I maintain my stance, Thatcher’s sword pushing against the head of my axe.

“Oh, Princess. You have no idea what he’s planning, and it’s been so fun watching you struggle,” Thatcher laughs, his voice teetering on the brink of insanity.

We strain against each other, separating only for a moment. I grit my teeth and scream, lunging again at his imposing figure. “I may not know everything, Thatcher, but I do know that your life ends tonight,” I declare, staring into his malevolent eyes—my words a promise.

His sword raises over his head as he leaps toward me, his teeth bared. I block the strike, rolling to the side and quickly regaining my composure. My entire body aches from the relentless impacts with the hard ground.

“Someone’s been practicing,” he growls. “If only we had more time to roll around on the roof that day.”

Thunder continues to roll above us, like bombs detonating in the distance, as our fight rages on. The gasps from the crowd are my only cue that they remain engrossed.

“I’ve been waiting for my chance to kill you, Thatcher—to avenge what you’ve done to my family, your sister. Once you are dead and forgotten, he’s next,” I gesture skyward, indicating my father.

Thatcher's focus falters at my movement, and I seize the opportunity to strike. I move through the shadows as if I am a specter, a being intertwined with death itself. I dart around him three times as he frantically searches for me. I position myself behind him and, with all my strength, swing my axe toward the back of his head, ready to end this, when I abruptly stop.

A shadow moves toward an opening in the arena I hadn’t noticed before—a small cave leading directly to the wild forest around us, providing a hidden exit within the arena walls. Thatcher freezes, unaware of the movement but acutely aware of the shift in the atmosphere.

My father's voice echoes ominously from above, “I told you to prepare for anything, and as a warning, I’d prepare now if I were you. Or don’t—that will make this much more exciting.”

His wide grin is visible even from here.

Thatcher, catching on to the cryptic announcement, slowly turns toward me. “Ready for the main event, Briar? I know someone who’s been dying to see you.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What?” I stand frozen.

A crash to my right breaks my concentration, but I’m too frightened to look. A heavy sense of dread washes over me as the crowd above falls silent—the eerie stillness causing a ringing in my ears. Thatcher steps back, allowing me space to see what he’s referring to. A low growl emanates from the darkness, enveloping us like thick smoke. At this moment, I realize we are not alone. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I am rooted to the spot.

A creature emerges from the darkness, its large head rearing back with a scream that sounds anything but natural. Its movements are awkward and propulsive as it nears Thatcher and me. The crowd gasps, recoiling as if the mere sight of the creature is too much to bear. I take a step back to gain a clearer view of the figure advancing toward us—steam rises from the rocks, creating a dense fog that veils the atmosphere and obscures our vision.

Thatcher steps aside, giving me an unobstructed view of what—or who—approaches. My knees buckle as the creature steps into view, human yet not. Its body ripples with muscles—boasting unnatural strength—and long, flowing black hair cascades down its bare back. Rows of razor-sharp teeth fill its unnaturally wide mouth as smoke puffs—swallowing black flames darker than any shadow I’ve ever seen.

Finally, my gaze meets its face and its eyes—bright green, glowing like my favorite part of the forest floor at sunrise. Eyes I could never forget, even after all this time apart. Eyes that once offered comfort and love but now reveal only emptiness and malice. Tears sting my eyes as I stare at the creature before me.

A creature that was once my brother.

Barlowe.

My axes crash to the ground, sounding like a thousand glasses shattering simultaneously. The crowd erupts, not realizing that their once-beloved Chief Officer stands before them again, altered and monstrous. A shockwave hits me hard enough to physically jolt me backward. My father has successfully used the crystal, and my brother stands before me, resurrected as a nightmare in the flesh.

A memory flickers in my mind—those resurrected are never the same. The closer to the time of death, the easier it is to bring someone back with the stone.

A true warrior, now a prisoner of a resurrection ritual. I realize with horror that my father is responsible. Barlowe tips his head back, inhaling the night air as if he’s been confined for far too long. Slowly lowering his head, he grins broadly, displaying all his teeth. I watch as he takes a deep breath, and a red light forms on his chest, traveling to his throat as he opens his mouth.

Flames pour forth like a raging river of fire. I scream and leap behind a stone as the fire engulfs the area around me, singeing the ends of my braid. The fire element—it’s my brother. Thatcher has vanished, likely seizing this chaos to complete the final ritual.

Panic sets in. I may not be able to stop him. My eyes snap shut as intense pain shoots through my head.

Thatcher barely comes into view as I crane my neck around the stone that shields me from the flames. In a corner of the arena, he works with precision, placing crystals in a circle and using the ash from my brother’s flames to draw Rigil's symbols around the small ritual site. This distraction with my brother is designed to keep me from interrupting the ritual.

My father looks down upon his children, his face alight with delight at the sight of his creature—his perfect fighting machine. I fear he's long planned this for my brother—the sinister reason my father had him return. Thatcher uses a dagger from his boot to slice his palm, letting thick blood flow over the ritual area. I realize I’m too late.

Thundering footsteps sound behind me as Barlowe moves closer.

“Darkness protect me,” I whisper, hoping that speaking my prayers aloud will hasten their answer.

I stand, preparing for the darkness to envelop my body; the force I’ve resisted all these years is now the only thing that might keep me alive. I lower my internal defenses, built up over many years—it’s time the Kingdom of Daramveer meets my other half.

But nothing happens.

Barlowe grabs a fistful of my hair and hurls me through the air as if I weigh nothing. A scream catches in my throat as I crash into a half-stone wall, shattering it. The crowd gasps, expecting their princess to be declared dead. Yet pain does not come; instead, a profound silence reassures me that what I summoned is on its way.

My eyes crack open, dust and rubble sliding off my body. I know my autumn eyes have transformed—now painted the darkest black. My father leaps to his feet, peering over the edge of the arena, his hands weakly gripping the railing. The creature pauses, allowing me time to shed the additional debris, watching me as if I am prey.

I lock eyes with my father, my gaze darker than the night sky.

My voice echoes like the crashing rocks moments before. "You didn’t think I remembered, did you, Father?” He staggers back as a chilling, unfamiliar voice cuts through the air. “Five years ago, when my mother died, I lay unconscious for days. Do you remember? You attempted your precious resurrection ritual on me, suspecting I was the vessel for Kalix. Didn’t you?”

The color drains from his already pale face, leaving him with a ghostly expression as I continue with a wicked smirk.

“You thought it failed. Unaware, you orchestrated these trials, summoning the strongest from each kingdom—desperate to find your vessel.” My gaze lowers as I peer up through the darkness clouding my vision. “But what you didn’t realize, father, is that your ritual partially succeeded. A fragment of Kalix was resurrected that night. Into me.”

His mouth falls open.

“I am the vessel for the Great Wiitch, Kalix, and I think it’s time you two met.”

Black veins creep up my arms, climbing to my shoulders like a serpent slithering beneath my skin. “Kalix and I have coexisted harmoniously for years right under your nose. Blinded by your hatred and disgust for me, you overlooked the very thing you’ve sought your whole life.”

I move forward, my shadows swirling chaotically around me as I surrender to the surge of power. Standing taller than ever, the darkness spreads around me like vines reaching for sunlight. “I haven't lived in the shadows because I was helpless or afraid, Father. I’ve dwelled in the shadows all these years because my other half really fucking prefers it there.”

Chapter 34

The dark veins spread like a disease throughout my entire body. Barlowe bounds toward me again, flipping over stones as if they are pebbles. Meanwhile, my father's mouth hangs open in shock—I drink in the smell of fear oozing from his weak body. He has spent the last few weeks pouring all his magic and soul into finding Kalix, a power that has flowed straight to me.

I spin around as Barlowe growls nearby—my brother has morphed into this creature before me. He didn’t ask for this fate and doesn’t deserve it. Familiar eyes peek out at me through his rough, changed exterior.

Memories of us as children running through the castle's winding hallways flood my mind. Our loud laughter would echo down the halls, our father often disciplining us for causing a ruckus around the grounds—yet Barlowe always took most of the blame, allowing our father to direct his anger at him instead of at me. Now, Barlowe—my protector for most of my life—stands before me, ready to strike.

My eyes catch sight of a fallen rock. I flick my wrist, causing the stone to hover, waiting for my command. The stone is weightless under my control and the feeling of the overwhelming power feels euphoric after all these years of containment.

The creature pauses as I weave my darkness into his mind. "You will not harm me or anyone I love. You know me in more ways than one. You fear me, although I no longer fear you. Half of me comes from a place similar to yours. You will do as I say."

His eyes light up, as if my words are a symphony to his ears, a desperate call he's been waiting for in the darkness. Barlowe tilts his head as a silent understanding passes between us.

My eyes narrow, showing no sign of the old Briar. "You know what to do, but wait for my signal."

The creature turns, Thatcher standing in utter disbelief at the completed ritual site. Instead of celebrating, he scans for any escape, trapped by his depleted magic. He realizes he is facing his final moments at the hands of something he killed long ago.

"You filthy liar," Thatcher screams. "I knew something was off about you."

I click my tongue and step toward him, my axes angled to strike. "Oh, Thatcher, always so dramatic," I say with a smile, signaling Barlowe to pause. "I think it’s time we finally address some things."

Thatcher remains frozen as I approach him. He looks incredibly weak at this moment which brings me a sick pleasure.

"You aren’t so tough now, are you?" I hiss.

His eyes, sagging with defeat, meet mine—the same eyes as Maines. An image of Maines's smiling face crosses my mind—her ability to love deeply shines even in the darkest times, despite sharing the same blood as the monster before me.

"This is for Maines," I shout, swinging my axe into his left leg. His scream and the crunch of his leg echo through the Cita Mountains.

I glance at my arm, where blue bruises had once formed, remembering the many unpleasant encounters with Thatcher Madden—the years of torment he caused to so many, including those I love. I remember fighting against his disgusting hands on the roof. Now, I won't just try to cause him pain—I will.

"This is for me," I declare, swinging my other axe and hitting bone once more. The cracking sound echoes in my mind. The color drains from his face.

Thatcher’s body hits the cold ground, blood pooling around his lower half. His face contorts with pain. A snarl from Barlowe behind me takes me back to the night he was murdered, lying in a pool of his own blood, while Thatcher fled—a coward, as always. I step forward, towering over his fallen body. My eyes turn the darkest shade of black as I lean closer.

"This will hurt. This won’t be nice for you. And you can be sure that once I make a promise, I keep it."

I look over my shoulder at Barlowe, who waits unmoving for my command.

Thatcher raises an arm, coughing up blood. "Please… Briar," he begs, his blood staining my pants. "I’ll tell you everything."

"Pathetic," I scoff, glancing at my axes, which hang gracefully in my hands, their gold metal gleaming in the light. The anticipation is killing him more than his mangled legs.

"And this is for my brother, who you murdered so easily." I raise both axes as he flinches beneath them, preparing for the final strike.

I pause. "However, I think it’s only fair he gets his final revenge. It’s his turn to watch the light leave your eyes. And just like you said—I’m not sorry for this."

I raise my hand, aligned with my chest, and shoot a black flame from my palm—the antithesis of light. My power—pure hatred and darkness—emanates directly from the Great Wiitch herself. It envelops his body, and before my eyes, his life force begins to drain slowly. A wave of pleasure washes over me as I turn my gaze back to my father who, still immobile, watches in horror.

"You wanted a show, Father? You wanted darkness? Well, here I am!"

I snap my fingers and Barlowe pounces on Thatcher’s body—his screams of horror and rage fill the air as Barlowe exacts his final revenge. I dodge the splattering of blood and turn to see my father pushing through what remains of the crowd above. I step forward, glancing back to see Barlowe rising from Thatcher's body, leaving nothing but bones. Even now, I can’t help but flinch at the sight of my brother—a creature of darkness covered in blood, with a wild look of relief in his familiar eyes.

Screams echo above me, but I focus only on controlling the power coursing through my veins. I can't let it take over completely, or I'll be lost. I swallow the uncontrollable sensation, knowing it's time my father finally met his daughter and the Great Wiitch he has so desperately sought.

"I'll be back, Barlowe. I promise to try to help you. Don’t leave this arena," I say as I order him to stay in the shadows.

I rush up the steps, moving carefully to conserve the power in my veins. My heart pounds like war drums. The townspeople and the mentors scatter at the sight of the darkness, leaving my father to fend for himself.

Perfect.

The king sprints through the forest—his weakened body a disadvantage to him. He was once a mighty king but he chose to sacrifice his magic and soul for a lost cause. He races through the trees and across the familiar stream, water splashing all around him. As if the forest conspires with me, he runs toward the cave, its opening beckoning like an old friend—a place I know all too well.

Remains of my friends and I are evident at the entrance, as if I'm walking directly into a memory. Rohhit lay there, bleeding out, while Oak did his best to assist me—visions of Rose and my mother flash before me. Silas, the one who always grounds me and pulls me back each time. These reminders fuel my determination to make my father pay for the pain he caused to so many.

Ignoring the signs, my father runs deeper into the cave, driven by panic. As he nears the small pond that I know all too well, he stops inches from the water’s edge. The water sparkles like diamonds, putting on a show unlike any before, this time for the King of Daramveer.

"Stunning, isn’t it?" I say as I round the corner, standing between him and the only exit. "I never knew waters like this existed until recently. You should really get out more, Father. Staying cooped up in the castle isn’t good for you. It can drive you crazy, don’t you think?"

