he darkness was familiar, inviting in a way. It carried me in its arms, flew me over worlds and times and universes. It whispered my name. It sang—and the voice was clearer than what it had been in the dream at Sael's house. Closer, even.

I allowed it to carry me, to be my wings and my body at once. It trickled into me, into my blood, chanting and hissing, merging with my very own powers. The darkness extended its hands, placing them over mine as I kept taking from that well, as I still fell into the abyss. The fissures were still spreading.

But I didn't feel pain, I didn't feel broken. I felt whole. I felt serene. And I was glowing.

Glowing like the moon and the sun combined at once. Glowing like all the stars were wrapped around me, feeding me their strength. Glowing until my light kissed the very darkness I was in, until dark and bright tendrils embraced each others, until they danced and merged and became inseparable.

I was dark. And I was light.

And this darkness that felt like the universe before all creations, it was a piece of me. The light I'd seen in my previous dream, it was as much a piece of me as this.

I was this beautiful, inviting strength. I was the comfortable warmth and the deadly coldness swaying together.

I curled myself, floating in the very universe around me, shining stronger and stronger. A queen kissed by both night and day. A queen forged from the very essence of the world. A meeting point of what should never meet.

I stopped clawing at those powers, stopped forcing them into me. But they didn't. They kept coming, smoother and faster, to their home. It felt good. Wonderful. Ecstatic. It felt like I owned the world, like I was invincible.

Perhaps I was, right here, right now, in this place that existed only within me.

Lightbringer. He'd called me that, the man who owned my heart. Had done it before once. But in my memories, they were more than that. They were a continuous chant, a title that sounded so beautiful when it came out of his mouth.

He said he loved me, and not only with words. He said it through every caress, every smile, every shimmer in his eyes. He said it in the way he held me, in the way he kept steadying me so I couldn't break.

I told him I loved him. More than once. I should have told him those words even more. Should have held him more, whispered his name and kissed him and embraced him.

He made me want to live. Not just fight, not just kill, not just survive. I wanted to live. I wanted to breathe and smile and dance like we'd done in the ball. Wanted even more than that.

I smiled, even in the midst of breaking. He made me smile so many times before.

Him. I couldn't remember his name. It felt close, it was echoing in my heart, in my blood, in my soul. But I couldn't word it. It wasn't the name I called him in front of the red-eyed prince. Maybe it wasn't the one I used to call him, whatever it was. I wanted—I tried to remember. My tongue refused to speak the name, my mind refused to acknowledge it. So I waited for it.

Waited until I could see his beautiful eyes in my mind. My entire being tingled, not my flesh and bones, but deeper than that. He was my fire, too. His name became clear in my thoughts.

I smiled harder.

I glowed brighter.

Lightbringer—but I was night equally. Perhaps he remembered a title for this part of me, perhaps he would make me one. My memories weren't quite helping me. But I didn't want to remember, didn't want to trouble myself. I wanted to stay in this place for a little more, wanted to heal, to shine, to breathe.

But there had been a power that slowly pulled me back, gentle, invisible hands that held mine, that gingerly caressed the golden runes on my right arm, the silver ones on my left.

I'd seen those runes before, back in that place with endless mirrors and reflections. It had been my first contact with magic.

I held those hands, gave them permission to take me back, even when I remembered the fire and the pain and all that blood. Because they were taking me to him, to my mate.

I was still smiling when the darkness and the lights and universes swayed and dissolved away.

The crowd's cheering was the first thing that echoed in my head. Then the growling winds and hissing fires. It was when I first blinked that I realized my eyes had been fully opened. I wasn't sure how long it was, but it felt like a long time as I swam in my powers. But the fires were still as mighty as before, and I couldn't see the sky nor feel the sun to estimate how long I yet needed to fight.

The weariness hadn't dimmed either. Nor the pain did.

A blast of steel-sharp magic came crashing on my legs, wrapping itself from my ankles to my thighs, squeezing. It kept pressing, tightening with every heartbeat until it almost reached bones. And it was burning hot, so hot it seared the skin around the wounds it created that even the blood that trickled down my limbs sizzled as it ran over. Something hit the side of my shoulder, leaving a wound that most likely hurt like hell. But I couldn't quite feel all the pain that ate me, not when the hole in my middle was sucking all the life out of my body. Every throb of my veins hurt, every gust of blood that went dropping from my torn muscles down into the pit placed me on the edge of breaking. It would scar, this wound, if I ever became capable of healing it entirely.

It was deep, too deep for any mortal magic to seal. And even if it did, even if flesh mended back, it might not be the same as before. It might always hurt, might prevent me from fighting, even. But what I was completely sure about was the fact that even when Elayda's disguise would fall, this reminder of what was happening would linger for long after.

The winds didn't howl anymore, and the loud, trashing sound in my ears was no more. A black shadow flashed in front of my eyes, black clothed, black-haired. And black-eyed. Dearcious came hovering in front of me, his wings, massive and as beautiful as mine, flapping as they sustained him.

