MIREYA POV
Finally, the day had come.
The day of the Trial of the Iron Spire.
I woke before the sun, my body stiff and sore from weeks of training. My stomach twisted with nerves I couldn't shake. The room was quiet except for Greta, moving around with her usual calm, soft footsteps.
"Miss… it's time," she said gently, holding my packed bag. "Let me help you get ready."
I nodded, my hands shaking a little as I checked my things. Every movement felt heavier than it should, every breath sharp in my chest.
Greta worked quickly, making sure I had everything I'd need…daggers, extra clothes, water, and some small supplies she insisted I take. I watched her, grateful, though I didn't say a word. Words felt too heavy this morning.
Once everything was ready, she helped me into the dress Lord Malric had chosen for the journey. The fabric was smooth and heavy, unfamiliar against my skin. I forced myself to stand tall while she adjusted it.
"You'll do fine, Miss," Greta whispered, her hand brushing my shoulder. "Just remember everything we practiced."
I swallowed hard and nodded. My stomach was full of fear, exhaustion, and the tiniest spark of excitement… that I could finally go outside.
Today wasn't just another lesson. Today was the Trial.
I had to survive. I had to be the perfect Faye Duskbane.
And maybe… just maybe, I could come out of this whole.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped toward the door. Greta was right beside me as we walked into the early morning light, heading for the Iron Spire.
I took a deep breath as I stepped downstairs. The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, but it did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.
Lord Malric was waiting at the foot of the stairs. He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze sharp and unflinching, weighing me like I was some fragile thing he was testing.
"You know you have to pass the test at registration," he said finally, his voice calm but hard. "I can't guarantee what the test will be about. It changes every year. But do well to remember our practices. Don't be a weakling."
I swallowed hard and nodded, forcing my shoulders to stay straight.
"Here," he said, handing me a small, heavy object. "You're a good herb marker… and from what I've seen, you make good poisons. This relic will help make your skills look like powers. If anyone asks what powers you have, tell them you're a Noxvein…a level three Gifted."
I took the relic in my hands, feeling its weight. My stomach twisted. A level three Gifted… that was dangerous territory. I wasn't a Gifted at all. . But I had to make them believe it.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a chill down my spine. "In everything you do, make sure you don't get caught by the Enforcer. He's your betrothed, but he's not easy to fool."
I swallowed again, nodding quickly.
"Drak will take you to the Brasshall," Lord Malric continued. "That's where the registration will take place first. Do not fail."
I nodded again, feeling the weight of the warning sink into my chest. My hands clenched the relic tightly.
I couldn't fail. Not now. Not ever.
Drak was waiting outside, leaning against a black horse, arms crossed. His eyes flicked to me once, sharp and cold, before returning to the horizon.
"Get on," he said shortly. No greeting. No soft words. Just the command. He always was a beast brutal and unkind.
I hesitated for a moment, but there was nothing to say. I mounted the carriage silently, keeping my hands steady. Drak climbed up beside me with a grunt, clearly in no mood to make small talk.
The ride was tense.
Drak didn't speak. I didn't speak. The horses' hooves clopped against the cobblestones, echoing through the narrow streets. My stomach twisted with nerves. Every bump in the road made me grip the edges of the carriage tighter.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the carriage slowed. Ahead of us loomed a massive iron gate, black and tall, with spikes on top that gleamed even in the morning light. The walls surrounding it were high, cold stone, stretching as far as I could see.
Drak swung the reins, and the carriage stopped.
"Here," he said bluntly, opening the door. "Thats Brasshall. Do me a favour and get yourself killed".
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. The gate looked more like a fortress. My heart pounded, fear and excitement twisting together.
Drak didn't wait to give me a chance to grab my things he threw them to the ground. He just turned the horse and disappeared down the road, leaving me alone in front of the enormous gate.
I took a deep breath.
This was it.