Chapter 19

Nineteen

The Chaos tracker leads us to a natural stone amphitheater nestled into the foothills of Jagged Mountain about forty minutes outside of Everton. It's a popular spot in the summer to have outdoor concerts but is mostly abandoned the rest of the year. I've never been there before, but pictures of the structure and large jutting stones around the perimeter make the area look like a sunken stadium with tiered seating in a semi-circle around a flat rock stage.

Becks, Ensley, and I spill out of Becks' truck and follow the crowd toward the stone structure ahead. There is only one way in, and we can't see much until right before we pass through the noise-canceling barrier that knocks out our cell phones.

The music blares and lights flash off the rock face of the amphitheater, making the atmosphere just as chaotic as the last two Chaos trials. Becks moves closer to me, keeping a light hand on the small of my back as the three of us weave through the crowd, looking for a chill spot to wait out the start of the trial. We finally stop off to the side with our backs to the stone.

Becks stares at the large screens set up on the stage and sprinkled throughout the perimeter of the space with a frown on his face. I want to say something to ease his concern, but what is there to say? I don't have any idea what I'm walking into any more than he does.

I had a hard time sneaking out tonight because my parents stayed up later than usual, so we only arrived a handful of minutes before midnight. We don't have to wait long until the trial starts. I'm not surprised when the music and lights cut, but I am surprised when the screens around the venue tell the Chaos competitors to follow the path out of the amphitheater. I don't know what that means until Ensley points out the bioluminescent trail that's visible now that the lights are doused.

"You've got this," she says, and then gives me a quick hug.

Becks' frown deepens when I look at him. I go to turn without saying anything, but he yanks me into his arms and gives me a hard hug.

"Give them hell," he says into my ear before releasing me, and I nod, turning quickly before I lose my nerve.

I follow the other Chaos competitors up and out of the amphitheater and along the faint blue line guiding us. It looks like glow-in-the-dark paint of some sort, and it takes us on a trail that leads up the foothills and into a sparsely wooded area. The trees get denser the longer we climb. I catch Talon's dark head in front of me, but for the most part I keep my head down and don't talk to anyone as we go. I can't help feeling like the other competitors are sizing me up the whole walk.

We travel for a solid fifteen minutes before the glowing line stops at a circle of torches and we all shuffle into the space and wait. As soon as the final competitor steps into the ring, mist starts to fill the area around the circle, making it hard to see beyond the torches. It doesn't pass beyond the torch line though, making it obvious it's not a natural mist, but magical in nature.

The mist and the torches that cast flickering lights around the space add an eerier touch to the already tense night. I glance around to distract myself. It's too soon in the season for the white-barked aspen trees to have leaves, so it's easy to spot the blinking red lights of the cameras that are broadcasting the trial to the spectators back at the amphitheater in the branches above and around us. I also notice a large black box suspended between the trees in the middle of the circle.

There's a light murmur in the air as some of the competitors converse with each other in hushed voices. There were over a hundred competitors who entered Chaos, sixty who battled in the cages, but there are only forty of us left now. I still don't know everyone's name, but the faces are all now familiar. Jules stands a ways off to my left, talking with a fae from our school. Titus, the white-haired fae who tried to warn me about Talon's weakness in the last trial, stands off to the side, his gaze assessing as it runs over the space and our fellow competitors. I accidentally catch the eye of Kiaro, the snake shifter who I bested in the cage. He sticks out his forked tongue and licks his lower lip and blows me a kiss. My stomach rolls and I hope that whatever we are going to be forced to do, I can keep my distance from him.

I'm looking for Talon when the robed game master appears seemingly out of thin air right outside the ring of torches. The competitors on that side move out of the way, falling silent when he steps into the space.

"The third trial will be a battle not of strength or wit, but of will," the game master announces, his voice carrying through the wooded clearing and over all the Chaos competitors.

That doesn't sound too bad. I'll take a battle of wills over magic any day. But the game master isn't finished, and his next words make my blood run cold.

"Each one of you will be compelled to do three separate tasks. Your job will be to resist that compulsion by any means necessary. Only those who can resist the compulsion will move forward in the competition."

Competitors shift uncomfortably, many of their gazes fearful. Even the vampires, who surely have an advantage during this trial, look displeased by this turn of events. Besides the obvious hesitation over having someone take away your autonomy, compulsion is illegal. Yes, it's used occasionally, but only in very specific and pre-approved situations.

