“A noble sentiment, little mage,” Zaxos said. “But one that will cost you dearly if you cannot prove your loyalty in this way. Think carefully, for your answer will determine the course of your future.”

Aric’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He knew what he had to do, but that didn’t make it any easier. “I—I won’t kill him,” he said, the words tasting like ashes on his tongue.

Malekith hoisted his chin, cutting a sharp gaze toward Aric. “Then it will be an easy victory for me.” He swept into a low bow. “I will do as you command, Sovereign.”

Aric’s eyes blazed with silent fury, but he said nothing.

The demon court erupted into shouts and howls, the courtiers calling for blood. The guards hauled Aric and Malekith away, shoving them into separate cells in the bowels of the fortress. Aric’s hands were shaking as he sank to the cold stone floor, and he wished more than anything for a touch, a word, a sign from Malekith that his plan was still in motion.

But there was only silence, and the cold certainty of the blade that awaited them both.

“Please,” he said, his voice hoarse. “If I must fight, at least allow me to use my full magical power to defend myself.”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the assembled demons. Sovereign Zaxos’s golden eyes narrowed, considering.

Malekith stepped forward, his movements fluid and predatory. “Allow me to prepare my opponent for combat, Sovereign. It would hardly be a fair fight otherwise.”

Zaxos nodded his assent, and Malekith approached Aric. Malekith’s face was an impassive mask, betraying nothing of his thoughts or intentions. Aric tensed as Malekith drew near, unsure of what to expect.

In a swift, subtle motion, Malekith’s fingers brushed against the magical bindings on Aric’s wrists. A jolt of energy surged through Aric’s body as the bindings dissolved, his full power rushing back like a tidal wave. He struggled to maintain his facade of weakness, keeping his expression neutral even as his magic sang through his veins.

Malekith leaned in close, his lips barely moving as he whispered words meant for Aric alone. “Show them what you can do, my star.”

Aric stood at the edge of Drindal’s main square, his pulse relentless in his ears. The once-familiar town center had been transformed into a grand arena, shimmering barriers of demon magic crackling in the air. These magical constructs would not only contain their battle but amplify it, ensuring every demon and human in attendance could witness the spectacle.

The crowd’s excited whispers created a constant, low hum that set Aric’s nerves on edge. He scanned the sea of faces—demons with their gleaming eyes and sharp teeth, humans with expressions ranging from fear to morbid curiosity. All of them waiting, hungry for the bloodshed to come.

Across the arena, Malekith stood tall and proud, every inch the demon prince. His dark eyes met Aric’s, and Aric felt a jolt of electricity run through him. There was a plan here, he reminded himself. This was all part of some greater strategy that Malekith had set in motion.

But as Aric flexed his fingers, feeling his magic surge beneath his skin, doubt crept in. What if he had misunderstood? What if this truly was a fight to the death, and Malekith’s whispered words had been nothing more than a cruel taunt?

The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with anticipation and the raw power of demon magic. Aric’s own golden fire stirred within him, eager to be unleashed. He took a deep breath, centering himself as he’d been taught.

Sovereign Zaxos’s voice boomed across the square, silencing the crowd. “Let the trial begin. Prove your loyalty, or face the consequences of your betrayal.”

Aric’s gaze locked with Malekith’s once more. In that moment, he saw something flicker behind Malekith’s carefully constructed mask—a hint of the connection they shared, of the trust they’d built. It was enough to steady Aric’s resolve.

Aric nodded, and then turned to face Malekith, who stood at the opposite end of the arena, his dark eyes fixed on Aric. The connection between them crackled with energy, a current of understanding and trust that not even the most powerful of demon sorcerers could sever. Aric held tight to that bond as Malekith raised his hand in the air, giving the signal to begin.

Aric closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. His magic was a living thing inside him, a white-hot flame. He let it surge to the surface, filling every corner of his being with its searing light. With a wordless cry, he opened his eyes and thrust his hands forward, releasing the magic in a blinding wave of golden fire.

The crowd gasped as the flames shot toward Malekith with unprecedented force. Aric’s power was roared through him, hungry and wild, and he struggled to keep it under control. It lashed out, tearing at the magical barriers that contained it, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, Aric allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could win.

But then Malekith was there, moving impossibly fast. He wove a spell with a flick of his fingers, and a curtain of shadow magic sprang up to intercept the flames. The two forces clashed and sputtered, the air thick with the scent of burning ozone.

Aric’s pulse raced as he watched Malekith’s form through the blinding conflagration. Malekith moved with a dancer’s grace, his movements fluid and precise, and Aric struggled to focus, to see past the power of his magic and find the man he knew was lurking within.

The flames roared and crackled as they were slowly extinguished by the demon’s shadow magic. Malekith’s eyes never left Aric’s, and in that gaze, Aric saw a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name. Regret, maybe. Sadness. It was only a brief glimpse, and then Malekith’s expression was once again a mask.

As the last of the flames died away, Aric’s knees threatened to buckle beneath him. He’d poured everything he had into that first attack, and it hadn’t been enough. Malekith stood unharmed, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight.

“You fight well, little mage,” Malekith said, his voice carrying across the arena. “But you are still holding back. Let me show you what true power looks like.”

Aric’s blood ran cold. He’d given everything to that attack, and it had barely even touched Malekith. What hope did he have of winning this battle?

