Page 87 of Severed Heir

The last time I crossed this path, Archer was with me. Autumn had painted the land in gold and green. Now, frost crept over the onyx stone and swallowed the golden gates of theSerpent Academy. Even the glassy black serpent coiled atop the highest peak had lost its shine.

Even as I passed the humming six trail wards, I didn’t let myself wonder how many more bones had been buried beneath the snow, under the Crimson Wall. I didn’t look toward the Summer wards. The grief there was too fresh. But it swelled anyway, slow and brutal.

Damien was gone. And for the first time, I understood I would never see him again.

Maybe that was the part that finally broke me.

“You’re gone,” I whispered into the silence, almost expecting to hear the mocking one reply.

I didn’t make it three steps before a blue-winged griffin dropped from the clouds, landing in a gust of icy wind. Its wings folded against its broad ribs, and Lasar stepped down.

His white cape dragged across the path as he shielded his eyes with one hand, the other resting casually on the hilt of his iced blade. “I always disliked sand,” he said. “And being trapped on an island. But for the final trial of the season, I thought I’d make an appearance.”

I replied, keeping my voice light, “Well, who wouldn’t want to witness the grandest event of the season.”

“I’ll say your titling ceremony might take the prize for that one.” He eyed me. “How does it feel to be on the other side of the glass?”

I tried not to flinch. “After my titling ceremony? I’m just glad peoplewon’tbe watching me,” I said.

He scratched his white beard. “A shame your father couldn’t be here. This moment was important when my son claimed my title. People begin to believe in your worth.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Well, my father is a bit preoccupied.”

Lasar’s breath clipped sharp through the cold. “Perhaps someone will rise to claim it today. The lindworm chooses who will slay it. Maybe it’s time for the Thorne legacy to rise.”

We walked toward the trial grounds, and I realized I hardly knew anything about the titling laws. “What do you mean it chooses?”

“All beasts possess a power that can be claimed. When a rider kills the lindworm, that creature’s strength passes to them. It heightens their resilience. Makes their wounds hurt less. Their power becomes stronger.” He paused. “The power of a Serpent is unmatched. But a lindworm never chooses wrong. It knows when a bloodline is spent and when a legacy should end. I was there when it was between Victor and your mother.”

I swallowed hard. “You were there for her trial?”

Lasar nodded. “I recall the moment it came down to her and Victor. It was almost like the lindworm let her choose between them.”

“And she chose Victor?” I scoffed.

“Victor survived the land,” Lasar said simply. “Without him, Ravensla would’ve fallen decades ago.”

I looked forward, eyes fixed on the trail ahead. “My father needs an heir or North Colindale will fall.”

“And someone will win one today,” Lasar replied. Then he slowed, and something darker crossed his expression. “Try not to absorb yourself too much into the politics. This is a cruel world, Severyn and many have lost themselves along the way.”

We entered the field as a dozen Serpents filtered onto the trial grounds, followed moments later by the king himself, settling three rows up in the iron bleachers.

Bubbly white wine from Ravensla was poured into serpent-stemmed glasses and passed around like this was a celebration, not a reckoning. It felt like Skyfall again—a death match softened by silver binoculars and polite applause. Even the bleachers werefull of cloaked civilians, some placing bets in quiet gold on who they thought would win.

It should have been Damien out there.

It might have been me.

Lasar stood beside me, sensing my unease like it was a second power.

“You must wear your emotions like a mask,” he murmured. “Don’t smile. Don’t stare too long. Stay with me if you’d like. If my son were standing where you are, I’d want someone beside him.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, breath catching. “This is… a lot.”

Truly, I felt like an imposter. Every move felt borrowed, every breath a performance for eyes I couldn’t see.

We climbed four rows up together. I sank into the cold iron seat, folding my hands neatly in my lap as if that might still their shaking.

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