Her expression softened.
I remember asking her then, “Do nýmphí have mates?”
She smiled again, shaking her head. “No, we don’t. Our purpose is different. We serve the goddesses, and one day, we’ll serve the Lidéren who will restore balance.”
Nýmphí do not have mates, they do not eat or sleep. They just exist to serve the Lidéren. Kaël used to sit with them and gossip. He said they knew all the secrets of the forest.
The memory fades as the nýmphá before me speaks, her voice as soft and musical as I remember. “Welcome, brave warriors. To proceed, you must solve our challenge.”
Kaël raises an eyebrow. “Ladies?”
The nýmphá remains unfazed. “Answer this: What has roots nobody sees, is taller than any trees. Up, up, up it goes, and yet, it never grows?”
We huddle, whispering our guesses.
“A mountain,” Aeson says. “It’s a mountain.”
The nýmphá nods. “Well done. You may pass.”
She gestures toward the grove ahead, where vibrant flowers bloom in abundance. Just as we step forward, the nýmphí gather once more. Their hands rise high, and they murmur something under their breath.
The ground shakes violently.
Stones and debris fly into the air, and instinctively, we leap for the trees to avoid the chaos erupting below. I strain to grab Kaël as he slips, my muscles burn as I haul him to safety.
The nýmphí retreat into the distance, their giggles carried away by the howling wind.
I spot a large, sturdy branch above us and shout. “Aeson, up there!”
He signals to the others, and we scramble higher, fighting against the relentless wind and quaking earth. Trees fall, stones shift unnaturally, and the sharp gusts sting like claws raking across our skin. Every step is a battle, but I push through the pain to drive myself onward. Finally, we reach the branch and collapse onto its surface, panting as we catch our breath.
“What was that?” Kaël gasps, his eyes wide.
Zephyr leans back against the trunk, shaking his head. “That wasn’t part of the trial, was it?”
I scan the branches above, and something catches my eye—a nest tucked up high in the leaves. Feathers gleam in the light.The second riddle.
“My mate is definitely not playing around,” I mutter.
41
BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH IN THE LAIR OF BEASTS
“The barrier didn’t only keep the vólkins in, Gregor. It kept something else out.”
—Bard, during a vólkin lesson
Gregor
The damp air clings to my skin as I nearly crawl through the forest. Each step is so painful, I don’t know how much longer I can bear it. Every part of my body aches. Bruises from the beating cover my arms, legs, and ribs. The cut above my brow stings as sweat reaches it. The taste of blood lingers in my mouth, and the metallic flavor churns my stomach. I think I need to throw up.
Each step brings me closer to the vólkins.
The memory of Arnold haunts me. It runs over and over in my head every time I try to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see him.
Bard showed me the direction to Ávera, pointing it out like it was some kind of scenic route, but the reality is far worse. Theforest around me is dark and endless. Fog hangs over the moss-covered trees in a ghostly veil. Every shadow feels alive. Every rustle of leaves sends a jolt of fear down my spine. My hands tremble as I clutch the crystal hidden inside my arse. The vólkins might sense it, so the healer told me to keep it hidden until I can stash it somewhere in Ávera. If they find it, they’ll kill me without a second’s hesitation.
The thought of them finding me makes my heart race. I’ve learned enough to know what happens to traitors in vólkin territory. Every vólkin has those glowing crystals embedded in their foreheads, the source of their power and connection to their mates. And there are no female vólkins. That’s the part that stunned me most during the lessons Bard forced on me. Vólkins live for thousands of years, bonded eternally to their mates. When one dies, the other follows immediately, their souls connected beyond death. It’s a commitment I can’t even begin to comprehend.
