The Thawing of Orion's Ice Heart

SPOILER WARNING – The Tales from Divinia are companion stories best enjoyed after reading the main novel. The Thawing of Orion's Ice Heart takes place during chapter fifteen of The Trials of Divinia and therefore contains spoilers.

Blurb:

Orion Iceheart has always believed duty comes before desire. Chosen as Nivalis’ champion through a cold and calculated process, he approaches the Celestial Trials with the same discipline that has defined his entire life. But while the other champions chase glory, revenge, or redemption, Orion finds himself increasingly distracted by something far more dangerous – Zara Lightbringer. As the champions gather for a grand celebratory dinner following the fourth trial, Orion begins to question the rigid certainty by which he has always lived. Yet in a world shaped by politics, appearances, and hidden enemies, even a thawing heart can become a fatal weakness.

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He leaned back in his chair, a drink in his hand, and surveyed the room silently.

The Nivalis quarters were cool rather than cold – intentionally comfortable for his team, but noticeably chilled to those from other regions. At least, he had noticed that the High Emissary, Lykarian Starbound, never lingered during his occasional visits. Wherever the man was from, it was not Nivalis. And truthfully, Orion welcomed the lack of intrusion.

The space was dimly lit by pale blue crystal lanterns mounted on the walls, providing soft, steady illumination rather than warm firelight. The same ice-blue colour could be seen running through sections of the white-grey walls and pillars that structured the rooms, whilst the high ceilings, with their elegant vaulted arches, were designed to evoke glaciers and frozen caverns, even if they did not quite meet their goal.

There was sparse decoration, with every item appearing carefully chosen rather than ornamental, as per his wishes. The few furnishings that occupied the main living area were crafted from pale wood and silver-toned metals – practical and durable. A thick rug in shades of blue, grey and white provided warmth underfoot, and a single banner bearing the snowflake crest of Nivalis hung neatly between two pillars.

Today had been the day of the fourth trial. The Luminara trial. They had struggled, finishing sixth – a result which had dropped them to fourth position in the overall standings. But fortunately for them, Cassian and Tempestus’ failure, along with Ferroxia’s surprise second-place finish, had moved all of them closer together rather than further apart. Just four points separated the top five. They were still well placed.

By this point, his team knew better than to disturb his post-trial ritual, which involved sitting alone, contemplating what had gone well, what had gone wrong, and making mental notes and refinements for how they would approach the following day’s trial – in this case, Solaris. After hearing the contents of Lykarian’s letter, the others had retreated to their private chambers quietly and without fuss, leaving little sound in the room beyond the faint flicker of the lanterns above and the tinkling of ice in his glass.

Of course, he had recently discovered that there was one more trial he would need to face before the Solarian deserts.

The champions’ dinner.

He dreaded social events. He wished they would simply leave him to get on with his job. But as he had learnt throughout his time in Concordia, the gods loved nothing more than ceremony.

For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander as he thought back on the past few weeks.

His appointment as champion of Nivalis had not come as a huge surprise. Nivalian law required all residents aged between sixteen and twenty-five to undertake regional service. During this period, which matched the eligibility window for the Celestial Trials, they would perform duties benefiting Nivalis whilst their progress was tracked and monitored, with potential trials candidates put forward for further consideration.

He had spent three of the past five years in the royal guard, working directly under King Theodric Wintercrest – one of only two reigning monarchs in Divinia. This year had marked the second time his name had been passed on to the goddess, Glacius, who chose from the shortlist she was provided with. This time, he had been selected.

As far as Orion could remember, he had felt no great pleasure or sorrow at the decision, simply an acceptance that this was another challenge he must overcome. He had enjoyed the broad scope and physicality of the trials he had faced so far, but equally he found himself awaiting a time when things could return to normal, and he would be free of gods, champions, and all their petty squabbles.

Once chosen, he had been given detailed written profiles of possible choices for his team. Each profile contained an overview of the candidate, their background, and a score out of ten in various criteria. These included, amongst others, combat ability, physical fitness, tactical awareness, leadership, discipline, adaptability, problem-solving, resilience and, to his slight amusement, compatibility.

He had felt confident that he had chosen the six strongest candidates for the job.

Henrik Frostguard was a veteran royal infantryman who had spent several years protecting key Nivalian settlements and trade routes. He had been impressed by his near-perfect scores for resilience and leadership, viewing him as a dependable second-in-command.

Eirik Coldmere was a former border patrol officer with exceptionally high scores in discipline, survival, and tactical awareness. He had selected him because his profile suggested consistency and reliability under pressure rather than flashes of brilliance.

Stellan Icebrook was a skilled hunter and tracker with extensive experience navigating Nivalis’ harsh wilderness. He had chosen him for his adaptability and problem-solving abilities, which he believed would prove valuable in unfamiliar trial environments.

