by Olivia Ash
At first, I wonder if maybe I failed because, this feels too easy. But then, my feet start to get wet, and the hedges change from vivid, living green, to stone.
“Oh, come on!”
Obviously, I will need to use water, but how?
I try my best to keep my worries pushed to the back of my mind, but honestly, it’s more difficult than I would like. I have no idea what to expect, what I will need to do, and the idea that I know I’m getting closer to the middle, makes me nervous. Anything could be waiting for me.
All of the unknowns within this trial, this is the most nerve-racking of all. I wish I had been able to speak to Lady Alene beforehand. She would’ve been a great help in knowing what to expect with this.
But I suppose that could be seen as cheating.
Regardless, the farther I go, the deeper the water.
Up ahead, rising into the sky—which has become even more vibrant as the glowing sliver of the moon appears—is what looks like a large arched door. I withhold any speculations of what that could mean as I’ve learned quite a few times things are not what they seem here in Blackbriar Academy.
The stone walls now surround me, but lower into the ground as though giving way to the marsh-like ground that pulls my feet, sinking several inches with every step in the ankle-high water.
This slows me down way too much. Still, I persevere.
Because I have to.
A bridge soon reveals itself not too far in front of me. And the water underneath it angrily churns. The rush of the flowing liquid hits my ears and a strange high-pitched call echoes to me every few moments. It’s an eerie sound that causes the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck to rise. My body wills me to run the other way, but I won’t back down.
Not now.
Not ever.
I reach the bridge as the sound of the water grows almost deafening. Once I’m in the middle, I take a moment to catch my breath and give my legs rest, also giving myself the chance to look around. Because, though this looks like a wide, dangerous river with violent currents, simply crossing isn’t going to be enough.
The door on the other side of the bridge and river is as tall as the doors to the castle. It sits bordered by black mirrors that twist and distort its reflection. It makes for a terrifying view of what lies in wait in the water, hungry for whatever flesh it can take.
Above me, the sky shines in the same vibrant colors of fuchsia and pink, and purple now blends in with pale blue. And with the silver crescent moon glinting on something metallic about fifty feet above me, I see what it is I need to do in order to continue.
Get the key.
A creature jumps up from the water. I gasp and can hardly believe my eyes.
It’s humanoid, with fins on the side of its face and arms, and it has a fish tail. I know the lore, but I never knew I would see one in my life.
Mermaids, unlike their human-told tales, are very dangerous, and very hungry, creatures. The knowledge I have warns against looking into their eyes, for if anyone meets their black as night gaze, they will come under their enchantment. Mermaids will make them believe in an illusion of beautiful things. Amazing things.
Right up to the grizzly end where they are stripping the flesh away from bone, bit by delicious bit.
But that’s not the only way they can ensnare their prey. They like the thrill of the hunt from time to time. And they are fast. So, to fall victim while adrenaline is coursing through the veins makes the meal all the more delicious. I’ve read it’s somewhat like a drug to them.
Few ever get away. Some lucky bastards managed to strike deals with the creatures. Such is humans’ more favorable tales of the creatures.
And as I stand on the bridge, there’s not just one of these creatures, but dozens.
I know I have to use water to get the key dangling above me. But I have to do it without falling prey to the meat-eating mermaids.
The rushing river swells, pushing against the bottom of the bridge, and the small stone square I’m standing on, gives way, lifting just enough to let me know that the time-limit is not only ticking itself closer to zero, but this bridge isn’t going to last much longer.
With some quick thinking, I decide to use my magic and the power of the water to swell and lift me toward the key. The problem? A mermaid can be trapped underneath the stone and get extra hungry for my flesh.
I’m virtually gift-wrapped for these creatures.
Silver platter and all.
Squaring my shoulders, I focus on the four-square foot of stone and feel my magic course through me. I have to do this slowly or I will most certainly fall into the hands of the mermaids like a pizza delivery.
But I’m not dinner.
For any creature.
I position my hands palms down and let the magic course through me. Calling upon the water, I command it to lift me higher. It rushes too quickly, and I nearly lose my balance. But I can’t stop to figure out another way. I’m running out of time, and I need to get that key without being faced with what would surely be a disastrous and incredibly painful death. Because, unlike piranhas, mermaids like to take their time and enjoy their meal.
The water pulses again. And I realize that it’s not me pushing my magic too far too quick, but a creature hitting the bottom of the stone, trying to knock me off balance.
So far, I’ve made it about five feet. I have about forty-five more to go, and this is going a lot more poorly than I thought it would. I look over the edge of my platform and see that not only is the bridge in pieces, floating like debris, but a circle of hungry mermaids is also waiting for me to fall.
Another thump, and I lose my balance. I manage to fall to my knees and grip the sides of the stone square, much to the displeasure of the creatures below me who all shriek in that same eerie sound I heard before.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I say trying to keep my focus on my magic and not fall over the edge at the same time.
