Page 68 of Salem’s Rise

Rowan and Georgina are already attempting to climb the wall, neither willing to trust the other to remain behind on the pressure plate. Rowan reaches for another handhold, but instead of finding solid stone, his fingers tear away a loose section of the wall. A deep groan rolls through the chamber, and then everything happens at once.

The walls shudder as a crack splinters across the ceiling. Stone begins raining down as screams erupt around me. A slab crashes into the floor only feet away, another blocks the passage behind us, and suddenly the entire chamber seems to be collapsing. I look up just as another massive section of ceiling breaks free directly above, heading straight for me.

Before I can move, Silas is there. One arm wraps around my waist while the other reaches instinctively toward the falling stone.

It stops.

Not just slows.

Stops… completely.

The slab hangs above his raised hand while water drips from the cracks in its surface, trembling as though held by something I cannot see. Then Silas throws us sideways and the slab crashes where I stood just seconds ago. My head strikes his shoulder, dust blinding me temporarily while the chamber tears itself apart around us.

“Get on the fucking plate,” he growls at me.

“But—”

“Do it now, Jacqueline!”

Too terrified to argue further, I step on the plate. All I hear are more screams beneath the splintering timbers and collapsing earth. Jonah braces Lena against the wall just as another support beam crashes down between them, showering them with dirt and debris.

Silas starts climbing, and I watch him pull himself onto the upper footholds. For one sickening moment, I think he’s leaving me behind. I almost expect him to.

But then he reaches the opening, yanks the rope free, and throws it down. I grab hold as the chamber shudders beneath me. Moments later, his hand clamps around my wrist, hauling me onto the ledge just as another section of the ceiling gives way below. Together, we scramble through the hatch door and onto solid ground.

One by one, others emerge from the tunnels. Rowan. Georgina. Wren, shaking with tears. Lena, blood running down one side of her face. Van. Several more competitors whose names I haven’t yet learned.

I keep waiting for Jonah.

He never comes.

By the time dawn breaks over the cemetery, only twelve of us stand on the wet grass. Eight contestants remain below. Some are already dead. The rest will be soon.

Silas wins the First Trial.

Not because he reached the surface first, although technically he did, even though I was the first to find the exit, but because he was the first to understand what the trial was really testing.

After the surviving claimants had been counted, Mr. Ashcroft explained to us that every trial measured two kinds of strength. The obvious test was physical. The First Trial required us to navigate the underground tunnels and find the way out as fast as possible. Hidden beneath that, however, was a second test: the strengths of Earth and North. Those pillars were endurance, guardianship, and responsibility.

I solved the maze first, but Silas figured out the rest.

He understood that reaching the exit wasn’t enough. I would’ve left him to rot in the tunnels if I’d had the choice, but Silas climbed to the top, untied the rope, and threw it back for me after he could’ve escaped alone. According to Mr. Ashcroft, that single decision is what won Silas the First Trial.

I’m not sure I understand what the ability to navigate underground has to do with an ancient New England secret society, but I suppose I can understand why something like guardianship or responsibility might be valuable to the Veil. Mr. Ashcroft said Silas acted as a guardian when another life was in danger, accepting responsibility for someone other than himself.

Described that way, it almost sounds… honorable.

But I do not believe it for a second.

Everything Silas does is calculated. He must have known what the trial was secretly testing. Lucien could have told him, or perhaps Blackhollows grow up memorizing the structure of The Rites while ordinary children learn state capitals and multiplication tables. Silas knew saving me would matter. He knew there would be more at stake than reaching the surface first.

That does not make what he did meaningless.

I know that.

I can admit, reluctantly, that he earned his victory. He could have watched the chamber collapse on my head and left me underneath. He could have climbed alone or picked someone else to save. There were plenty in the tunnel that needed saving.

Instead, he chose me.