One week. That was how long Ryker and two thousand dragons had been gone.
It’d been two days since Maddox had flown after them and Guinevere had stopped sleeping.
She was twenty minutes into Sterling’s training, when she collapsed on the back of a dragon instead of landing on her feet as usual. Her body was cooked.
Mercifully, Sterling mindlinked mid-drill.
The green dragon she was riding landed a moment later.
Every warrior on the field watched her dismount, and the collective disappointment when they realized she wasn’t training today could have been bottled and sold as cologne. Sad Dragon. By Sterling.
"Come with me."
✦✦✦
Without a word, Sterling pointed at the top of a mountain, changed back into his dragon form, and took off before she could ask a single question.
Her wolf spoke for the first time since it’d called Drakencrest home.
Let me.
She didn’t need to be told twice and shifted mid-step. For the first time since Maddox left, her mind went quiet and she rested somewhere behind her own eyes.
It was her wolf’s voice that brought her back.
Your turn.
Boots replaced paws. The trail was gone, replaced by a vertical climb that required hands.
Snow and magma warred with each other the higher she got, and her body oscillated between violent shivers and suffocating heat with no warning between the two.
By the time she reached the top, the moon had been out for hours. A volcano opened beneath her into a massive basin, and she stayed well back from the edge.
An old man sat cross-legged on a large boulder with his eyes closed. Every inch of snow around him had melted. She had no idea if he was asleep, dead, or part of whatever this was, because Sterling had given her exactly zero instructions outside of pointing.
"Took you long enough, wolf girl. I was starting to think Sterling had finally sent me someone boring."
Guinevere froze, chest heaving.
The old man opened his eyes and jumped to his feet in one fluid motion. He pointed to the bottom of a large crater on the other side, then he launched, shifting before she could ask any questions.
Typical.
The air thinned as she descended into the volcanic shaft. The heat doubled, then tripled, and her lungs started to argue with each breath because the air had more sulfur in it than oxygen.
Around halfway, her fingers found a rock that was so hot it seared her palm. She yanked her hand back on instinct, and for one lurching second she was dangling by three fingers and a boot wedged into a crack that was already crumbling.
The lava hissed below in the basin.
She reached for the same hold again, knowing exactly what it would do to her hand, and kept climbing with her jaw locked and tears running down her face that evaporated before they reached her chin.
If Maddox told Sterling to send me here, I won’t fail him.
Hours went by of her hands shaking and each move a negotiation between willpower and gravity.
Finally, she reached a platform of black stones. The old man from the top was sitting there, waiting and grinning.
"You could have used the stairs."
Guinevere stared at him. Her hands were blistered and bloody, her legs were trembling, and her lungs felt like they had been scrubbed with sulfur.
"Stairs."
"Oh yes. A landing halfway down with a bench to rest too." He pointed behind her, to a wide, well-lit staircase carved into the wall.
Her jaw dropped.
He burst out laughing. The sound bounced off the chamber walls, echoing in a way that made it sound like six men were laughing instead of one.
"The young ones always fall for that. Every single time." He slapped his knee. "Those are exit only, so it wouldn’t have mattered. But the faces are what keep me young. Yours is top five, easily."
Guinevere’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"You are unbelievable."
"I am Tormund Embervale, Keeper of the Flame Altar, and I am absolutely unbelievable. Three tasks. Each measure the extent of what you carry. Are you ready?"
"The climb wasn’t the task."
"Oh no."
She almost laughed. Of course it wasn’t.
He led her to the edge of the stone ring, where the black rock dropped away into a pit so deep the bottom was lost in darkness. Just black, falling forever, and somewhere far below, the faint glint of something jagged.

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