The nausea sets in as I wake up to see that my hands are chained above me and the cold stone behind supports my aching back. I look around to see all but darkness and the constant dripping of water echoing off the walls. Then it all comes back. Liira! Where is Liira?
I look around in a panic, but all I can see is the small dim of a lantern hanging from the wall outside the iron gate trapping me in here. I strain against the cuffs. They don't rattle—they hum. A low vibration, like they're laced with something more than steel. Magic. Binding runes. Wyrdforged, maybe. Scorchbane wouldn't bother with magic like this. They'd use brute force.
Which means… this isn't them.
But then—who?
Foot steps approach, tapping the stone floor with the same consistent pace. A key slides into the lock, slow and deliberate. The door creaks open and a figure steps inside, shrouded in silver light.
Not armor. Not quite. But close.
The symbol stitched across their chest glints in the torchlight—a phoenix wing wrapped in flame.
My breath catches.
Trial Wardens.
They caught me.
"Where is my sister," I say in a groggy, panicked voice after not being used for what I assume a couple days.
The Trial Warden doesn't respond as he puts a tray of food in front me and walks out locking the door right behind him.
"Please, I need to know," I yell after him.
A couple days later, they let me out, walking me down a long corridor with big windows allowing light from the east shine through them. It looks like mid afternoon from what I can see here. I look around take in the gorgeous decor decorating the room. Paintings cover every inch of the wall to my right and the gold frames have a glare as we walk past them. The solider leads me down the corridor taking a right at the end of the hall. I walk in as the doors are closed behind me. My ears shift as the sudden sound of a lock turning wakes me out of my daze.
The room looks to be a bedroom with big glass windows, the same ones that are in the corridor, and a door leading to my own private bathroom. In the middle of the room there is a king size bed with royal blue silk sheets spread out over it. To the right of the bed a dresser and a giant mirror lay against the wall. To the left lies an expensive couch and a TV as wide as my arm span. I walk in to the bathroom and my mouth drops. It is gorgeous. The room is lit up with the light from outside. There is a shower to the back left hand corner and a bathtub big enough to fit my 5'8 ft long body placed in the middle of the room. I walk into the closet and see that the cabinets already have been fill with dresses, and uniforms for when the Trials begin. One dress specifically had already been picked out and a little note decorated with the royal symbol reads:
Elena Solace,
The enclosed dress has been selected especially for you, in recognition of your rare gift and your place among the chosen.
You are kindly requested to arrive at Crownlight Hall by 6:30 PM this evening for the Ember Trials Induction Dinner. All selected candidates will be in attendance. This will be your first formal introduction to the Trials and those who will face them alongside you.
We look forward to your presence.
With respect,
The Trial Wardens
On behalf of the Crown of Aetherra
I pull the note off the dress and take in the beautiful laced dress. The dress is unlike anything I've ever worn. It's a deep obsidian black, threaded with veins of shimmering violet that catch the light like lightning in a storm. The fabric is cool to the touch, weightless but strong, and clings like it knows my shape. Along the neckline—cut in a graceful, asymmetric arc—delicate embroidery swirls in the shape of phoenix feathers, done in silver and amethyst thread. The sleeves are sheer, trailing past my wrists like wisps of shadow, and the skirt flows down into layered panels that shift from black to indigo to midnight blue as I move. Tiny specks of starlight seem woven into the hem. It's elegant. Powerful. Almost… dangerous.
I fill the wash bin and wash off days worth of dirt and get ready for the dinner. I undress, slip into the warm water, and start to clean up.
I dry off and pull a robe over my exposed body when there is a knock on the door. I walk across the bedroom and open the door to see a woman around my height standing in front of me with a box, of what looks like hair tools.
"Hi Mrs. Solace, I am hear to help you get ready for dinner. May I come in?" she asks in the most calm of voices.
"Sure," I step out of the doorway allowing a path for her to come in.
She points to the dresser where a red cushioned chair sits.
"Sit. We with start with your hair."
I sit down and a moment later my used to be wet hair lays dry along my shoulders. Her power must something with wielding water, I think. She starts pulling my hair back and takes out a curling iron. She curls my hair then begins pining my hair in the back revealing a half up and half down look. with my curtain bangs out, framing my face.
By the time she is done, it is 5:30 and i still needed to get my makeup done. I thank her for her services and close the door behind her as she leaves. I sit back down and open the first drawer to the dresser. In it contains all different type of makeup brands. I pick one that I recognize and start putting it on.
When its 6:10 comes around, I am in my dress and the black heels I picked out earlier and start towards the door.
The guard waiting outside my room, takes me to the Crownlight Hall where it is booming with people. I walk inside to see that many people have already taken there seats and that the king of Aetherra is sitting in the chair at the end of the table. I scan the room and find a empty seat next to a girl that looks to be the same age as me and sit next to her.
"So how did you end up here?" she asks as if she was trying to make a joke.
"I was first chased by Scorchbane, then somehow ended up here," I say playing along.
"I had my sister with me before I was taken, and now I can't seem to be able to pry out answer from the staff here about where she is now. Do you happen to know?"
"I don't know for sure, but it is rumored that any living family member under the age of eighteen, is sent to a camp where they train. I heard it is very safe there."
"Ok, that makes me feel a lot better. Thank you. Oh and I don't recall getting your name," I say.
"I'm Samora," she says before adding, "Samora Hendrix. Whats yours?" she asks.