For years, centuries actually, vampires were shunned out of fear of their ability to compel creatures to do things against their will. In modern society, all creatures are integrated, but if anything still holds a stigma it's vampire compulsion. It's a serious crime for someone to be found guilty of compelling another, even if the deed seems harmless, so who could they have found to break the law so openly?

As soon as the question forms in my mind, a group of figures appear in the mist, covered from head to toe in black robes similar to the game master's. And also like the game master their faces are fully concealed by both the hood of their robes and also magical means. They fan out around the perimeter, just outside the ring of torches, encircling the competitors.

Even though there's no way to see Becks, I can almost feel his concern and anxiety reaching out to me from back at the amphitheater. Or maybe it's just my imagination running away from me?

A nervous energy permeates the air. Nobody looks happy. Even Jules has the sense to look nervous. I search for Talon, finding him tucked into the shadows off to the side. His face is hard as stone and his body rigid. The way he's glaring at the game master makes me think that nothing would please him more than to be able to attack the robed figure, but Talon doesn't look nervous like the rest of us, he just looks pissed off.

As I watch him, Talon's head turns toward me and our gazes lock. I'm used to a reassuring smirk or nod from him, but I don't get that this time. Instead he just stares back at me, an empty look in his eyes that doesn't do anything to help my nerves.

"The only exception during this trial is for the winner of the last, who earned an advantage." Talon's gaze shifts back toward the game master. "That competitor will only have to fight off two compulsions rather than three."

Competitors around me start to grumble, disappointed that they hadn't won the advantage for themselves, but they quiet down when the game master makes a motion and the black box suspended in the trees above opens, dumping its contents.

Horror sinks in when I see the weapons littering the middle of the circle. My dread only grows as I start cataloging the items: knives, hatchets, bows, guns, swords, nails, hammers, rope.

I squeeze my eyes shut, cutting off my view of the plethora of weapons.

"Let the trial begin," the game master says, and then retreats from the circle, melting into the mist.

"This is insane. I'm not doing this," someone shouts, and then a tall black-haired girl runs for the edge of the circle.

She doesn't make it far. The moment she tries to pass the ring of torches, the sleeve of her shirt catches fire and instantly spreads up her arm. She screams and tries to douse the flame, but her flailing only makes the fire spread faster. My eyes widen in horror as the flames lick at her face and the girl's hair catches fire.

"Drop on the ground," I yell, as I sprint toward her when no one else moves to help.

It only takes me a few seconds to reach her, and when I do I don't hesitate tackling her to the ground and forcing her to roll. She's crying hysterically, but the fire finally goes out. When she looks up at me her cheek is black and bubbled and most of the hair has burned away from the right side of her head. Her arm from her wrist to her shoulder is badly burned as well. I can only hope that for her sake this girl is a creature who heals quickly.

"You're okay," I say, but my voice wobbles.

She nods as she cries, and as I help her to her feet the warning about not being able to self-eliminate out of Chaos rings in my mind. I'm sure I'm not the only competitor who's thinking about that right now.

"I can help her with the pain," a voice says, and when I turn, Mia, a fierce blonde vampire from Nightlark, is standing next to us.

The girl shrinks away from her in fear, but I understand where the vampire is coming from. We're all about to be compelled anyway, and the magical gag is going to prevent anyone from reporting her for compulsion. What she's offering the girl is a mercy.

I look back at the burned girl, who's shaking her head while silent tears stream down her cheeks.

"Are you sure?" I ask the burned girl. "It might be the only way you make it through this trial."

"No, no compulsion," she says, and backs away from both me and Mia, finding a tree and then sliding to the ground, slowly rocking herself.

Looking back at Mia, I say, "Thanks for offering." She just shrugs and moves to the other side of the circle.

I don't know what to think as I wait for the trial to officially begin, but I move as far away as I can from the cache of weapons sitting in the middle of the ring. I don't bother sizing up my fellow competitors. They aren't my enemies tonight. Seconds tick by and then minutes. The only sounds in the ring are the sobs of the burnt girl. And the longer we're made to wait, the stronger my anxiety grows.

After half an eternity of waiting, something slides into my mind. Like tentacles of darkness seeping in through invisible cracks and latching on to me, an unwanted entity probes the far recesses. It's as intrusive as it is unsettling, and I immediately try to throw up mental barriers to protect myself.

But how do you protect your own mind from invasion? It's not like this is something they teach us to ward against at Nightlark, but maybe it should be.

