They gave her no time to rest.
The sky had barely stitched itself back to black when the world beneath her feet shifted again—stone melting to sand, night breaking into burning gold. One moment she was dragging Raze’s unconscious body from the ruins. The next, the light blinded her, searing through her eyes like punishment.
She screamed as the Trial pulled her under.
When she opened them again, she was somewhere else.
No—somewhen.
A marketplace. Familiar. Too familiar.
Children laughed, vendors shouted, and the air smelled of roasted meat and sun-warmed fruit. It was a memory, but it felt real. Her hands weren’t bloodied. Her blade was gone. Her scars, faded.
She looked down and froze.
She was thirteen.
“No,” Amara whispered. “No, no, no—”
The Trial wasn’t testing her strength an
