I know what this is. Another illusion. Another one of his cruel tricks. Like all the tests before.
The world shifts beneath me without warning. One moment, I am suspended in the air, and the next, the surface of the lake rushes toward me. But when I land, there is no splash, no soft embrace of water. Only the unforgiving impact of solid earth.
I glance around, my heart pounding, then, without warning, several closed doors appear out of the blackness like apparitions.
The stillness of this place is unnerving, and a sense of urgency pulses through me. If this is anything like the previous test, I know that I cannot stand still for long. Not without deadly consequences.
I move toward the first door cautiously, every step a whisper against the hard ground. My hand hovers above the handle. The moment my fingers close around it, pain lances through my body. It’s not physical, not exactly, but it feels as though my very soul is beingpulled from my body. I gasp, releasing the handle instantly, but the sensation lingers, scorching through my chest, crawling up my spine.
I bite back the scream rising in my throat.
My hands have never been the instruments in these trials. It has always been my mind, the sharp edge of thought, not the blunt force of touch. The realization strikes, swift and brutal. These doors were never meant to be opened with hands.
My eyes snap back to the door in front of me. I concentrate, forcing my mind to focus, to hone in on the task that stands between me and freedom. The words are unspoken, but my thoughts are clear.Open.I picture the door swinging wide, my will the force that moves it.
The moment I do, the air changes, power surges through me and the door flies open with a deafening crack, the sound of splintering wood echoing in the hollow dark. The darkness that had been closing in on me halts, frozen for a heartbeat, and then, with a violent burst, the other doors explode into silver dust, swirling away into nothing.
I stand motionless at the threshold, the open doorway yawning like a wound in the world. Something inside calls to me, whispering dark promises with every breath of stale air. My chest tightens as I take a cautious step forward, gaze locked on the abyss beyond. The air ripples with malevolence, pressing against my skin. Then, without warning, a hand of pure shadow lunges from the darkness, its fingers slick and inky, curling around my throat. I choke, scratching at the thing as it tightens, twisting until my breath is no longer mine to take.
Suddenly, a wave of winged creatures bursts from the doorway, their screeching cries splitting the air. Their wings flutter in a frenzy, and their black eyes gleam with hunger. The swarm grows, multiplying as they rush toward me, closing in from every side.
I scream, but no sound comes out. The hand around my throat tightens again, dragging me toward the void. My body thrashes in its grasp, but the darkness is too strong.
And then, suddenly, everything stops.
The hand vanishes, and the creatures, all of them, disappear into the shadows, swallowed by the swirling blackness. A gasp escapes my lips, and I fall to my knees, the sudden absence of pressure in my chest like the first breath after being underwater for too long.
The void is gone. The creatures are gone. The sensation of being dragged toward the darkness fades as quickly as it had come.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision, the taste of fear still sharp in my mouth. My hands tremble as I reach up to touch my throat, feeling the bruises left behind by the shadow’s grip. But when I look around, it’s not the endless dark I see. Instead, I’m back in the cage.
The illusion. It’s over.
Still, I feel the phantom touch of the shadow’s hand on my throat, the screeching creatures in my ears, and the overwhelming dread that follows me now, clinging to me like a second skin.
Ashen curls against me, his warmth a silent comfort, grounding me in the midst of this chaos. I hold him close, drawing strength from his steady breathing, but in the stillness of the cave, a sound breaks through. Soft, hesitant, barely audible at first. A sob.
Anethesis.
I freeze, my heart lurching as I hear him. His voice trembles, raw with emotion.
“Princess,” he struggles to find the words. “You cannot possibly know the magnitude of the gift you grant us. We are so very thankful.”
I exhale slowly, the breath leaving me in a quiet, bitter sigh. My gaze drags up from the cold floor of the cage to meet his. His one good eye is wide, glazed with what might be gratitude, but it isn’t enough to move me.
“We are done then,” I say, my voice hoarse but steady. “I am free now?”
“There is a last task,” Anethesis responds. “The final portal home, and then your work is done. You will be set free.”
“When?” I demand, my throat tight with a desperate need for answers.
“Soon,” he answers, his tone distant, almost reluctant. “We must ready ourselves for what comes.”
The words are like a slap, sending a chill through me that has nothing to do with the cold of the cage. What comes? I stagger to my feet, my legs unsteady beneath me, and I lurch toward the bars of the cage, gripping them so tightly my knuckles whiten.
“What do you mean? What is to come?” I grit out, my voice breaking.
But Anethesis doesn’t respond. Instead, his fingers move in their familiar, graceful dance, the air around him stirring. With a fluid motion, he rises from the ground, weightless, the very air bending to his will. I watch, powerless, as he ascends, his figure fading into the black abyss of the cave
