The dragons gave them a room.
It was carved into the mountain like everything else, with a window that opened onto empty air and a bed big enough for four people. Kaela sat on the edge of that bed, staring at nothing, while Lyra paced back and forth across the stone floor.
"A sacrifice," Lyra muttered. "One of us has to—" She stopped, unable to finish.
"We don't know that for sure."
"The oldest dragon in the realm just told us. Pretty sure that counts as knowing."
Kaela didn't have an answer for that. She watched Lyra pace, watched the way her silver hair caught the light from the glowing crystals on the walls, watched the tension in her shoulders that hadn't relaxed since Aurik spoke.
"We should sleep," Kaela said finally. "Tomorrow's going to be—"
"I can't sleep." Lyra's voice was sharp. "How am I supposed to sleep knowing that one of us—" She stopped again, pressing her hands to her face.
Kaela stood. Crossed to her. Put her hands on Lyra's shoulders and held on.
"Hey." Her voice was quiet. "Look at me."
Lyra lowered her hands. Her eyes were red, wet, desperate.
"We're not there yet," Kaela said. "We don't have to decide anything tonight. All we have to do right now is rest. Eat. Get ready for whatever comes next." She squeezed Lyra's shoulders gently. "One step at a time. Remember?"
Lyra stared at her for a long moment. Then she nodded, just slightly.
"One step at a time," she repeated.
They slept that night curled together on the massive bed, holding onto each other like the only solid things in a world that kept shifting.
---
The trial came without warning.
They woke to find the room empty of everything except them and the clothes on their backs. No door. No window—the opening that had looked out on empty air was now solid stone. Just the two of them, trapped in a space that had become a tomb.
"Kaela." Lyra's voice was tight. "What's happening?"
"I don't know." Kaela was already on her feet, blade in hand, searching for any weakness in the walls. "But I don't like it."
The walls began to glow.
Not with light—with heat. The stone turned red, then orange, and the temperature in the room climbed faster than should have been possible. Kaela felt sweat break out on her skin, felt her lungs struggle with air that was suddenly too hot to breathe.
"It's a test," Lyra gasped. "The dragons—they're testing us."
"Testing us how? To see if we can cook?"
The floor heated next. They climbed onto the bed, then off it when the bed began to smolder. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, just the two of them in a space that was becoming an oven.
"Together," Lyra said, grabbing Kaela's hand. "Whatever happens—"
The floor opened beneath them.
They fell.
---
They landed hard on stone that was cool, blessedly cool, in a space that opened around them like a cavern. Kaela was on her feet in seconds, blade ready, searching for threats.
No threats. Just Lyra, picking herself up beside her, and in front of them—a path. Stone steps leading down into darkness, lined with torches that burned with flames of blue and green.
"What is this place?" Lyra whispered.
"I don't know. But I think we're supposed to go down."
They went.
---
The path led to a chamber.
A massive chamber, bigger than the elders' hall, with a ceiling lost in darkness and walls that seemed to stretch forever. At its center, a pool of fire—not burning, just existing, flames that rose and fell like breath.
And in the fire, shapes. Moving. Shifting.
"Kaela." Lyra's voice was strange. "Look."
Kaela looked.
In the fire, she saw herself. Not as she was now—as she could be. Standing alone in a field of bodies, her blade red with blood, her face empty of everything except exhaustion. Around her, the Citadel burned. Around her, everything she'd ever known crumbled to ash.
"No," she breathed. "That's not—that's not real."
"Isn't it?" A voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "The fire shows truth. What you fear most. What you become if you fail."
Kaela tore her eyes away from the vision, looked for Lyra. Lyra was staring at her own vision—herself, alone in darkness, screaming as visions tore her apart from the inside.
"Stop this," Kaela shouted. "Whatever you're doing, stop it!"
"The trial is simple." The voice again. "Walk through the fire together. Reach the other side. Prove that you trust each other completely."
Together. They had to walk through that fire together.
Kaela looked at Lyra. Lyra looked at her. The visions still played in the flames—their worst fears, their deepest doubts, everything they tried to hide from each other.
"I can't," Lyra whispered. "If I go in there, I'll see—"
"I know." Kaela moved to her, took her hand. "I'll see mine too. But we don't have a choice."
"We always have a choice."
"Not this time." Kaela squeezed her hand. "Together. Remember? That's what we said."
Lyra looked at their joined hands. At the fire. At Kaela's face.
"Together," she agreed.
They stepped into the flames.
---
The fire was real.
Kaela felt it on her skin, in her lungs, in her eyes. It burned, and it showed her things—things she didn't want to see. Herself failing. Herself alone. Herself watching Lyra die because she wasn't fast enough, strong enough, good enough.
Beside her, Lyra screamed.
Kaela turned. Lyra was on her knees, hands pressed to her head, her face twisted with pain. The fire around her showed visions too—Lyra watching Kaela fall, Lyra unable to save her, Lyra alone in darkness with nothing but memories.
"Lyra!" Kaela pulled at her, tried to lift her. "Get up! We have to keep moving!"
"I can't—I see—" Lyra's voice broke. "You're dead, Kaela. I see you dead and I can't—"
"Look at me." Kaela grabbed her face, forced Lyra to meet her eyes. "I'm not dead. I'm right here. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real."
"But the visions—they're never wrong—"
"They're wrong now." Kaela's voice was fierce. "I'm here. I'm alive. And I'm not leaving you. Do you hear me? I'm not leaving."
Lyra stared at her, tears streaming down her face, caught between the vision and the reality.
"I don't—I can't tell what's real anymore."
"This is real." Kaela pressed their foreheads together, the marks on each of them flaring with light. "Feel that? The mark. Valdris's gift. That's real. We're real. Together."
The fire around them flickered. The visions wavered.
And Lyra's hand came up to grip Kaela's arm, hard enough to bruise.
"Together," she whispered.
They stood.
---
They didn't make it.
Halfway across the chamber, the fire surged. The visions grew stronger, louder, more convincing. Kaela saw her mother dying alone because she wasn't there. Saw Renn cut down by shadows because she couldn't protect him. Saw Lyra—Lyra, always Lyra—falling into darkness while Kaela stood frozen, unable to move.
She stopped.
"I can't," she heard herself say. "I can't watch this. I can't—"
Lyra was beside her, but Lyra was fighting her own battles, her own visions. They were together but separate, each drowning in their own worst fears.
The fire laughed.
"You are not ready," the voice said. "You do not trust. Not truly. Not yet."
The fire vanished. The chamber vanished. They were back in their room, in their bed, gasping and sweating and clinging to each other.
A dragon's voice echoed from somewhere far away:
"The trial is failed. You must try again—when you are ready to trust as one."
Kaela held Lyra and shook.
---
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