Page 223 of The Fifth Heir

During the first Trial, I had nearly completed my objective. Talia had warned me that victory would collapse Rafe’s platform. I abandoned the brazier, returned to the center, and survived.

Leander had abandoned an open Crown Gate.

None of us had won.

All of us had emerged.

“Don’t complete the objectives,” I said.

Rafe dragged himself upright. “Hadn’t planned on it.”

“They aren’t just instructions. They’re anchors. The Trial is using our attempts to resist as participation.”

Leander looked at the frost seal across from me. “Then we cease resisting.”

“And allow the torcs to drain us?” Sebastian asked.

“No,” I said. “We give it what it wants.”

Talia pushed onto her elbows. “It wants one of you to prevail.”

“The inscription doesn’t say one heir.”

She stared at me.

ONE POWER SHALL PREVAIL.

The answer had been before us since the demonstration.

Four powers had been forced into Talia, and she had not absorbed them. She had divided them, redirected them, and turned them into something none of us could create alone.

Her power did not defeat ours.

It gave them a common direction.

“Talia is the fifth power,” I said.

Leander’s gaze moved to the central platform. Understanding replaced the strain in his face. “Refraction.”

“The Trial can force our magic into the center,” Sebastian said, “but the altered runes corrupt its direction.”

“So we stop letting the Trial direct it,” I replied.

Rafe looked down at the channels beneath his gate. “You want us to send our power to her voluntarily.”

“No,” Talia said.

Her voice cracked through the chamber.

“If the platform couldn’t hold the forced discharge, it won’t hold a willing one.”

“It doesn’t need to hold it,” I said. “You do.”

“I barely redirected a fraction of it.”

“You redirected all four while someone had reversed the channels.”

“And it nearly killed me.”