The night ended earlier than expected, after Lexi had won her duel with Prince Hayden. Everyone had gone back to their quarters, processing the drama that had left them speechless.
Maren had always known Twelve had a flair for drama, but Thirteen had orchestrated the entire thing. Twelve had confided in Maren after that the moment Selma came to the Court, that Thirteen sprang into action, as if this was something she'd planned for many years.
She'd known the misery that befell the lives of the Star Court members. Nobody should be forced into a life they don't want to live.
And yet, Maren couldn't help but reflect on what her life could have been, had they not been there to support her.
Maren's birth as a second Starborn was a miracle…and to others, a disaster.
Had someone else been there to claim her — someone not born of a Starblessed, with a personal interest in her well-being — she wasn't sure her and her parents would have left that room alive that night.
Highborns are always grasping at power, even when they already hold high ranking and more privilege than most in the world. Had they not been there, Maren was sure she wouldn't be where she was now.
Then, there was the matter of the book.
Maren sat in her nightdress, gazing down at it, an idea sparking to life in her mind.
Tomorrow was the first Trial, and now that it was clear there would be cheating, Maren knew she'd have to stay sharp.
She shouldn't use the memory stone.
She shouldn't peer through Elena tonight.
But if I hold onto the book while I dream..? She pondered.
Maren bit the inside of her cheek.
She shouldn't.
But she had to.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Maren hugged the book tight to her chest as she slipped under the covers. Her palm wrapped around the stone under her silk pillow and she drifted to sleep.
She wanted to know what kind of horror her friends would face on that mountain.
She needed to know.
****
Maren's eyes snapped open.
But she wasn't in the library. Nor was she faced with a spirit of untold horrors.
She was back in the field, gazing up at Nemaine.
Energy crackled in the air around them, prickling Elena's flesh. The environment stirred, reacting to Nemaine's magic. The arcana that wrapped Nemaine's body made unsettling, warped sounds that Maren had never heard before — deep and chaotic and filled with the distant sounds of wailing.
"Only the light can consume the dark that resides within you, Prince of the Darkwood," Nemaine sneered. "And I am no creature of light."
The wind whipped against Elena, whose gaze flitted between Nemaine, and the boy on the ground, and Maren realized Elena was considered something horribly reckless.
Suddenly, the warping, dissonant sounds of chaos grew. The energy in the area spiked, and crackled in random bursts. Nemaine's magic was preparing for a finishing blow.
Elena looked back at the boy. She expected him to be running with his life — or pleading for it. But he did no such thing. He simply laid in the dirt, defeated and powerless.
Blood and dirt streaked his face as tears poured from his eyes. He was visibly thin, and exhausted.
Maren could feel the emotions churning inside Elena.
Empathy.
This boy was ragged, sick and starving. He would not survive Nemaine's blast at full power. But he made no attempt to run.
He laid there, pathetically. Tears streamed his face.
And in all the chaos, Elena moved. It was like time had slowed down, just for a moment.
The power from Nemaine's beam exploded with overwhelming power.
Trees knocked backward from its force.
The air was thick with the sweet scent of metal and candy and rot.
And then, Elena was there, thrusting herself between Nemain and the boy. Her arms were outstretched, facing the magic head on.
Maren's gut twisted in horror and anticipation for the oncoming hit. Nemaine's magic was deep and overwhelming. It hadn't hit, but she could feel its heat from Nemaine's skin. She could smell its scent like week old fruit — wafting onto her tongue.
"TRUEGOR!" Elena cried, her voice projecting all around them.
Suddenly, a bright wall of light burst from her body, encapsulating them. Elena strained as she held back Nemaine's magic.
Maren was in disbelief.
How had she done it? How had Elena protected them from such a force?
She felt she was about ready to break down in sobs from the terror of being thrust before such incredible magic. She could feel the intensity in its force — the crackling in the air. Her senses were overwhelmed.
But Elena stayed strong.
"GO!" She yelled at the boy, who stared up at her from the ground with wide eyes.
The boy was stunned, but soon regained his senses. He booked it out of the clearing and disappeared into the forest, and through the curtain.
Nemaine released her magic and before Elena could do anything, her own magic shattered.
Then, out of nowhere, an invisible force gripped her throat.
"STUPID GIRL!" Nemaine screamed, her expression furious. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!?"
Nemaine held Elena midair with a phantom grip, her expression wild and terrifying.
But as Elena peered down at her, unable to catch her breath, she saw something in Nemaine's eyes.
Terror.
Nemaine held her there for a moment, their eyes locked.
Maren had never stared this long into the witches eyes in a dream. It was terrifying and almost real.
