22. Amber

The crystalsthe monks hand out to us are the size of tennis balls. But unlike tennis balls, they're flat on the bottom, which makes them easier to hold. And I'll need the others to hold them as flat as possible, so I don't accidentally blast off their fingers.

I think supernatural healing would grow their fingers back—or any other limbs, for that matter—but I don't want to test it out right now.

Or ever.

"There are nineteen sun discs on the floor, representing the nineteenth major arcana card in a Tarot deck—the Sun," the Abbot tells us. "Choose the ones you want to stand on. You will remain standing on your disc while Amber is directing her light through your crystals and ultimately, to the portal."

"How do I know the directions the light will reflect through the crystals?" I ask.

"I suspect it's not you who will know, but your magic," the Abbot replies, giving me a close-lipped smile.

It's a challenge, and if his intention is to make me doubt myself, it's not going to work.

"Okay," I say, and my magic warms inside me, as if telling me it's here for me.

Wasting no time, Damien moves to a disc on my right. "Amber—take the disc in the back, near the middle. Morgan, stand there, and Blaze, stand there," he says, pointing to the ones he's referring to as he speaks.

He says it with so much authority that Morgan and I hurry to the discs assigned to us, placing our packs down near our feet.

Blaze stays where he is, zeroing in on Morgan.

"Shouldn't you be the one telling us where to stand?" he asks her. "You used your magic to get us out of that lightning storm."

There's venom in his tone, which I know is because that's the moment Morgan was forced to reveal her magic to him.

She swallows and glances around at the monks, fear in her eyes.

"No—don't use up your energy like that," I jump in, since I'm close to positive I know what's going on.

She doesn't want the monks to know she's a blood witch.

Focused on Blaze, Damien says, "The places I picked are the simplest angles for Amber to use to reflect her magic. It's best not to complicate this more than necessary."

"We can always try different spots if these don't work," I add.

"Actually," the Abbot cuts in. "You will not be able to try other spots."

"We're locked into these?" I ask.

"No," he says. "But the crystals can only handle being hit with one beam of sunlight. They'll explode on a second attempt. So, you only get one try. If you fail, your journey ends here."

Wow.

Talk about amping up the pressure.

I steady myself and study the crystal in my hand. It pulses with life, as if it senses my magic.

I've trained for this. Well, not for this specific task, but in using my sun magic as precisely as possible.

"We won't fail." I turn to look at the others, sizing up the locations of their crystals. "Hold your crystals so they're level with each other. It'll make it easier for me to direct the light through them."

They do as asked, triple checking to make sure the crystals are evenly lined up.

Damien's standing closest to me. Which means I'm directing my light through his crystal first.

I take a deep breath, and my magic's warmth swells inside me, a bright sphere of energy eager to break free and show its power.

Damien's expression is serious as he holds his crystal steady.

I only have one shot at this. So, I visualize the beam of light, honing it to a fine point in my mind.

I can't blast it forward like I would in battle. This needs to be steady and precise.

Now.

The golden beam streams forward, a dazzling line of energy that hits Damien's crystal perfectly, illuminating it with a brilliant flare. The light's filling it, reacting inside it, begging to be released.

I'm ready to nudge it in a single beam toward Morgan's crystal, but the light splits before I can, breaking into a prism of colors I didn't know my powers could produce.

None of them come close to hitting my target.

My heart sinks.

I failed.

I can't bring myself to look at the others. Especially not at Damien.

The monks exchange glances, their expressions somber. "It was a good try," the Abbot says. "But you failed the trial, and now must find another entrance to the mystical realm."

I glance at Morgan, desperation creeping into the pit of my stomach. "There has to be another way," I say, praying she'll use her magic to figure this out for us.

The door is right there. We have no idea where another entrance is around here to the mystical realm, which means we have to take this one.

Morgan doesn't reply. Damien's staring at the giant crystal on the door as if he can make it explode with his mind, and Blaze's hand is inching toward the hilt of the dagger.

What's he going to do?

Attack the monks?

He can't attack monks. They're peaceful. Defenseless. Using our strength against them would be wrong on so many levels.

I glance at the crystal in Damien's hand—the one I hit with my light.

It's totally intact.

"Let's try again," I decide.

"The crystals can only handle one beam of light," the Abbot repeats. "You're done here."

"We're not done." I keep my focus on Damien, who's unfazed by the situation. "Hold the crystal back up."

For a moment, I wonder if he's going to say no.

"Focus harder this time," he tells me, and thankfully, he returns the crystal back to where it was.

Morgan and Blaze ready their crystals as well, ignoring the monks.

I concentrate again, summoning my magic, trying to be gentle but firm with it at the same time.

Precision.

That's what I need to succeed.

Slowly, I allow my magic to fill the crystal in my hand. It trickles inside, like smoke filling glass, and then…

Crack.

The crystal shatters into a thousand glittering pieces that spread across the stone floor.

Blaze swears loudly, his frustration echoing throughout the cavernous room. "Now what?" he asks.

I stare at the cuts healing on my palm, wishing I had an answer.

We failed. No—I failed. I had the key to that portal in the palm of my hand, and now, it's gone.

"We need another crystal," Damien says to the Abbot, and then he adds, "Please."

"I'm afraid that's not how this works," the Abbot says calmly, turning to me. "You knew your task. You tried. You failed. Now, given that we're closed to visitors for the day, I'll see you out."

My skin glows, as if my body's a bomb ready to explode.

If the Abbot is intimidated, he doesn't show it. Neither do the other monks, who are as serene as ever, as if they're not in the presence of four dangerous supernaturals.

"There are nineteen discs," Morgan says, motioning to the others scattered about the floor.

"Your point?" the Abbot asks.

"One disc per person," she says. "That's what you told us when you explained the trial. Which means up to nineteen people can try opening the portal at once."

"Again… your point?" the Abbot asks.

"My point is that you have fifteen other crystals somewhere."

The Abbot raises a thin brow, saying nothing.

"Is she right?" Blaze growls, his hand closer to his dagger than before. "Do you have more crystals?"

A few of the monks step back, refusing to meet our eyes.

Judging from their reaction, Morgan's right.

There are more crystals.

Hope isn't lost.

The Abbot zeroes in on me, eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor replaced by impatience. "You had one chance to prove your worth," he says. "You failed. Now, like I said, we'll see you out."

"We're not leaving," Damien says, stepping off his disc in that smooth, predatory way of his. "And she is worthy."

My heart warms at how he jumped to my defense. Yes, I can defend myself, but it's nice to know he's looking out for me.

As he should.

Given he's my husband.

The word feels wrong, even in my thoughts.

"You cannot defy the traditions of this portal," the Abbot responds, equally as firm. "The gods will not allow it."

"Then let the gods witness our devotion to our cause." Damien flicks his hand that's not holding the crystal, and wind whips through the chamber, fierce and controlled, coming straight from him.

Morgan, Blaze, and I are protected in the eye of Damien's storm.

The monks stagger back, their red robes billowing wildly as they struggle to maintain their balance. But the wind keeps coming at them until their backs are against the wall, anger making its way onto their previously serene faces.

My light glows around me.

The air around Morgan and Blaze crackles with fiery sparks.

"Stop this!" the Abbot cries out, holding his hand in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the wind. "This is not the way."

The wind blows stronger.

Then, Damien lowers his hand, and it dies down.

"Correct," Damien says to him. "The ‘way' is for you to retrieve the remaining crystals, so Amber can continue trying to open the portal."

"That's not the way, either." The Abbot smiles wickedly, then reaches into his robe, bringing out a dagger that thickens on the end, which is curved slightly forward."Because this is the way."