Page 49 of The Crow Games

The Guardians pointed the way but didn’t accompany us down. Blue questioned them about what to expect, but they either had no idea or chose to remain tight-lipped.

At the bottom of the stairs was a wide room with thick round columns, the ceiling so high our footsteps echoed. Old books gathered dust in the corners. Spiders spun impressive cobwebs between them. Its center was cast in a shadow too dark to see into.

We gathered by the stairs where the torchlight was plentiful.

“Will Asher be joining us?” Nola whispered.

“He said he’d be here,” I shared, “but I don’t think we should wait on him to turn up. We can’t risk running out of time before the train leaves.”

“Alwin favors knowledge,” Ruchel said soothingly. “He isn’t the sort of god who would make a trial that would test our bodies the way the others do. I don’t think we need to fear for our safety here. Let’s get it done now, and Asher can join us later.”

She was underestimating the cruelty of the gods, but I was getting what I wanted so I kept my thoughts to myself.

We collected torches from walls that held images of Alwin’s clever fox and headed for the center of the room, lighting more of the fixtures on the columns. When the room was fully illuminated, Alwin appeared in his mortal form, seated behind a round oaken table. A silvery goblet dominated its center.

Nola startled at the sight of him. “Is he a ghost?”

There was something ethereal about him, more translucent than was natural. He dressed in violet robes secured with a thick cloth belt in a shade of deep burgundy. His golden skin and shaved head gleamed. Long ago, a bald head was seen as a sign of great intelligence, as hair was thought to be a hinderance to the mind, trapping unwanted thoughts. Images of Alwin had started these rumors that were discarded centuries later.

I had never met Alwin before, though he was one of very few gods who maintained a home in both the Upper Realm and the Otherworld.

Seeing his slightly translucent form reminded me of when Lis was little. Her consciousness had liked to wander the room while she slept. I’d have to chase it back into her body come morning.

“It’s a projection of him,” I said, recognizing the look and feel of one’s consciousness and the absence of a sigil that would have been left behind temporarily had he traveled here physically with his divine magic. It was too bad he hadn’t traveled here properly. I could have taken that sigil, and then we wouldn’t even have needed to compete in his trial.

Alwin motioned at the highbacked chairs scattered about behind him. We each collected one and sat before the table in a row. He took us in with narrowed amber eyes, a line deepening between his heavy brows. His gaze lingered the least amount of time on Blue and the longest on me at the end.

“You, soldier,” he said to Nola in a voice that rumbled, “have chosen the path of a warrior. If you think you are worthy of my gifts, drink from the chalice of trials and begin your journey.”

Nola glanced at me, seated next to her, then at Ruchel on her other side. “And we’re sure this trial won’t kill us?” she asked.

“It’ll be mind games,” Ruchel soothed. “You can’t harm yourself in your own mind, I don’t think.”

Nola blew out a breath. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

She stood and took the glowing goblet in her hands. It shone brightly, reflecting in her tawny hair and cobalt eyes. She sipped a red liquid that smelled like wine. Then she set it down and reclaimed her seat beside me.

“Well,” Nola grumped, “I don’t feel any—” She slumped in her chair, unconscious.

Ruchel yelped in surprise. I caught Nola, steadying her, stopping her from sliding to the floor. Her breathing puffed against my neck. I pressed my ear to her chest and heard the comforting sound of her heart beating.

“Your coven sister lives,” Alwin assured me. His gaze snapped to Ruchel next. “You have chosen the path of the mind,” he said approvingly. “Drink from the chalice of trials, my daughter, and begin your journey.”

Ruchel did as she was bid and didn’t make it to her chair before she collapsed, unconscious. Blue caught her and guided her to the floor gently to keep her from striking her head on the stone.

“You,” Alwin said to Blue, sorrow dropping his voice, “my poor devout child. You have chosen the path of survival. If you think you are worthy of my gifts, drink of the chalice of trials and begin your journey.”

Blue pushed her chair closer to the table and never left her seat while she drank down a hearty swallow. The chalice was so big she needed both hands to lift it. Her head tipped back in her chair, arms limp at her sides. She was slumbering peacefully seconds later.

When it was just Alwin and I, we had a staring match I didn’t win. Moments stretched into minutes.

“It is difficult to see which path you are on,” he explained. “The years behind you are many. Your path has changed after so many lifetimes. What you want and what is needed are at war within you, but to partake in my trial, you must first choose your journey, old one.”

I knew what fork in my road he was speaking of. Long ago I’d learned what mattered most of all. My path was clear. Coven and community had been the pillars of my existence, but then I’d met the little girl with the toothless smile. Lisbeth needed me, and I’d abandoned that path to keep her safe.

I was forever changed now. There was no going back.

“Vengeance,” I said somberly. “I am the retribution against those who took the one I love from me. I will not rest until the guilty are gone from this world. I am vengeance.”

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