Page 33 of Trial By Fire

Aric’s vision was blurring, the golden landscape fading in and out of focus.I do trust you. He tried to speak it, even though the words would not come. The tears were hot on his cheeks, his face a mask of fire and pain.But I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

Malekith’s expression softened, and he cradled Aric’s face in his free hand. The touch of his skin was searing, like the kiss of a branding iron, but Aric leaned into it, savoring the pain.

“You are stronger than you know. My beacon of hope.” Malekith’s voice was a prayer, a benediction. “I will find a way to you. I swear it on my very soul.”

The darkness was closing in around them, the shards of light fading to embers. Aric’s hand was slipping from Malekith’s, his body dissolving like sand in the wind.

“Malekith, please?—”

“Trust in me.”

Aric whispered the words, though he knew he wasn’t making a sound.

I trust you.

He shoved the words forward, toward the shadowy figure that heknewwas crouching before him, though he could notsee his face. He pushed them with all his might, willing them to reach their target.

I trust you.

The words left him, and he felt himself scattering, the dream fading away. But the figure’s hand was still on his face, and Aric clung to that touch, the heat of it searing his skin.

“Trust in me,” the figure echoed, his voice still that urgent rumble. And then the dream shattered, and Aric was alone in the darkness.

Rough hands yanked Aric from the darkness, shattering the lingering echoes of the dream. He gasped, his heart hammering in his chest as he was hauled to his feet. The world swam before his eyes, the cold stone of the cell floor giving way to the heat of the demon guards who towered over him.

“Stop, I beg you, please, you must listen?—”

A roar filled his ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own voice, raw and desperate. His arms flailed as he tried to break free, but the guards’ grip was like iron. Cold voidfire wrapped around him, and he screamed as it ate into his skin, burned and twisted?—

And then it was gone, a fleeting memory, leaving behind only the scent of charred flesh and the guards looking more than a little unsettled. But they didn’t release their hold on him, and for that, Aric was almost grateful.

The guards flanked him as they dragged him from the cells, the fortress looming around them. He tried to take in every detail, every twist and turn of the mazelike corridors, but he was disoriented, the world tilting and spinning.

“Where are you taking me?” he managed to croak.

No response.

The guards’ faces were masks, revealing nothing of their thoughts. Aric’s heart sank. Had his conversation with Sylthris been nothing but a cruel taunt, a game to break his spirit?

No. He couldn’t afford to give in to despair. He had to believe that there was a chance, however slim, that Sylthris was telling the truth, that there was a way out of this.

He squared his shoulders, and let the guards lead him through the darkness.

Eleven

The town center of Drindal was a dreadful sight to behold, even in the cool stillness of early morning. Smoke still curled from the wreckage of the recent siege, the acrid stench of it mingling with the earthy scent of fresh demon blood and the sharp, metallic tang of human. Chained human laborers and lesser demons toiled to clear the debris and tend to the wounded, while the twisted forms of the more heavily wounded humans and the remains of the town guard served as a warning to any who might dare to resist.

Aric’ tried to calm his racing heart as the demon guards hauled him up the grand staircase and through the towering doors of the town hall, the stench of smoke and blood thick in the air. The marble floors had been scrubbed clean, but the dark stains still lingered in the cracks and crevices, and the walls had been lined with chains and implements of torture. The air echoed with the sounds of screams and the crack of a whip, and the harsh grating of stone on stone as a demon hauled a heavy load from the wreckage.

No one paid them much heed as they approached the grand staircase that led up to the overlook, but the scent of fear hungheavy in the air. Even the demons showed little of the confidence they’d exhibited during the siege.

The guards yanked Aric forward, and he stumbled up the stairs, his hands bound behind his back. His skin was already slick with sweat, his pulse racing with a heady mix of fear and adrenaline. He scanned the overlook, searching for a way out, but it was hopeless. The guards flanking him were massive, their demon forms towering over him, and more were stationed at every exit, their eyes glinting with malice.

The crowd at the overlook fell silent as Aric was dragged through the throng, hundreds of pairs of eyes turning to watch his passage with expressions that ranged from morbid curiosity to open hatred. The demon lords lined the walls, their wings twitching with restless energy as they whispered to one another, and Aric caught snatches of his name amidst the hissing laughter.

At the far end of the overlook, seated on a grotesque throne cobbled together from blackened wood and bone, was Sovereign Zaxos. His obsidian skin seemed to absorb the light, and his eyes glowed with a fierce intensity as he stared at Aric. A cruel smile tugged at his black lips, and Aric shivered, the icy grip of his fear threatening to overwhelm him.

The guards forced Aric to his knees before the Onyx Throne, the stone cool and unyielding beneath his bare skin. Sovereign Zaxos said nothing as he regarded Aric, his expression a mask of pure malice. Aric held his head up, his gaze steady, but he could feel a cold sweat trickling down his back, and he knew his face must be drained of all color.

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