"Elena Solace," I say back, "Nice to meet you."
I shake her hand when I here:
"Elena?" A man calls from behind me. I look to see who it is when I catch eyes with—
"Flynn," I get up and run towards him, making sure to hug him.
"What are you doing here," I say panting, checking him over.
He looks different from when I saw him last. He is not the small frail boy I used to have a crush on. He is muscular and his pitch black, curly hair looks even better then before. I look deep into his grey, soft eyes as he lowers his head to make eye contact with me. Making me fall for him over again.
"Same reason, your hear apparently."
"What?" I say, "I thought Vexarion made you a Pulseveil."
"He did," Flynn says, "I guess it is a rare power. How long have you been here?"
"A couple days," I say back.
"A week," he responds, as if he knew what I was about to ask.
I pull him over to where Samora and I where sitting and he took the seat next to me. Samora, soon after introduces herself to him and he does the same back.
"Elena this is Kadyn Zimmerman pointing over to a tall brunette sitting across the table."
"Nice to meet you. I am Elena Solace and this if Flynn Pierce."
I practically grew up with Flynn; from when we toddlers to when me and Liira where put in the system. Flynn was the sweetest person you could ever meet. A couple years after we got adopted and were living with the Varricks, he found us and it felt like we were back home.
I look around noticing that everyone's outfit portrays there power. Flynn wears a navy blue suit with light blue lines representing light. Kadyn wears a grey suit mimicking stone.
"Kadyn!" I say with astonishment, "You are a Stonehart."
"Yep, I can force stone to do what ever I tell it to do," he says back.
I look over, inspecting Samoras outfit. She seemed to notice and say, "I am a Flarefang," motioning towards her red dress. White lines forms flames and swirls making her power somewhat noticeable. When I see Kadyn staring at my dress.
"I am a Wyrdcaller," I say towards his direction.
"No way!" he says in utter shock.
"Yeah, I can command or summon any rare creature allowing me to temporally have the power they give me."
I look back and notice most everyone near me have fallen silent as they stare in my direction.
"You look beautiful by the way," Flynn whispers in ears and my cheeks immediately start to burn. I've missed him, his smell and the feeling of home he brings every time I see him. I turn my head towards him to reply when the king stand up and clinks his spoon to the wine glass he is holding making all the participants in the Trials turn there head towards him.
"Welcome to Ashspire Academy."
He surveys the hall with a measured gaze—assessing, not just observing.
"Tonight, you dine not as children of the realm, but as contenders in something far older, far more sacred than you may yet understand. The Ember Trials are not a game, nor a rite of passage—they are a reckoning. A proving ground born of fire and fate, where the bloodline of the stars meets the will of mortals."
He lowers the glass slightly, voice deepening with gravity.
"You were not chosen by chance. Each of you carries something rare, something the realm cannot afford to ignore. Whether you were born into power or it found you by accident, you are here now—and that is all that matters."
Then a pause, as his eyes flicker toward Elena—subtle, but deliberate.
"Some of you bear ancient gifts. Forgotten legacies. Powers that haven't walked these halls in generations. Know this: the Trials will demand everything of you. Not just strength, but loyalty. Wit. Heart. And when the moment comes… sacrifice."
He straightens, lifting his glass once more.
"But tonight is not for fear. Tonight, we honor your presence. You represent the future of Aetherra—and perhaps… its salvation."
The king raises his glass high.
"To the Chosen. May your fire burn bright—and your ash rise stronger."
He finishes as each candidate stands up and repeats after him, "To the Chosen!"
Dinner comes out, soon after, filling the cloth in the middle of the table stretching from one side to the other. The plates placed in front of us steam with rich, golden-roasted pheasant glazed in a honey-thistle reduction, its skin crisp and crackling. Small bowls of fire-baked squash tossed in emberleaf and wild fennel line the center, alongside silver trays of sun-dried tomato tarts and garlic-buttered barley rolls. There are jewel-toned vegetables I don't recognize—crimsonroot spears and violet cabbage shavings—artfully arranged beside creamy lavender mash. A chilled carafe of moonfruit nectar sparkles under the candlelight, poured into crystal goblets that shimmer as if lit from within.
The aroma alone is enough to make my stomach ache. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now. Around me, other candidates begin digging in, their tense expressions softening with each bite. It feels strange—this quiet civility after so much chaos. Like we're actors in a play, all dressed up for a feast we haven't yet earned.
But for now, I let myself eat.
The desert makes its way around the long rectangular table a half and hour later, filling my stomach to the point I couldn't finish what was in my plate.
When we all get dismissed by the king, Flynn offers to walk me back to my room and I find it hard to argue. We begin walking to my room with my guard and his guard maintaining the same pace not far behind us. I get him caught up with everything that happened in Willowrift and his facial expression changes from blank faced to instant worry as soon as I mention my in counter with Mais. As we reach my bedroom door, I give him a quick hug and whisper, "I've missed you."
"Me too," his hands cradling the back of my head before letting go.
"Goodnight, Elena."
"Goodnight," I say back closing my bedroom door behind me.
I step inside and close the door, the quiet clicking of the lock echoing in the silence. My fingers trail across the fabric of the dress, I will wear tomorrow still draped over the chair. Ashveil flutters once from the corner perch and settles again.
I change, wash away the last of the dirt and fear, and slip beneath the silk sheets. The room is still. Safe, for now.
And for the first time since this all began, I fall asleep without a blade beneath my pillow.