One of his hands enclosed around my neck, and he pushed himself closer until the blood trailing down my legs stained his boot. It was then, as I tried staring at him, that I realized that it was my right eye the chains had ruined. Perhaps I'd been away longer than what my instincts told me, perhaps that darkness had swallowed me far more than just a couple minutes—or even hours. All the new wounds hugging my skin and body couldn't be the results of so little time.

His grip hardened a notch, but I smiled. Black blood trailed from my mouth, from my lips, and I truly must have been a sight at that moment. I couldn't bring myself to care.

I hadn't broken yet. Neither had the runes nor my mask. The chains remained intact, and the aura I fashioned after the one locked in Blake's mind, it was as powerful as the moment I forged it. This might very be the reason that gave birth to the delight curled around Blake's own aura. I saw it in his mind, that there had been a couple of hours yet to come, a bit more, a bit less. And if I survived them, if I proved him how true the blood we claimed was, he would have put hand on his deadliest weapon.

Indeed, bathing in that darkness had been far longer than what I imagined.

I was still eyeing him as I steered more magic into healing, splitting it, ordering some to keep checking the runes and the chains and the aura and our minds—all of us. The rest, I willed it to heal me, to sustain me until the end. I knew no wound would close as long I was chained up here, but the blood loss…it was already too massive, too deadly.

So when the hand at my neck snaked up to my face, when sharp, deadly claws ripped the flesh of my cheeks, I was still smiling. He saw the corruption in it, the wickedness, the challenge.

He'd broken down, once so far ago. Broken so slightly in his first trial, had allowed a broken grunt to be heard as the man who had sired him back in that life was his tormentor. I hadn't yet, didn't plan to. He knew that as well.

The crowd was still enjoying, seeming to be able to see perfectly clearly through the fire. They were enjoying the strength, I realized, not truly the torture. They were admiring the steel I was made of, the unbelievable powers, the unbreakable strength. They'd been assessing a glorious warrior all along, cheering for me, for the Cohar that was refusing to bend. There hadn't been fear as much as there had been respect.

The thought echoed hollow within me. I saw a lady who walked with earth shaking beneath her feet and skies churning at her will. Leander's words came back like an ardently crashing wave. He hadn't feared me, just like my father, just like my friends. But my court, there had been those who were terrified by the whisper of my strength. There had been citizens who cowered at the mention of my name, not only because of the title. But because of the power. A creation that contradicted all the laws of existence, that broke every pact, every oath between the Five.

I wondered what they thought of me, those who feared the whisper of my strength. Wondered if once they put aside the salvation and the rebuilding of Ardoria, would they see a monster trapped in fair skin and an alluring face?

I couldn't bring myself to care. Monster—it didn't sound so horrible. Maybe I was one, just like the man who was bringing hell down on me. Just like the god he served.

The thoughts were still swirling in my mind as invisible powers whipped my head to the side, my neck almost snapping. More strength trickled to the wounds, uselessly brushing the pain away. The darkness from earlier dotted my vision once again.

I drifted away slowly, bit by bit, my mind still running with all the thoughts.

Maybe all it took was to be a monster to kill a monster.

It wasn't the same darkness as before. It looked the same: a night sky bare of any shimmering lights. But something in it stirred differently, a thread of power that was warm, familiar, but new at once. It called me, stronger than any power had done before.

I answered its call.

The Dark was like a sea, an unmoving emptiness where I could only float. There had been nothing to walk on, and drifting and flying was my only way to move, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

I followed the tether, almost touched it with my magic as it guided me up, up, up. So high until the very texture of the darkness changed. It felt like water, how it swayed, as though it truly was a sea. And in the far, there had been lights. Watery and blurry, shimmers that twinkled like endless spreading stars.

I pushed myself higher, toward those lights, toward that divine power that awaited me.

There had been a thin and fine layer standing between the Dark and those lights, like the surface of water—and I was beneath it. I pushed myself higher, eager and tingling to embrace the dancing brightness, the thread of magic that called me.

My head broke out of the surface.

A shattering sound wailed in my ears.

Pain exploded inside me. Powers still killed me restlessly. And the face behind the fire still waited.

I am with you.

Aedis was still there, hadn't moved an inch away, his minds still tied to mine.

Something agonizingly cold bit my wrists, my ankles. My body shook by its own, trying to move.

Right here.

I still didn't break.

Forever.

I didn't find the glorious lights when I was completely out of the Dark. But there had been something else waiting for me, something far greater.

Two massive circles hung in the immaculate black around me, each showing me wide spreading lands and deep, trashing seas. I knew these lands, the seas, the people and their magic. I knew the life that throbbed there. It was Ardoria. I could see it whole in those twin circles, the scenes continuously shifting, just like the White Realm.

They reminded me of something I'd read in the old book, once after my father had left, when I lay against Siltheres before finding the damned prophecy.

I swayed back, coaxing the darkness to pull me far from these circles, until the circles took their full form.

The darkness that traced them, the bit of light painting the entire scenery. I knew what I was looking at. They were eyes.

A god's eyes.

But I couldn't tell which one at first, couldn't tell if it was one of the Five, or if it was Apocalys himself. The last thought didn't truly feel right.