I don't know what to do, and as the seconds tick by, more and more of me gets dragged under some dark spell until the world has fallen away and the only thing I'm aware of is a whispered voice ringing in my mind, hissing to me to pick up a dagger from the pile and drive it through my own palm.

I do my best to ignore the command, to push the foreign entity out of my mind entirely, but instead I find myself striding forward and reaching for a blade on the ground in front of me. My hand shakes as my fingers wrap around the hilt of a small dagger, my knuckles white with the strength of my grip.

Part of me is completely numb as I lift the weapon, hovering the tip of the blade above my palm, but the other part of me is freaking out, completely drenched in horror. The weapon starts to lower, and no matter what I do I can't seem to move my hand out of the way or stop myself from piercing my skin.

A bead of blood wells up in the center of my palm, blooming until it spills over the sides of my hand and drips to the ground below.

The blade digs deeper, pain spasming up my arm, and I swear I hear a phantom laugh whisper through my mind.

No. This isn't how I go out of Chaos. I'm stronger than this .

Pain-filled screams and angry shouts rip through the air as other competitors battle, some losing, to fight their own compulsion, but closing my eyes I block everything out. I grit my teeth as the blade enters my hand, millimeter by millimeter, blood seeping from the wound to puddle on the stones and dirt at my feet, but I push past the pain, focusing on the part of my mind that I'm no longer in control of. The voice is whispering to drive the dagger straight through my palm, so I have until the tip of the dagger pushes through the other side of my hand to break the compulsion.

Imagining the compulsion as an intruder, I search for it, finding shadowy tendrils of the dark magic woven throughout my mind, fogging my inhibitions and manipulating my desires. The compulsion has made something inside me want to shove the dagger straight through my hand, to see it punch through the other side and blood flow freely. And so as the blade digs a little deeper, I don't fight the urge to stab, but instead I concentrate on the faceless vampire who is trying to bend my will to theirs.

I redirect my desires and imagine sinking the dagger through their hand instead of mine, and I'm able to pull the blade free from my hand. My hand spasms and I drop the dagger. It clatters to the ground and the spell is broken.

I don't breathe a sigh of relief, because I know I still have to beat the compulsion two more times, and that was close—too close.

Even though I didn't cut all the way through my palm, the wound in the center of my hand is still deep and bleeding profusely. I look around for help, not finding it anywhere. Each of the competitors are embroiled in their own battles. Some of them are being compelled to hurt themselves like I was, others are on the ground writhing in agony, and others are standing stock still with hollow gazes. I even catch a competitor climbing one of the thin aspen trees, high enough off the ground they'll surely hurt themselves if they fall.

There's nothing to do but stop the bleeding myself, so reaching down I rip off the bottom few inches of my shirt. It's already speckled with my blood, so it's no great loss. I've just managed to tightly wrap the material around my palm to staunch the flow when I'm hit with the second attack.

Confess , the voice in my mind hisses, and I'm overwhelmed with the urge to spout my secrets about my feelings for Becks and why I entered Chaos.

I slap a hand over my mouth to keep words from emerging, but I can feel them bubbling in the back of my throat, like magma waiting to spill over and destroy everything in its path.

Glancing up, I spot one of the red lights from the cameras. Becks, Ensley, and half my school are watching right now. I know it's just in my head, but I imagine the camera zooming in on me, waiting to hear what truth the compulsion rips from me.

How is it that the vampire was able to access my thoughts and dig up my secret about Becks? I know the general rules around compulsion, and I'd never heard it said a vampire could dig through your mind in such a way, but how else would they know about Becks and the role he played in me entering Chaos?

Confess .

My throat contracts, making phantom words I refuse to let free.

I drop to my knees, fighting even as the compulsion gets stronger and I start to want to spill my secrets, just like I'd wanted to skewer my own hand.

Without giving it permission, my hand slides away from my mouth. I'm two seconds away from confessing my unrequited feelings for Becks, and I can't do that. Of course it would be embarrassing for the whole school to know how I truly feel about my best friend, but worse things than humiliation have happened to me at Nightlark Academy. I can't let Becks know my truth and the depths of my emotions. He isn't ready to know, not with the arranged mating still hanging over his head. Not when things are so shaky between us.

If the words leave my mouth, my relationship with Becks will change forever, and I'm not convinced that change will be for the better.

My mouth opens, my vocal cords start to vibrate, and I do the only thing I can do in the moment. I speak my truth.