“The forest is the site of a massacre from the age of the Awaleen. During the battle of Ayume, Awala Dania brought life to the forest. The trees, the lake, even the leaves—Dania enchanted everything in the forest to kill Kapastra’s marching soldiers. Though the centuries have weakened Ayume Forest’s curse, the poison of Dania’s magic lingers.”
Jeru looked suitably impressed.
“Correct,” Arin said, plucking the fuzzy fibers from the cloth. I watched the deft movements of his fingers, oddly engrossed, until Arin continued, “The trial will be held at midday. History has shown that the Champions who do not reach the other side of the forest by dusk do not reach it at all. Our goal today is to have you navigate with magic as your only sense. You will follow me through the woods, and the guards will serve as decoys.”
Kapastra’s forked brow, it was a near replica of Hanim’s old training. Except he wasn’t resurrecting three-headed creatures to give chase. “My magic will not aid me. I’ll be following on instinct alone.”
“We will see.” Arin raised the strip of cloth, preparing me for the coming contact. I was once again bemused at the strangeness of his personal code of ethics. “Close your eyes.”
Smooth leather pressed against the wings of my cheeks. He pulled the fabric tightly over my eyes. Brush rustled around us as the guards presumably scattered, setting up posts to disorient me.
“How close will Sefa and Marek be?” Addressing Arin in the dark sent a shiver of unease down my neck.
“They will shift around the woods throughout the session. We need to determine whether their physical distance matters for triggering your magic.”
Arin stepped away. “Try to follow me.”
The woods went quiet as Arin vanished. The darkness didn’t throw me as much as I had anticipated, and I walked with relative comfort. I trailed my hands from tree to tree, straining to hear footsteps. My magic remained removed from this venture, leaving my cuffs docile and dull on my wrists.
The crunch of leaves alerted me seconds before a shoulder slammed into mine. I careened, barely catching myself from a disgraceful tumble.
Branches snapped to my left, and I ducked. Needles rained down on my head. How did Arin expect me to find him while buffeted in every direction by his guards? My magic didn’t care that Marek and Sefa were nearby.
The sound of my body became deafening the longer I stumbled along. My breaths were harsh to my own ears, my footfalls clumsy and loud. The stammer of my heart matched the pounding in my head. They weren’t hunting me; they were toying with their conquered prize.
I shoved past the thought. I was not an eleven-year-old girl anymore, wandering Essam Woods in the night while monsters born of Hanim’s spells gave chase. Terror had not induced my magic then, and it would not help me now.
Something wet and tacky hit my forehead. I gasped, wiping frantically at my face.
“Filth for filth,” Vaun whispered, directly into my ear.
I lunged for him and met empty air. I failed to catch myself this time, landing hard on my knees.
A clicking hum preceded the scuttle of pointy legs over my hand. A munban. I thrashed, pushing to my feet too quickly and clipping my shoulder against a tree. I was surrounded by threats I couldn’t see, and they were winning.
The next feint came from the right. I dove to the left instead, colliding with a distinctly human body. These were my woods. I fed this soil my blood and broken tears, sharpened its teeth on the fine flesh of monsters. In Essam, I reigned supreme.
Breathy noises leaked from my open mouth as I tightened my fist and smashed it into the side of what was hopefully a head. Did Vaun think I wouldn’t kill him? I wasn’t held to the same code of ethics as his precious Heir. I would rip his head from his shoulders and spit on his skull. I would crush what was left of him into the dirt, because his remains weren’t fit to feed animals.
“Sylvia!”
The bloodsong wailing through me paused. For a terrible moment, I could not locate my mouth in the swirling savagery. “Marek?” I patted at the chest beneath me, checking for a guardsman’s vest. It wasn’t there. “Marek, I’m so sorry!”
I rolled away from him, but the urge to tear a living thing asunder and plant my fury into its quivering heart remained.
Approaching footsteps pushed me to my haunches. I crouched, ready to spring.
“Remove the blindfold,” Arin said.
Awareness came too late, after I had already launched myself. A bone-crushing grip caught my arms before I could slam into the Heir.