A maze.
Everywhere I turned was a dead-end, the riddle sprawling out before me in an impossible mess of obsidian vines. Not snakes, but midnight roots intertwining and binding and holding me hostage.
I spun around in a circle, lost to the foreign darkness.
It consumed me, threatening to destroy my earth. But I fought back. I forced it to behave, to blend, to bind with my current existence and allow me the chance to breathe. It’d been a natural response, one grounded in Zakkai’s power. His essence had washed over me, followed by a kiss of protection underlined in Zeph’s ability. Both of my mates had helped me ascend into this garden of dead roses.
Then the vines began to whirl and build, locking me inside.
And Constantine’s final words repeated on the wind. “Welcome to your first ascension trial, future dead one. May it forever destroy your soul.”
I shivered. This was a test of sorts, some type of trial designed for me to fail. I didn’t know the rules or what it all meant. I didn’t know how to survive. However, I had no choice. Constantine couldn’t win. Not like this. He’d forced this power into me, ensuring my abomination status, and I would find a way to undo it.
I’d memorized the chants and the magical creation. I just had to figure out how to unwind those binds and release the source once more.
After I escaped this maze.
Kols?I whispered, trying to connect to the one I knew who could help me most. As an Elite Blood and the true Midnight Fae Prince, he’d know what to do.
But silence met my words.
Shade?I tried next.
Silence.
I bit my lip, uncertain. Was this even real? Or was I still lost in a nightmare within my mind?
The power pulsing inside me felt real. As did the forbidden weave of magic marrying the Dark Source to my Earth Source.
Claire, I thought, trembling slightly. Can the Elemental Fae feel what I’ve done? Am I hurting them right now?
Chancellor Elana had darkened the elements with her connection to Midnight Fae magic. But that’d been an active, conscious decision on her part to absorb more power.
I didn’t want more; I wanted less.
I tried to push it to my mates, to relieve some of the fiery ache blistering inside me, but the block between us remained.
I don’t accept that, I decided, pushing against the barrier and searching for the source of the obstruction. It had to be a spell—one Constantine had woven—and I’d just have to undo it.
Ignoring the maze, I closed my eyes and focused. This was all inside my mind, a mental gymnasium of writhing energy and foreign connections.
A tree had sprouted at the core of my being, the branches all whirling with an array of colors.
Red for the Elite Bloods.
Navy for the Sangré Bloods.
Green for the Warrior Bloods.
Purple for the Death Bloods.
Black for the Malefic Bloods.
And cerulean at the heart, dancing along the veins of the trunk for the Quandary Bloods.
I mentally stroked the beautiful creation, marveling at the multicolored leaves that sprouted along the twigs. So strong and full of life. Yet tipped with ash.
It’d been my compromise—the way I’d coaxed my Earth Source into coexisting with the Dark Source.