Page 196 of The Mortal Trials

“You knew her?” I rasp, fighting the emotion that swells from hearing him speak her name with not only familiarity, but fondness. Respect.

Everyone who knew her couldn’t help but admire her. She was a force of nature. She was a true hero, one to many people who listened to her words and took them into their hearts.

“My name is Koda Zivai.”

A sob tears from my chest and I cover my mouth. My sister adored this man. She thought the world of him. He was her mentor. The one she sought advice from, even if she’d already sought mine. When Koda pulls me into a fatherly hug and pats my back, I try not to break apart.

“I was fortunate enough to be her editor at The Parthenon Press when she was first hired and only writing the occasional assigned article.” He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “She was so bright. Before I blinked, she’d moved past my desk and far beyond my expertise, but Carina always kept in touch. She used to bring me a honey cake when your Abuela made extra.”

I laugh and desperately try to stave the tears, because we never had extra, which meant she gave him her portion and went hungry. Back then, we were spread even thinner than we are now.

My commission might be meager to some, but it’s provided us much more than we otherwise would have had, despite the time away from my family.

And then the truth pierces my gut: Koda’s nomination can’t be a coincidence.

I gasp. “We’re the reason you’re here.”

Koda takes my hand and pats the back of it. “The gods punish who they want, when they want. It’s anyone’s guess as to why, and in the end it doesn’t matter. Not to me, and certainly not to them.” He winks conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell Ares I’m ready to go or else he’ll send me back home.”

“Were you with her during the broadcast?”

I don’t need to clarify which one. He knows. And when he winces, I know I guessed right. But he straightens his back and puffs his chest. “I ran the camera for her. A favor for a dear friend. One I don’t regret in the slightest.”

A favor he will pay for with his life.

“Don’t worry about me, Callalie. Survive this trial, and a god will champion you.” He cranes his neck to look at the towering columns stretching skyward. “Every stage of this is just a move on a gameboard. And games can be won by any player.” Koda turns to August. “Should we go inside?”

The enormous structure throws its shadow over the hilltop. Unlike last night, when music poured from its center, the temple is completely, eerily silent within. The silence is somehow far worse than the noise.

“Do you hear that?” Niall asks, coming to stand with us.

I nod.

“I don’t hear anything,” August quietly observes after a moment.

“Exactly,” Niall agrees.

Koda starts forward, his gait weak and unsteady from the climb. If I can protect him today, I will. I owe him that and much more.

The fabric hanging between the nearest columns reaches out and sweeps sideways to allow us into the hollow heart of the building. Niall jogs in and catches up.

None of the divine or any of the contestants who entered before us are here, though we can hear their voices. In the center of the stone floor, a staircase descends. Instead of plunging into darkness at the bottom, there’s a faint yellow glow.

Koda laughs and shakes his head. “They had us climb all the way up here just to make us climb back down.”

August and I help him down the stairs and come face to face with an activated portal, incandescent and swirling with power.

A single step, and I’m through.

Strong wind pushes plush, silver-bellied clouds across a robin’s egg blue sky. And sky is all I can see, even where there should be the ground in the distance.

“Salt flats,” August says, crouching to rake his fingers over the stark white crystals. “It’s an illusion. The salt’s reflective.”

Anxiety claws at my throat. This is a giant fucking mirror.

We squint against the intense brightness when the clouds move to reveal the sun, further melting the horizon.

Some contenders are already here, and the rest arrive within minutes until all thirty mortals stand on the salt, staring at the illusory landscape.