Tthe court erupted into murmurs and shouts. “Another trial?” Aric cried. “But you promised—”
“I promised nothing. I merely offered you an opportunity. And you have done well thus far, but there is more you must prove, little mage.” Zaxos bared his teeth in a savage grin. “Will you take this chance, or shall I give you over to my torturers? They’ve been terribly impatient to get their hands on such tender flesh.”
Aric stared at him a minute longer before finally lowering his head. Vizra’s face contorted with fury, while Sylthris merely smiled, her dark eyes glittering. But Aric ignored them all, his gaze fixed on Malekith.
In the tense silence, they exchanged a look, and in that brief moment, Aric understood. Malekith’s loyalty was still in question, but he had a plan. Aric had to trust that Malekith knew what he was doing, that he could guide them safely through whatever this final trial might be.
“The final trial will test your loyalty to the demon realm,” Zaxos said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “A loyalty that has thus far been called into question. But fear not, little mage. The path to redemption is still open to you.”
Aric’s heart sank at the ominous words. Aric wanted to reach out to Malekith, to offer some kind of reassurance, but he dared not risk it. Malekith had a plan, of that much Aric was certain. But what that plan might be, and how Aric fit into it, remained a mystery.
“What form will this trial take, Sovereign?” Malekith asked.
Zaxos’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he looked at Malekith. “You will fight to prove your loyalty to me. To the death.”
Aric’s blood turned to ice in his veins. “No,” he whispered, the word torn from him. “No, I won’t do it. I won’t kill him.”
Malekith glanced toward Aric, and Aric thought he saw a flash of something in those dark eyes. Regret, maybe. Sadness. But it was gone before he could be sure, and Malekith’s mask was firmly back in place.
“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.
