“I guess I should be grateful I walked away in one piece,” Helaina commented.
“If anyone had a chance against her, it would be you. Is it true what she said, that your eyes are a mark of Valhoor?”
Helaina wasn’t used to being so open with her secret, but it was out now. It was nice not having to bury the answers for once.
“Yes, or something like that. My bloodline is traced back to Ures, though. I’m not Valhoor’s descendant.”
“Oh, we know that. There’s only one that can be traced back directly to him,” Agatha said.
“Who?” Helaina asked. She’d never read that.
“Theo, everyone knows that.”
Helaina couldn’t make sense of it. His ancestral god was the same one that cursed her.
“I’m a descendant of Ures too.” The wide-eyed girl beamed at the fact they had something in common. “He gave me the ability to mold metal after my trial. Not as impressive in battle as shadows or skin changing, but I’ve made a lot of our weapons here, even some of the armor,” she said with pride.
Helaina briefly glanced down at the craftsmanship on her chest. It was beautiful. Perfectly symmetric. How wonderful it must be to be able to create art instead of death.
Agatha pushed a delicious-smelling meal in front of her face. It was still a struggle to eat. That inner voice sometimes ground at her, reminding her to deprive herself, to punish herself for the things she had done. She didn’t listen; she had held her own today. She ate, without an ounce of guilt. Picking at bread and fruits and a large cut of cured meat.
“Everyone talks of these trials, yet no one has described them. What happens after you use the dagger?” she asked between bites.
“I think we all stopped swapping stories centuries ago,” Aaron explained. “It’s so different for everyone. They test different parts of you, different weaknesses. Some physical, others mental. No trial is the same.”
Not exactly the answer she was hoping for.
Agatha exchanged a glance with Aaron, and he nodded in agreement with her unspoken words.
“You can take the first sleep,” Aaron offered with a boyish grin. “You look like you need it. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”
Helaina didn’t know what to say. It was a small act of selflessness. It meant the world to her. “Are you sure?” She felt her eyelids growing heavier already.
“Absolutely,” they both answered one after the other.
Helaina let a closed-lip smile expand on her face. She’d thought her mouth had forgotten how to make such an expression. She laid her head atop the poor excuse for a pillow. Her belly was full and her skin was warm, protected from the chill by the tower walls.
Seconds later, she was dreaming.
Dreaming of that dark room again. That black forgotten void. She was so tired even her subconscious begged to stay here. Begged to live here. Sure, it was cold and lonely, but it was free of all the expectations and responsibility. She felt shielded from all the guilt and grief in here.
Every time she had this dream, she found it harder and harder to wake up. Something was drawing her here.
Then she heard the screaming. Her eyes popped open.
Aaron and Agatha were gone.
Helaina’s eyes darted in all directions. The only indication they had been here was the bloodied handprints on the windowsill.
Another pained scream, high-pitched and feminine.
Agatha.
Helaina leaped to her feet and ran to the window. Even with the brightness in the stars, she couldn’t see the ground from up here. The torches below had gone out.
Another shrill shriek sounded over the breeze.
She snatched the lantern up and bolted down the circular stairs. Damn her aching leg, she should be faster than this, she needed to go faster.
