I felt like I’d been run over by a bus, which backed up and then ran me over again, just to make sure it had gotten all my bones, including the little ones.
The mental pain had elevated and morphed into the physical. The only time I’d ever experienced something like that was when my ex—John—had told me he didn’t love me anymore. And yet, I had recovered surprisingly fast from that. Perhaps, deep down, I’d always known that relationship wouldn’t last.
But this was different. This was Ruth. My beloved, gentle, kind, Ruth. The Ruth that saved house spiders and roaches and spoke to bees like they were tiny yellow and black kittens.
The aches and pains and the giant, constant throbbing was a result of lack of sleep from the previous days, if you could even call it a lack—more like nonexistent sleep.
I couldn’t sleep. My aunts were hysterical, crying, sobbing. The news was just so damn devastating, and I was in shock or denial, probably both. Their world had been turned upside-down. And now, they were going to lose Ruth.
To make matters worse, Ruth had popped into my room last night to wish me luck.
“Good luck tomorrow,” she’d said, her smile warm and reassuring. “But I’m sure you won’t need it. You’ll do just fine. Just fine.”
I’d just stood there, my lips unable to form words. While her world was crumbling, she’d remembered about me and had taken a moment to wish me luck.
It took a great amount of restraint not to start bawling my eyes out.
Now, I needed to pass these damn Merlin trials more than ever. At least, I’d do it for my Aunt Ruth.
Ruth wasn’t going to Grimway Citadel. Nope. Not going to happen. We still had sixteen days before she had to leave. Plenty of time to appeal the Gray Council’s decision—or find out who put the black belladonna in her tonic. Ruth would never make a mistake like that, and I wouldn’t rest until I found out who did.
Forgetting about getting any shuteye before the morning and not wanting Marina to sabotage my second trial (though no emails had been sent) I’d jumped out of bed, brushed my teeth, grabbed a few protein bars with a water bottle, and jumped the ley line at 4 a.m.
I’d been in such a rush to jump I’d forgotten how cold it could get in December that early in the morning without the sun to warm up the weather a little. Though I had on my winter coat, it wasn’t warm enough to wait outside in freezing weather for another three to four hours until someone unlocked Montevalley Castle doors.
Imagine my surprise when I’d stepped up to the large front doors, looking for a spot to sit that wouldn’t give me numbbutt, and they swung open and let me it.
Now, three hours and two protein bars later, I stood with the rest of the witches in training in a cold, cavernous space below Montevalley Castle.
We were in the castle’s underbelly, its dungeon, the bowels of the log castle. Yup, and it stank too, like the cleaning crew had forgotten to clean out the toilets for a few years. The air was moist and hot, and though I was happy to have left my big winter coat in the common room, the air clung to my skin in a disgusting layer. Torchlights hung on the walls, the only source of light. I felt like I was standing in a medieval dungeon. Guess that’s the vibe they were going for.
The ceiling height I estimated was about fifteen feet and supported here and there by pillars and beams that looked like they’d been added centuries ago by the amount of decay and rot. The cave walls were made of a mix of living rock and stone. The ground was compact earth and dirt. It was enormous, just as large as the castle’s first floor with just as many rooms and passageways. Add the darkness and shadowed corners, and anyone could get lost here if they didn’t know the way. It was a damn underground maze.
A witch servant or assistant had gathered us all in the common room a few minutes before 7 a.m. and instructed us to follow her down to the basement. She’d led us through twisting corridors and down more stone stairs, finally through an entryway to a chamber the size of the common room with a single door at the opposite end.
“Wait here,” she’d commanded, and then she’d disappeared back down the same corridor.
I looked around nervously. I had no idea what to expect, but at least I’d gotten here on time for this one. A few mumbles carried around the chamber as witches conversed with one another, but most of the witches were silent.
The sound of feet approaching reached me and I turned to see a short, male witch with brown mousy-colored hair and glasses that seemed too big for him appear at my side.
“Hi,” said Willis. The front of his shirt had a big toothpaste stain on it, and he was shaking like a leaf. “Tessa, right?”
“Right. Hi, Willis.” I hadn’t introduced myself to him, but Greta had done that for me, in front of everyone in the theater the day of the orientation.
Willis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a trembling finger. “Nervous? I am. I didn’t pass the first trial. Can you believe it? Thirteenth time and I still couldn’t do it. You’d think I’d be an expert by now.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m probably the only one who didn’t pass. If I fail the second one…” Willis glanced down at his shoes, unable to finish what he wanted to say.
My heart ached at the misery and defeat I saw on his face. Hell, he felt the same way I did.
“I didn’t pass either,” I told him, realizing we were probably the only ones. “Guess that makes two of us.”
Willis’s eyes were round behind his glasses. “Really? That’s great—uh, no, I don’t mean to say that it’s great you failed, but at least I’m not the only one.” He frowned. “It’s not coming out the way I want it to.”
I laughed. “Don’t sweat it. I know what you mean.”
I caught a few witches sneering at us. They were in their mid-twenties, three males and five females all dressed in the latest, expensive-looking fashions.
They were looking at us like failures, like losers. A couple of them laughed, their eyes on Willis. When his face went a shade of red I didn’t think was possible, I knew he’d seen them.
But I was older. Wiser. And my lady balls were now huge.