I move forward, my footsteps silent as if floating on air. "This world has so much to offer if you allow it." I lift a rock with my finger, twirling it effortlessly in the air.

"Briar. I need you to think about your next move here. You aren't yourself. I never knew all those years ago that someone had infected you. I... I could have helped you. Guided you to do great things. Please think about this."

My father steps back, his foot dipping into the water. Small, glowing eyes peer from above the horizon, watching and waiting. The same horrifying creature lurking nearby settles into the shallowing water.

"Oh, I’ve thought about this moment for years. You’ve never done anything for me. Your entire life has been about your personal gains. You killed my mother," I step closer, pushing him backward. "You sat there and ordered some idiot to kill your only son, and, like a coward, you did nothing."

"You think you’ve figured it all out, right? Your mother. My only son." My father mocks. "Kalix is swaying your thoughts right now, Briar. Think of Daramveer. The people need me!"

Black flames dance around my tattooed hands. "You used me, your daughter, as a vessel without caring if it would kill me or not." I grit my teeth. "You have destroyed our family and our kingdom. You’ve caused more pain than you’ll ever realize—now it’s your turn."

The black flames around my arms dance against the shimmering water. My eyes narrow as Briar Blackbyrne begins to fade away. Taking another step forward, I feel my soul merge deeper within my body, our souls blending slowly. My father staggers back—desperate for something to shield him from the magic he once desired.

"Look at you," I huff. "You drained your magic for these rituals. For what? To fail again?"

His expression shifts, and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, Briar. You are mistaken. I haven’t failed. You think you know everything. You think you’ve outsmarted us all. But you are blinded by hate—just like your mother and just like you accuse me of." His eyes darken. "I didn't fail. Kalix is here, before me, and she's about to emerge from you. She will ruin you and everything around you. The rituals were completed—she can fully manifest now, and surprise, we have someone else eager to join her. A war is coming and you aren’t ready."

I flare my black magic, lifting his body above the water. "Enough!" I snarl. "You are vile. You are nothing. And you are dead."

His life drains away as a haunting scream escapes his closing throat, his power flowing into me. I lift my chin, basking in the surge of power. His face becomes gaunt, and I flick my wrist, hurling his withered body into the water below. The creature pounces immediately, dragging his body deep to join the other unfortunate souls who dared to cross us.

I turn to leave the cave, lighter than I've felt in years, my hazel eyes returning as I suppress the shadows within me. A faint scream echoes in my ears as I force it down. Years of practice have helped me control the darkness. Yet, my father’s last words linger. If Kalix fully possesses me, I will be lost. As I move, my thoughts return to the arena.

Barlowe!

Using the magic left from Kalix in my veins, I shift through the forest—pushing through the fatigue that has overtaken my body now that I’ve dimmed the Great Wiitch within me. The arena is deserted, the crowd and guards gone, leaving me as the lone Wielder. Dust mingles with the fog at my feet as an eerie silence permeates the fallen stones. He’s close.

A snarl draws my attention to the shadows deep within the stone wall.

“Barlowe,” I whisper into the darkness. The creature steps out, its nose twitching at my scent. “I’m here to help you. Can you understand me?”

The horrifying figure continues toward me on all fours, like the creatures that once stalked me in the forest. Hunger is evident in its eyes—it doesn't fully recognize me with Kalix's scent so deep within me.

“Barlowe, it’s me!” I cry out. “Please, it’s your sister, Briar!”

The creature advances, the red light in its throat glowing ominously, preparing to incinerate me. Only Kalix, who embodies pure darkness, can control this beast. This is no longer my brother.

“Please, Barlowe. Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me lose you again.” Tears stream down my face as I'm backed against the stone wall. I have nowhere to go but forward in the direction of the creature. The fear consuming me is what Thatcher must have felt in his final moments facing my brother. It’s a terrifying sight.

“Please,” I scream at my brother.

I close my eyes, resigned to die—I can't fight him. Perhaps this is how it was meant to end. I brace myself, ready to face the flames about to erupt from his throat. I've caused enough harm—perhaps I deserve this fate. The realm will be safer without me. I'm ready to take Kalix back to the darkness where we belong. I hear the rumble in his throat, my body tensing, prepared for the fiery pain. Then, a screech replaces the crackle of impending fire.

“Get the fuck away from her!” A familiar voice shouts.

Maines rounds the corner, gripping her brother’s bow tight. The arrow still drips poison from the sharp point. The creature turns away from me, focusing on the new threat. Maines stands firm, undaunted. She has faced monsters her entire life, what’s one more?

The creature’s teeth snap together like thunder as it advances toward Maines, its head lowered to strike. Maines squints, taking careful aim at the beast’s muscular body, giving him one last chance to back down. The arrow quivers in her grip, her expression pained.

“You can’t survive in this world any longer. You are not the man I once knew and that’s okay. You didn’t deserve this, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Barlowe,” she says, maintaining her aim at the soft part of his neck. “Don’t make us fight. I don’t want to shoot you.”

The creature growls, its patience waning. As it moves closer to Maines, leaving a trail of blood-soaked footprints, she speaks again.

“Barlowe, there’s so much we never said, and I regret that. Always. But now, you must return to the darkness. Maybe in another life, we can finish what we almost started.” Tears stream down her face like rain.

She steadies herself, eyes closed, resolved.

The creature lunges and the world around us pauses.

Maines releases the arrow, hitting its mark—the scar from Thatcher’s stab, the softest part of his altered form. Barlowe slows but continues forward, driven by a new-found rage.

Maines fires again and again, striking his chest, leg, and abdomen. The creature halts, its gaze blank as it looks into her eyes. Her tears continue as she struggles for breath.

“I’m so sorry,” she mouths.

Barlowe collapses, the sound echoing through the arena, and all falls silent. It’s over.

Maines drops the bow, her hands shaking. My brother is gone again—taken by a death too cruel.

I hope he finds peace and darkness wherever he is now.

We both exhale, relieved yet burning with sorrow. “Maines!” I rush to her, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

“I had to do it, Briar. I’m so sorry,” she sobs, clinging to me. “He’s gone again because of me.”

I hold her tight. “He didn’t belong here, Maines. You did the right thing. You saved me,” I reassure her, my hand on her neck. “This isn’t your fault.”

She lifts her tear-stained face. “I’m so sorry I left, Briar. We had no choice. Your father would have killed us.”

I hold her closer. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one that’s sorry. I’ll never keep you from Oak again. I was wrong.” I pull back, studying her face. She’s okay, and she’s back.

“Where’s Oak?” I ask.

“He’s looking for Silas and Rohhit,” she explains. “The guards were going to let them die on the sidelines. Had things gone wrong, Thatcher would have been the winner—that was your father’s plan for the final trial. He ordered that no one be healed if injured. Thankfully, the chaos you caused let Eden get them to safety at the House of Hedro. They’re both safe.”

Relief washes over me. “Where did you and Oak run to?”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, we need to get you to the castle. You’re the Queen of Daramveer now and this isn’t over,” she says, the weight of our actions settling in. The fear I’ve instilled in the townspeople haunts me. “They’ll never trust me, knowing what I am, after seeing what I’m capable of.”

She embraces me again. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

I press my forehead against hers. “You promise?”

“I promise,” she smiles, her presence a comfort in the chaos.

Chapter 35

My head throbs from the overuse of magic or shock—I’m not sure. Maines shifted us back to the House of Hedro—I couldn’t due to the utter depletion of magic that hit once I fully took over, and we were clear of immediate danger. Now that my secret is out, people are looking at me differently. Fear shows behind their eyes as I pass by, and I can’t help but think of my dreams—the same looks now being my reality. I now understand that all these years, those dreams were visions of what’s to come if Kalix completely takes over. If she ruled again with no counterpart, with no other Great Wiitch, none would be equally powerful as her. There would be no one who could stop her.

“They are both in my quarters,” Maines explains as we make our way through the blinding white hallways, each step making my body scream in pain. Every floor in the House of Hedro is a maze and it would be easy to get lost in this tower—just like so many souls that have passed here. As the white walls of the House blur past, my thoughts continue to churn. My legs feel weighted and each step is a consistent, painful reminder of the battles fought—both outside of these walls and within. The heaviness that lies here with every decision and every loss feels like it’s pressing down against me. The suffocation I feel in my chest makes me reflect on every past and future decision I have and will make.

Finally, we make it to Maines’s healing room. When I knock, Eden slowly opens the door, peeking through the crack. Realizing it’s us, she swings the door wide, gesturing for us to hurry inside quickly.

“Gods, Briar, I didn’t think I was going to see you walk out of that arena.”

“You and me both,” I say. “Where are they?”

Eden blinks at me slowly, confusion lacing her brows. “I’m sorry, they? Silas is the only one here.”

Maines steps into the room. “Rohhit was brought here too. Did they move him to another floor?”

I can’t help but feel selfish at the feeling of knowing Silas is here and safe.

“Hm. I don’t think he stayed here more than a few minutes.” Eden continues to look worried. “Guards of the Royal Harte came to take him. Nolan was with them as his mouthpiece. They demanded it was on behalf of the King of Eddris.”

A thick air rises around us, making my senses scream at this news. He wasn’t in critical condition by any means but certainly was not in the right condition to travel back to Eddris. I glance toward Maines, her furrowed brows tell me she feels the same shift wading through the room.

“Patients aren’t to leave the House without my approval, Eden!” Maines replies.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Miss Madden. I wasn’t sure what to do with the guards breathing down my neck.” Eden lowers her head, breaking eye contact.

We make eye contact once more, an unsettling uncertainty hitting us both.

Oak shuffles through the heavy velvet curtain separating the rest of the room. He races in our direction, embracing Maines first with a quick kiss. Then he squeezes me tight. “I’m happy to see you. The Queen of Daramveer before my eyes. The queen of giving everyone a heart attack. Remind me next time to not piss you off, okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Oak. I never meant for things to go so wrong—for your life to be in danger because of me.”

“I know Thatcher had suspicions about something going on between his sister and me. He’s the reason that happened, not you. And let’s be honest, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Maines, so I guess she is the one we should blame. I mean, look at her.”

Maines laughs. “No, this happened because you are a persistent pig. That’s why we were in deep shit.”

Oak winks, his eyes longing for her, and the same look budding on her face.

My smile fades. “How did you all already know about my father?”

“Well, when the king doesn’t show up after an epic battle everyone witnessed, news travels fast—he either died or ran away, and my bet is on the former,” he answers.

“Silas. Where is Silas?” I move through the curtain separating half of the room.

He lies on a bed of white sheets of silk. Asleep. He’s pale but stunning. The injury doesn’t take away an ounce of his beauty.

“He’s going to be okay,” Eden whispers behind me. “He’s strong—one of the strongest I’ve ever seen. That type of poison would kill any grown man within minutes, but he held on. I think he held on for you.”

My mind travels back to the night Barlowe was stabbed and how quickly the poison traveled through his veins—killing him immediately. I walk over to the bed and sit, pushing a strand of hair off his face.

Eden hovers only a second longer. “You can wash up in there if you’d like. There are fresh clothes as well,” she says, pointing toward the bathing chambers.

Maines walks up and says, “You should shower, Briar. The blood contrasts with the cleanliness of this bedroom.”

My gut twists, not wanting to leave Silas again, but I know they are right. I’m a mess. The smell and blood will wash away, but the bruises that lie beneath will remain, forever imprinted on my body, and I’ll accept these scars as reminders.

“I’ll stay with him. Oak and I aren’t leaving anytime soon.” Maines smiles, ushering Oak closer as he sits in a chair against the large bay window.

Heading into the room, I look in the mirror. My braid is still intact but matted toward the end—a thick layer of mud and blood weave into my hair. Blood splatters across my face—I look utterly horrifying. As if magic lives in the walls here, the bath is already filled with steaming water as my clothes hit the floor with a heavy thud, and I step inside. The warm water stings my cuts as I hiss through my teeth at the pain.

Silas is alright. Relax, Briar.

I tip my head back, resting it on the back of the tub. I close my eyes only for a moment. The silence is deafening, although I hear hushed voices behind the closed door. Maines and Oak are right outside with Silas.

Ifling open my eyes and stand outside the castle gates—the kingdom burning around me. My heart pounds in my chest as I scan the wasteland before me. I look down at my feet, expecting to see Barlowe lying there as he has so many times before, but only the ashes of a burned body remain. I cringe and look over my shoulder, expecting Thatcher to be standing there, but I see no one. Figures stand before me, bloodied and motionless. For the first time, I can see their faces—Maines, Oak, and Silas—standing unmoving with eyes wide, the last survivors of a horrific battle that has just ended. I try to speak, but the voice I hear is not my own.

A voice booms out, "You all will follow me or be against me."

I realize I'm not the one speaking—it’s Kalix. The friends before me widen their stances, entirely still, as if refusing to leave—even though I am no longer myself. Trapped in my mind, I am a prisoner to the Great Wiitch, who now rules my body. Black magic shoots from my hands in their direction, and they all jump out of the way. Oak covers Maines completely with his body to shield her from any blows. Silas spins, remaining on his feet, his magic bubbling out, ready to strike Kalix and me.

I realize Silas isn’t looking at me but at something behind me. Slowly, my body turns, and another figure steps onto the battlefield through the smoke rising from the west. Dark magic emits from its body, but it isn't shadows leaking from this unholy presence—it's light. A Lumor Wielder makes its presence known. I hear my name called by Silas, but I don’t turn, as if my body is stopping me from running to him—keeping us apart.

