Page 38 of No Greater Sorrow

They reached the hallway with the statues of satyrs playing pan-flutes, their hooved feet kicking in the air. Violet stopped walking and turned to her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Just tell me the truth.”

“At first, I thought the voice would go away on its own. Once I realized it wasn’t fading, it had been too long. I knew you would be furious with me for not saying anything, and I’d already lied to you so much… It was stupid, to try to right that wrong by lying to you again. Iamsorry, Al. That’s the last of my secrets, I promise. Once we’re both Dark Saints, you can shoot your fire at me and get all the anger out of your system.”

Aleja didn’t know what to say. Maybe thiswasher fault. Violet had been her first real friend, and Aleja had grown up cloistered in her family’s estate, missing all the rituals of girlhood. Maybe this was normal. Maybe she should be quicker to forgive. After all, they’d both lived childhoods shadowed by the specter of death—Violet, her cancer, and Aleja, her family’s bargain with the Knowing One. And both had recently been through trauma few could relate to.

“It’s fine,” Aleja finally said, “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Come on.”

“Wait. That’s all you have to say?” Violet called, as Aleja stepped around her and approached the Second’s chamber.

“Yes. We’re about to start another Trial. I don’t want to be distracted.”

“Don’t you want to clear the air before we go in there?”

Of course, Aleja did. She wanted to fix things with Violet. Fuck, she wanted to fix things with Nicolas, even if she was furious with him. She wanted the Trials to be over. She wanted this stupid war to end before it started.

Garm glared at them. “Don’t argue so close to the Second’s chambers. Show strength. Show unification. You’re soon-to-be Dark Saints. Act like it.”

Violet threw her hands up and pressed on. The Second’s chamber was lit in red as usual, but this time, there were two pedestals in front of the pool. Atop each was a folded piece of paper beneath a chunk of lava rock.

They waited, but the only sound was water sloshing against the pool’s edge.

“Maybe we should read the notes,” Violet said after a long moment.

Aleja shrugged, choosing the one on the left. She nearly read the message out loud, but the first line stopped her.

This note is for you alone, Alejandra Ruiz, past and future Dark Saint of Wrath. Your next challenge will take you into the past once more, but not your own. Return what has been lost to the First, the Second, and the Third, but beware—all three must be made whole quickly or danger awaits. Whoever places the glass heart where it belongs may continue to a special reward. Do not communicate your aim to anyone but your hellhound or fail the Trial.

As she finished reading, the stone door rolled open. Violet folded her own note and tucked it into her jacket’s interior pocket. She furrowed her brow as she met Aleja’s eyes, but they walked in silence until Violet uncorked her vial of water and took a sip. When she was done, there was just enough water left for one more swallow.

The hall again opened to the outside, but this landscape was distinctly different from the jagged mountains of the last Trial. Bright sunlight burned Aleja’s face, jarring after the coolness of the cave. It was noon or close to it; the rolling hills were lush with verdant green ferns that framed a massive fig tree a quarter mile away.

“This is the Astraelis realm. I could see it through the Authority’s eyes,” Violet muttered.

Garm pressed closer against Aleja’s leg, but the valley and hills looked empty, aside from a few chittering bluebirds that startled out of the grass at the sight of a dog. Nothing stopped them as they wordlessly headed toward the tree, the only landmark so far.

“Smell anything, Garm?” Aleja said.

“Just plants. It feels like spring here. I recognize this place too.”

“You’ve been to the Astraelis realm?” Violet asked him.

“No, but it was in the stories Nicolas told me when I was a puppy. This is the First Tree. Not literally, I think.Mythologically.”

Very helpful, Garm, said her voice.

Shh. Don’t be sarcastic around my puppy. He can sense it, Aleja shot back.

“It’s a bit like the Second’s cave,” Garm continued, “Every time a new Messenger is chosen, they come to the First Tree and eat one of its figs. That’s how they absorb the First’s gifts.”

“The Astraelis have no problem eating from the tree of knowledge when it’s them to do it,” Aleja muttered.

The fig tree was a lovely thing—ancient, with branches sprawling to all sides, full of plump fruits hanging heavy enough to fall in a light breeze. Sugary sweetness filled the air, but nothing about the scent was appetizing. It was all too contrived, too perfect, like a witch’s gingerbread house in a fairy tale.

“Do you think we’re supposed to eat one? This is probably a bad time to mention that I really hate figs,” Violet said.

“No, that can’t be it.” Aleja tried to think, but before she could suggest it, Violet was already scrambling up the tree.

---