Page 89 of Immortal Throne

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

The swirling black and gray mist of the final portal beckoned me like a cold lace of frost skittering over autumn leaves. Beautiful, delicate, intoxicating in a strange way.

I should run in the opposite direction.

My hindsight rang in my head. Whatever waited for me on the other side wasn’t safe. I’d lose a piece of myself once I stepped through the swirling mists, and the life I knew would be forfeit in one way or another.

With only the two of us left in the competition, Ryker stood solemnly and silently at my side. He stared straight ahead unblinking. Although I thought I saw a hint of hesitation on his part too, I knew better than to think it would change anything. Ryker wouldn’t back down and neither would I.

Chupey leaned against my leg in support. “Don’t be nervous,” he told me.

“Do I look it?” I asked him.

“It’s the final trial. Keep going, Sloane. You’re almost there,” he said. “You’ll have your life back.”

Ryker visibly shook himself and glanced down at my familiar. He opened his mouth to say something, but the council members stepped forward.

“It’s time,” Moloch said. “May the best demon win.”

Without another word, Ryker and I stepped forward through the swirling darkness in tandem and thankfully I didn’t fall flat on my face. Apparently, embracing my demon nature and unlocking all my magic had some perks.

Ryker walked ahead as I adjusted to the change in lighting.

Wearing my tank top, shorts, and a sturdy pair of boots, I stepped onto a wide circular platform that seemed to hang in the darkness with nothing anchoring it in space. I glanced around to survey my surroundings, but the mist made of shadows hid anything and everything beyond the hard, stone platform I stood on. Even the air gave nothing away–no smell, no wind. This place felt like a frozen moment in time and place.

“Ryker?” I called out, listening to the strange way my voice echoed back to me. He’d walked into those shadows, and I lost sight of him.

Slowly, the reverberating sound of footsteps grew louder as a shape disengaged from the darkness.

Ryker.

With a fucking sword in his hand and a guilty expression.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

But I knew. I knew in that instant what the last trial meant and what was expected of us.

This trial, courtesy of the last demon, Moloch, would pit us against one another. A fight to the death with the winner taking the throne.

I shook my head as Ryker stepped closer. I didn’t have a weapon. I swallowed over the rapidly growing lump in my throat. My mouth had gone dry, and it felt like acid ran inside my veins instead of blood. I reached for my magic, the same magic that let me bond with Wrathen, form portals, and fight like a beast against werewolves. The power surged up and the same sword from the last trial materialized in my hand.

I glanced down at the weapon and then back at Ryker. “I don’t want to do this.”

“You knew this was how things would end,” Ryker finally said, regret laced in those words.

“I guess I did.” I slowly circled around him, keeping him in my sights at all times.

Yes, I’d known deep in my gut we headed toward a face-off, but I had hoped for a different ending, a better solution. We had talked about continuing our relationship after the Inferno, but we had been lying to ourselves.

Mom always said to hope for the best, and plan for the worst, and I hadn’t forgotten that motto. I had no intention of dying today.

My attention fractured between Ryker and the edge of the platform. I didn’t want to know what would happen if I fell over the side.

I’d probably fall for eternity.

“I don’t want to fight you, Sloane,” Ryker said.

“That sword in your hand says otherwise. Why don’t you put it down and we can talk?”

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