Through the mist and smoke, the figure comes into view as Rohhit steps forward, lightning radiating from his body. I try to scream but it’s muffled by the entity in control, which at this moment, isn't experiencing fear. Hatred flows through me, mixing with the terror, leaving a coppery taste in my mouth. Kalix moves closer within my body as if ready to fight. That’s when it hits me—this isn’t Rohhit Harte, the Prince of Eddris before me. It’s Carobon, the Great Lumor Wiitch, himself.

My head dips below the warm water as I snap back into my body in the House of Hedro. I scream, bubbles breaking the surface above me like boiling water.

Rohhit!

I quickly emerge from the water and dress in the clothes Eden provided—a white billowy dress that flows around my ankles, large enough to nearly slip off my shoulders. I roll my eyes, now understanding that this is clothing given to patients, designed for easy access for testing and healing. I re-braid my black hair, still dripping wet from the bath, but at least it’s clean. I open the door and step back into the room with the others. As I halt, Silas is awake and smiling, propped up in bed with bandages peeking through his white shirt.

Maines, Oak, and Silas talk as if they've known each other for a lifetime. My true friends and family are finally together, and at this moment, they are safe. Maines sits in Oak’s lap, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck in a nearby chair, giving Silas room to stretch out on the small bed if needed. My heart stops at the sight of him, his beautiful green eyes now staring back. He tries to sit up higher, only to fall back onto the bed with a groan.

"Nastronde, you will rip your stitches if you do that again!" Maines snaps.

I rush over to him, cupping his face. "Thank Gods you are okay." I press my lips against his forehead, inhaling deeply as I savor his familiar scent.

His eyes pierce my heart as he replies hoarsely, "Hi, Princess."

Oak clears his throat from the corner; I glance at Maines, concerned about his leg.

She understands my look. "I healed his leg. Luckily, it was a clean break! Once we arrived here, it didn’t take long."

Oak grins, wiggling his leg for proof. "We have a few things to catch you up on since you’ve been out, Prince. For starters, you’re now speaking with the Queen of Daramveer."

I slowly shift my eyes back to Silas, his mouth slowly parts. "Queen? Your father? What the hell happened?"

Oak cuts in again, "Well, another thing we should mention first is that Kalix is here as well." Silas springs up at the name, his white shirt slowly turning red from the stitches slicing open.

"Shit! You senseless man! Lay down!" Maines curses, rushing to him, forcing him to lay back down.

He looks me up and down. "It’s you. I can feel it. The Great Wiitch has been inside you all along. Those changes were all from your magic—it was her fueling your rage, your anger. Her eyes showed through when they turned black, didn’t they?"

Maines begins to work once more on his chest, slowly stitching up the wound. "Stay still," she snaps.

"Tell me everything," Silas rasps.

So, I do. I tell him everything that happened after he was shot. Thatcher was successful in the fourth trial, so there is a chance Kalix could fully make her way into my body. Barlowe was resurrected using the crystal, I killed my father, and Maines showed up at the last minute. When I finish the story, Silas remains silent, staring, and ghostly pale. "So where do we go from here?"

"We need to find the resurrection crystal. I know my father had it last. I need to return to the castle to find it and put it somewhere safe until we can destroy it for good. I... I’m also worried for Rohhit. Something doesn’t feel right about him being ordered to leave."

Oak snorts, "I mean, do you blame them for leaving? I’d say I would be more worried if they chose to stay."

He has a point. Silas attempts to lift himself once more off the bed, failing to do so.

"Oh no you don’t, Prince," Maines holds him down. "You are not leaving here until we say so. You almost lost your life. You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you out of here just yet."

He rolls his eyes, slumping back on the bed, "Then you better get to healing Miss Madden. I’ve got shit to do."

I giggle, but inside, my heart beats louder than a raging storm. I know things are far from fine.

"Where is Rose?" I ask, turning to Maines.

She smiles. "Two floors down. She’s going to be sent home tomorrow. She’s doing amazing and has made almost a full recovery."

My gut twists, even though the news overjoys me. She can’t return to the castle—not with what’s coming. "I’m going to go see her for a second. I’ll be back," I reply, leaning down to kiss Silas’ soft lips.

He grabs my hand and squeezes it. "I’ll be here. Don’t you dare leave without coming to get me first. We’re leaving here together!" He glares at Maines, who rolls her eyes in response as she silently works on his wounds.

I step out of the door, hearing whispers of chatter behind me.

He’s safe now, especially here. They all are. However, darkness seems to sweep through these halls like a storm over the mountaintops. It’s heading this way quickly and I can’t shake the feeling of darkness, dread, and doom towering over Daramveer.

Chapter 36

Itake the stairs down the two floors to find Rose. When I round the last corner of the stairwell, her voice fills my ears. I’ve never noticed how much she sounds like my mother—how similar they are in many ways. After so many days of sitting in the kitchen together, I was too wrapped up in my world to realize who sat before me, silently caring for me—more deeply than anyone else I had around me.

Rose holds a book in an oversized chair near the bay window. The last rays of the sun hit her, casting a halo around her body. She springs to her feet and runs in my direction. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you. When the news of the fourth trial spread, I was worried sick. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. They told me to stay and that it was safer for me.”

I embrace her, holding tight, taking in her smell—honey and thyme.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, Briar. It was only to protect you. I’ve watched over you for years—I did my best.”

I could never be angry at her for not telling me the truth. Now that I have people worth protecting, I would do anything to keep them safe. Her eyes drop to the floor, disappointment behind them.

I grab her hands, quickly kissing her cheek. “Please never apologize to me about this again. You did what you had to do and you did it for my mother. That is all I could ever ask. My father is dead. I killed him, Rose. You are my only true family now, and it’s my turn to protect you. I hope you can forgive me for what I’ve done.”

“You did what you had to do, Briar. I understand.”

I’m not ready to tell her about the possession yet. I can’t stomach what her face may look like once she knows I’m not all me. A thought snaps in my mind—Lang. “Wait! Lang is like my Great Uncle or something, isn’t he?”

She laughs. “Yes, he’s also been hiding in secret with me all these years. Now you know why he’s such a worrisome old man over you.” My heart swells with happiness for a moment.

“You can’t return to the castle. We need to get Lang out undetected. If anyone learns who he is, he’ll be targeted alongside you. Even with my father gone, I don’t trust anyone close to him.” I pull her back toward the small sitting area. “I fear this is far from over—you need to leave Daramveer. Now.”

Her lips form a thin line. “I’m not leaving you, Briar. I failed to save your mother and won’t leave you to fend for yourself. As you said—with your father gone, you are my only family outside of Lang. We will stick together and weather whatever storm heads our way.”

I know she isn’t lying, either. If I asked her to fight, she would stay beside me until the bitter end. But I can’t. She and Lang are all I have left, and if my visions of this kingdom come true, they need to be far away from here—away from me.

I stand, towering over her, still sitting in the low chair. “You must leave and go as quickly as possible.”

Her brow furrows with anger. “You cannot expect us just to leave you here. You said it yourself, your father is gone! What’s the threat now, anyway?”

My mind snaps to Calia and her odd behavior throughout the trials. She knows more. She’s in on this.

I hug her again, squeezing tighter than the first time, knowing this may be our last hug. “I’m ordering you to leave, and as your queen, defying me is betraying your kingdom.” The words sound familiar and sour, leaving my mouth.

She huffs, “And where do you suggest we go?”

I glance out of the large bay window, the castle staring back as a reminder of what’s to come. Heavy clouds sit above my home, my kingdom, and the treetops near the forest swirl in chaos—a jarring reminder of what’s unfinished.

“I worked everything out with Oak’s father before the fourth trial. You and Lang will be leaving first thing in the morning for Brinkym. He is also making sure Lang is aware, and they are both packing any additional belongings you may need. Horses will come for you at the first light of dawn.”

She narrows her eyes, “Your mother would have done the same thing. She would be so proud of you. Barely in the role for a few hours, and you are a more caring queen than these lands have had in a long time. I know you will protect these people and rebuild Daramveer to be a safe, prosperous kingdom once more. I’ll see you again one day, my shadow.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and one falls down her cheek.

I take one long look at my mother’s sister. I wish I had known the truth sooner, but the moments we have now are all that matter. Staying in the past too long will only make a ghost of your memories, haunted by what could have been. We have this moment right now, and I won’t waste a second of it by being upset about the past. I drop her hand and she watches me leave—just like she watched my coming and going for years in the kitchen. Always around but never genuinely present—never aware of the truth she so desperately wanted to tell me, her shadow.

Moving back through the stairwell, my heart feels lighter knowing Rose and Lang will be safe now. I’ll do whatever I can to keep them safe, to protect the ones I love.

Maines continues to work silently on Silas’s chest, a black light flowing into his body as he hisses. “Oh hush, you baby. I do this to children without a peep coming out of them.”

He bares his teeth as she continues. “Hopefully, children aren’t stabbed with poison arrows often around here. That sounds more like Andorwood’s style.”

She lets up on the flow of magic, sitting up. “Tell me about Andorwood.”

“What’s there to know? The rumors you’ve heard are probably true. I was born there—and unfortunately—it is home. Andorwood raises strong people. It’s not a place to travel if you are weak.”

“Says the man hissing through a healing ritual.”

“Very funny,” he snaps, then continues, “When I was a child, if I did something out of line, I was punished.” He winces against Maines’s healing once more. “My father preferred the fight-it-out method to discipline—people mixed with various components, settings, temperatures, you name it. I got this scar from a fight.”

He glances in my direction, knowing I’ve already heard this story, but continues for Maines to hear. “I was young, fighting a much older man. I almost died that day, but something came over me—something dark—and I don’t know if it was fear that I was going to die or the want to live that made me win that fight. I killed the man that did this to me years later.” Silas coughs, lying back in the bed like the conversation alone drained his tired body.

Oak sits up in his chair, listening intently.

“Andorwood may be full of horrible people but the mountains there make up for the brutality. When the sun hits them just right, they glow.” Silas sighs, a deep breath leaving his lungs.

I sit beside him on the bed, grasping his rough hand. “Why do you stay then? If it’s so horrible, why continue to live your life only to be miserable?”

He thinks momentarily before answering, his eyes remaining shut. “It’s my kingdom, and one day I will rule. There are people there that are important to me. I hope you can meet them one day. I had nowhere to go, and no one was waiting for me elsewhere, until you. We have many things in common, Briar. More than you know.”

He squeezes my hand back, and Maine's hands glow with darkness flowing into Silas. A heavy groan leaves his mouth as his eyes close. “Stay with me, Briar, " he mumbles as he fades into sleep.

The final part of the healing ritual is complete and typically drains the healer and the patient. The final piece of the puzzle is being put back into place. He relaxes on the bed, no longer gripping my hand or bedsheets in pain.

“He’ll be okay. He needs to sleep for a while, but his wounds should be closer to healing when he wakes.” Maines barely manages to whisper.

In an instant, Oak is beside her, lifting her off the bed. Her exhaustion finally hits her. He takes her to the chair, gently placing her down as she falls asleep.

Oak brushes a strand of hair from her face, studying her for a few moments. “I’ve traveled across many kingdoms, but never have I gazed directly into the face of someone as beautiful as she is.” He plops down below her, resting his head against her sleeping body. “She is everything good in this dark kingdom, and I would travel across every kingdom a hundred more times if that meant I could look upon her for a second longer.”

My heart swells for Maines. After so much loss and pain in her life, she deserves this happiness—she deserves a long life of safety and protection with Oak. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

He stares at her face one more, “If I hurt her, Briar, I would graciously accept death as I would never be able to live with that pain anyways.” He tips his head back, nestling into the warmth of her body. His breathing slows as he falls asleep beside the woman he loves more than himself.

I stand, reaching the door's threshold, and glance one last time at Maines, Oak, and Silas peacefully sleeping.

Gods protect them.

I leave the House of Hedro with my axes holstered to my back, the weapons a part of me now. My heart stays behind in the tall tower with the people I love as I head toward the castle, my home, to make sure the final pieces of this nightmare are put to an end. I know what to do—I just hope my friends forgive me when I’m done.

Chapter 37

As I pass through the House of Hedro’s gates, the city before me appears dark and grim. Even the passing of my father hasn’t removed the stain on this kingdom. The people here don't deserve to live like this—they deserve peace, not fear. Determined to fix this, I realize I'll need to conserve all the magic I can for what's next. Therefore, walking is my only option back to the castle miles away. Most of the kingdom should be sleeping but the things that aren't sleeping concern me the most.

The cool breeze from the sea fills the streets, casting a salty shine on the cobblestone streets as the moon high above peeks behind the rolling clouds. It would be a perfect night if I weren’t utterly terrified of every passing dark alley.

Thoughts of the man I previously encountered with Silas fill my mind. He believed this world would be safer without me, and now, with everything that has unfolded, I can’t blame him. People have looked at me differently over the past five years, as if they’ve always sensed the darkness within me. No one judged me when I was locked in my bedroom for days. Silas immediately noticed something about me—the darkness within me calls to his, like a rope constantly pulling us together. I lived under my father's nose, yet he never saw what resided within me. Then again, I always knew he was a fool—blinded by power and desire.

A crack breaks through my deep thoughts as I spin toward an alleyway behind me. Mist rolls through the small opening, followed by complete darkness. I narrow my eyes, unable to see even with eyesight that usually allows me to see well in the dark. I continue forward, not wanting to stay too long in one place. With everything that’s happened, maybe it wasn’t wise to take off alone, but I know I can’t wait for the others to wake up. This must happen now.