Freya Snowstride was a competitive athlete and mountaineer known for her endurance and physical conditioning. She had been excused from regional service after two years to pursue her career. He valued her exceptional fitness scores and her record of completing difficult assignments without complaint.

Ingrid Whitepeak was a scholar-soldier who had served in both military and administrative roles during her regional service. He had been drawn to her unusually balanced profile, with strong scores across leadership, tactical awareness, and teamwork.

Finally, there was Leif Flakehorn, a rural Nivalian outdoorsman with experience as a guide, hunter, and rescue volunteer in severe weather conditions. Whilst some candidates scored higher in individual categories, he had liked the breadth of Leif’s practical skills and his reputation for remaining calm during crises.

The results had been mixed. Acceptable, but he would have hoped for – and predicted – better.

In the Verdantian trial, he had selected Stellan and Leif as his teammates, as both possessed extensive wilderness experience. As the pair with the highest combined scores for survival, tracking, and adaptability, the trial had appeared ideally suited to their skillsets. They had made steady progress through the labyrinth, but he had found that Stellan preferred independent action and frequently moved ahead of the group, whilst Leif favoured discussion and caution before making decisions. Valuable time was lost through disagreements over route choices, as neither man trusted the other's judgement enough to defer. Orion had eventually steered them to a fifth-place finish.

In the Nivalis trial, he had chosen Henrik, Eirik, and Freya. They had the highest scores in discipline, endurance, resilience, and leadership. In a trial where conditions resembled environments familiar to them, he had expected a strong result, and they had delivered. There had been a clear chain of command. Henrik and Eirik naturally accepted his authority, and Freya’s athleticism proved decisive during several key stages. The team operated efficiently, with their shared experience reducing most of the friction. First place.

In the Tempestus trial, he had gone with Freya and Ingrid. They both had strong adaptability scores, as well as physical endurance paired with strategic thinking. Both girls performed individually to a high standard – Ingrid successfully identified several solutions to reach certain checkpoints, whilst Freya excelled during physically demanding sections. However, there had once again been disagreement over priorities, with Ingrid preferring careful planning whilst Freya favoured immediate action. The result: third place.

In today’s Luminara trial, he had opted for Henrik, Ingrid, and Leif – the strongest combination of leadership, problem-solving, resilience, and teamwork. The team had remained calm under pressure, and nobody had panicked or abandoned their responsibilities. And yet, the trial had tested them in ways he had not been prepared for. It had demanded an emotional understanding and trust which, in just a few short weeks, had not had the opportunity to develop amongst them. Each of them had, in turn, hesitated when forced to rely upon one another. Coordination had broken down during key moments, and they had reverted to functioning as individuals rather than a cohesive unit. Two points. Two.

Overall, there had been something missing – and not just trustworthy scores in the reports he had received. No, this was something more. Something he could not quite put his finger on.

All that remained now was Solaris, then Ferroxia and Elysium – environments which did not typically favour his people. They would need to improve if they were to secure a strong final placement.

Then there were the other champions.

He had arrived in Concordia expecting them to be little more than a minor distraction. And yet, everything here seemed designed to force them together, when the rest of Divinia would have kept them firmly apart.

Everything was shared – the trials, the meetings where they received their scores, the training area, the dining hall, even the corridors and streets of the city itself. It was as if they were being herded like a pack of shiverhorn yak.

Tonight, at dinner, he would face them all again.

There was Kael Greenbark – champion of Verdantia. Overtly loud and enthusiastic, albeit with a seemingly genuine interest in other people, places and, in particular, creatures. However, whilst his personality seemed authentic, his actions had not always been. Such as when he had tried to exaggerate the ease with which he had completed the first trial. Orion suspected, but could not prove, that Kael may have more meddlesome people around him than he did. Thankfully, both Glacius and Kaelor Frostborn, the Nivalian representative to the Celestial Council, had mostly left him alone.

Then there was Elara Moonshadow, champion of Elysium, who spoke almost exclusively in riddles and always with a faint air of superiority which he resented. He could tell that much of her bravado was an act, but he was not entirely sure for whose benefit it was intended. If she meant to unnerve her rivals, she seemed to be failing, and as she languished near the bottom of the standings, it did not appear to be helping her either. One thing he had noticed, however, was that with each poor performance and each disappointing result, her attitude and demeanour did not change. She was consistent. Consistently weird.

Calista Dawnstar of Luminara was quiet and composed. They had shared a few brief exchanges, but little more. At first, he had thought that she, of all of them, was most like him. But as he had watched her interactions with the others, he had begun to notice that she carried a weight – expectation, perhaps, or a secret she considered a burden. It was not his place to ask, nor to know, but he would wager she fought for more than she allowed others to see.

