AN ERUPTION drowned out the gasps of the crowd. The heat was immediate, a physical blow that scorched the cool evening air and made Mailah's horse rear back with a frightened whinny.
Mailah gripped the reins, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Through the shimmering orange haze of the flames, the forest looked different—darker, deeper, as if the trees had stepped closer together to hide a secret.
"The witness," the Herald's voice boomed over the crackle of the magical fire, "is the heart of the game. She is the prize. The House that finds her and brings her to the altar shall be declared the masters of the Exiles for the next century."
Mailah's blood turned to ice. She looked at Grayson, her eyes wide with shock. "The prize?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "No. No, I didn't sign up for this. I'm not a trophy!"