My foot slips, and instantly pain ripples through my calf. When I pull it back up, blood runs from four deep gashes on the inside of my leg. The thumping continues, more intense and quicker than before. The creature has caught the scent, and likely taste, of my blood. It is hungry for more.
Absolutely fan-freaking-tastic.
There’s no time to waste. Come what may, I have to get the key. I push all the force I can to close the last of the space between me and the key. Once I grip it, I lose my focus. The stone I’m kneeling on starts to fall.
Straining, I try to make the water lead me toward the door. Toward my way out of this area. The shrill screams of the creatures stab my ears and my vision starts to blur. It’s painful, and my head feels like it’s about to explode. Heart pounding, I manage to make it nearly the entire way before I realize I’m low enough to be captured. Claws snatch at my clothing and tear at my skin. Fire burns through the gashes covering my body and a black rim lines my vision.
Just before I’m taken under and feasted on, I’m on land. And the calls rupture through my mind.
Dizzy, bleeding, and weak from the attacks, I fumble with the key in my hands.
A loud ticking sound booms through the air, and I know I’m almost out of time. I pick up the key, barely get it into the lock, give it a twist, and silence falls.
The door inches open.
I stumble through the opening, collapsing on the ground, panting for air I can’t seem to get enough of.
If I thought almost falling down a chasm was too close for comfort, nearly being eaten alive by mermaids creates a new level I never want to experience again.
And it’s not over yet. There is still one more element to go through. One more step to this process, and I’m not sure I want to guess at what waits for me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Come, child,” a voice speaks from somewhere in front of me, and I wonder if I’m hearing things. The voice seems familiar, but I can’t place how.
I pull myself up from the ground, and I find myself within a hall that
leads to a circular room. The center of the labyrinth. The brilliantly beautiful night sky is no longer above me. Just a plain white ceiling that tops the ivory walls and dark walnut colored wainscoting panels that line the lower half of the walls. Ahead of me, I see a brown leather couch, bookshelves, portraits, paintings, and a large map of the world.
“Don’t make me wait longer.” There was warning in the voice this time. I assume there is a need for the rush, so I do my best to walk without limping toward the room. After all, I’m still in the middle of my trial. And this one is to cover the element of earth. As I move forward, I can see more of the layout.
The room sits as a perfect circle with a domed roof. A couple of chairs come into view, matching the couch. And a person dressed in a red cloak stands in front of a desk. His back faces me, and as I enter the room, a click sounds behind me. I turn to face the way I came, but there is only wall. There is no longer a way in or out of this room.
The figure in the cloak turns toward me, but the hood conceals his face. “Finally. It’s good to see you, Wren.”
Again, the voice is familiar, tugging at my most buried memories, but no matter what I do, I can’t recall where I know this voice from.
“Who…” I shake my head and narrow my eyes on the figure. “Who are you?”
“Do you not know my voice?” he asks.
“Your voice only sounds familiar to me. I just can’t think of why.”
The more this man talks, the more my memories unlock, and I’m closer to figuring out who this person is.
“Come now, Little Bird,” the voice says, and I instantly know who this person is.
My father once told me a story of when my mother found out she was pregnant with me. A little wren would visit the house and perch on the window sill, singing its little tune. At first, she thought nothing of it, but the bird continued to visit.
Soon, my mom started to experience signs of my growth and movement in the womb.
Throughout her pregnancy, the wren visited daily. Always cheerful and singing the sweet tune she fell in love with. Once I was born, the wren no longer visited, and thus I was given the name.
Only my father called me his little bird. It was a nickname special to him. My mom had the gift of the visit, while my father got the gift of my nickname.
“Daddy?” I say, hardly believing my own eyes.
“I’m disappointed it took you this long to figure it out,” he says and removes the hood of the cloak. He looks exactly the same as when I last saw him. Not aging a day. Not a single ounce of gray in his hair as I would expect a man his age would have. Not a single wrinkle marred his smooth features, and it’s as if the man standing before me simply walked out of my memories, manifesting as a version of my father.
Deep down, I know something isn’t right, but I’m overcome with joy at seeing my father again after so long. Ignoring my injuries, I run to him and wrap my arms around him in a hug I’ve longed to give him for many years. My body aches and screams with every movement, but I don’t care.
I don’t even care that he doesn’t hug me back. I’ve missed him. “What are you doing here?” I ask, taking a step back, releasing him from my hold.
“Celebrating your success of completing the trials. Come, let’s sit.” He gestures to the couch. But the movement is off. Stilted. Stiff. Wrong.
More warnings sound off in my mind. I pay more attention to them, and cautiously take a seat on the couch next to him.
“Where have you been all these years?” I ask, curious to know more about the gap in time and filling in the pieces of the puzzle that led up to his disappearance. I look into his brown eyes that match mine and the way there is no light in them. I worry the warnings in my mind are wanting me to acknowledge this really isn’t him, but I also consider that there is a very good reason he wasn’t with me for the last six years of my life, and those events have taken the light of hope from him.
