Page 37 of Trial By Fire

“Nothing worth having ever is.”

They stood like that for a long moment, the only sound the hushed rustle of their clothing and the distant cry of a twilight bird. Aric felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a precipice, the ground shifting beneath his feet, but as long as Malekith was there to anchor him, he was unafraid.

“Come,” Malekith said at last, his voice a low rumble. “Let’s take a walk in the gardens. I have a feeling you could use the fresh air.”

Aric smiled, grateful for the offer, and let Malekith lead him back through the corridors and out into the night.

The gardens were a shadow of what they must have been in their prime, the moonlight revealing the tangle of withered plants and overgrown pathways. Without the protective wards that once shielded the estate, the wilderness of the demon realm was quick to encroach, the trees stretching their gnarled limbs hungrily over the walls. But even in their neglected state, the gardens held a fragile beauty, and Aric felt a pang of regret that he’d been gone for so long.

Malekith led him through the overgrown paths, the crunch of dead leaves and brittle branches the only sound in the stillness. The guards maintained a watchful distance, but made no move to follow them as they wandered deeper into the gardens. Aric’s gaze was drawn to the skeletal trees, their twisted limbs silhouetted against the starry sky, and he couldn’t help but shiver.

“The demon realms are seeping in,” Malekith said, as if reading his thoughts. “This is what happens to your lands when the protective wards fall, I suppose.”

Malekith hesitated, then led Aric to a secluded corner of the gardens, a stone bench overlooking a moonlit fountain. The water had long since run dry, the basin caked with a layer of black mold, but it held a strange beauty, like a work of art in a modern gallery.

“I know you have not been afforded much opportunity to study our magic as you would like,” Malekith said, voice low. “But if you are to have any hope of passing the trials, let alone surviving them, you must be willing to embrace all that is required of you. And that includes mastery of demon magic.”

Aric’s chest tightened at the thought. His research had taken him to the very edges of what was considered acceptable within the mage order, delving into forbidden tomes and ancient grimoires that spoke of unspeakable things. Malekith had allowed him to dig even deeper, but only in sparing doses before they fell too deeply under the Sovereign’s watchful eye. But to actually practice those dark arts, to allow their taint to seep into his soul . . .

“I understand the risks,” Malekith said. He was standing close to Aric now, close enough that Aric could feel the heat of his body, a comforting presence against the chilly night. “But I need your word. Your promise that you will not turn away from me in this.”

Aric turned to him, and in the moonlight, Malekith’s eyes were a bottomless black, a portal to a world of darkness and secrets. But there was something else there, too, something that shone with a fierce, yearning light.

“Anything,” Aric said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Malekith’s expression softened, and he reached out, his hand coming to rest on Aric’s chest, over his heart. “I don’t deserveyour faith in me,” he said. “But I will spend the rest of my days earning it, if that is what it takes.”

Aric’s heart ached, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t know how to explain to Malekith that the very thing that drew him to Malekith was also what terrified him. He had spent his whole life on the fringes, always looking in, never quite a part of the world he longed to know. And now, with Malekith, there was a chance, however small, that he could find a place for himself, a purpose that was more than just his duty to his people.

But that same pull threatened to consume him, to unravel everything he had ever known. But he was in too deep to turn back now. All he could do was trust that Malekith was right, that there was a path forward that didn’t end in more bloodshed and betrayal.

“I’m here,” Aric said, and the words felt like a vow, a binding oath. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Malekith’s eyes fluttered closed, and he exhaled slowly, as if he’d been holding his breath. With a soft, almost imperceptible sound, he drew Aric into his arms, and Aric went willingly, his own arms wrapping around Malekith’s lean waist. He was so warm, so solid, and Aric let himself melt against him, wanting to forget, if only for a little while.

Malekith’s lips brushed against the crown of Aric’s head, a gentle, reverent touch. “Thank you,” he said, and Aric felt the words resonate through him, down to his very bones.

Then Malekith took a step back. With a soft incantation in the demon tongue, Malekith cast a spell, and the air around them seemed to shift, to thicken and coalesce. Aric’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the magic-restricting sigils on the bindings around his wrists loosen, just slightly, just enough to permit a trickle of power to seep into him.

And then power rushed through him, a heady, intoxicating rush. It was like coming up for air after being submerged indarkness, like the first rays of dawn after a long night. He felt the magic singing in his blood, and for a moment, it was all he could hear, a wild, exultant cry.

Malekith’s eyes widened, a slow, satisfied smile curving his lips. “There you are,” he said, something like awe tinging his tone. “I will never tire of that look on your face. The way you shine when you’re in your element. It’s . . . intoxicating.”

The heat washing over Aric’s face had nothing to do with the flames.

“Show me your fire,” Malekith said, raw hunger in his voice. “Let it burn in you.”

Aric closed his eyes, and in his mind’s eye, he saw the golden flames, felt their heat. With a whispered incantation, he drew on his magic, letting it build and swell within him. The power rushed through his veins, a molten river, and he shaped it, honed it, until it was a white-hot point of light.

Malekith’s hands were on his shoulders, and the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of Aric’s tunic. Aric’s skin felt feverish, too sensitive, too alive. He was hyperaware of every point of contact between them, of the press of Malekith’s chest against his back, of the soft puffs of his breath in Aric’s hair.

“Good,” Malekith said, his voice a low, sultry rumble. “Now, let me show you how to weave that fire into your shadow.”

Aric nodded, his throat too tight for words, and Malekith’s hands slid down his arms, tracing the lines of Aric’s muscles. A shiver ran through him, and Malekith’s lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. Aric’s heart was pounding, and he was sure Malekith felt it, the frantic rhythm of his pulse.

“Shadows are not just absence of light,” Malekith said, his breath hot against Aric’s ear. “They are a living thing, a place of power and potential. You have only to reach out and claim it as your own.”

Aric nodded again, his mind a hazy blur, and let Malekith guide him through the steps. As he wove the fire of his magic into the shadow that danced at his feet, he felt something shift within him, a fundamental reordering. The power was heady, intoxicating, and he understood, for a fleeting moment, the pull it held for Malekith.

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