Three nights later, Kilian found Lana, Moric and I alternating between training and practicing magic in the sparring room.
Lana had grown comfortable with summoning a beacon of light without having it swallow her completely. But Moric was still struggling somewhat with his grasp on Ayden’s magic.
Earth magic was temperamental, he told us. Whenever he tried diverting the current in each simulation run, he ended up sprouting roots across the ground.
We still had time, Lana and I assured him. But it was more to soothe his anxiety. The truth was we were swiftly running out of it. The third Trial was in one day. The Rite would follow shortly after.
Optimism felt like an elusive dream these days, and I was cautious of where I placed my hope, but we had more of a chance than we’d had last week, and for that I was grateful.
I still hadn’t told anyone about the dark voice inside my head; the one that always longed for battle and bloodshed. It had begun emerging more frequently but, truthfully, it was growing on me. I didn’t know what that said about my frame of mind.
My gaze met Kilian’s as he strode across the room, dressed for war.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked. I hadn’t seen him all day. He’d been absent from our training session earlier as well.
“Greyhaven, resolving a strike.”
“A strike?”
He waved a hand. “It happens every so often. This time it was over fair wages down at the quay. I had to diffuse it.”
It sounded so… normal. We were fighting to see the next day but on the rest of the isles, life continued. But from what Kilian had told me about the real purpose of the Trials, it seemed that way of life was also at stake.
“Anyway,” Kilian continued. “I’ve been meaning to find you to talk.”
“In private?” I asked, glancing at Moric and Lana, who weren’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.
“No. It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll come out anyway, so I might as well tell you all. It concerns the third Trial.”
Lana dropped her practice dagger and crossed her arms, waiting.
“You’re aware that the fae that once ruled Lortan?” Kilian asked.
“Yes. Azrael destroyed them.” I couldn’t help but play Augustine’s words back in my head:That is the version of history we have been taught.
Kilian shook his head, regretfully. “The fae weren’t destroyed. Not all of them, at least. A few remain in a sealed-off portion on Lortan. On what is still Cosanus. Only elven with special clearance for the Mortal Trials know this.”
My eyes grew wide, my jaw dropping open. Moric took a step back, as if trying to put distance between himself and whatever was about to come next.
I had thought Augustine’s theories were fanciful at best, mad at worst. For the fae to still exist, to be sequestered on this very isle, their entire history warped, and no one outside of the Mortal Trials knowing about it…
“How? Why?How?” I repeated.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is the third Trial takes place on Cosanus. And your objective will be to find the cave in there that houses the remaining fae. We think there’s a weapon hidden with them. You’ll need to bring it back,” Kilian said.
“Youthink?” Lana scowled. “Gods above. If you hadn’t already sent us into a monster’s lair in the first Trial, I’d think you were joking.”
But Kilian was not the joking type. At least not about something like this.
“What does the weapon do?” I asked.
He stared levelly at me. “I hope it’ll save the world.”
Moric glanced between the two of us. “One of you needs to explain exactly what the fuck is going on.”
I still needed to tell them everything Kilian had shared about the Trials that day in the park. “Later. I’ll brief you both later.”
Kilian carried on, “The fae were left in Cosanus before it was sealed off from the remainder of Lortan, and no elven can cross to retrieve the weapon.” He gave me a pained look. “It has to be you.”
