Cold gripped me, latching onto the tips of my fingers and numbing them. Drawing a deep breath, I flexed my hands and took a few more steps toward her. She didn’t move, yet her sad eyes followed me curiously, her full lips slightly parted. Her feet, I noted in the brief moment that the unseen breeze lifted her dress, were bare.
“Hello,” I said carefully.
Aden crept along beside me, his magical aura notched up to high; clearly, he thought we were about to set off a trap. While the hum of his power tickled my ears, I managed to block it out and focus strictly on the ghost. If this was the next trial, she was the key. Slowly, the woman dipped her head in greeting, hovering a foot or so above the ground.
Danger? I asked my inner voice, my steps slow and precise. I avoided the chandelier, opting to move around it rather than under it, though somehow wax still managed to land on my shoulder.
No, came her unusually soft reply. No danger, Kaye. Only him.
I tried not to smile. I guess I wasn’t the only one who still didn’t completely trust the djinn skulking along beside me.
Well. She was me and I was her, yet I couldn’t help but think of her as a separate being.
“Greetings, Kaye Allister,” the specter murmured. I stilled, noting that her lips didn’t move as she spoke, yet her voice seemed to fill the room. Melodic and soft, girlish yet not, it bore the weight of one who had witnessed tragedy and experienced agony. A quick glance to Aden told me that he heard the voice too, that it wasn’t just in my head. The ghost stared at me, yet straight through me too, her voice swelling once more. Clear, crisp—like a stage actress on the night of her big debut. “Daughter of fae and dragon. You have survived the first trial.”
I gulped. Was there an option not to survive? I had been under the impression failures simply couldn’t move the boulder. Maybe there was something darker waiting in the shadows if we had continued to strike out.
“Is this the second trial?” Aden asked, his tone surprisingly civilized. The ghost continued to hover and flutter, and not once did her gaze shift to the djinn. He groaned, then nudged me. “Apparently, I’m not even here.”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” I muttered before stepping toward her. I gave us a good five-feet of separation, as that was about all the cold I could handle. Clearing my throat, I repeated Aden’s question, and when the ghost nodded, I let out a soft sigh. “Okay. Good. Wisdom. Let’s do this.”
She seemed momentarily perplexed by my response.
“Can you help me?” My fingers wanted to fidget, to move, to expel all the nervous energy pumping through my limbs, but I forced them to remain still. Something told me I’d need to at least pretend to be confident during these trials, even if that was the farthest thing from reality.
“My story begins in an age gone by,” the ghost said, sighing through her words. Briefly, she almost sounded wistful. “I was your age when I died, but before I did, I was offered a choice. My mate or my child.”
I fought back a shiver, quickly piecing together what I might need to do—and praying that wasn’t the case. An image of Darius in trouble, his life hanging by a thread, flickered across my mind like old movie footage—but, then I reminded myself I had no child, so maybe I was wrong.
“Both were bound in chains,” she told me, her wistfulness turning hard and the temperature around us dropping even further. Behind me, I heard the faint chatter of Aden’s teeth as the poor creature relayed her tale. “I was forced to choose. Save the life of only one… and kill the other.”
Tears sprang to my eyes suddenly, though I managed to blink them away. What a choice. One that I would be forced to make given the way the specter’s haunting eyes stared deeply into mine.
“What would you do, Kaye Allister?” She drifted listlessly toward me, the torn bits of dress fabric floating along behind her. “Who would you choose to save?”
Each inhale seared down my throat, the air bitterly cold. I held firm, even as she closed in on me, her head tipped to one side.
No one should have to choose between their soulmate and their child. But the morality of the situation didn’t matter. It wasn’t a topic of discussion. This was the trial. I bowed my head for a moment, considering the two options—even though I knew my answer the second she posed the question. I wanted to take the time given to weigh my response, to draw upon whatever wisdom I had inside of me to make the right decision.
For all my thinking, I couldn’t find a reason to change my gut instinct.