Almost like the witch wasn't simply making eye contact with Elena.
It was almost like the witch was making eye contact with her.
Then, Nemaine released her vice grip on Elena and she collapsed to the ground, coughing and wheezing.
Nemaine looked disoriented, her eyes wide and wild, her nostrils flaring. Her hands cupped her face and she stared at the cottage as if she were lost. Then she turned back around toward Elena, her hands dropping at her sides.
"Elena…" she whispered, her voice softer than Maren had heard. Elena's heart squeezed at the sound. "I'm s—"
BOOOM.
The sound, deep and ominous. Something hit the barrier. Ripples burst across the curtain from the hit, wrinkling the sky.
Elena's breath caught in her throat. It was as if everything in the subspace stopped to listen. A sound nobody had heard before.
There was a pause.
Then, a strong wave of magic and sweet rot filled the air.
BOOOM.
A second hit burst across the curtain, rippling the sky like a rock in water.
Nemaine gasped and turned to Massey who hovered near the entrance to the cottage.
"There is no time!" she yelled across the yard. "Get Elena out of here!"
"What?" Elena blinked, looking up at Nemaine, her voice hoarse.
Nemaine gazed down at her daughter, expressionless. But for a moment Maren thought she saw something in the witch's eyes. She wasn't sure if it was her own perception or Elena's.
But she was sure she saw a flicker of grief.
Then, another hit of magic smacked against the curtain, but this time, Elena could see the flickers of deep red in the ripple.
A telltale sign of someone's personal magic.
Nemaine's mouth flattened into a thin line and she turned away from her daughter.
Elena waited for her mother to turn back. To give her any sort of explanation, but there was nothing.
"Nemaine," Elena called, her voice strong, almost accusatory.
She was worried and angry at the same time. Maren could see the situation now. She knew Nemaine wouldn't be giving her an explanation. No affirmation or consolation. Nemaine moved past Elena toward the attack. She was like a zombie, staring ahead. Like Elena wasn't even there.
"NEMAINE!" Elena cried out again, the anger in her tone faltering to worry.
Something was bubbling inside her — tearing its way out, but Elena forced it down. Her chest heaved with panic and she swallowed hard, tears prickling her eyes.
Maren could feel the twisting turmoil within her. The contradictory feelings. The adult resentment for a cold caretaker and the desperate need for love that every child yearns for.
Something was boiling within her, begging to be released.
Massey was at her side now, vines gripping Elena by the arm. She pulled Elena to her feet, and attempted to pull her back toward the cottage.
"What is happening!?" Elena cried out once more. "Please!"
"Come now, girl." Massey whispered, trying to keep her tone level.
"No!" Elena cried out, pulling away but Massey was stronger.
Ignoring Elena, Nemaine crossed her arms over her chest, tilted her chin toward the sky and called the dragon-beasts name. "ECHO!"
The dragon beast was there in a flash of silver light, massive and ready as it swirled above the witch.
Elena was wild now thrashing and hitting as Massey pulled her back, away from the clearing and toward the cottage.
Nemaine began to truly command her magic. She knelt down to the grass clearing, felt the grass with her hands, and then suddenly slipped her fingers into the dirt, forcing them down as she chanted under her breath.
All around them, the earth began to writhe.
The mangroves that surrounded the clearing grew, tangling further with one another in a sort of natural wall.
Tall, jagged structures raised from the dirt, reaching higher than what Maren thought was existing below ground.
"MOM!" Elena cried out, that desperate feeling finally escaping her.
Nemaine paused.
And for a moment, Maren — or maybe Elena — thought she'd turn around. That her mother would explain what was happening. That she would include her daughter on the next steps. That she would make Elena feel like she was wanted — that she was part of the family.
But that glimmer of hope crumbled to nothing.
Nemaine did not turn back. She remained crouched as she continued to raise her battlefield. Large golems of clay and dirt dug their way out of the ground and positioned themselves, hiding among the rocks and the trees.
Elena shook her head slightly in disbelief as Massey dragged her off.
Before she knew it, they were inside the cottage. Nemaine's spell had worn off, and the house looked exactly as it always was.
Maren thought Massey would lock Elena in her room as she did before. Let her wait out the storm.
But then, Massey knocked three times on the wood frame and the space beneath the door lit up in a bright green light.
Magic.
"What's happening?" Elena asked, her mind frantic.
But the druid-beast did not respond.
Elena's knowledge and fear flowed through Maren and she suddenly recognized that magic as a traveling spell.
"Massey!" Elena scolded, her voice cracking. "Where are we going!?"
"Not we," Massey responded, their voice solemn, not looking at her. "You."