Page 96 of The Blood Rites

“I think you know,” the blue eyes say. “I think you have always known.”

Memories flood through me.

My first kill on the bridge.

Marissa’s tiny hands in mine.

Kael’s lips on mine.

The cold clarity of him. The way his scent lingers, sweet and spiced.

The blue eyes see all this, and more.

They draw so close, I am blinded by the colour of the flames. In the flickering blue fire, I see a reflection of myself I do not recognise: not a boy or a man, not a hero or a blinding light, but the shell of a spirit starved for meaning and purpose.

The spirit is not lost. It is wanted, hunted and hated all at once.

The pressure clamps down, and I forget the borders of my own skin. I fuse with the water. With the blue flames. With the endless dark.

For a moment, I am everything.

The Mother Shard’s voice returns, certainty sharpening her tone.

“You will answer me,” she says. “I will know what you are.”

The world goes black once again.

I dissolve, leaving only the echo of a question I still don’t know how to answer.

I come to inside a coffin of blue light, upright and weightless, not touching any surface. Beyond it, there is only endless space and the dull shimmer of the distant sun. I think I am falling, but there is no movement—only the hum of Mana all around me, like a song holding the world together.

The blue light is made of hexagonal prisms, smooth and glowing. I press my palm against it, and it repels me, alive and beating. I am dressed in a fresh white uniform, and my skin prickles with static.

To my right, Marissa and Callen hang not far away, each sealed in their own blue cylinder, eyes wide as rabbits caught in a snare. Further beyond, more blue cylinders float in the open air, each holding a body I can’t make out.

Below us, the tip of the Mother Shard rises, a jagged pink crystal formation fused with lines of gold sitting atop it like a crown. On its surface, the number three glows in burning gold.

Three dead. Three already gone.

Six islands of rock float around her, each different in size, each crumbling in its own way. Loose stone spills from their edges, larger chunks breaking away into the mist below. My palms go slick as understanding settles over me.

This is the Air trial. It has to be.

The blue coffins dissolve without warning, and my body drops. I fall—screaming as the wind peels my lips back—until I hit an invisible surface inches from the ground. It catches me without pain.

A moment later, I fall the rest of the way.

I stagger up, breathless and shaking. Marissa lands next to me with a cry and collapses to her knees, sobbing. Callen falls last, rolling awkwardly before getting to his feet with a grunt.

The Heartlands are gone. Only floating islands remain.

The ground beneath my feet is veined with gold, too much like my room back in the Embrace. There is almost no cover, and my footing feels unsteady the moment I notice. The island feels as though it is drifting, buffeted by gale-force winds, but no matter how it moves, the Mother Shard remains fixed at the centre. Her death counter stays visible, as if it has been placed there for me alone.

We make our way to the edge, careful with every step, to get a better look at our surroundings. Wind tears mist between the islands in thick, silver sheets, reducing the figures on the neighbouring rocks to shifting shapes. I can count two people on the island to our left and two on the island to our right, but I can’t make out their faces, or even the colours of their uniforms. Earth, Air or Water, maybe.

Marissa grabs my sleeve, her knuckles white. “Where are we?” she asks.

“Very high in the sky by the looks of it,” Callen says. “But there’s so much mist, you can’t see the ground.”