“I’d save our child,” I told her, pleased that my voice held firm. As much as I loved my dragon, I couldn’t butcher our child, nor would I ever let anyone else lay a hand on him or her. Darius would understand, and, I suspected, would make the same decision should he be faced with the same impossible choice.
The specter nodded solemnly. “As did I. Yet when our captor handed me the dagger, and I plunged it into the heart of my mate… my child’s heart bled, red spilling from her chest. Dripping onto the floor. Drip, drip, drip.”
Like the candle wax. I forced back my tears; this woman had truly suffered before her end.
“What did I do wrong?” the ghost whispered, her voice sweeping over me causing my skin to erupt in little goosebumps. “Where was my error?”
“You didn’t make an error,” I insisted, but I knew that wouldn’t do her any good. She blinked back at me, stoic and silent, and I took a few moments to think her predicament through. In the end, I shook my head and relayed the only conclusion that made sense. “You were betrayed. Whoever was holding you captive tricked you. You… You shouldn’t have trusted them.”
How similar to my own situation. Would there be a moment in the near future when the small bit of trust I’d put in Aden proved to be my downfall?
The ghost smiled, as if pleased with my answer, but I wouldn’t call it a happy smile. Tinged with sorrow, it didn’t reach her eyes.
“What would you have done differently, Kaye Allister?”
I bit my lip to keep the first thing that came to my mind from tumbling out. Logically, I’d say that I would stab my child. In the described situation, that would mean my mate died and the child lived. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to say it—because in reality, I wouldn’t do either of the two options. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that if I were faced with that choice, I’d turn the knife on myself and save the two beings in this world that I loved more than anything. We all think we’re brave enough, bold enough, level-headed enough, to do the logical thing. But in the heat of the moment, I knew where I would really stick that knife.
“I wouldn’t choose either,” I admitted softly. “I’d take my own life to save theirs. I… I’d use the knife on myself.”
After a tense moment of silence passed, the specter retreated, dragging the cold with her. I wiggled my toes, but I still couldn’t feel them.
“Sacrificing your own life to save the ones you love is noble,” the ghost told me, her tone suddenly brighter, warmer. “It is wise. Sacrificing another to save yourself, to save but a single life, is cowardice.”
Then, with a gentle pop, she disappeared. The cold vanished. The scent of death lifted. I whirled around as the room brightened, the chandelier morphing from candle to modern crystal. Even the droplet of wax on my shoulder was gone.
“What—”
“You’ve passed the trial,” Aden stated, his voice thick. “Look.”
Where the ghost last stood, a door swung open allowing a knee-high cloud of mist to slowly filter into the room.
“Two down,” I said with a nod. “Okay. This isn’t so bad.”
A glance back at Aden’s face suggested otherwise. Expression unreadable, he stalked toward the door without a word, and I followed, my brow furrowed in confusion.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. “The story… It got to me, that’s all.”
“What would you have chosen?” I couldn’t help myself. Now that the ghost was gone, it wouldn’t matte
r what he said. Aden stopped sharply just before passing through the doorway, and the look in his black eyes sent a shiver down my spine.
“I wouldn’t choose,” he growled. Blue light raced around his fingers, his skin peeling back to reveal the true djinn hiding beneath. “I’d kill anyone who threatened my family. It would be a bloodbath.”
I gulped. “Noted.”
Another layer revealed, and while my suspicions as to what Jasmine had stolen were starting to narrow down, I realized I still knew nothing about the creature leading me into the abyss.
And that frightened me more than I cared to admit.
Chapter 8
Cautiously, Aden and I picked a path through the swirling mist. The white, ever-rolling fog was so difficult to see through that neither of us knew exactly what we walked on, so caution was key. However, every step felt like stone underfoot. At one point, Aden tripped and stumbled forward, and I darted forward to keep him from faceplanting into the fog.
