She’d miscalculated earlier and put him in an impossible position. It was a common strategy for stronger teams to stake out the Trial checkpoints, thinning out the competitors as they arrived at the finish line. Elana had been careless. She had assumed that since this Trial wasn’t a battle royale format, it would be different.
But when they’d arrived at the top, bodies were already beginning to pile up in front of the checkpoint. Elana hadn’t been able to tell which of her peers were responsible, but whoever they were, they were a gifted pyromancer. Elana and Soren had spent weeks shoring up his defenses with all manner of potions and anti-status inoculations—but that caster had still managed to land a powerful spell on him, and with it a burn multiplier.
Elana ran her fingers over each of the gemstones equipped to her magic artifact. She’d started with ten single-use spells equipped, but only five were left. And she didn’t know how much time was left in the Trial.
She glanced down, taking a mental inventory of which spells were still available to her.
(1) Reflect: protective barrier around the user repels any spell back to original caster, 1x
(1) Veil of Silence: soundproofing within a 2m radius of the user, 30s
(1) Thief’s Shroud: allows user to move without being perceived, 15s
(2) Rush Step: allows user to increase speed x5, 15s
There wasn’t a single recovery spell left.
She should have used them more sparingly. She’d just never anticipated that the Trial would be this long. None of the others had exceeded five hours.
She wanted to conserve as many of the remaining spells as she could, but this was going to be too complex to communicate to Soren without talking. She triple-tapped his forearm with her thumb, their signal for whatever happened next to happen as quickly as possible.
He relayed the message back, agreeing with a triple-tap. She crushed the remaining Veil of Silence spell stone, activating it. They had thirty seconds to talk.
“You should have dodged! You can fight, I can’t. I’m the only one of us who can afford to take something with a status effect attached.” Elena blurted out, unable to curb the impulse to nag at him. They'd already had this fight a thousand times, but his injuries bothered her no less now than they had the first time. “And who gave you permission to get hurt?”
Soren's low, deep voice was as calm and measured as ever. “Duke Vanquise charged me with your safety," he said.
“Nevermind that,” Elana said, scowling. They didn’t have time to waste bickering, and she knew, from experience, that this fight could go on forever. “Can you still fight?”
Soren flexed his hand and moved his arm around experimentally. “I think so.”
She couldn’t see his expression, but she could see from the corner of her eye that his range of motion was more limited than usual—and much more stiff. “I didn’t ask what you think, I asked if you can.”
“I can, my lady.”
Elana’s stomach dropped. She clenched her hands.
Soren was downplaying his injury. She could hear it in his voice.
If she had the luxury of time, she would call him out on that here and now, but she didn’t.
If Soren couldn’t fight head-on anymore—which he couldn’t, or at least, not safely—then the only plan available to her was her back-up option. Her last resort.
Only Elana needed to make it to the checkpoint for both of them to pass the Trial. Soren was registered as her defender. If she made it to the end, he would complete the Trial's victory conditions by default. It might have been unusual for them to separate during a Trial, but it was common practice for others.
“We’re going to try and stay here until the countdown. If we can bar the door, they might mistake this as just another locked door on this level. By now, everyone should know that the rooms are dead ends.” Elana spoke as quickly as she could. The countdown on her artifact showed fifteen seconds left of Veil of Silence. “When the countdown starts, I want you to stay. I’ll go.”
“Absolutely not—”
“I’m your master.” Elana dug her fingers into Soren’s forearm, more desperate than she’d felt in a long time. She needed him to comply. She didn’t have time to convince him. “This is not a debate.”
“It’s too risky—”
“I have haste, reflect, and invisibility spells.”
“Then use them on me. I can take you.”
10 seconds left.
“You think I can’t tell when my defender is injured?” Elana scoffed. “You can’t carry me across the finish line. All I need for you is to stay here.”
“Respectfully, no.” Soren’s voice was gentle, but firm. “How could I show my face in front of your father?”
“You’re being insubordinate,” Elana clenched her jaw.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
5 seconds left.
Elana gripped at her hair, thoughts swimming. She could feel it in his body language, the complete rigidity in his back against hers. He was never going to agree to this.
“You won’t be able to show your face in front of him if you’re dead either!” she snapped.
“My lady would never allow that to happen.” He sounded so casual, so unbothered, so dead certain of himself that Elana wanted to rip her hair out.
How could he have such blind faith in her and, in the same breath, disobey her completely? There was no time left, no back-up plan. She couldn’t protect both of them in a rush to the checkpoint.
2 seconds left.
As if he could sense her dismay, Soren gave her forearm a squeeze.
“If you go, I go,” he said evenly. “So, find another way. I know you can.”
0 seconds left.
End Prologue: In Medias Res
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