Page 140 of On Brutal Thrones

Thorian’s gaze drops to his sword. “Valtor wanted us to take them.”

“And they were cursed, so we’d be left without weapons when we needed them most,” Talon says.

I think of the steel weapons that fell from the sky after the golden ones were stolen. Plain, ordinary metal. Exactly what we needed.

“Soryn,” I whisper. “She sent the chest.”

Thorian nods slowly. “I think she did.”

I stare at the weapons in their hands. Valtor tried to leave us defenseless, and another god gave us a way to fight back.

Thank you, Soryn. She isn’t like Valtor where she’ll hurt our competitors, but she was willing to step up and help us when she knew we were being set up.

Then I look up.

The Spire waits above us.

Thorian follows my gaze. “Move.”

We do, leaving the Vultures where they fell, and climb. I try not to think of the warlocks or feel bad that I don’t feel bad that they're dead. Because right now? Right now we have the Trials to win.

The mountain grows steeper with every step. My lungs burn. My palms bleed. My legs tremble so badly that more than once Talon or Fenric puts a hand on me to steady me.

But the Spire keeps getting closer. Close enough that the strange energy surrounding it seems to hum beneath my skin. Close enough that I can see cracks running through its black stone. Close enough that I know we're going to make it.

The realization hits me so suddenly that tears fill my eyes. We're going to win.

After the cave. The blood. The flowers. The monsters. The gods. After watching people die and nearly losing the men I love over and over again.

We're going to win.

Lyra. I can see her face so clearly that a sob catches in my throat. I'm coming.

The mountain bucks beneath me, and my foot slips. For one terrible instant, there's nothing beneath me. Then my back slams into stone, and pain explodes through my body, as I tumble down the slope.

“Nyx!”

I claw at the rock, but my fingers slide uselessly over the black surface. My shoulder strikes hard enough to spin me around before I finally crash into a narrow shelf of stone.

The air leaves my lungs. I can't breathe. Can't think.

Fenric is already scrambling toward me, but then he stops. Every hair on my body rises. The air changes. It becomes sharp and electric, carrying a metallic taste that coats my tongue.

“Fenric?”

He looks up.

White light splits the sky, and lightning hits the mountain between us. The sound is beyond thunder. It punches through my body, rattling my bones and leaving my ears screaming. Fenric is thrown backward.

“Nyx!”

I try to stand, but another bolt hits. Then another. And another.

I throw my arms over my head as lightning tears into the mountain around me. Chips of stone sting my face. Heat flashes across my skin. The smell of burning grass and scorched rock fills my nose.

Fire catches around me.

I stumble toward the edge of the circle, but then lightning strikes directly in front of my boot, and I scream and jump backward.