But they are so dark and lifeless. My magic pulsates through me with warning, and I play into the conversation. I need to know what’s going on. I have to figure out if this man truly is my father, or some twisted joke for the sake of the trial.
“I am sorry for not being around. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I would be able to face you now. I couldn’t stand being around you. You look so much like your mother. It was like a constant reminder, seeing you. I left you that day, because I couldn’t take the reminder anymore.”
I gape. His words sting worse than the numerous gashes covering my body. There is no way this is my father. I don’t believe it. I can’t. There is another reason for this. I just don’t know what yet, but I’m going to figure it out.
Squaring my shoulders, I angle myself toward the man that wears the skin of my father and say, “You’re a coward. Giving up on a little girl who just lost her mother and leaving her alone in this world? And now, you decide to make an appearance for the sake of my trials?” I shake my head. “You should have stayed gone.”
He nods as he levels his dark gaze on mine. “You don’t understand. I didn’t just come to celebrate you passing the trials. I came to stop you.”
I stand up, shaking my head and breathing through the rage that boils through me. “Stop me from what? Passing?”
“Stop you from living.” He pushes himself from the couch, launching himself at me. In mid-air, I watch him pull a dagger, aiming it at my chest.
Using the training Soren drilled into my head over the days of training for hours twice a day, I instantly step into my horse stance and produce a magic shield around me with my left arm in front of me. In my right hand, a ball of fire grows white hot.
My dad’s imposter slams against the shield. I stumble slightly back, not quite getting the stance right, and as soon as he bounces off, I launch my ball of fire at him.
He dodges the blow, and the flames are sent to the bookshelf to my left, igniting them like fuel.
I ignore the pain in my chest, the feeling of my heart shattering, because it’s do or die now. It’s him or me, and I refuse to be the one to die. Besides, it’s not like this is my father. I know this now. But the fact that the trial is using my father to trip me up is disheartening.
There has to be a good reason for this. I just don’t know what yet.
“You shouldn’t exist, Wren. I should have taken care of my mistakes long ago.”
The words don’t faze me. I know this isn’t my father. This is the academy’s attempt to pull out all stops. Testing my will to the last fiber of my being. How far can I be pushed before I cave?
I shake my head. “You are not my father.”
“No?” he says and attacks again, this time with a bolt of lightning.
I barely bring up my shield in time to block it. The power of the hit knocks me back a few feet. I lose my balance as I shuffle my feet to regain my pose. I don’t get a chance to see what happened to the bolt of lightning. I hear it crash somewhere behind him, but that’s all. He attacks again and again, knocking me back one step at a time until I’m up against the wall with nowhere else to go.
He charges. I push him back with a front kick, followed by a right hook and jab. “You could never be my father. I don’t know who or what you are, but he would never say such hurtful, mean things to me.”
“Well,” he says, regaining his posture as I take a break from my attacks, now that I’m no longer backed against the wall. “not until you killed your mother.”
“I what?” I say, momentarily distracted.
No. That’s not possible. I wasn’t there when Mom died. I had nothing to do with her death. She wasn’t even home when she died, and it was considered an accident. But now, I’m not so sure. There’s more behind her death. There has to be. And none of which is my doing.
My distraction was all that was needed to get a good, swift slice of the blade across my chest. “Yes!” he says.
I quickly throw up my shield and form a spear of lightning in my hands. The energy cracks purple and blue along my knuckles and arcs
up my arm.
“Answer me,” I demand.
“You killed your mother because you were a needy little brat. You drove her mad, pushed her over the edge of her will and you killed her!”
“She died in an accident!” I cry out, tossing the spear of lighting at him. He deflects, it hits me, sending me flying back against the wall. My shield disappears, and I don’t have time to clear my focus and pull another one up before he is back on me. He pins me to the ground with the point of the dagger just two inches above my heart. I hold him back with my arms folded on my chest, one on top of the other, but it does no good. He uses his weight to press down on them, crushing my ribs and making it harder to breathe.
I have to defeat this thing. I can’t die. Not now.
My hands glow yellow. Using what is left of my strength, I push him back, and just like with the lamia, a bright flash takes over my view. A searing heat escapes my hands. But instead of finding ashes falling to the ground, I find a figure of mud and clay. Nothing is recognizable about this thing. Just that it has a shape that loosely resembles a human body.
The whole event suddenly makes so much more sense. This was the last element. Earth. Golems are made using earth magic. They are virtually mindless and act in accordance with the goal they were created for.
As I catch my breath, the figure melts into a puddle. I stand and watch the goop used to create a doppelganger of my father solidify into dirt.
Relief floods through me. This was not my father. But it doesn’t excuse the academy for forcing me into a scenario like this. Relief turns into sadness which then turns into anger. I can’t shake the feeling of having been played. This whole trial has been horrible and damn near impossible to get through.
I understand now why we aren’t allowed to talk about the trials. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Not that I had the same trials as the other initiates, but if my experience was anything to go off of, I believe a number of initiates would have quit before they reached this final one.
No one should be faced with what I had just seen.