“I had that handled,” Cedric muttered.
“I’m sure you did,” Elyria replied coolly.
His mouth opened. It closed. And then the knight snatched up the platter of bacon with a petulant huff and stormed off toward Zephyr.
Kit sidled up to Elyria as soon as he left, a bowl of berries clasped in her hands. “You really just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What?” Elyria fished a plump raspberry out of the bowl and popped it in her mouth, savoring the way the tart sweetness washed over her tongue, cutting through the lingering flavor of salt and fat.
“Can’t stop yourself from saving him.”
Elyria shot her a glare. “I’m not in the mood, Katerina.”
Kit shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”
A series of chimes interrupted whatever retort Elyria might’ve thrown back at her friend, drawing all attention to the doors along the far wall. Silver light pulsed behind their frames, and she noted that where yesterday twelve doors had stood, only six remained now. Was this the Sanctum’s way of pushing them into alliances? Elyria felt a spark of gratitude in her chest that she already had Kit on her side. Or rather, that she was on Kit’s.
“Champions who have fought with steel and claw,” boomed the Arbiter’s resonant voice, “the Trial of Spirit awaits.”
Kit nudged Elyria’s shoulder—an obnoxious, silentI told you so.
“Behind each door lies a test of truth. Behind each door lies a challenge of will. Choose your path.”
Tension rippled through the gathered champions. Eyes flicked to each door, then to each other. Calculating. Considering.
“Trust your strength. Trust your resolve. Trust each other,” finished the Arbiter, before the voice dissipated into the ether.
Elyria’s eyes narrowed.Trust each other. How convenient that the Arbiter’s parting words should be another call for unity, given the alliances here were fragile as spun glass.
A jolt of anticipation coursed through Elyria’s veins as the doors began to glow more brightly. The magic within whatever lay beyond shimmered like a mirage. Elyria knew better than to think the bedroom where she’d laid her head last night was still behind any of them.
Kit was already moving toward one of the doors, determination emblazoned upon her face. Elyria trailed a few paces behind, confident that whatever came of this rekindled friendship, it was at least strong enough to get them past the challenge that lay beyond whatever door Kit chose.
The doors flung open in a burst of light, and chaos erupted. The chamber was a flurry of movement as champions darted forward in a frenzy. Someone jostled Elyria’s shoulder, causing her to turn out of reflex—just for a second.
It was enough. She lost sight of Kit.
Shit. Elyria pushed through the crowd. Panic spiked in her chest as she shoved past Gael and Tenebris Nox, both making a beeline for the same doorway before the latter changed their mind, leaping into a different pool of silver light.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Champions disappeared one by one, and Elyria’s heart dropped into her stomach as she realized Kit had already gone through. But which one?
Soon, Elyria was the only champion left. She stared at the glowing doorways, clawing at her memory, parsing through the moments that had preceded this as if she might suddenly understand where Kit had gone, where Elyria was to follow.
Something flickered in her chest. A stirring. But it wasn’t the same dark, swirly feeling she’d come to understand as her inner shadow rousing. It was more like...atug. A pull, subtle but insistent.
It coaxed her toward one of the glowing doorways, called her to it. Elyria could only pray it was pointing her down the same path as Kit.
“Intuition, don’t fail me now,” she muttered to herself before striding forward. With each step, the pull grew stronger, stronger, stronger—until Elyria was pushing through silver light and that familiar, world-tilting feeling coursed through her.
She found herself standing in a squat, square room. It was dark, the features of the room only made visible by the ambient glow of torches lining the walls to her left and right. There were no windows. No doors—not even the one she had presumably just come through. Just a painted arch on the far wall, golden swirls and vines drawn onto the stone, framing nothing.
Her stomach lurched. What was this?
A scraping noise came from behind her. She turned, her pulse quickening to a frightening beat.
Then it slowed. Nearly stopped.