An elderly woman sits alone on a wooden bench with many books propped around her. She doesn’t notice me as she remains consumed by the book in her hand, turning each white page slowly. As I approach, she settles in her seat, causing a few books to crash and immediately collect dust. I rush to her side. “Let me help you with those.”

I lean down, picking up and dusting off the few books. Her old eyes meet mine, her once piercing blue eyes now turned milky with age. “Oh, thank you, dear.”

I don’t think she realizes who I am. She’s not afraid of me.

“Are you alright, my child?” she asks, her head tilting to the side.

Being a shadow wielder, her once black hair has turned snow white, and her face has many lines embedded in her skin: a laugh, a memory, a lesson.

“No. I’m not. I’ve been dealing with many challenges lately, and I’m unsure how to make it through. How everything is going to be okay.” I lower my head. “I feel a bit lost.”

“My child, you are going to make it. You will make it because you want to. You have the drive, the power, and the will to make it happen. Listen to your gut.” She stands, her curved spine making her wobble as she regains her balance.

I nod, helping her collect her few books into a small satchel. “Can I help you back to your house? I can walk with you if you’d like.”

She places the bag on her shoulder, the weight of the books curving her spine even more. She moves forward, the strength in her legs diminished, likely worse with each passing year. But through her struggles, she smiles, each step a challenge on her own. “You have more pressing matters to attend to than to help an old woman home, Briar.”

She disappears around the corner, and I’m left standing alone again, wondering how she knew my name.

Continuing down the road, the waves against the shoreline provide a symphony of sounds, ones I used to enjoy. I would come to the shore and spend hours staring at the sea, wishing I could hop on a boat and have someone take me far away to a kingdom where I could start over without a king who was my father—where I could experience my own adventures. I never got the nerve to do it. I couldn’t leave my mother here, and when she died, I didn’t care if I rotted in that castle. I should have left years ago. But now, standing facing the shore, everything in my body vibrates. I should stay, fix this mess, and put Daramveer back together.

I move closer to the lapping waves, the moon shining on the water like a mirror reflecting the never-ending sky. The roaring water before me drowns out all other sounds as I close my eyes, the sea breeze hitting my face— I wish at this moment that things were simple and Silas was with me. They will be furious with me when they wake and see that I'm nowhere to be found. I doubt it will take them long to figure out exactly where I've gone and what I've decided to do. A slight movement catches my eye in the water: a turtle. The animal nears the shore, fighting against the crashing waves with all its power—a feeling similar to mine—the fight against an unbeatable force. The waves will continue to roll and crash against the shore, and it’s up to the turtle to swim and continue to fight—just as I must choose to fight.

I choose to fight because I never have before. Growing up, my father committed terrible acts in front of me, torturing countless people and even hitting my brother. I remained silent, perhaps because I feared punishment myself, or because I was so numb—I couldn’t care even if I tried. That's changed, and I will fight for my friends, family, and the people of Daramveer. I will bring about change and help this kingdom thrive once more.

As I turn, I realize I’ve lingered too long on the shore when a dark figure that has been haunting me for weeks emerges from the shadows between the castle and the sea. My entire body tenses, shooting tingles down both arms. It floats toward me, and as I freeze—I can’t blink, my breathing becoming jagged as it approaches. The black cloak hangs off its thin frame, with no footsteps sounding beneath its shadow. Its hands dangle at its sides as if both shoulders are dislocated, and the hood of the cloak obscures the creature’s face.

I quickly thank the Gods. I haven’t seen its absence of eyes or wide mouth yet, but my stomach still rolls as I stand my ground. As the creature advances, so does the stench of death. I gag, still unable to move from fear as it approaches closer than ever before—not retreating as it has in the past. A long finger reaches out, a sharp claw touching my chest, inches above my heart. I slam my eyes shut, preparing for it to murder me right here, finally.

The finger moves from my chest, and I crack my eyes slowly open, expecting the creature to be gone as it has vanished many times before. Instead, I'm face-to-face with the creature, its black eyes staring into mine, its black mouth slightly ajar, and I swear for a second that the creature is smelling me.

The creature rises back up, standing over two heads taller than I am, and points its long, bony finger at me. "You smell of greatness and power, but you cannot handle what is to come alone," it shrieks, and the voices of a thousand screams live deep inside, begging to be released.

My ears ring in pain as I cover them, desperate to block out the sound pouring from its wide mouth. "The day will come when this burden must be shared to defeat what lives within. You mustn’t lose focus, for another Great arises. You must remember that light can drown all darkness, but we need both to live in harmony."

Unable to speak, I nod my head as the creature quiets.

"Why do you visit me? Why don’t you hurt me?" I whisper.

The creature begins to distance itself from us as if my louder tone had startled it. "You are destined for many things—you would do me no good dead, Briar Blackbyrne, Queen of Daramveer." The creature moves backward into the shadows like a gust of wind pulling it back to wherever it came from.

I exhale sharply, my lungs burning with airy fire, and I glance toward the castle. Light flickers inside the throne room like a beacon calling my name. Brushing off the fear, I stride off the shoreline and back toward the stone castle.

The castle before me has changed. When I imagined my father dying, I thought a weight would be lifted off Daramveer, as if a sheet were ripped away—revealing the old kingdom I remembered from so many years ago. Instead, it feels like the darkness has deepened around the walls. As I pass through the iron gates, no guards stand watch. I assume they left long ago following the events of the fourth trial.

No wonder my father was always worried about building the strongest armies and gathering more allies if they fled without allegiance to my father at the first sign of chaos. I make a mental note that as the queen now, I will have to build a proper army—gathering a following to rule this kingdom successfully.

Stepping into the castle, it’s quiet, like death has slowly crept through the walls.

Where is everyone?

Lang.

It’s not dawn, so he may still be packing Rose’s and his belongings. I have time to say goodbye. I sprint down the long hallways, winding through the castle as if the route is burned into my memory. Blasting through the kitchen door, it’s empty. I feel my heart crack, hoping I’ll see them both again, my only true family left.

I scan the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. ‘Good, he left safely,’ I think to myself when my eyes catch sight of something in the middle of the table, close to my regular spot. I pick up the piece of paper, flipping it over when I see my name, Briar, written on the underside—a letter. Opening the page, tears instantly fill my eyes as I realize it’s from Rose and Lang.

Briar,

You’ve sat in the kitchen for years with us, mostly not speaking but always there. Our shadow, we started to call you. Since you were a child, we’ve watched you grow into the stunning young woman—the queen you are now. Your mother loved you more than life itself. She told us in secrecy that you were the vessel before she died; she suspected it a long time ago. You don’t even know how strong you truly are. Open yourself up to the power to defeat Carobon, but never let it take over you. With the resurrection crystal, you can raise the dead and put them back in their rightful place. We will see you again one day.

All our love.

Tears stream down my face as I place the letter down. I wipe my vision clear, but the trembling doesn’t stop. My mother did not tell me this years ago, but she protected me, and we could have stopped this together.

"Stop being weak!" I scream at myself, the voice not all mine.

The longer I wait, the more likely Silas, Maines, and Oak find me and stop what I must do. I need to get to the throne room and my father’s study and find the crystal. If I can return things where they came from, I will send Kalix back—even if I die. But I know now I have a bigger problem on my hands. Someone else is here trying to raise Carobon, the Great Wiitch of Lumor.

Gathering myself, I leave the room, sprinting toward the throne room, where the candles were lit. Maybe the castle staff lit them in memory of my father? Who cares—I just need to look around. Bursting through the wooden double doors, they slam against the stone wall hard enough to rattle the chandeliers. Empty, good. This allows me to search around, so I move toward the throne.

The coldness radiating from the throne hits my body, sending a shiver down my spine. Nothing catches my eye, and nothing in this room draws me in. My darkness calls to whatever darkness lives in that crystal.

The only sound echoing through the room is my beating heart against my chest. Something isn’t right. I turn my body to the door as I move to my father’s study down the hall. The door is cracked open and I can see the shadows of the fire flickering against the walls. I peer my head through the door, cautious not to accidentally walk into something I’m not prepared for.

As I move further into the room, the hair on my arm stands out as if the air in this room were different—thicker and darker. My eyes move to his desk, which is untouched and cluttered, just like always. A black bag catches my eye and seems to pulse like a heartbeat, rattling my vision.

The weight of the bag drops my arms as I hold it firmly in my hand. I loosen the ties around the top, peering into the small sack. The resurrection crystal glows with the opposite of light, a pulse of energy throbbing through my body. Darkness swells in my body as I feel the Wiitch deep inside, wanting to break through and touch the stone with her hands—my hands. Swallowing the feeling, I tuck the stone into my pocket with a plan for where I’m heading.

I peel my eyes from my bulging pocket to see a cloaked figure standing between me and the door. I jerk backward, startled by the abrupt intruder. The figure stands a little taller than I am and has a slim build. I notice a subtle movement in the cloak from my presence, alerting me that it knows I’ve seen it.

Not this creature again.

I move with purpose in its direction, unafraid for the first time in its presence. I’m growing tired of the creature’s unexpected visits, providing little to no information about why. Something in the room shifts as I get closer, and my body reacts to the figure's unfamiliarity. Sweat begins to bead on my brow as I approach. I realize this isn’t the creature that has been haunting me, and I’m struck with something hard between my shoulder blades, pain shooting down my spine.

The cold world around me goes silent and dark as I drift into nothingness.

Chapter 38

Iawake in the darkness. My shoulders and head throb from a blow I barely remember taking. I recall finding the crystal, the feeling it left flowing through my body—like the darkness inside me is desperate to make itself whole again, complete. The figure. I remember the figure I saw before my world went dark.

I lift my head, only to realize I’m chained to a bed made of stone; my axes lie on the floor beside me, within reaching distance if my hands weren’t pinned down.

Straining my eyes, I survey the room. Nothing but darkness surrounds me as I suddenly feel like my magic and I are being suffocated. Gray stone walls tower over my body as dim candles cast an image of dancing light around the room. The hair on my neck prickles—I’m not alone.

My mind becomes clearer as it hits me—this is the room where Father locked me up before the first trial and where I found Rose weeks later. I notice the cobwebs, the faint blood stains, and that steady, slow drip of water from a crack in the corner, and a figure standing there again.

I’m still in the castle.

But what the fuck is going on?

“Ah, Briar, good. You’re awake! Or should I address you as Queen now?

I jerk my head to the far corner of the room. Calia steps forward, Elrod close to her side—a false light oozing from her body. “Does this room look familiar? You were here not long ago, saving Rose. It's such a shame you found her. We had plans to use her like your mother all those years ago. We thought she was the vessel. You gave us quite a surprise when you announced it was you.”

“What the hell is going on?” I snap.

Calia smiles, her eyes holding anger and hate. My wrists burn in pain from the rusty metal pinning me down. My shadows build and fail against the thick wards, drowning all magic.

“I thought you knew the plans. You’ve been running around here so cocky for weeks. Kalix may be in your body, but we need her gone for good. This half Briar, half Kalix bullshit is exhausting.”

I thrash against the chains, unable to move more than a few inches.

“For our plans to unfold, we needed your father out of the picture. See, he thought we were helping him—we truly don’t want Kalix here, we want Carobon. And having both Great Wiitches on this realm won’t end well, I’m afraid. But things will get interesting in the meantime.”

My eyes shift toward my axes, the gold blades signing in the candlelight. “Calia, my father poured lies into your head. You don’t have to do this.”

She laughs. “Are you insinuating that he corrupted me? Sweetheart, who do you think brought him the crystal five years ago to begin the testing on you and your mother? Who do you think aided in the destruction of my kingdom, Cammon? I did, searching for the crystal, and now that I have it, I don’t mind destroying your kingdom either. I’ve lost everything for this and it’s time I get them back.”

I look in the opposite direction, noticing the blood dripping from the walls. Rigils drawn in blood glow faintly on the stone. I snap my head back toward her, trying to calm my racing heart.

“I’m offended you think he came up with this plan. You see, Thatcher was successful in completing all the rituals. Well, almost successful. We got close to failing in the third trial, but you helped us out by saving Rohhit’s life. We felt the shockwave of magic in the castle, and we knew something much stronger than Thatcher assisted with that. With the power flowing through this kingdom right now, we could raise an army of the dead to finish our plans.”

My wrists sting in pain, the chains cutting into my flesh as I move against the restraints, trying to feel if the crystal is still in my possession. “We seem to have a common goal, Calia,” I say, my voice deathly calm. “I don’t want this darkness in me either. I’ll gladly send Kalix back to her shadowy grave.”

My drained shadows flinch at my words as if Kalix barks in protest.

Calia stalks closer, a wide grin on her face. “Good. We were hoping you were going to feel that way. Then this should be easy,” she says, clapping her hands. “Once you are dead, we can use your blood to move forward with our ritual. Your blood is probably the most potent blood across all realms. People would pay handsomely to get their hands on you for ritual purposes.”

They are going to kill me.

The chains cling to my struggle as a thought enters my mind—I never told Maines or Silas about the room I found Rose in. Finding me will be impossible.

“If Kalix needed a vessel, who is Carobon’s? My father searched for Kalix’s vessel his whole life and was never truly successful,” I snap.