“Stairs,” he grumbled, and we climbed them one at a time, slowly, until we reached the top. There, the corridor opened up into yet another room. I placed a hand on the wall before entering, closing my eyes briefly and feeling the thrum of magic within. At this point, I had no idea where we were relative to the elvish forest outside, but I had to think our current reality was warped and skewed by whatever magical entrapments the hybrids had lain. The magic didn’t feel dark to me—its vibrations humming across my skin—but it didn’t strike me as white magic either. Perhaps something in the murky middle. I withdrew quickly at the thought, clenching and unclenching my hand to get rid of the phantom tremors that remained.
“Kaye? I’m not really sure what to make of this…”
I followed the sound of his voice into the room, then stopped and looked around, my mouth hanging open. This chamber was the largest yet. Created entirely of red clay, it stood tall and rectangular, the ceiling so far up that I couldn’t even see it; the only reason I even knew there was a ceiling was the fact that sunlight hadn’t touched my skin since we entered the tomb—and yet, the room wasn’t dark. Something unseen illuminated the vast space. In the center of it all, a small hill spiraled upward some thirty feet into the air. It was steep, no stairs, and there appeared to be a table on top. I spied Aden’s boot prints in the clay path.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, following his steps to the very top. As I’d thought, there was a table, yet the silk fabric draped over it suggested that it might be an altar of some kind. A candle burned on either side, and at its center sat a golden chalice and a thin, silver dagger.
“This should be the trial of your will,” Aden said, running a fingertip around the edge of the chalice, “but I don’t… see the connection.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I grabbed the goblet, carefully wrapping my hand around it. When nothing electrocuted me and no enormous spikes came careening down from the ceiling, I brought it to my nose and sniffed. Blood-red liquid sloshed around inside, equal to half a glass of wine. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”
“Looks delicious.”
My lips twitched into a little smile, pleased that his scary I’ll-kill-the-world side had been left behind at the second trial. “Bet it goes great with steak.”
“Or, you know, it’ll sear a hole in your throat as soon as you drink it.”
Great. I shot him a narrowed look. “Seriously?”
“Okay, okay, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and fighting a smirk. “I’ll be more supportive. I’m sure it’s fine. You’ve already passed the wisdom trial… It’s unlikely they’d trick you here. You’ve proven, in theory, that you’re not a total moron.”
What I wouldn’t give to punch him squarely in the nose—just once. His lopsided grin almost fooled me into thinking he was on my side, but I knew, deep down, he probably thought I actually was a total moron.
Well. A total moron wouldn’t have figured out the last two trials while an all-powerful djinn floundered around beside her.
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted the chalice in his direction. “Well. Cheers.”
“I’ll do what I can if things go awry,” Aden told me as I brought the golden rim to my lips. I paused, resisting the urge to splash the blood-like liquid inside all over his face—you know, just to see if things went awry. Aden pushed the chalice toward me, fingertips tipping the bottom up as I scowled.
Kaye…
Too late for your protests now, inner voice. Ignoring all sense of reason and self-preservation, I drained the chalice dry. Sure enough, just as the liquid didn’t smell like anything, it lacked taste too. Lukewarm, it trickled down my throat and left an oily residue behind, the kind I felt every time I swallowed.
“Well?” Aden raised his eyebrows as he looked me over. “No hole burning into your throat?”
“No.” I smacked my lips together. “But it leaves a bit of a weird slime in my mouth, so…”
I trailed off as something twitched within me. A prickle of ouch, almost like that of an insane period cramp. It flexed in my lower abdomen, and my hand hovered over the affected area as it continued to pulse with pain.
“Kaye?”
“Just… Gimme a second,” I muttered. Another beat of pain. This time, it felt like someone had sunk a hook into all my internal organs in that area, found a spot to stand somewhere in the middle, and yanked hard on all the strings. A cry crept up my throat, croaking out of me at the next tug. The chalice fell from my hand and started rolling down the red clay path I’d climbed to reach the altar. The next pulse sent the pain snaking up my stomach, then surging up my throat—like heartburn times a million. I crumpled to the ground, shrieking.