But Malekith was already moving, and Aric had no choice but to meet his advance. He conjured a wall of golden fire to intercept Malekith’s oncoming attack, but Malekith simply flowed around it, his shadowy form twisting and bending with inhuman flexibility.

Aric launched a series of quick, staccato blasts of magical energy, but Malekith deflected them with casual ease. He was toying with Aric, and the realization only fueled Aric’s frustration. He needed to focus.

Aric conjured a blinding flash of light, momentarily disorienting Malekith. He followed up with a surge of golden flames, scorching his own skin. Malekith danced away from the worst of it, but Aric could see the edges of his dark robes curling and blackening from the heat.

“You’re holding back,” Malekith said in a low, rumbling taunt. “I can feel it. Let go, my star. Show me your true power.”

Aric hesitated, the words striking a chord deep within him. Malekith was right. He’d been trying to control his magic, to keep it from spiraling out of bounds.

But there was no more time for doubt. Malekith was closing in, his form a dark blur in the midst of the flames. Aric drew in a deep breath, and with it, all the fear and uncertainty that had been weighing him down. He focused on the bond between them, the thread of connection no cruel proclamation from the Sovereign could end. And then, with a primal scream, he let the magic loose.

The flames that erupted from Aric’s hands were blinding, a searing nova of golden fire. The air itself seemed to ignite as they licked toward Malekith with unstoppable force. Aric’s vision swam, the world reduced to the all-consuming light and heat. He was dimly aware of the crowd’s screams, of the heat of the flames licking at his own skin. But through it all, he held tight to the magic, letting it guide his movements, his instincts.

The flames surged around Malekith, a wall of fire and heat that should have incinerated him where he stood. But then Malekith moved, and with a casual gesture, he unraveled the flames that had surrounded him. Aric’s eyes widened in disbelief as he watched Malekith weave his own magic into the flames, bending them to his will.

It was a dance, a deadly, intricate ballet of power and skill. Malekith moved with a fluid grace that belied his size, every movement precise and purposeful. He made it look effortless, but Aric could feel the raw power thrumming beneath the surface. Malekith was holding back, too, and Aric knew that if Malekith truly unleashed his full strength, Aric wouldn’t stand a chance.

From the sidelines, it must have looked like a fierce duel, the two of them evenly matched. But Aric was starting to discern the patterns now, the subtle feints and openings that Malekith was allowing. He was guiding Aric, leading him down a path of Malekith’s choosing.

Aric tried to find a way through Malekith’s defenses. He couldn’t outmuscle Malekith, but maybe he could outsmart him. Aric launched a volley of magical arrows, but he knew even before they left his fingertips that Malekith would deflect them. It was a feint, a distraction from the true attack that Aric had already set in motion.

Then Malekith’s counterattack took shape. It was a spell Aric knew well, one he’d used countless times in training—a lance of pure, condensed magical energy that could pierce through almost any defense. But then Malekith’s magic wove around it, a shroud of darkness that twisted at the air. The spell that should have been a simple attack was suddenly so much more. It was a trap, a snare that ensnared Aric’s own magic and threatened to crush him with its weight.

Aric’s mind raced as he sought a way out. He couldn’t match Malekith’s power head-on, but maybe he could use Malekith’s own attack against him. With a quick, sharp gesture, Aric unraveled the threads of Malekith’s magic, siphoning off the spell’s energy and shaping it into a shield that deflected the attack back toward its source.

Malekith’s eyes widened in surprise as his own spell bore down on him. He twisted away, but the attack still grazed his side, leaving a dark, smoking gash in his pale flesh.

“A clever move,” Malekith said. “But can you sustain it?”

And then he was moving again, the shadows swallowing him up as he vanished from sight.

Aric scanned the arena, searching for any sign of Malekith’s presence. Malekith was right; he’d been holding back, afraid to fully embrace his power. But no longer. If he was going to survive this, he needed to trust in himself, in the magic that flowed through him and bound him Malekith.

Aric closed his eyes and let his magic guide him. He felt the flames within him, the raw, untamed power that was his to command. He reached for the shadows, too, the cool, inky darkness that Malekith had taught him to shape. And then he wove them together, a dance of fire and night that was all his own.

The darkness swirled around him, loping like a wolf.. The flames of his magic lanced out into the night, turning the darkness into searing blades that cut through the air. He felt a surge of exhilaration as the shadows obeyed him, as the very fabric of reality bent to his will.

The duel raged on, a storm of fire and darkness that consumed the arena. Aric’s muscles ached with the effort of maintaining the spells, his skin slick with sweat as he strained to wield his magic to its fullest. He moved on instinct now, his mind and body one with the flames that surrounded him. The heat and light of it threatened to consume him, but he held tight to the thread of control that he’d woven.

Malekith was a dark shadow at the edge of the flames, his form flickering in and out of sight as he wove his own magic. The crowd’s excited cries washed over Aric in a distant wave. The only thing that mattered was the man before him, the demon prince who moved with a deadly finality.

Aric’s heart pounded in his ears as he launched another volley, each one honing in on Malekith’s position. But Malekith was ready for him, and sent them awry, turning them to harmless sparks of light. Aric pressed the attack, the flames surging toward Malekith with blinding intensity.Yet Malekith wove through the flames with inhuman speed. He launched a counterattack, a lance of shadow that pierced the air with a sickening sound.