“Your father was a fool. Drunk off power and lust and was blind to who lived under his nose. He poured his magic for years into research and rituals. Look where he ended up, Briar. Weak, drained, and dead at the hands of the person he so desperately searched for,” she hisses over her shoulder as she continues to work around the ritual site.

I gaze toward Elrod. He’s not moving, standing motionless in the corner of the room, his blank stare fixated on me. I motion toward him with the little movement I have, but he doesn’t seem to truly see me, even though his gaze nearly burns a hole in my body. I continue to twist against the restraints, my left arm nearly free. Peeling my glare from him, I shift my eyes around the room.

“We believe we have found a vessel for Carobon. Or at least we are willing to try. I believe you know him well,” Calia’s voice slithers around the room once more.

Sweat forms on my brow, and the vagueness twists my nerves in my gut.

“Who?” I ask plainly, afraid to know the answer. Although I know who it is—my nightmares showed me hours earlier.

Calia glides to the door, her demeanor snake-like. She swings it open, the hinges hissing from the force. Nolan walks through, pushing Rohhit forward as he stumbles across the threshold. He is no longer injured but too drained of magic to fight back.

“Hello, Prince,” Calia bows. “Thank you for meeting us here.”

Through his haze, Rohhit makes eye contact with me, strapped to the stone altar, blood trickling down my wrists and ankles from the tight chains.

“What the fuck is going on?” Rohhit slurs, his eyes fluttering.

Calia laughs, tipping her head back. “Nolan, how much Dyisen did you give him? He didn’t tell you, Prince? We have plans for you—a way to guarantee the safety of Eddris and Lumor Wielders for all time.”

Rohhit’s eyes sluggishly move to Nolan’s. “What… what is she talking about?”

I can smell the drugs and panic on him—he’s helpless and not fully aware because of the medication coursing through his system, causing confusion and draining his magic. He was unconscious for most of the final battle and had no idea what I announced. He doesn’t realize Kalix is within me. My stomach twists with fear at what he might think about this. About me.

Nolan holds him upright. “Rohhit, this is the right thing to do. You’ve seen what Shadow Wielders can do, the magic they possess.” He throws his head in my direction. “You will protect many Lumor Wielders by doing this. It’s a sacrifice you should be willing to make for your people.”

My mouth hangs open. Just as I feared, they will use Rohhit as the vessel for Carobon. I try to sit up, failing to do so. “You all are insane if you think you can control Carobon. Getting the Great Wiitch to do any of your bidding is foolish. He will take over once more as he did all those years ago and many people—your people—will die!” My words come out harsh and sure. “You must trust me, Calia. I’ve seen what will come if you continue this.”

My mind snaps to the dreams I’ve had for so many years. The destruction all around, the chaos, the death. It was a vision of what is to come if this comes to fruition.

She turns her attention back to my defenseless body. “Ah, I thought you might start to ask questions and put things together, Briar. You are a smart woman. But you see, this is where you come in handy. Carobon will be gracious if we offer him something he’s always wanted, someone he’s always wanted revenge on—Kalix. And she just so happens to be here! Your blood will be very appetizing for him as a first meal.”

Calia’s hands move over the ritual site. Crystals, Rigils, and blood line the walls. Her ghostly figure looks haunting in the candlelight as she’s draped in a long black dress coated with charged jewels. A vision of death, a bringer of chaos, and I’m horrified. The color drains from my face. Calia is serious about all of this. She will attempt this one way or another because she’s worked on this for years and truly lost everything. She has nothing to lose.

I move my eyes back in Elrod’s direction—he’s still standing there, not even blinking. “What have you done to him?”

She flashes her eyes at Elrod and says, “Oh, him? He’s agreed to be a blood sacrifice if needed, but he’s stunned and can’t change his mind. Pity if he feels differently now. Oh, well.” She smiles casually.

A commotion breaks my thoughts as Rohhit tries to battle against Nolan’s grip. “Briar!” he shouts, his words barely understandable through the slurs.

“Don’t make me laugh, you fool. You aren’t going to win this battle. You can barely even stand.” She raises her arms, exposing her blood-soaked hands. “My sons and I have had this in the works for years and finally got to put everything into motion when I convinced your father to begin the trials. We are already working on raising our armies to fight. To finally prove Lumor Wielders are superior, more deserving, and should rule all the lands as the strongest power. Shadow Wielders should remain in the dark once and for all.”

Fury rolls in my gut. “Your sons are dead, in case you forgot. I was there. I saw the light leave both of their miserable eyes,” I spit.

She grits her teeth, moving inches from my face. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

Her hand collides with my cheek. A sting of pain shoots across my face.

“However,” Calia flexes her wrist from the blow, “that’s only partially correct. But I think you are forgetting one.”

My jaw slacks and a swarm of dread crashes into my core.

What is she talking about?

Calia points to Nolan.

What the fuck is she talking about?

She moves toward him. Her hand resting on his broad shoulder. “He is also my son. Years ago, I found out what family he was adopted into and I was shocked at how perfect it was. Like the God of Lumor was putting this into place for me from the beginning—it’s a shame that I share the child with your father.”

My body quakes and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Nolan is her son with my father, my half-brother. Nolan could try to rule Daramveer and take my kingdom from me, and I have a strong feeling that Calia would help him. My mind flashes back to my father in the cave. His face when I said only son, it all makes sense.

“Now, about my other boys,” She smiles, patting Nolan on the shoulder. “We best get started. I miss them dearly.”

Nolan nods, a smile of insanity is painted on his face—the resemblance is uncanny. That’s where I know his eyes. They remind me of Barlowe’s because we’re blood. Connected through our father.

A thud breaks my stare as I see Rohhit slumped on the ground. Elrod standing over him with a bloody fist as if he came alive for that sole purpose. “Gods! Rohhit!” I scream.

I begin to move my wrists against the chains keeping me in place.

“Chain him up,” Calia yells to Elrod. “And make it painful.”

Elrod does as he’s told and uses the remaining chains on the wall to secure Rohhit to the stone, a few feet away from where I lay, the exact place I found Rose. It’s all too familiar.

“Now, can we please continue? I’m growing impatient.” Calia snaps her fingers, and Nolan moves to the ritual site, kneeling before the large Rigils. Blood immediately soaks his pants as he ignores the gore surrounding him. Nolan closes his eyes, placing both hands on the ground. Near-silent whispers leave his mouth as he begins to pray to the God of Light.

“I’m missing something,” Calia taps her chin, “Oh yes, the crystal. I believe you can help me with that, Briar.”

She walks to my side and feels down my body; the touch of her hands against me makes me gag. “Get the fuck off of me!” I demand.

Her hands quickly find the crystal tucked underneath my leg. “There it is! Such a stunning stone.” Calia admires the crystal which illuminates in the darkness with its black hues. The crystal begins to glow in her hands. It’s prepped and fully charged from years of magic draining into the small stone.

“Such a shame that your first large event as a queen will be your death. It’s almost poetic, I guess...” She laughs, “Good thing I have another readily available to run this miserable kingdom.”

Calia’s lips peel back, and a wide grin spreads. She lingers for a moment, studying me and my swollen cheek. She turns and bounds toward Nolan, still kneeling. Elrod joins them, offering his palms to be sliced for blood.

With the crystal in her hand, the room becomes charged with the magic draining from our bodies and flowing directly into the nearby stone when it hits me. This is where my father kept his prisoners all those years. They didn’t resist during their public punishments because they were drained of all life and magic. He had been charging the crystal down here for years. It’s genuinely unbreakable at this point and has the power to raise hundreds if wielded to.

The floor begins to shake like the dead are trying to break through the stone floors. Calia places the glowing crystal in the middle of the Rigil, causing a blast of magic to explode. Near-blinding lights make my eyes snap shut as I scream, trying to shield myself from it. Rohhit rustles on the floor, cracking his eyes open, still dazed from the blow and drugs in his system.

A chill moves through the room, like someone or something is coming through. Calia and Nolan remain on the ritual site, praying silently to the gods. Tiny beads of blood begin to float around them, filling the air with crimson rain. The small droplets slowly form a shape. The particles slap together like flesh, slowly weaving back together. I pinch my eyes closed in response, the sight too unbearable.

Rohhit looks in my direction, panic flooding his eyes as I continue to grind my hand against the chains holding me down.

I’m almost free.

The room freezes, and no sound or movement casts an eerie feeling over my defenseless body. The hair on the back of my neck stands. A different magic has entered the room, and it’s the same gut feeling I had when Barlowe was nearby. The prince’s eyes widen at the sudden change. I break my stare from him and look toward Calia and Nolan. The remaining crimson rain falls like a sea of blood racing toward us.

Before them stand two large creatures of the darkness drenched in ritual blood.

Chapter 39

Bardot and Graven Thornfield stand before their mother, resurrected—not as themselves but as something conjured from the darkest nightmares, cursed to walk this realm once more. Completely unnatural and unwelcome, they stand taller than before—even with their curved backs protruding from their ripped clothes. Like my brother, the only familiar aspect about them is their eyes. The shade of brown barely peeks through, rendering something recognizable on their terrifying faces. Their mouths sit lower than before on their stretched faces and their skin is an unnatural shade of dead gray, as if it hasn’t seen the light of day in years. Their arms hang almost to their ankles, and their stench could be detected from a mile away.

My squirming becomes more frantic as I know I’ll be the first to go once they release the creatures from the ritual site, making their physical bodies present again.

“My brave boys,” Calia purrs as she stares at her boys. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again. I’m so sorry this bitch put you through such horrible things.”

The creatures nod as if they understand her as she controls them. My mind flashes back to me controlling Barlowe. Kalix was present and in control. The power of the Great Wiitches can control those resurrected.

With the power of the ritual flowing through her veins, Carobon must be desperate to find his vessel. I can only imagine that he’s attempting to enter her body. And I immediately know we are running out of time.

“Listen to me, my children—I want you to stay with me. We have many plans to accomplish, but there’s a problem.” She points over her shoulder in my direction. “The Queen of Daramveer has been keeping a secret for many years.”

The gazes of both creatures land on me and, in this moment, I’ve never experienced fear like this. Calia continues, “I know you feel the power leaking from her. The Great Wiitch, Kalix, shares her body. She will try to destroy you and us, so we should ensure that doesn’t happen. Don’t you agree?”

A broad grin forms on their faces and rows of sharp black teeth poke through as they lick their lips in my direction, ready to feast on my body. “Step forward and truly relish yourselves once more in this realm.”

She invites them to cross the line through the ritual site; their feet landing with a thud once their total weight truly materializes, making their resurrection complete. The stench becomes horrendous when they are fully formed. Nolan studies them, heads taller than anyone in this cramped room—they are true beasts from somewhere dark where I hope I never go.

Calia returns to the ritual site, prepping for yet another resurrection. After years of charging this crystal, I only fear the number of evil beings that could be brought back to walk this realm once more. My gut twists as I know who she will bring forward next: Carobon.

The charge of magic throughout the room hits me and my mind travels back to the night, days after my mother passed—a familiar feeling I didn’t remember I had. I was so overwhelmed with grief—all I did for days was sleep. In and out of a daze, my father entered my room. Then I thought he was only checking on me, worried about my well-being. I should have known better.

Something was off once he started drawing small Rigils around the room, saying silent prayers to the Dark God, Raddnoke, to heal me. My father stalked to my bed—quiet like a predator in the night with a knife in hand—desperate to see if I was the vessel back then. He needed my blood, and I couldn’t move or defend myself, likely laced with the same drug that was used during the third trial, as it all comes together now. My father sliced my hand open, blood flowing into a ritual site as I lost consciousness. He assumed the ritual failed as no change happened to our surroundings or my body. Not even a breeze entered my room that night—as I’ve now realized, Kalix works silently.

My father left my bedroom, slamming the door behind him when the jolt made me come to only for a second as I saw a healer enter my bedroom. He needed someone to assist with the gashes I had on my hand from the knife. When I awoke, I was different, but I wasn’t sure why. I thought what I experienced that night was a nightmare, another haunting that followed me for years. Magic, old and powerful, swims in my veins like a fish moving through a rapid current.

A shock ripples through me as I know why the healer I've been seeing at the House of Hedro is so familiar. I understand why she is so interested in and cautious around me. She’s been working with my father, these monsters, for years. Eden knows what they are planning. She gave Rohhit up willingly to help them.

Regret hangs on me heavier than the chains strapped to my body. This is my fault—I’ve led them down this road the entire time. I wish I could see my friends again to tell them I’m sorry for pushing them away, for not being my authentic self even though they gave me their all. My family, the people I love and trust. Oak, my friend from childhood, rekindled under horrible circumstances. Maines, my sister by heart. And Silas—I wish we had more time, our souls as one, connected somehow by an ancient force.

They deserve better, and they deserve the truth. My family is in trouble, and I can’t save them.

The creature steps forward, snarling. Drool falls from their mouths as if they already know how delicious I will taste on their lips. I remain frozen as they crowd around me, watching. My wrists bark in pain, almost free. I only need a few more minutes.

Rohhit screams from across the room, now awake, “Get the fuck away from Briar!”

Calia walks to him, slowly stroking his white hair. “Now, now, Prince. There is no need to scream—it will be your turn soon enough.”

Rohhit continues to shout, “You were my friend. My brother! How could you do this? Why would you do this?”

No remorse shows in Nolan’s stony façade. “I was never equal to you. Your light constantly dimmed mine. It’s time I do something of importance—you will be forgotten once this is done.”

Rohhit spits at their feet as they jump back, their shoes now coated with wetness.

