Page 50 of Trial By Fire

“You did it,” Malekith said, his voice a hushed prayer in the darkness. “You saved them.”

Aric’s eyes drifted closed, a sense of peace and contentment washing over him. He was safe. The prisoners were safe. And in this one, fragile moment, it was just him and Malekith, bound together in the darkness.

With effort, Aric pushed himself into a sitting position, his muscles aching and his head throbbing. He felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of aetherbeasts, the raw, unbridled power of the spell having taken a heavy toll on his body.

“Are you all right, my star?” Malekith’s voice was laced with concern as he helped Aric sit up. “You pushed yourself to the brink and beyond. I was . . . afraid for you.”

Aric’s heart clenched at the raw emotion in Malekith’s voice, the vulnerability of his words. He reached up to cup the demon’s cheek, his own hand trembling with exhaustion. “I’m all right,” Aric said, though he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. “I had to . . . protect them.”

A soft smile flickered on Malekith’s lips, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Aric’s hand. “And you did. You were magnificent, my star.”

Aric’s cheeks flushed at the praise, and he looked away, the chamber still spinning around him. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Your training . . . it helped me focus the counter-spell.”

“Anything for you, Aric.” Malekith’s words were a vow, a promise, and Aric felt them settle in his soul. “I would move the very mountains to keep you safe.”

Before Aric could respond, a low rumble filled the chamber, and Sovereign Zaxos’s voice boomed across the arena. The demon court was on their feet, their voices a cacophony, but Zaxos’s words were meant for Aric alone.

“Aric Solarian, you have proven yourself worthy of the demon realm’s consideration,” Zaxos said, his stony features unreadable. “But one final trial remains. The most important of all.”

Aric’s heart pounded in his ears as Zaxos’s guards approached, their weapons at the ready. With a shiver of foreboding, he turned to Malekith, and found the same apprehension mirrored in Malekith’s eyes.

Before Zaxos could respond, however, a figure pushed through the crowd. Sylthris, her silver hair spilling over her shoulders, glided down the steps of the dais toward them. Aric shrank back instinctively, but Sylthris’s attention was fixed on Zaxos, and she paid Aric no mind.

Sylthris leaned in close to Zaxos, her words too low for Aric to hear. He glanced at Malekith, but Malekith was staring straight ahead, his expression carefully blank. Aric’s skin prickled with unease. Whatever was happening, he was no more than a pawn in a game between these powerful demons.

Zaxos listened to Sylthris in silence, his eyes never leaving Aric’s. When she was finished, he straightened, his voice echoing through the chamber.

“Then it is decided,” Zaxos said. “The final trial will take place in the human realm, in the city of Drindal. The demon armies will begin preparations at once to resume our campaign anew.”

Drindal. Aric’s heart sank. What had changed that made Zaxos confident once more that his forces could resume their campaign? What could Sylthris have learned?

“Prepare your forces, generals,” Zaxos said. “We march at dawn.”

Sixteen

Aric was in the dungeons beneath Drindal once more when he heard the thump.

He’d been squatting against the wall, struggling with trying to make sense of the power sigils that controlled his manacles. Why could he only seem to fight past them in dire circumstances, and not other times? Useless; he might have been better off leaving them alone.

He hadn’t heard the other guards approach, but he’d smelled them—days’ worth of sweat, demonsteel, and something else, sweet and fetid like old meat. The stench had wrapped around the back of his throat, clung to the insides of his nostrils. As much as he didn’t want to give in and use the sigils’ power, he wanted a sip of water, a cool cloth for his face even more.

A thump. And the sound of a body sliding down the bars that separated him from freedom. Well, freedom was a generous word, he mused, staring up at the deadbolt that held the door in place. Aric tensed, ready to spring up, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, they made out the unconscious form of his guard. Then General Vezera stepped forward, her scarred, ashen face twisting into a smirk.

“I’ve orders for you to meet with the prince, little mage,” Vezera said, her voice like gravel. “Better make it quick, though, before this lug wakes up.”

Aric felt like a candle burning at both ends as he loped through the streets of Drindal. The town was a strange mix of its usual self and the war that had torn through it—the markets empty, the steam rising from the hot springs, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, a sense of unease that lingered.

He was on high alert, every sense stretched taut as he scanned the crowd for any sign of danger. The guards were out in force, their demonsteel weapons glinting in the harsh light, and Aric couldn’t help but flinch every time he caught sight of them. But it wasn’t just the guards he had to worry about. There were humans here too, their faces drawn and weary from the long years of war. Any one of them could be a potential ally, or a threat, and Aric had to be constantly on his guard.

And then there was the gnawing ache in his chest, the raw and tender place where his feelings for Malekith had taken root. Aric tried to push it down, to focus on the task at hand, but it was no use. Every shadow that moved in the corner of his eye, every whisper on the wind, and he was back in Malekith’s arms, feeling his soft, insistent touch.

Stop it, he scolded himself. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now. His life, and the fate of both realms, hung in the balance, and he had to see this through.

Aric arrived at the predetermined meeting spot General Vezera had specified: a nondescript building near the edge of town. He kept to the shadows as he approached, the night air cool and damp, with the scent of smoke and blood lingering on the breeze from the recent battles. The town was under heavy patrol from the demon soldiers, but so far, there was no sign that his travel was being noted.

Aric crouched down and whispered the complex incantation, his words like honey and acid as they wove through the air. The wards guarding the building shuddered, then fell away, revealing the hidden door. With one last glance around, Aric slipped inside and descended the narrow staircase into darkness.

Aric’s boots echoed on the stone steps as he descended deeper into the earth, the air growing colder and damper with each passing moment. He’d never known of this passage’s existence, but it seemed the demons had a network of secret tunnels that stretched far beyond the town’s boundaries. The walls were rough hewn stone, the floor a jumble of loose rocks and packed dirt, and the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and something older, more primal.

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