Valkhara
Azric blocked the door before I could take two steps.
"You're not going."
Sevrin was already beside him, arms crossed, eyes glowing. "You want to walk into the forest alone? You've lost your godsdamn mind."
"I won't be alone. Nyra's going."
"That doesn't make it safer," Azric snapped. "It makes it worse. If something happens, no one will hear you scream."
"I've screamed plenty," I said flatly. "And you never seem to miss those."
Sevrin growled. "This isn't funny, Valkhara."
"I'm not joking," I snapped. "The Council is plotting. The Trials are frozen. I need this forest's power."
Azric's power flared across the room like a psychic thunderclap. "We'll find another way."
"There is no other way."
I moved to push past them—Sevrin grabbed my arm.
Bad idea.
Flame flared from my wrist, slamming into his chest and sending him back three steps.
Azric's pupils shrank. "Don't."
"Then move."
Nyra peeked into the room like she was checking to see if a fight had broken out yet. Spoiler alert: it had.
She held up two glowing vials. "Sleeping tinctures. Knock out a mountain troll in under six seconds."
Sevrin lunged for her.
She threw one at his feet.
Poof. Purple mist exploded—he hit the ground with a grunt.
Azric cursed and reached for me—
I kissed him.
Hard. Deep.
His power faltered just long enough for Nyra to uncork the second vial and shove it under his nose.
He inhaled.
His knees buckled.
"Oh my gods," Nyra muttered, fanning herself. "They're heavier than I expected."
I glanced at the pile of unconscious alpha vampire fury on the floor.
"They'll be out for what, an hour?"
"More like three. I doubled the dose."
I grabbed my dagger.
"Let's go before they wake up and set the forest on fire."
**********************************************************
The castle faded behind us with every step.
No guards. No watching eyes. Just Nyra and me. And the trees.
They didn't rustle. They listened.
The deeper we walked, the more unnatural it felt—like the forest wasn't just alive, it was watching me. Not with suspicion. Not with welcome.
With hunger.
"Stay close," Nyra said softly. "If it senses hesitation, it'll eat you alive."
I didn't ask if she was joking. I already knew she wasn't.
The canopy above grew thicker, sunlight turning green-gold through the leaves. Moss climbed every stone. Vines pulsed with faint, unnatural light. The wind didn't blow—it breathed.
"Why does it feel like it knows me?" I whispered.
Nyra didn't look back. "Because it does. Your blood remembers. Even if you don't."
I swallowed hard. My fingers brushed the dagger at my hip.
"You sure it'll let us in?"
"It'll let me in," she said. "The question is whether it'll keep you."
Charming.
We reached the clearing by dusk.
It was circular unnaturally so. Trees arched around its edge like a cathedral of bone and bark. In the center sat a flat stone, stained black with age.
"This is it?" I asked.
Nyra nodded. "The Stone of Remembering. This is where you offer your blood."
I stepped forward, but the wind rose sharply.
Branches creaked. The ground groaned. Shadows twitched.
It didn't want me here.
Not yet.
Nyra stepped between me and the altar, raising her hand. "She's mine," she said clearly. "I bring her with respect. With purpose. With promise."
The wind stilled.
She turned to me. "Now you speak."
I drew my dagger.
The forest hissed. A warning.
"Not yet," Nyra whispered.
"I thought I had to give blood."
"You do. But it has to want it."
I took a breath and stepped forward until I stood before the stone.
Then I spoke.
"I don't ask for power," I said. "I don't ask for safety. I ask for alliance."
The ground thrummed.
"I am Valkhara, daughter of fire, forged in blood. I have bled in the Trials. I have bled for my mates. Now I offer it to you."
The trees stilled.
I sliced my palm open clean and firm—no flinching. My blood splattered onto the stone.
It hissed on contact—then sank in.
Nyra gasped. "It's accepting you."
But then the stone glowed.
The clearing shifted.
The trees moved.
Roots twisted from the earth like ribs clawing upward. They encircled the altar and me, forming a cage of thorns and bark.
"What the fuck," I breathed.
Nyra backed up. "This is your test."
"What kind of test?!"
"I don't know!" she yelled. "I've never seen it react like this before!"
The roots surged higher.
And then something stepped out of the forest.
It wasn't human.
It wasn't beast.
It was both.
Glowing eyes. A mouth full of fangs. Long limbs like twisted wood, dripping with moss and blood.
It snarled.
Then lunged.
I dodged left, barely avoiding the claws that slashed through air where my throat had been.
This wasn't a vision.
This was real.
A trial of survival.
It moved like shadows, it's vines striking with unnatural speed grabbing my food and tangling around me. I rolled to the ground as it was pulling me towards it's self. I grabbed a fallen branch glowing with faint green light, and lit it aflame in my palm.
The creature shrieked at the fire.
"You don't like that, huh?" I snarled, throwing the flame like a spear.
It struck the beast in the chest. It howled, staggered and then vanished into the trees.
The roots receded.
The clearing grew silent.
I was breathing hard, bleeding, sweating.
But I was still standing.
The altar glowed again this time brighter.
I stepped back to it.
The blood had vanished. In its place sat a single green mark like a leaf, but made of fire burned into the stone.
Nyra ran to me. "You did it."
"What was that thing?"
"The forest," she said. "It took form. To test you. To see if you could survive what it remembered."
"And?"
"And it marked you."
I looked at my palm.
The wound was gone.
In its place?
The same glowing green mark that had burned into the stone—now pulsing beneath my skin.
"I can feel it," I whispered. "The forest… inside me."
Nyra grinned. "It gave you more than permission."
"It gave me power."
"No, flameheart." Her voice dropped.
"It gave you its loyalty."
*******************************************
Meanwhile… Back in the Council Chambers
"She went into the forest."
"That cursed bitch."
"She survived."
"She was marked."
"She belongs to it and it to her now."
"Then it's too late."
"No," said the head councilor. "We still have one weapon left."
"She'll kill them if they touch her."
"Then we won't send them for her."
A pause.
"Send them for him."
"His death will break her"