Shadow Trials

by Isla Frost

  But Theus shut down the notion. “Not usually, no. In most cases, the transfer simply enhances a human’s natural affinity. Think of it like concentrating the magic already in your blood. In that one area of affinity, you may be more powerful than an average walker, but your ability to perform magic outside of it will be weak at best, often nonexistent. However, for one in fifty cases, the results are unpredictable. To borrow a human term, they’re like wildcards. For those outliers, the outcome is random. Their magic might be extinguished, remain untouched, change to a completely different affinity, or transform into power of a type and magnitude that even walkerkind have never seen.”

  I was unimpressed. Maybe to some extent because I still didn’t have an affinity that I was aware of. And sure, the incredible wildcard power was fun to imagine, but by Theus’s account, half the wildcards ended up with less power rather than more.

  “So by that reckoning,” I summarized, “at least forty-nine out of fifty students walk out with powers that will never match up to a walker’s. That’s not accounting for the ones that never walk out at all.”

  Which meant the walkers were going to an awful lot of trouble—developing and maintaining the Agreement and this bizarre academy—just for warriors that couldn’t measure up to their own kind and an occasionally useful wildcard. And they were putting kids and their families through hell to achieve it.

  Theus was watching my face, trying to guess at my thoughts. “Yes. Though perhaps it would comfort you to know that the ritual is dangerous for the walkers involved too.”

  While I was glad to hear it wasn’t only the humans taking the risk, it was a cold comfort when I thought of the comatose kid in the infirmary. Of Fletcher completely changed. And of how bleak my future would look if Bryn or Ameline didn’t come out of the creepy chamber.

  “Then why?” I asked. “Walkers already have more power than anyone should need to possess. Why do you need us? Why rip us from our families and force us through all this pain and suffering and risk for what sounds like a mediocre result?”

  “And who is this enemy that has the walkers so scared?” Bryn added.

  Theus’s expression shut down. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that yet. You’ll find out after your transformation.”

  I was trying to keep my frustration under control. I really was. But the absurdity of that made me want to scream.

  “That makes no sense! If we’re allowed to know once we complete the ritual, why can’t we know now? If we die, the knowledge dies with us, and if we survive, you’ll tell us then.”

  Theus was quiet for a long moment before he answered. And when he spoke, his tone reflected none of my anger back at me. It was aggravatingly calm.

  “I have learned that when something seems to make no sense, it is often for lack of understanding rather than lack of reason.”

  I scowled. “And I’ve learned that when people refuse to give straight answers to perfectly reasonable questions, those reasons are never good!”

  Theus winced.

  “What aren’t you telling us?” I pressed. “And why? Does the ritual change who we are? Do we become mentally enslaved to you or something?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  I waited, but when he didn’t elaborate, I flung up my hands in exasperation.

  “Why should we believe you? I saw my old friend from a previous year. He was completely changed.”

  Understanding flickered in Theus’s moss-green eyes. “I suppose you’re too young to have seen what war does to people. One cannot be exposed to its brutality and remain the same. That was true on your planet even before the world walkers came.”

  He paused, then met my gaze directly.

  “I don’t know your friend, but it would have been the war that changed him. The ritual doesn’t affect your personality, your mind, your humanity—anything that makes you who you are.”

  For some reason I believed him.

  And my heart ached for Fletcher all over again. What horrors had he lived through to wrought such a change in him? Was it possible that some of the old Fletcher I knew remained buried deep inside?

  “I have a question,” Ameline said.

  Theus smiled at her. “Go ahead.”

  “What happened to all the others? The kids on the second list. Where were they taken?”

  “I can’t disclose their location, but there’s no need to worry on their account. They will live out their lives in relative peace.”

  “Uh-huh,” Bryn countered. “And just how long will their supposedly peaceful lives last?”

  Theus’s face registered amusement at her pointed question.

  “Their natural durations. Look, I know it’s hard to believe after everything you’ve been through and all the secrecy around what was going to happen to the kids that failed. But the professors intend it to be unknown and unnerving so that no one tries to throw the results. If the truth was revealed from the start, very few, if any, would strive toward the path you’re on.”

  I was less sure whether I believed that as well. But I hoped it was true.

  Regardless, there was nothing I could do for them. Nothing more than what I was already doing, than I’d ever planned to do. To plot, scheme, and play nice until I could bring the Agreement and everything it entailed to its knees.

  And to make sure Ameline and Bryn survived to see it.

  So I glanced at my friends in silent question, and when they shrugged, I turned to Theus once more. “Thank you.” The words sounded stiff and ungrateful, so I added, “For answering our questions.”

  “Most of them anyway,” Bryn tacked on, voicing my own mental amendment.

  Theus recognized his cue to leave. “You’re welcome. I hope it allows you to be well rested before the ordeal.”

  He glided across the room toward me, stopping only when he was so near our breath mingled.

  “Lirielle asked me to give you this.”

  He pressed a piece of parchment into my hand, his warm fingertips brushing mine, and let himself out.

  “What is it? What does it say?” Ameline and Bryn asked. They were doubtless remembering Lirielle’s cryptic but accurate warning about the stairs like I was.

  With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, I unfolded the note and scanned the single line there. Then I threw back my head and laughed.

  Take heart, Wildcard. Your magic will shake the worlds.

  Chapter 32

  Three months ago, we’d stepped through that runegate in complete and utter ignorance. We’d feared servitude or torment or slaughter—whatever it took to save our families. The worst of those hadn’t happened, although it hadn’t been too far off in some ways either.

  But we’d survived.

  We’d learned.

  We’d become stronger.

  And we would go through this transformation ritual and become stronger still.

  I smiled to myself as Healer Invermoore led me down to the basement. Yes, we would continue to learn. Continue to grow and survive. And maybe, just maybe, we’d make it so that one day, no one else would have to step through a damn runegate in complete and utter ignorance again.

  But I was keeping that hope to myself for now.

  So I pretended not to know where Invermoore was leading me. Pretended to be surprised when the wall slid beneath Millicent’s foundations. Pretended not to know what was coming.

  And then I stepped voluntarily inside my creepy transformation chamber. One of many, I understood now.

  I would play along. I would let the walkers gift me with the power to destroy them.

  Why not?

  They’d damn well regret the day they did.

  Healer Invermoore touched my temple, and I slumped onto the waiting bed and let oblivion claim me.

  Chapter 33

  Three days later, though I didn’t know it at the time, my eyes opened to darkness.

  And I felt effing fantastic…

  Ready for the next part of Nova’s story?

&nb
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  About the Author

  Isla Frost is the pen name of a bestselling mystery author whose first love has always been fantasy. She loves to write about strong heroines in fast-paced stories full of danger, magic, and adventure that leave you feeling warm and satisfied.

  She also loves apple pie.

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