So, I flashed them my best smile and gave them a finger wave. They all glared at me, but they did stop staring at us. I took that as a win.
And that’s when my fun ended.
From the shadows of the basement, came a tall, thin man wearing only a pair of black pants, boots, and an evil grin. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making his goatee stand out. His bare chest was completely covered in tattoos. The runes and sigils covered his arms and shoulders, up his neck. The dude loved tats. He wasn’t big like a bodybuilder, more like a CrossFit athlete, toned and wired.
Silas, the second arbitrator.
He folded his arms over his chest, displaying his runes and sigils. “Ninety-six of you entered the first trial, and fifty-two of you failed,” he said, his voice harsh with the lilt of an accent I couldn’t place.
Fifty-two?
Though I’d said it in my head. Willis turned up to look at me, his surprise mirroring my own. Guess we weren’t the only losers here, but it didn’t make me feel any better.
“Behind me, through that door, is your second trial.” His voice was contemptuous, confident, and seething with absolute conviction. “The Merlin labyrinth.”
I cursed. “I hate being right,” I muttered to myself.
“And just like any labyrinth, you need to reach the center.”
Someone laughed and Silas’s attention snapped to the left. “You think this is easy? Do you?” His face twisted grotesquely. “Let me be clear. Since most of you morons already failed the first trial, which was the easiest one, by the way. It means there’s not much hope for you losers.”
“What a sweet talker,” I said to no one in particular.
His head jerked in my direction. “What was that?”
“Nothing. Just looking forward to starting.” I smiled. He didn’t smile back.
Silas glared at me for a moment. “It’s simple. Get to the center of the labyrinth, and you pass the trial.” His scowl faded away, replaced by a careful, expressionless mask. “You’ll be divided into two groups,” he continued, a sneer to his voice. “The winners and the losers.”
“Nice.” What a bastard.
Silas’s gaze traveled over the group of witches. “All those who passed the first trial, please step forward.”
Together, all the witches who had passed the test—which to my utter disappointment included those who’d sneered at us—moved forward, leaving the fifty-two of us who’d failed behind. If his tactic was meant to embarrass us, it was working.
A tattooed rune on Silas’s right arm glowed red. He snapped his fingers, and a giant digital clock appeared on the wall, left of the door. Glowing red numbers flashed 59:99.
My gaze moved back to the rune on his arm, and I watched as it faded from red to a dull black. I realized the guy drew his power from the runes and sigils tattooed on his skin. His ink was his magic. He didn’t need to draw a circle, utter a spell, or recite an incantation. The dude was a walking spellbook.
I would have thought it cool if I didn’t already hate the tat bastard.
“You’ve got sixty minutes to reach the center of the labyrinth,” informed Silas. “If you can’t do that, you don’t deserve to be a Merlin.” His gaze traveled over us. “Anyone who hasn’t reached the center of the labyrinth when this clock hits zero—fails.”
My group, the loser group, shifted nervously, the tension in the chamber growing as they kept flicking their eyes to the clock. I gathered sixty minutes wasn’t a lot of time to face whatever we were facing.
“Losers,” called Silas. “You’ll have a twenty-five-minute penalty.”
“What?” I cried, unable to help myself.
Silas’s dark eyes met mine and he raised a brow in challenge. “Losers will only be allowed through that door when the clock reads forty-five.”
Willis gave a little squeak. The witch did sound like a mouse.
Okay, so they didn’t play fair. Neither did I. Bring it on, Tommy Lee.
When my gaze flicked back to Silas, another rune, one on his right bicep glowed a deep red, and the door behind him opened. He moved to the side and I tried to peek through, but all I could see were more walls of stone that ended in shadows.
“Winners,” Silas called. “You’re up.”
Like a pack of wild hyenas, the witches who were considered “winners” all burst into motion, pushing and shoving each other as they ran through the open door as though they were being sucked in by a giant funnel.
They looked like idiots, but I totally understood their haste. I would do the same when it came to my turn. I would for Ruth.
Just as the last witch was through, the door closed again.
Silas moved to stand in front of it like a bouncer at a club, and once again his arms crossed over his chest.
And he stood like that, without moving, like some creepy wax figure or movie prop for another twenty-five minutes, while the rest of us found a spot to sit.
55:00
Willis didn’t utter a single word to me as we sat next to each other, each of us lost in our own version of hell. It was clear. Us losers didn’t expect to pass this trial, not with a twenty-five-minute penalty off the clock.
50:00
It was the worst twenty-five minutes of my life. Time was moving faster than normal, either that or staring at the glowing numbers decreasing was making it so.
47:00
I pulled out my cell phone from my bag and tapped on my clock app, setting a clock countdown to match the one on the wall. Before turning it on, I glanced at the giant clock on the wall, waiting for it to change…
45:59
I tapped the countdown app on.
I stood up, and everyone followed my example, my body shaking with adrenaline as it pounded through my veins making my blood sing. Counting in my head, I took my position right in front of Silas. He didn’t budge. I didn’t care. As soon as the door opened, I would plow through him if he didn’t get out of my way.
45:20
Fifty-two of us would go through that door in less than twenty seconds. It was an itty-bitty door, and a hell of a lot of witches.
May the best witch win.
45:00
I blinked. Silas moved to the side, just as the door swung open.
And I rushed through it.