“Can we continue? This is getting dramatic,” annoyance rolls off Calia’s tongue.

The twins stop beside the stone bed. Graven takes a single claw and drags it down my chest, ripping my dress to fall around my shoulders. His claw tears into my skin, the slice cutting my chest. Beads of blood coat my chest as I grit my teeth from the pain. My lungs heave as I attempt to slow my racing heart. The creatures take a long, pleasurable inhale, smelling the blood leaking from my body. Bardot leans in, his long, thick tongue licking from my chin up my face. I snap my eyes shut, trying to turn away from his touch, unable to move against the restraints.

“You all are insane!” Rohhit hisses, “Don’t touch a hair on her fucking head!”

Calia shrugs, watching the twins torment me, “Looks like we’re too late for that!”

Nolan laughs.

I inhale sharply as the twins drag their claws across my body. I feel as if they are playing with their meal. Rohhit continues cursing in the background, unable to free himself from the chains that keep him pinned down. Graven and Bardot share an understanding nod as if they have a silent conversation mind-to-mind about what’s next for me. I know my seconds are now numbered at this point.

With one last push, one mangled hand frees from the iron chains. With enough slack on the opposite end, I grab my axe beside the stone bed and rotate, swinging it with all my strength. My axe lodges directly into the top of the creature’s head with a crack that rattles the stone walls.

Bardot.

A guttural scream leaves Graven’s large mouth as his brother slumps to the floor. Graven flinches as if he is experiencing the same pain I caused. Black blood oozes down the twin’s gray face as his expression is frozen in time. His eyes remain open, but neither his soul nor darkness shines through. Graven leans to assist but quickly realizes he is without his brother once more. The creature remains in a trance over his brother’s lifeless body. Its curved back exposes sharp bones protruding out, and I revert my eyes from the gruesome sight before me.

I try to calm my rapid breathing, realizing that most of my body is still chained to the bed and one twin is eager to seek revenge. Calia screams from across the room as she watches her son once again take his final breath due to my actions. She doesn’t rush to his side; instead, she watches in horror, knowing that leaving the ritual site at this moment could cause more damage than they can afford to risk.

I twist toward Graven, desperate to grab my axe once more, my only chance at defending myself as the creature still stares at the lifeless body. I resist the urge to look at Bardot’s dead body. Unfortunately, I know the feeling of losing your brother, not once but twice.

My arm doesn’t quite reach the axe helve from the fallen twin as panic starts to set in. Graven slowly rises, his gaze in my direction, and my reaching becomes more frantic. Rohhit starts to kick his legs, barely touching the fallen body, to attempt to grab the weapon himself.

Graven stares at me, a growl seeping from his bobbing throat, and I know this is my final moment. I squint my eyes, preparing for the pain to settle in as he rips my body to pieces.

Calia screams from the ritual site, “You bitch! You will pay for that in unspeakable ways. Rip her to fucking shreds, Graven!”

The door bursts open, the hinges rattling from the impact. Shadows pour into the room, mingling with the dust falling from the ceiling to form a curtain of smog. Silas and Maines stand at the threshold, an angry darkness surrounding them. Silas’s expression is lethal.

“Don’t cross through there!” I scream. "The Wards are protecting this room from magic!”

They both stop, looking at their feet. Silas steps in, disregarding the warning altogether. His gaze meets mine, and I swear for a split second that his eyes are unholy black—he is drunk with rage.

“Back the fuck away from my queen,” the Prince of Darkness commands.

Even the black shadows around him are threatening to witness. The Prince of Andorwood has made his presence known. “You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your fucking lives messing with my queen.”

He steps forward, shadows creating black clouds around him with each step. He’s holding Oak’s sword from the trials, the crystal glowing black on the hilt. The power flowing through Silas doesn’t seem to dim as he enters the room; it only pulsates the closer he gets to the ritual site as if it’s charging him. Maines stays back, not entering the room, her eyes not leaving mine.

The creature to my right doesn’t move. Graven’s snarls echo around us as he stalks a new prey that has just entered the room.

Calia and Nolan share a quick, concerned look, returning to the ritual nearly complete.

“I’m afraid you are too late, Prince Nastronde. The damage is nearly done,” Calia confidently calls from the corner.

But Silas still has a chance to stop them. Still tucked outside the room, Maines sends a blast of black magic into the room, aimed directly at her father, knocking him to the ground with a thud. His head slams into a far wall. Blood slowly leaks from his temple.

She takes aim at Nolan and Calia. Closing her eyes, she prepares her magic for another blast just as the giant creature lunges in her direction.

“Maines!” A desperate scream leaves my mouth as Graven lands on top of her, their bodies vanishing around the dark corner. Rohhit thrashes against the chains as Silas walks closer to Calia.

“You are fucking dead,” Silas fumes and attacks.

Chapter 40

Nolan accepts the challenge with Calia’s blessing, stepping away from the ritual site. For the first time, his eyes blaze with the same warrior rage as Barlowe once had. He's prepared to fight Silas to the death if necessary. With a crunch, Nolan removes the axe from Bardot’s skull, sending black blood spraying over my body. The sight churns my stomach.

Calia ignores the chaos behind her, her focus narrowing as the ritual nears completion.

Silas swings his sword, hissing through bared teeth, "You are a traitor, Nolan!" The blade lands heavily against the head of the axe, sending sparks flying in the dim room and straining my eyes.

"You don’t know anything about me, Prince," Nolan counters, struggling to match the ferocity in Silas’s attacks.

They separate momentarily, their chests heaving rapidly. Both men’s eyes are relentless, intent on fighting to the death. Nolan lunges forward again, swinging wildly. His lack of experience is evident—unlike Silas, who battles for survival daily, Nolan has never faced such peril. Fear creeps across his face as Silas takes note.

Silas seizes every chance to attack Calia, but wards from the ritual deflect his sword from her vulnerable back. Still, he endures, a true warrior fighting not only Nolan but also an unseen obstacle.

I strain against the remaining chain, the rust biting into my skin as I scream through the pain intermittently. Glancing out the door into the dark hallway, I whisper desperately, "C'mon, Maines."

There's no sign of her, and anxiety twists in my gut. She has to be okay.

Rohhit is also struggling against his chains, twisting his wrists in unnatural directions to free himself and join the fight.

My thumb snaps as I wrench my hand free from the chains. Clutching it against my body, I grit my teeth and inhale deeply, bracing myself as I snap my thumb back into place with a sickening crack. I quickly wrap the bottom of my dress around my wrists to clean the blood, the stains turning black as they dry.

Silas momentarily breaks his focus from Nolan to glance at my now-free hands, a flicker of relief crossing his face. He then turns back to Nolan, his large frame moving with lethal precision. Nolan is visibly tiring, his inexperience becoming a clear disadvantage.

"Getting tired, Nolan?" Silas taunts, pressing his advantage.

Nolan's eyes flash with panic as he parries blow after blow from Silas’s sword, his back edging into a corner—a perfect trap set by Silas.

I sit up, pain coursing through my body, and begin working on the chains around my ankles.

Suddenly, a bloody hand braces against the doorframe. I hold my breath, anticipating what might appear from the shadows.

Maines rounds the corner, her clothes torn and blood-stained. In her hand, she grips Graven’s severed head. A wicked grin spreads across her face as she tosses the head near Calia’s feet, the haunting face hitting the stone floor with a thunderous slap. Calia emits a strangled sob but remains focused on her ritual.

Maines rushes to my side. "Do you have a death wish? Because I’m going to kill you once we get out of here for leaving us!" she exclaims as she starts working on my ankle chains. “You owe me once we are out of here.”

"Maines, you need to help Rohhit," I insist.

"You're crazy if you think I’m not getting you out first!" she retorts.

I grab her hands. "No! Don’t help me. They want him right now. Get Rohhit out of here. Now!"

She shoves my hands away, ignoring my plea.

"Now, Maines!" I scream, my tone harsh and commanding. Reluctantly, she lets go of the chains around my ankles and rushes to Rohhit’s side.

Maines glances at her father's body, still unconscious against the far wall, before addressing Rohhit’s chains. After several attempts, she exclaims, "Dammit, without magic, I can’t break these."

Dropping the chains with a heavy thud, she cups Rohhit’s face, urgency etched across her features. "I think I can free your hands," she says, but hesitates, "though I’ll have to dislocate your thumbs."

Rohhit's face blanches but he quickly agrees. "We don’t have time. Do it."

With a sorrowful look, Maines nods and whispers a quiet incantation. A familiar crack echoes as Rohhit groans in pain, his hands slipping free. He quickly snaps his thumbs back into place.

"Do you trust me?" Maines asks, her voice soft yet urgent.

"Yes," Rohhit replies firmly, meeting her gaze.

Maines then dashes back into the hallway, her magic returning as she steps beyond the ritual’s influence. Silas and Nolan continue to clash, sparks flying with each strike, while Calia inches closer to completing the ritual.

Only Rohhit and I are visible from the doorway. Maines extends her hands, a shadow of magic flowing from her palms to the chains around our ankles. With a snap, the chains break, the sound echoing as the steel shatters.

I rise from the stone bed, grabbing my second axe from the floor. Silas, noticing my freedom, channels extra strength into his swing, his blade coming dangerously close to Nolan’s neck. Their weapons lock, faces inches apart.

"The king is dead, Nolan. Give it up," Silas growls, "You aren’t going to win this. You can still choose the right side."

Nolan resists, pushing back. "Lornx promised me something, Silas. Just like all of you competing. That promise will be fulfilled."

Silas pauses, a moment of hesitation showing.

Nolan capitalizes on the pause, driving his fist into Silas's face. Blood trickles from Silas’s nose as he stumbles backward.

"He promised me Daramveer," Nolan reveals, stepping forward.

Silas’s expression darkens, shadows swirling around him, no longer restrained by the wards. "You will die before that happens, Nolan. I swear that on my life."

They lunge at each other, tumbling to the ground, their weapons clanging.

I don’t hesitate. Taking advantage of their distraction, I rush toward Calia, intent on seizing the crystal in her hands.

She turns, her feet still within the ritual circle, her eyes now a blistered black. "I call upon the Great Wiitch, Carobon. You are free to enter your vessel," she intones.

A blast of light erupts, hurling us backward. Calia is thrown from the ritual site, landing near Elrod, while Nolan and Silas are blasted to the farthest corner. The impact slams the rest of us against the walls. Dust fills the air, blurring my vision as I struggle to find Silas and Maines in the chaos.

"Gods," I cough, patting the stone floor, desperate to find them, to ensure they are safe.

When my vision clears, I see Silas rising, darkness emanating from him like black wings. Relief floods through me, despite the pain screaming for attention. Nolan lies motionless, blood seeping from his injuries, his breathing uncertain. I crawl toward Rohhit, his chest barely moving.

"Rohhit," I whisper, pressing my hand against his chest. His heart responds faintly. "You need to wake up. Now," I urge, my voice laden with desperation.

He stirs, his dark eyes looking into mine, clear and seemingly untouched by the ritual. Relief washes over me as I exhale deeply.

Calia quickly recovers, springing to her feet and lifting Rohhit with supernatural strength. "Great Wiitch, Carobon, you are free to come forward," she announces, holding him aloft.

Rohhit shoves her away. "Get away from me."

Calia steps back but watches him intently, like a hunter eyeing its prey. The room holds its breath, the wards lifting as magic flows freely once again.

Light encircles Rohhit. "I guess your little ritual failed," he declares, his body radiating anger.

Silas rushes to my side, wrapping his arm around my waist. "We need to leave. Now! Rohhit can handle himself," he whispers urgently, pulling me toward the exit.

I look back at Rohhit, his expression serene yet changing. Suddenly, his eyes glaze over, and a rush of dread fills me. We step back, ready to flee.

Calia observes from a distance, a twisted grin spreading across her face as she anticipates the unfolding events. Rohhit's body sags, his movements sluggish.

"Rohhit?" I call out, stepping forward.

"Do not go closer to him, Briar," Silas warns.

"Rohhit, can you hear me?" I continue, ignoring Silas's caution.

He rises slowly, his neck cracking unnaturally. A chill sweeps through the room, carrying a charge of electricity.

"Oh Gods," I whisper, gripping Silas’s hand tightly. "Rohhit?"

Silas meets my gaze, his expression grave. "Briar, that’s not Rohhit anymore."

Maines grips our shoulders from the hallway, her voice urgent. "We need to be ready to get out of here. I don’t think Carobon will be thrilled to see his long-lost rival, Briar."

Magic pulses within me, responding to the presence before us. I step forward, despite every instinct urging me to flee. "Rohhit, are you alright?"

He looks up slowly, his eyes glowing an unnatural white.

"Rohhit, you can fight this. I've managed it for years. You can lock him deep down," I plead.

A dark laugh echoes through the stone chamber. "Kalix, you fool," his voice booms, rich with malice.

"I'm not Kalix. I'm Briar! Your friend, Rohhit! Fight this," I shout, desperation coloring my voice.

For a moment, his gaze softens, his eyes flickering back to their normal dark brown. A heavy sigh of relief escapes me, but it's short-lived.

Rohhit's expression shifts suddenly, his posture stiffening as if an invisible force grips him. His hand lashes out, snatching my throat with terrifying strength. His eyes, now shimmering with a silvery glow, pierce through me. "Lies!" the voice that isn't Rohhit's hisses. "Kalix, I smell you. You are a liar, a sinner, and this time, I won’t let you escape."