A gust of wind caressed my skin, running through my hair, ruffling it, spreading it. It was as black as the darkness around me, so black I couldn't see where it ended. But that wind, it was cold, it was refreshing. It was one of the winds that guarded Rimelia's lands, one of the many deadly ones she created.

A shift in those eyes caught my attention, and I knew then what god had reached me. Rimel.

Snow covered peaks appeared, decorated with the remnants of a glorious past. A dais stood in the very middle. I'd been there. We all did, during our journey. Luthian had opened that gate, had pulled us to that welcoming, ethereal temple where the algid ring slept.

I reached for those eyes, for that place the magic wanted me to attain. Reluctantly, I touched the light coming from those eyes. The goddess's eyes, I wasn't sure if she'd particularly enjoy having me touching them. But the tether still urged me to come.

So I did. And they eyes carried me just like a portal would do.

More cheering.

My fingers were aching, my ankles were chaffed, my wrists were bleeding.

My powers were on fire, attending to every bruise, every injury.

My blood was still dripping down into that seemingly endless pit. My back hurt, arched and shredded.

I saw them all this time, five bodies waiting, just like they promised.

Right here.

It wasn't the Land of the Olds that greeted my eyesight when I emerged from those gates. It wasn't Kilranon either, or even Mienus Elayas. It was the mouth of a cave hidden between chains of mountains.

The tether had gone, leaving me with the howling, trashing winds. Ice seeped beneath my skin and into my bones. It was far colder than when we'd come, now that winter approached. Even in autumn, snow must already be falling in the majority of the continent.

I didn't march into the cave or whatever was inside this mountain. The magic hadn't invited me there yet. Find this place was all it whispered as it carried me here. And I would, once that trial was over. Once I could step foot out of Eziara.

No other powers came to carry me back, though. So I rested against one wall of the entrance, watching through the narrow space left between the standing mass of snow and rocks. I memorized how it looked, for when I would come back, should I ever need it.

The winds kept trashing. But there had been no snow here, no rains. I could see how the snow glowed, how sunlight reflected as though gliding over mirrors.

I kept staring until that light bled gold and amber and pink and red. Until the sun was lowering and sunset was mere minutes away; it had come faster than I thought.

I closed my eyes. And felt the cold weather dissolve.

I hadn't blinked this time, my focus shifting and coming slowly by its own.

The crowd sounded louder than it had ever done today. And I waited a few heartbeats for the next horror, for the pain. They didn't come. The redness of the world wasn't because of the fire—who had finally vanished—but because the sun was setting here, too.

The trial was officially over.

More cheers echoed around me, for me. For us—the Windreapers proved true. For a moment, I wanted to laugh. Not with them, but at them. They were cheering, all of them, for their very death. For the instruments that would end them one by one, starting from their prince and queen to their slowest scum.

The chains vanished, and I landed on both my feet as the pit in the heart of the palm disappeared. I didn't feel my bones as I did so, as though they were grinded to dust. Perhaps Blake had done that, alongside all the other horrors. But the hollowness in my left foot, that killed me. It made me fight to maintain the posture of a winner so bloodied, so tortured there was almost no skin left.

I would fight forever. Even after I crumbled to ashes, I would fight. And then I would rise again, powerful. Just like my beast.

I was about to walk away, or better, leap into the skies, when Blake's magic made me stop. It hadn't chained me, but the way it wafted through the air, it made me turn to look at him. At the fully black eyes.

There had been a crown on his head, the same one he'd worn in that hall. There had been one above my head, too, also the same one I had forged for myself. The crown of a Cohar.

The crowd, all the hundred upon thousands of witnesses, bowed and kneeled to their prince—or king. He stared at me for a moment that didn't seem to end, for a moment that turned into a silent lifetime. Red broke into his eyes.

He took my hand, bloodied and all, and raised it until it was on his shoulder's level. I fought the wince it came with.

"Elayda of the Windreapers, Cohar.''

The crowd rose, applauded, cheered harder than any crowd I'd heard in my life. They kept on doing so as the Fifteen introduced my court one by one, names and ranks.

I pulled my hand away, answering the pointed glance with a glare. I didn't pause to see his reaction, or the queen's, as I descended the hand and met my tribe.

One word whispered into their minds had them aware of my entire plan. Their wings flared to existence. The watching demons gasped, mumbled, awed. Windreapers wings, the greatest pride.

"Where are you going?"

I was so tired, so crumbled I didn't even feel the prickling hatred at Clair's voice. I wanted to go far, so far no one could find me. I wanted to crash to the ground, to cry all the frustration and pain condensed within me. I wanted to heal.

But I made myself turn to look at her, my chin high, my posture alluring even if I looked like grabbing the threshold between life and death. I lightly arched an eyebrow, the cunning, wicked face of Elayda clear to everyone. "To hunt."

Not just feed, not even rest. To hunt, as though my body wasn't on the verge of falling to pieces. I called upon my wings, and my court stepped aside as a part of the scene I was making.

And the wings that answered me, that unfurled in a mass of dark flesh and shadows and muscles, they were bigger than any pair any recent demon had worn. As big and wide as Dearcious's. As magnificent. The gasps transformed to clean silence.