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Survive.

“They’re waiting for a show, Taur,” Aerynn’s smooth voice called out from the right of the gate.

My brother stepped into the light, his golden hair braided back, his fair skin catching the dawn. He wore the formal silks of the crown prince. His blue eyes landed on my face and the usual levity vanished from his expression, replaced by a deep seriousness.

Beside him stood our father. King Fjörn didn’t move. He remained on the higher step of the carriage platform, his green eyes cold and completely detached as he looked down at the crowd.

Right. Don’t die, but also don’t embarrass the crown.

The Drakhar bloodline didn’t just carry titles; it carried the heavy weight of old magic. I could always tell when my father was mapping out futures—his green eyes would go completely hollow, calculating timelines across the stone like a grandmaster checking pieces on a board, reducing everyone in the keep to a pawn waiting to be moved.

And Aerynn... standing beside my brother was like standing near a lightning rod before a strike. When his temper flickered, the sharp bite of ozone would coat the air, the Stormcall in his blood pulling at the static electricity of the peaks. His power kept the High Lords bowing low, terrified of the storm lurking beneath his royal polish.

And me? I was untested. A half-human raised on Earth, stepping into a pool that demanded total magic purity.

Not on Earth, and certainly not here.

If I survived, the waters would unlock whatever legacy sat dormant in my veins. If I failed, I was just another mistake erased by the trial.

“Don’t look at them,” Caspian whispered beside me, his frame shifting slightly to block the view of a smirking lord in the front row. His hand remained steady beneath mine, his voice dropping low. “Keep your eyes on the path.”

I met my father’s green stare one last time, looking for any trace of a father’s concern behind his stoic expression. There was none.

I turned my head toward the long line of lanterns leading down into the dark valley where the silver water waited.

Let them watch. I was stepping into the abyss, and I was going to find out exactly what was hiding in my blood.

TEN

The cavern of the Mani Vatn felt like an ancient wound carved into the bedrock of the mountain—massive, vaulted, and thick with the smell of old rain and damp slate.

High above, a jagged skylight cut through the stone ceiling, letting pale dawn light spill onto the center of the chamber where the sacred pool sat, stamped directly into the dark granite floor. Hundreds of spectators filled the rising galleries, their glass lanterns casting a nervous sea of blue and silver reflections across the wet stone walls.

They were dead silent. The low hum of voices had died away, replaced by an oppressive quiet. Every eye locked onto the silver-white silk gown clinging to my skin, and on my bare feet as I walked toward the ledge.

At the southern edge stood my father, his green eyes completely blank as his mind tracked distant, shifting futures. Beside him, Aerynn was a rigid wall of tension, the sharp, metallic smell of ozone rising off his tunic—a quiet sign of the Stormcall magic humming beneath his skin. Across the gap, Lord Dellyn watched from the shadows of his gallery, that same empty, controlled smile resting on his lips.

Caspian stood two paces behind me, a dark shape in his formal velvet doublet. I didn’t turn around, but I could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard stance of his shoulders telling me he hadn’t taken his eyes off my exposed back.

“Step forward, daughter,” the King’s voice echoed off the stone arches, flat and unfeeling.

I drew a long, slow breath and walked to the edge of the granite pool. Below me, the liquid didn’t look like water. It looked like a vast, unbroken mirror of molten mercury, thick and completely motionless.

Survive.

I took the final step.

The surface gave way without a splash, wrapping around my skin and pulling me under. Instantly, the liquid turned ridiculously heavy, like iron chains wrapping around my ankles and dragging me straight down into the deep.

My instincts screamed, and I tried to gasp, but the thick silver fluid flooded my mouth and throat, searing like fire as it sealed my chest.

Down. Down. Down.

The faint light from the skylight faded above me, replaced by an absolute, suffocating dark that pressed against my ribs with terrifying weight. I thrashed against the heavy fluid, my hands clawing at nothing, my legs kicking against the unseen tide dragging me down. But all the strength I’d built on the training mats was useless against the crushing mass of the pool. My vision blurred, dark spots dancing across my eyes as my lungs burned for air.

This is where the half-breed drowns.

Then, three shapes formed out of the silver gloom.