Panic courses through me as I claw at his iron grip, gasping for air. Behind Rohhit, Silas growls, his sword drawn and pointed at Rohhit's face. "Let her go, or I will make you," Silas warns, his voice a low rumble.

Rohhit’s smirk grows as he sniffs the air around Silas. "You can try, Prince of Darkness, but it will end badly for you."

"What did you call me?" Silas's confusion is clear, but he doesn't let it distract him for long.

Ignoring Silas's question, Rohhit tightens his grip on my throat, cutting off my breath. "This ends now, Kalix," he declares.

Calia steps forward, laying a hand on Rohhit's shoulder. "Carobon, remember your purpose. We brought you here to reign, not to settle old scores," she says, her tone reverent but firm.

Rohhit releases me abruptly, and I collapse to the ground, coughing and clutching my throat. Silas is immediately at my side, helping me to my feet.

Calia continues, her eyes fixed on Rohhit. "We are at your command, Great Wiitch. Lead us to purge the shadows."

Rohhit, or rather Carobon within him, nods slowly, his gaze sweeping the room. "Very well, but first, we deal with the betrayers."

He turns to Elrod, who has been watching the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and horror. "You brought back your nemesis, thinking it would serve you. Foolish. There is no place for you in my new order."

With a swift movement, Carobon's hands shoot out, grasping Elrod's shoulders. A terrifying strength emanates from him as he leans in close, his teeth bared.

Elrod's eyes widen with fear as Carobon whispers, "Your blood will seal my return."

Without another word, Carobon bites deeply into Elrod's neck. Blood sprays as Elrod screams, his body convulsing under the force of Carobon's attack. The room falls silent, save for the gruesome sounds of Carobon feeding.

Once he finishes, Carobon steps back, wiping his mouth. His eyes then fix on me, a dark amusement twinkling within. "Now, for the shadows lurking in this room. It's time they were extinguished."

Silas tightens his grip on his sword, stepping protectively in front of me. "I won't let you harm her," he declares, his voice steely.

Carobon chuckles, his gaze shifting from Silas to me. "You think you can protect her? From me? I am the darkness they all fear, the nightmare they cannot escape."

I step forward, my resolve hardening. "We'll see about that," I say, meeting his gaze directly. "We're not afraid of you."

Carobon’s laugh is cold, hollow, and ancient. "Brave words for someone so outmatched. But let's see how you fare against the darkness unleashed."

With a wave of his hand, light swirls around him, growing denser and brighter. Silas and I brace ourselves, aware that the true battle is just beginning. The fate of our world hangs in the balance, and we are the only ones who can tip the scales.

Chapter 41

The sight before me will cause nightmares worse than my own for years. Silas grabs my hand, rushing me toward the door. I’m unable to peel my eyes away. Rohhit remains hovering over Elrod Madden, devouring his dead body like he’s not had a meal in months. Another strong tug makes me blink out of my daze.

“Briar!” Silas screams in my face, his voice bringing me back once again, except this time, it’s in a nightmare I can’t wake from.

“We have to run,” Silas commands.

Maines softly sobs in the doorframe.

Holstering both of my axes, we bolt.

As we move down the hallway we dodge fallen stones, our feet moving as fast as possible around the jutted corners. Just as we round the first corner, a loud thud ricochets down the hallway, likely Carobon realizing we didn’t stick around enough for him to finish us off. Maines pauses for a moment, looking at Graven’s headless body—the death she brought upon the creature. Graven’s massive torso lies motionless, blocking most of the hallway floor.

I grab her hand. “We have to keep moving.” I plea.

She remains in a daze, focused on the creature. I pull on her hand in my direction.

“So much death, Briar.” She blinks, tears still falling down her cheeks.

“I know, Maines, but we must keep moving. We can’t stay here or will be the next to join the fallen. Please,” I beg. “Think of Oak. He’s out there!”

“Everything that’s happened goes against everything I stand for. I’m supposed to heal people, not kill them.”

“Maines, you have healed people. Look at me! Look at Silas and Oak. We are here because you’ve saved us all in more ways than one.”

She nods, allowing me to pull her forward down the tunnel again.

“Don’t look at him,” I caution behind me as we jump over the creature’s massive body.

We make it back through the fire of my father’s study. The flames open like a curtain being ripped back, dimming for a moment before returning to a blazing fire. The study is quiet and looks untouched. We catch our breath momentarily, glancing toward the fireplace.

“I need to go to my room! I have to get the letters.”

Maines snaps, “That isn’t going to happen, Briar. We must leave now. They will be coming down that hallway after us any second now.”

I know she’s right, but the pull to head toward my room tugs at me. Even though they aren’t from my mother, they are a connection to her, and the only thing I have that makes me feel close to her.

“Well, where the hell are we going to go?”

“If you would have stuck around longer, we have a plan.” Silas nods in Maines’s view. “But we have to move quickly. Can either of you shift? We need to get outside.”

When I test my magic quickly, the flicker of power dances in my veins. “Yes. I think so but I’m not sure how far!”

Maines checks, shadows swirling around her for a second, giving Silas a thumbs up in response. “We need to move now,” she demands, pulling us through the wide study doors.

We leave the study, slamming the door behind us. The dark hallway is silent. The candles that line the walls remain lit. The flickering flames put me on edge, and each movement makes me flinch.

Silas turns to us. “Are you ready?”

Maines nods, already prepped and ready to leave while we still have a fighting chance.

“I don’t know where we are going!” I gasp as Silas grabs my hand, turning into mist.

I use small bursts of my magic to help propel us forward. Silas’s magic works in tandem with mine as we travel through the shadows faster than I ever have. The castle, streets, and houses blur past me as we continue to move like shooting stars, as far away from the castle as we can. Or so I hope. My magic burns as it leaves my body, the intensity beginning to fade with each passing moment as we keep moving forward.

We land on the shoreline first.

Maines leans forward, hands on her knees, and inhales deeply. “Gods, I could barely keep up with you two.”

My vision clears, and I see Oak standing and waiting at the end of the pier. Maines's face is flooded with relief upon seeing him. She sprints to Oak as he embraces her, checking her entire body to ensure she’s untouched. He hugs her again, closing his eyes as if he thought this moment wouldn’t come.

“Thank Gods,” he sighs. He peers around Maines, looking at Silas and me. The color drains from his face when he notices Rohhit doesn’t stand alongside us.

“What happened?” he snaps.

“We have very little time to discuss things, Oak. We couldn’t stop it,” Silas mumbles, still breathless. “Calia was too far gone with the ritual. Rohhit’s gone.”

I click my tongue. “He’s not gone! We will figure out a way to save him. How dare you give up on him so easily?”

“Briar, we will find a way to save him, but we can’t do that if we are all dead.” He kisses me, and the rage dies down at his gentleness. It was a moment I thought I would never experience again. We pull apart, his forehead resting on mine.

“Don’t say things like that, Silas,” I reply.

“I’m sorry, Briar. But it’s the truth. Rohhit isn’t with us right now.” He glances at Oak. “We were too late. But we will get him back.”

“You promise?” I whisper.

He pauses, his brow furrows, but he doesn’t respond. I know that’s a promise he can’t make me.

I turn back to Maines and Oak, who ignore us momentarily and quietly talk among themselves, their hands linked together. The crashing waves behind us are deafening, and my stomach rolls as I stand on this pier again.

“What’s the plan!” I ask, noticing the ship floating a few miles in the water.

“We are getting the hell out of here.” Oak replies.

“I can’t leave my people,” I snap. “My father never treated this kingdom fairly and I refuse to abandon them as their queen.”

Maines walks forward, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the dim town behind us. “Briar, they left. Most of everyone in Daramveer has abandoned their homes. No one is left to help and there is no kingdom to rebuild right now.”

I scan the dock that leads back to the cobblestone streets. No lights flicker in the homes and the night sky is entirely black—except for the glow of the moon and the stars—showing no signs of life except for us.

She continues, “After the fourth trial, they started leaving. It was too much for them to witness. Daramveer has been deserted. The House of Hedro remains, however. The healers refused to leave their patients or work. I’ve placed Eden in charge. She will care for the House and what she can of Daramveer.”

I feel the bile rise in my throat, and I almost spill my stomach on the dock beside us. “No! Eden is in on all of this. She helped my father five years ago when he performed the ritual on me to resurrect Kalix. She’s been assisting them this entire time. She’s known everything!”

Shock travels through Maines as she staggers backward. “Gods! We need to go back then. I can’t leave those poor people.”

Oak grabs her arms, stopping her in her tracks. “We can’t go back. We would never make it in time, Maines. You know that. We must leave now!”

Maines lets out a sob, knowing he’s right.

Oak embraces her. “We will fix this and put both Greats back to rest. We will rebuild Daramveer together, but we must live to do that!”

Only dread fills my core as I gaze out at the sea, my dreams feeling all too real. The darkness before me now mirrors the darkness behind me—the wasted kingdom of Daramveer, which I devastated. I turn, expecting to see my kingdom burning as I have on so many nights before, but it’s not. It’s silent, barren, and hopeless.

This is real—a nightmare I have no chance of escaping.

A crack of lightning streaks across the sky as a storm rolls in from the deep sea. Rain begins to cascade from the night sky like the Gods above weep for us. They sense our hopelessness and our sorrows. I tilt my head back, allowing the rain to slap against my face.

My senses sharpen, and my darkness beats against my chest like an animal trapped in a cage.

Run.

Oak’s voice quivers, "You guys… we need to leave."

A thud shakes the dock as we spin to see Rohhit rising from the hard landing. Lightning dances around his fingertips, and a blinding light forms at his back like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Oak’s mouth drops open. "That’s… not Rohhit, is it?"

No one needs to answer for him to understand what happened. Who stands before us is different from Rohhit. He’s been trapped deep in his mind. A prisoner now in his own body and the Great Wiitch controlling it. His face is the same. His familiar dark eyes, sharp jawline, and messy blonde hair—but who truly stands before us is no friend. I say a silent prayer, hoping that he holds on until we figure out how to help him.

Carobon’s voice snakes through our mind, "An army is being raised—my army—and you will all fall to my power. Shadow Wielders will be a part of the forgotten. Why do you side with them, Lumor Wielder?" He points directly at Oak.

Oak’s eyes grow wide, but his voice remains steady and harsh. "This is my family, and I’ll fight to the death against you to save them—I swear to you that." He steps in front of Maines.

Carobon’s eyes lower. "That’s an unfortunate future you’ve just sworn. It will be a shame to lose a Lumor Wielder to such horrors."

Maines grabs Oak’s hand, her eyes fluttering, as if she cannot blink fully.

"How about a trade?" Carobon echoes through the darkness. "Bring Kalix forward, and I will spare each of your lives."

His hand moves slowly from Oak’s direction and lands on me. Kalix within me responds, her magic beginning to bubble like smoke. She’s begging to break free as I grit my teeth, keeping her down. She wants to fight. And for the first time, Kalix and I have something in common.

Silas steps before me, ready to challenge Carobon or die trying.

Carobon’s head tilts to the side, his brows tightening, and he smells the air. "You." He studies Silas. "Willing to risk your own life for Briar Blackbyrne, for Kalix. Typical."

Silas closes his eyes and inhales deeply, drawing his magic forward. "I will stop at nothing to protect her. To protect my friends and family. You have no idea what I’m willing to do for her."

Black shadows begin to rise from the wall. A mountain of shadows creeps higher and higher, creating a wall between us and Rohhit. The impenetrable wall of darkness drowns out all light, providing us only a moment of safety.

"You have to go now," Silas cups my face. "I can hold him off, but only for a little while. You all need to run."

My legs almost give out. A huff leaves my mouth. "I’m not leaving you. I’m fighting with you, beside you, from now on. Do you understand? We will do this as one."

He stares at me, his lips slightly trembling. "If we all turn our backs, he will strike, potentially hitting us all. I must stay here to keep the wall up for as long as possible. My entire being pushes me to protect you. I can hold him off for you to get to the ship, for you to be safe." His teeth grind against one another. The power quickly becomes overwhelming for him to handle. "If you don’t leave now, he will kill us all, and this will all be for nothing. I’ll make it back to you. I promise."

Tears form in my eyes as I know we only have seconds more.

Maines grabs my arm, pulling me backward away from Silas.

"Briar, listen to him." The words sting as they leave her mouth. "We can’t do what needs to be done if we don’t leave now."

Silas’s strong shadows pulsate as lightning from over the wall crashes against them. Light explodes into blinding bolts desperate to break through.

"Dammit, Briar!" Maines screams. "Please!"

I don’t blink, and my stare remains intense and unwavering on Silas’s calm face. "Don’t break your promise to me, Nastronde. You make it back to me."

Tears stream down my face as I turn. We begin to sprint down the wooden pier, creating distance between me and Silas with each pounding step. My heart shatters into pieces the further we bound down the dock, closer to our escape.

"Shift. Now! Aim for the ship," Oak screams through the thunderous claps of magic, growing louder by the second.

I close my eyes and allow the shadows to envelop me, guiding me through the air, weightless despite the heaviness in my chest. Time seems to slow as the transition drains most of my magic, from the distance between us and the boat. Push after push, we glide through the shadows, and even though I’m just mist, tears continue to fall like rain. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving him.

The ship rocks against the waves, and the impact of us landing together. Tall masts surround us on the deck, and the storm on the shore whips the sails around like a white hurricane. Crew members shuffle around, noticing our arrival, in a panic to get the ship moving quickly.

