Chapter 9: Tests of Desire
Evan woke to the scent of crushed petals and damp earth. His tongue felt swollen, his thoughts syrupy slow. The ceiling above him wasn't stone—it was woven branches, shifting slightly as if breathing.
"Finally."
Vera Lune leaned over him, her halo of curls backlit by candlelight. They weren't in the forest anymore, but some sort of underground grotto. Roots twisted through the walls like veins, pulsing faintly with golden sap. The dagger—Selene's dagger—lay on a moss-covered table between them, its runes still glowing.
Evan tried to sit up. Vine restraints held him firm. "What the hell, Vera?"
She pressed a finger to his lips. Her skin tasted of soil and salt. "Shh. You're still purging the nightshade." A tendril of ivy slithered from her sleeve to stroke his cheek. "I had to stop the fight. Kai was about to drown you."
Memory flooded back—Kai's water whips, the screaming plant, vines bursting from skin. Evan's stomach turned. "What are you?"
Vera's smile didn't reach her eyes. "The last dendromancer. The only one who remembers." She traced the dagger's blade, drawing blood. A single drop hit the moss, sprouting instantly into a white flower. "And you're the key to breaking the cycle."
The story spilled out between sips of bitter tea.
Every fifty years, the academy performed the Grand Solstice—a ritual to renew the binding that kept Lucian Crowhurst imprisoned. Seven students, one from each discipline, had their magic and memories harvested to maintain the seal.
"But it's a lie," Vera whispered. Roots curled around her fingers like affectionate cats. "The binding was never meant to hold Lucian. It was meant to feed him."
Evan's head pounded. "Selene's brother."
"Isolde didn't show you the full illustration, did she?" Vera flipped the dagger, revealing an inscription along the hilt: Arkright not Crowhurst. "Selene bound her own brother to save the academy from his experiments. But the hunger remained."
A vine slithered up Evan's arm, pausing over his racing pulse. Vera tilted her head. "You feel it, don't you? The storm pillar cracking. That's why Caine wants you—your magic is wild enough to shatter the prison entirely."
Footsteps echoed in the tunnel beyond.
Vera went rigid. The grotto's roots spasmed, weaving themselves into a barricade. "Too soon," she breathed.
The barricade exploded inward.
Kai Mercer stood in the wreckage—but changed. His blue hair had turned the color of rotting kelp, his skin translucent enough to see the water magic swirling in his veins. His eyes were pure white.
"You," he rasped, voice bubbling like a drowning man's.
Vera stepped between them. "Kai, listen—"
He moved faster than anything human should. One watery hand closed around Vera's throat, the other reaching for Evan—
A silver-tipped arrow sprouted from Kai's chest.
Rowan Vale lowered his crossbow, his face grim. Behind him, Isolde Renard and Aria Vance stood ready—Isolde with a spellbook blazing in her hands, Aria with an assortment of stolen alchemy bombs.
"Miss us?" Aria grinned, though her knuckles were white around the glass vials.
Kai looked down at the arrow, then at Evan. His mouth moved silently before his body collapsed into a brackish puddle.
Rowan didn't flinch. "The grotto's compromised. We need to move."
Isolde helped Evan up, her fingers icy against his skin. "Selene's waiting at the—"
A sound cut her off—a laugh like shattering glass.
The puddle that was Kai began to bubble.
The walls trembled. Roots withered to dust.
And from the shadows of the deepest tunnel, a voice purred:
"Little stormcaller. How I've hungered for you."
Lucian Crowhurst stepped into the light.