“Kaye!” Aden knelt down and tried to straighten me out, but I pushed him away as the agony radiated out through my arms. An invisible fist clamped down around my heart, and I doubled over, coughing. Blood splattered across my hands. The pain had reached my toes now, steadily encompassing my entire body until I was nothing but pain. It alternated between stabbing and slicing, and through my tears I weakly looked myself over, expecting there to be gaping wounds and holes, with blood spilling from me at every turn.
But there was nothing.
It was all inside. A blend of a gasp and a sob slipped out of me. Fire coursed through my veins, burning me alive. I’d felt fire before. I’d reveled in it. But this was different. This fire was a beast of its own mind, and it wanted to devour me from the inside out.
“M-Make it s-stop,” I pleaded, grasping at Aden’s trench coat, another wail ripping from my throat as the pain intensified.
“This is a test. It is will, Kaye. You have to fight it! You have to endure it!”
“I c-can’t!” My voice hitched in my throat, a throat that felt like a thousand knives slid down it every time I managed to swallow.
“You can,” Aden said firmly, lifting my head by my chin, his dark eyes boring into mine. “I know you can. You’re stronger than this, Kaye. Remember, you are the perfect creature. Superior to all of us. You can survive this!”
“Stop talking!” I cried, clamping my hands down over my ears. Each word he spoke rattled around my head like he’d screamed it through a bullhorn. Every touch, taste, sound—magnified, as though only to enhance the pain.
You can end this, a voice murmured, the slithery hiss of its words reverberated inside my skull. For a fleeting moment, clarity reigned supreme, and I pushed my hair out of my face, sniffling.
“W-What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Aden grumbled, still crouched on his haunches before me. “Kaye, what’s happening?”
You can end the pain. I waved him off with a frown, needing to listen to this voice, this stranger inside my head. It wasn’t my inner voice. The pain drowned her out. But this… A man’s voice, akin to a dull roar over the tsunami of agony pounding me over and over again.
The knife…
A sob slipped out as my gaze wandered back to the altar. I pointed weakly, even the slight motion of un
curling my finger was enough to march a fiery hailstorm through my body. Aden’s brow furrowed, as if not understanding, and when I choked out the word, he shook his head.
“Kaye, no—”
“Get me the knife!” I doubled over again, my hands hovering over my ears as my words echoed through the red, clay hall. I’d never experienced this kind of burning agony before, like my skin was ready to bubble up and explode. Pressure compounded inside my head, pushing against the confines of my skull, a sharp, stabbing hurt festering behind my eyes.
Out of nowhere, the silver blade slid into my hand, and I looked up slowly. Aden peered back at me, his worry apparent.
Take the knife. I gripped it, wishing the cool metal might offer some release. The movement only made my knuckle crack and pop out of place. Stab it into your heart. End the pain. End the suffering.
In that moment, I couldn’t deny it was tempting. Slowly, I raised the blade’s tip to the center of my chest, pressing it over my heart. My cotton tee managed to cushion the blade’s bite, but not for long. I felt it. Over all the pain, the twisted suffering, I felt the blade. Wherever it touched, the ache eased. It was my salvation.
All I had to do was die.
“Kaye, what are you…?”
Plunge the blade into your heart. End the suffering.
“N-No,” I argued, but my protests sounded weak even to my own ears. The pain was devastating—but I wasn’t ready to die in order to end it.
Or was I? As the sharpness spiked across my body, my bones felt like they were breaking, yet when I looked down, they remained intact. All I got was the pain of it, the breathtaking torture without the act itself.
Do it. Save yourself.
“No,” I choked, this time my answer was clear. Hadn’t I proven I wouldn’t save myself already? I forced my thoughts to drift to Darius, to his smile, to his stormy gray eyes. I remembered how he kissed me, the summer rain raging wildly around us. I thought of his tender care, his warm hand on my forehead as I shivered through cold sweats, expelling the djinn’s poison from my system.
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