“Indeed, she did. So, any ideas, Elle?” he asked.
She inwardly scowled at the fluttering in her stomach caused by his casual use of her nickname, though her annoyance at her body’s traitorous reaction was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling.
“Make it count, Elle.”That was the last thing he said to her before he died. Had she? If they didn’t reunite this slumbering piece of the crown with its other half, if they couldn’t seal the Chasms and help bridge the literal divide between the peoples of Arcanis, would any of it count? With Malchior out there, scheming, plotting, would any of this matter?
She thought of Gael, of Cyren, of Paelin and all the rest. She thought of Evander. She thought of the terriblewhat-ifthat was Cedric. How easily he could still be counted amongst those who gave their lives and ambitions to this dreaded place.
Elyria bit her lip a little too hard, hoping the pain would help her focus. If she did want to make their lives count, they had to get out of here. And, of course, it couldn’t be as simple as Aurelia having actually told them what to do.
She scanned the antechamber, took in the scattered tables and benches, the pillows and pitchers. Crown still in hand, she walked over to the wall of doors and tried a few handles. None of them glowed. None of them led anywhere special at all. They opened up into bedchambers and bathing rooms, as they always had between trials. Finally, her gaze landed on the empty wall opposite the doors, where the archway from which they’d entered the antechamber after the first trial had been.
There was something about the blank expanse, the layers of stacked gray stone. There was nothing to indicate there was, or had ever been, an archway or gate there. But as Elyria wandered closer, crown still in hand, it suddenly felt like she was being pulled toward it. When she was only a few feet away, the stone started to shimmer with an all too familiar silvery light. Before long, a glowing archway stood before them.
A Gate.
A way out.
Through it, Elyria could see the vague outline of the grand hall of Castle Lumin stretching before her. More importantly, she couldhearit—the cacophony of cheers and raucous chants coming from the cavernous room. The voices were muted somewhat by distance and whatever magic lay within the Gate, keeping the Sanctum separate from the real world, but they were there.
“You wanted fanfare,” she called over her shoulder to Nox. “I think we’re about to get it.”
The nocterrian made a noise that sounded somewhat like aharrumphbut said nothing else. Elyria heard stirrings behind her, the sounds of chairs scraping and hushed encouragement as Thraigg helped Kit to her feet.
“They’re all still here,” Cedric murmured, stepping next to Elyria.
They were. Blurred and indistinct as her vision through the Gate was, Elyria could see dozens of spectators lining the walls of the hall. Whether thanks to some ancient magic woven into the rules of this tedious contest, or by Aurelia’s hand, the people already knew the Crucible had been conquered. They thought the crown had finally been won.
Elyria wasn’t sure what that meant for what was to come next.
“Well, Sir Victor, your adoring legions await.” She took his hand and placed the crown in it.
“Ouradoring legions,” he corrected with a grin, closing his fingers over hers just as she tried to pull back—keeping her hand, along with the crown, firmly clasped in his.
Elyria tensed, a spark running up her arm, the shadows in her chest stirring. She wanted to lace her fingers between his, to exit this cruel and fantastical place hand-in-hand.
“Tested in the fires of trust, bound by something deeper than ambition. You have emerged, both of you champions, both of you victors.”
It was a strange thing, standing here on the threshold of freedom, this new precipice. In some ways, it felt like this was the true test of that bond. Because while they had fought beasts of tooth and claw, they had burned and bled andlostin here...they had done so together.
“Are you ready?” Cedric asked.
She wasn’t. The moment they stepped through that Gate and back into the real world, this—whateverthiswas—would be over. There was so much still unknown. So many questions. Elyria wasn’t ready for them to go back to their separate sides of the continent, for their peoplesto once again be at odds.
Whatdidthis mean for their peoples?Both of you champions, both of you victors,Aurelia said. Did that mean something? Would the king—the kings, both of them—honor that fact? Would they even believe them?
The promised power of the crown was no longer on the table. Neither side would claim that celestial might, would be able to wield it against the other—Elyria would make sure of it. Was there a chance that could possibly mean the start of something like...peace?
She shook her head. For all their talk of working together to seal the Chasms, of healing the land, and ofafter, Elyria and Cedric had not discussed what that might actually look like. It had seemed simple at the time. Now it seemed to grow more impossible the longer she stared at the Gate.
They needed to hunt down the other half of the crown. They needed to ensure Varyth Malchior stayed as far away as possible. They needed to plan and strategize, and they needed time together to do all of that.
Together.
The word stuttered in Elyria’s mind, reality starting to fray the edges of the hope that had been building against her will.There was notogetheronce they left the Sanctum. She and Cedric had two wholly separate, wholly disparateafterswaiting for them.
Her cheeks heated at the foolishness of longing for anything different. She started to gather the mess of emotions churning in her chest, tying them in knots, digging a hole deep inside herself where she could bury them.
At the gentle squeeze of her hand, Elyria turned to find Cedric looking right at her. Something like determination and maybe even a hint of longing was sketched into the strong set of his brow, the clench of his jaw.
