Page 436 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Why we kept getting up no matter how badly we got knocked down.

Why I had to keep trudging forward, even in a world that felt suffocating. Had to breathe in the absence of the woman who was the air in my lungs.

Because there were millions of tiny Winnies.

And every single one of them deserved a better world than this one.

Agony.

One second, I was staring down at Winnie, and the next my skull was splitting—cleaved in half. The baby was crying. My hands shook, suddenly cold and empty, as I groaned and crushed my palms to my temples. Like that could stop the pain.

My eyes.

My fucking eyes were burning, searing.

Acid-bright pain ate through my senses. Pressure on my back cut off the agony with a violent wall—a shield.

Alec. He was looking at me, sheer terror on his face.

“Winnie?” I breathed, head spinning, heart pounding as I fought to reorient myself.

“She’s okay,” he promised. “Fae’s got her.”

“What happened?”

He shook his head, amber eyes locking on mine. “You just—started screaming, man. Scared the shit out of us.” Realization dawned on his face as my stomach twisted.

“Ally.”

EIGHTY-EIGHT

THE THIRD TRIAL

ALVARA

“Why are we fighting here?” I demanded the morning after I fought the shifter, anger bristling as I took in the blinding sunlight flooding the arena. I wasn’t a fan of change. Especially not the unexpected kind. I wasn’t a fan of the pits either, but this was… ridiculous. The sun scalded my retinas, and I glared up at it—only to pause.

When was the last time I felt the sun?

Blinking, I dug through my memories and came up empty. That…

That couldn’t be right, could it?

“You’re on your third trial, El.”

“Trial?” I breathed, still studying the sky, blinking against the abrasive onslaught of light.

“We’ve talked about this,” Marley snapped, almost irritably. She seemed to catch herself, because her dark eyes slid closed and she pulled in a very long breath. “In order to become one of us, you must complete The Crucible. You’ve already won two of your fights in the arena. This is the third. You must walk out as the only victor to pass the trial.” Her words rang a bell, but it was distant—foggy, somehow. Grinding my teeth, I nodded rather than admitting that still more pieces of my mind had slipped through the cracks. It seemed that my ascension was broken—fewer things making sense the longer I was here.

Things like this enormous arena.

The onlookers were the same—loud, vulgar—but the stands were at least three times the size of those in the fighting pit and packed just as tightly.

I wore the same ridiculous ‘armor’, including the pleated skirt that was so impractical I wanted to scream. There was a distinct feeling that I was being mocked in some way, even if I couldn’t rationalize it.

Nothing made sense.

Not anymore.