I immediately land, ignoring the pain in my muscles, and sprint to the boat edge as close as I can get back to Silas. The shadow wall remains intact but fades against the light shooting from Carobon. "He’s not going to hold much longer. I’ve never seen that much power," I sob.

"I have, Briar. From you," Oak responds.

An older man approaches Oak, his perfectly tailored clothing hinting that he is the ship's captain and most likely traveled here with Silas.

"Where is Mr. Nastronde?" the captain’s stern voice booms in Oak’s direction.

Oak doesn’t respond; he only points toward the shore, where the wall of shadows remains tall and strong.

“Very well,” the captain says blandly, “I’ll prepare for departure immediately.”

I remain quiet, stunned at the sight before me. A black tidal wave of shadows before us fights against a Great Wiitch of our time—Silas Nastronde holds with all his might, stronger than anything I’ve ever seen. "He’s not going to have any magic left to shift this far," I mumble, knowing his fate is growing grim.

Maines begins to cry, grabbing my hand. "No. He won’t."

The ship begins to move, the sails expanding with the wind as the distance grows between us and Silas, who is left on the shore like my abandoned kingdom. The shadow wall becomes dimmer as the sun peaks over the horizon, gracing us with small bouts of light during the darkest night of our lives. I turn, unable to watch anymore. My breathing becomes a chore, and I feel the ground spin under my feet.

"I can’t leave him." I turn, facing the shore once more.

What the hell am I doing?

I shout toward Maines and Oak, resting on the steps leading to the flybridge, "This isn’t Silas’s fight! It’s mine. I won’t leave him." The shadow walls vanish before us.

Sprinting to the ledge of the boat, I leap, diving into the black water, waves ripping my body around, and for a moment, I’m not sure which way is up.

"Gods! She’s going after him." I hear Maines scream from the deck.

I power forward, not allowing myself to think of the creatures that lurk below. The only relief I feel is knowing that it will be worse for them if they challenge me right now. My arms slap the waves before me. I gasp for a breath but don’t stop moving.

I burrow deep, whispering for the darkness to propel me forward, promising anything if she allows me to find him. I continue to say silent prayers that are going unanswered and begin to make promises to Kalix herself. Panic rises in my chest as the crashing waves blind me to what’s ahead. I freeze when a black figure slowly bobs into the water before me. I tread forward, all my senses screaming to keep moving when I see him.

Silas floats in the water unconscious, his head barely above the water.

"Your prayer is answered, my child," a cold, evil voice floats through my mind.

My fate is sealed.

"I found him. Gods, Maines!" I scream back toward the boat, their full attention already on me.

He shifted. He made it as far as he could before crashing into the water, his body visibly broken. That water begins to turn red around him the closer I swim. "Don’t you dare be dead," I command, closing the distance between us. I grab onto his lifeless body, the coppery smell of blood hitting my nose.

As I look above the roaring waves back to the shoreline in the distance, the boat approaches. Three figures stand on the dock, intensely focused on the boat. We must hurry.

Maines leans over the ship's edge, a long ladder falling into the freezing water. She screams below, "If you can get me his hand, I can shift us to the middle of the deck." Her voice was barely a whisper over the crashing waves against the ship.

I drag Silas to the side, as Maines is already halfway down the ladder. I clutch his arm as he disappears into a mist and rises to the ship’s deck.

I grab onto the ladder, Oak behind Maines to drag me up as exhaustion weighs heavy on my body. The sun warms the ship as we fall onto the wooden planks. Maines's back faces me, making it impossible to see around her to see the state Silas is in. I ignore my body, screaming at me to rest, and look down at my hands. The black veins aren’t fading like normal as they continue to stay present on my fingers and palms.

Crawling around Maines, Silas lies unmoving. I gasp when I see the state his arm is in. It’s burned and black, and the smell of burnt flesh makes me gag. "Maines, help him. Now!" I begin to cry. I can feel the panic rising in my throat.

"Don’t look, Briar. I’m going to try," her voice panicked. "I refuse to let him die," she speaks as if she’s trying to convince herself. Her eyes well with tears, and I know the trauma of Barlowe’s death is flooding her. Maines's piercing eyes gaze at mine, the brightest blue contrasting against the red, "You aren’t going to lose someone else that you love on my watch. I’ll never cause you that pain again."

Her hands move over his body with grace, magic flowing into his body. Even unconscious, Silas flinches against the magic and pain. Oak grabs my body, pulling me in, his muscular body engulfing mine as I bury my face in his chest.

"He’s going to make it. He’s going to hang on like he always does," Oak whispers in my ear.

Maines continues to work, her hands slamming black magic from her palms. Silas’s body stops reacting to the jolts of magic hitting him. "Come on, Nastronde. You must fight!" Maines shouts as she works.

"Don’t look, Briar. Close your eyes," Oak whispers, pulling me tighter against his chest.

I turn back to face the shore once more. The figures are gone, but the feeling of them remains as if they are watching and waiting for us to return. My world spins—the waves crashing against the boat don’t drown out my horrible thoughts. Even with Oak’s strong arms around me, my legs give out. I hear my name being called as my world goes black, and I feel myself slipping away.

My eyes snap open.

I stand in ruin and destruction, and the feeling of despair hangs heavy in the thick air. I glance around my familiar surroundings. The kingdom of Daramveer is destroyed, as it always is in my nightmares. Black ash coats the ground, and a fog travels low around me. The forest still crackles from the once roaring fire, but most trees are burned and much shorter than before.

Wake up, Briar. Wake up.

My senses immediately notice the silence. No screams fill the air. No shrieks or panic swirl around me. Just the howling sound of the wind. No figures before me. And no magic pounds against my mind.

Silas.

Just silence lives here. I’m alone.

"Hello, Briar," an angelic voice calls from behind.

My entire body trembles. Too frightened to turn around, I keep my gaze on the forest. The forest that is so dear to my heart. So many fond memories of my friends and family before me.

Barlowe. Maines.

Rohhit.

“It’s quiet, isn’t it?” the voice continues.

I slowly turn, prepared to gaze upon a horrifying creature, but before me stands a woman cloaked in a black dress. Her raven hair falls long beside her hips, mixing with the dark fabric. Her skin is porcelain against the darkness of her hair, and her eyes are such a pale green that they closely resemble clear crystal.

She speaks again. "We haven’t had the proper chance to meet yet, although I feel as if we know each other very well." She smiles.

My mouth slightly parts, and I step a few paces back. Something powerful oozes from her—a power that would make any man desperate to rule, drunk on her very presence.

"Kalix," I whisper.

She nods, slightly bowing. "Yes. And it is very nice to meet you, Briar Blackbyrne."

Kalix stands a bit taller with my recognition. The Great Wiitch before me, somehow in the flesh. I slowly lower my chin, my gaze peeking through my eyelids. Maybe if I can kill her, all of this will end. The teasing, the torment I feel daily—it can all be over.

Her voice is smooth and calm. "You are unique, Briar. You are the strongest vessel I’ve had in centuries."

I begin to circle her. "What makes me so special?"

"You are smart, stubborn, and resilient. You can handle my power better than anyone I’ve ever seen, which makes you valuable." Kalix moves with me, never letting her back face me as she continues, "Plus, you have a lot to lose, and that makes you desperate."

I freeze.

"You see, the thing is, you have someone in your life that you’d be willing to die for, and he is the same. You don’t even realize what he is." She paces. "He’s a threat to me, which poses a problem."

Silas.

"What does Silas Nastronde have to do with any of this?" I shout.

"You two are capable of many things together. One day, you might discover what he means to you and what you mean to him. But then again, you might not—I just hope he survives long enough for that day." She laughs wildly into the thick air.

Without thinking, I lunge forward, ready to fight or die trying. My speed increases as I near her unmoving body.

She’s not moving. Why isn’t she moving?

I reach her and dive forward, preparing to take her down. Her body remains standing as I crash to the ground. She doesn’t move with me; instead, I move through her.

"What the fuck?" I rasp.

She turns to me, her motion almost as if she is floating. "Briar, you may be able to see me—the body I once inhabited—but I am not here. Not physically. But then again, neither are you."

I lay on the ground, watching her. I don’t understand why she isn’t attacking me or trying to kill me when it hits me. She needs me. I am her vessel, and she wouldn’t harm me because, without me, she’s nothing.

"Where are we?" I ask.

She looks around, studying the ruin, the crumbling kingdom around us. "We are in Daramveer. Well, what was once Daramveer. But you didn’t have to ask to know that, Briar."

She steps closer to me when I notice I’m still on the ashy ground. I backpedal, avoiding her coming any closer as she continues, "This is what will come of your realm should Carobon destroy all Shadow Wielders. Ash, ruin, and destruction will rain upon all kingdoms once ruled by those who travel in the darkness."

She shifts her gaze around us. The breeze picks up, pushing her long hair before her face. I rise from the ground, keeping a safe distance as she seems momentarily lost in her surroundings.

"Briar, we can stop this. And you made a promise to me in the water. Do you remember?" Kalix purrs.

Silas.

The ship.

I have to get back. I need to wake up.

Kalix is lying and twisting my thoughts to make me believe her. She wants me to fight. She wants the opposite of Carobon—to get rid of all Lumor Wielders. Any outcome dealing with the Great Wiitches once more will result in death and destruction.

"You are a snake. You are a liar, Kalix," I hiss in her direction.

Kalix’s beautiful features fade at my words. Her gentle expressions are quickly replaced with a hateful, evil glare. "Briar. We must work together. You promised me something, and I don’t forget promises."

Her lips curl back, exposing rows of sharp teeth beneath the beautiful façade.

"I know what I promised you, and I will honor it. But until then, I will not work with you or listen to your lies, Kalix. And as soon as I get the opportunity to rid this world of both Great Wiitches, I will do so with a smile."

Kalix growls.

“You will die, Kalix, and I don’t care if I die with you.”

“More careless words, Briar. I’d be careful speaking like that if I were you,” she hums.

I must find the others. If this is a nightmare, I can escape. I just have to find the figure, Silas, that calls to me and wakes me from my darkest nights. I take off in a sprint. As I move toward the fallen kingdom, the ash kicks up around my feet.

"Silas!" I scream, racing through the destruction.

He has to be here. He is always here.

I scream again, "Help me. Wake me up."

I continue to sprint through the ruin. Kalix’s snarls are close behind me when it hits me. Silas isn’t here. He’s on the ship. He is fighting for his life, and Maines is healing him. And I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from without him.

I fall to my knees, the rough ground slicing into my skin, and scream.

"Silas!"

Acknowledgments

Where do I even begin? This has been a long road, and writing about it feels terrific.

The first thank you goes to my husband. Your support and grace throughout this process has been amazing. For so long, you’ve known this was my dream. You pushed me to follow that dream and to stick with it. Because of that push, look what I’ve accomplished because of your love. Thank you.

Next, my incredible family and friends. Without you all, I wouldn’t be writing this. Your overwhelming love and support (and understanding of why I’ve been MIA) have been incredible. You all have rooted me from the beginning, and I cannot thank you enough. My oldest friends helped me through so much when writing this book, and I will be forever grateful for your help. Many friendships in The Trials of Darkness were inspired by my real-life friends - deep, authentic, and raw at times. I love you all dearly.

Speaking of old friends, I’d love to thank my new friends along the way. The book community is fantastic and has the best people. Without their support, I wouldn’t be here writing this. Also, a thank you to Emily for being there for me, helping me countless times, and listening to my constant worrying.

To my editor, Zee, if anyone deserves a thank you, it’s you. Not only did you help me along the way with editing, but you also challenged me to grow as a writer more than I ever imagined. You pushed my imagination and me to the limit in the best way, and I could not be more thankful for your support. Not only have I gained a fantastic editor on my team, but I also gained an amazing friend in the process. Thank you forever, my friend.

To my beta readers, thank you for taking the time to help me with The Trials of Darkness in its early stages. Thank you for your grace, advice, and excitement as you watched the book grow from its beginnings to its current state.

My last thank you goes to someone who is sadly no longer with us, my Grandma Babe. She is why I chose to follow my dreams of becoming an Author. Her imagination and outlook on the world still inspires me so many years later. Her mark on this world is something that will never be forgotten. I can only imagine that she looks down on me right now, laughing at the fact that I wrote a spicy fantasy book. She would be first in line to purchase and giggle the entire way. Thank you for loving me like you did.

Writing this book pushed me to my limits. Along the way, I’ve learned that being yourself is never bad. There is enough room in the world for everyone; if you have a dream, please go for it. You will be surprised at how things can turn out.

Be brave.

Be strong.

And put yourself out there. The only person holding you back is you. You have time to leave your mark on this world. The world needs your creativity and light, so shine.

About the Author

Kathryn Breaux is a new author who has released her debut novel, The Trials of Darkness. This is the first book in the Darkness series.

Her love of reading has ebbed and flowed throughout her life, but her love of fantasy has never faltered. She typically hangs out with her family and reads fantasy, romantic, or thriller books in her downtime when she is not writing. But let’s be honest: she's writing a lot these days.

Kathryn received a bachelor’s degree in communications, which helped her pursue her dream of being an author.

She is thrilled to be reaching for her lifelong dreams, and she hopes you take a leap of faith and chase your own.

To learn more about Kathryn, upcoming projects, and her socials, please visit: www.kathrynbreauxwrites.com

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Content Notes

Untitled

map

Full Page Image

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Acknowledgments

About the Author