Cassian was a prick. Highly skilled, highly competitive, and highly determined. But still a prick. The two had gone toe-to-toe throughout the first half of the trials, particularly during the Nivalis trial, where his team had passed Cassian’s near the top of the glacier to claim victory – one that Orion had uncharacteristically revelled in. The Tempestian champion brought out the worst in him, and he knew it. But he simply could not stand those who picked on people smaller and weaker than themselves, then surrounded themselves with thugs to help back it up.

Whilst he could still feel his usual steadfast focus running through him, he had to admit that they were... interesting.

And then there were the two who intrigued him most.

Talon Drakeforge was shy, unassuming, and unexpectedly strong. His strength was not in physical skill or tactical brilliance, but in leadership, teamwork, determination, and an ability – deliberate or otherwise – to create a cause that others wanted to fight for. Orion remembered how apprehensive the Ferroxian champion had seemed before the trials and then how, with each trial that passed, he had grown slightly in confidence. And now? He was as much of a threat as any of the others, perhaps even more so, with his home trial still to come.

And finally Zara Lightbringer.

She was…

He felt his mind struggle to find the words. Words which did not form naturally for him. Words which the very thought of her seemed to dispossess him of.

For she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

They had first met during the champions’ introductions, and he had been struck immediately by her unusual appearance. Her blonde hair, her tanned skin, her relaxed and confident demeanour, her sun-patterned armour – it had all spoken of a world so unlike his own, a world dominated not by duty and ice, but by something warmer.

‘Frosty,’ she had said with a grin after shaking his hand, her smile broad and her eyes alight. ‘I can see I’ll have to watch out for you.’

He had barely managed to reply, so taken aback had he been. The relationship between their two regions had been fraught for many years, particularly since the Border Wars, and it was common knowledge that their respective royal families loathed one another.

And yet… Zara had continued to be surprisingly open, playful even. At first, he had thought she was teasing him, but after a while he had grown to realise that the interactions were genuine.

‘Careful, Iceheart,’ she had called out one afternoon in the Hall of Gathering. ‘You keep standing in the corner like that, and someone might mistake you for a statue.’

‘I’ll leave the theatrics to Solaris,’ he had replied.

As he did, he had shot her the smallest of glances. Whilst her teammates had laughed, she had not. Instead, she had sat watching him quietly, a small smile playing around her mouth.

From that point on, she had made a point to greet him or stop and speak with him whenever they passed, and her words were always kind and filled with enthusiasm for the days ahead. It was infectious, in a way.

When she had appeared battered, bruised, and without her teammates at the end of the Verdantia trial, he had felt an unfamiliar aching in his chest that he had not been able to place immediately. Only later, as their scores were read out, had he realised the truth.

He had wanted her to do well.

He had been worried for her. Perhaps even saddened by what had befallen her.

As they left the hall, he had stopped her.

‘What happened?’ he had asked.

Zara had looked at him with wide eyes. Their brightness had dimmed.

‘I’m not sure,’ she had sniffed. ‘It was just a disaster. I thought we were so ready, so well prepared, but I was wrong. When my aunt hears about this…’

She had trailed off, almost speaking to herself.

Then, in a moment of madness, he had stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

He had held her in that embrace for several moments, feeling her relax into him as her words came to a stop and she took the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

Even now, days later, he was not entirely sure why he had done it.

‘Thank you,’ she had said, looking up at him with a mixture of relief and curiosity. ‘I didn’t realise how much I needed that. I’ll try and pull myself together. I’m sorry you had to see that.’

‘You should never apologise for how you feel,’ he had replied.

She had smiled at that.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Orion.’

It was the first time she had called him by his given name rather than his family name.

To his surprise, he had seen her again before the Nivalis trial, when she had sought him out that morning to ask for his advice. He had found himself giving it happily – telling her all he could about the conditions, the creatures, and the common pitfalls he anticipated they would need to avoid. He knew his teammates would disapprove of him speaking at such length with a rival, but he could not stand the idea of seeing her so unhappy again.

After completing the trial, he had waited with his teammates at the top of the glacier, watching the other champions arrive – Cassian, Talon, Calista, Elara, Kael. His heart had sunk with each new arrival.

Finally, Zara had come.

That evening, she had knocked on the door to his quarters. Together, they had found a quiet corner of Concordia in which to sit, and she had sobbed uncontrollably against his shoulder.

He had tried to comfort her, had tried to tell her that the trial had been difficult and that she should not blame herself. He was not sure any of it had truly landed.

He found that he felt desperately sorry for her. Whatever the true nature of the pressure upon her, it was clearly far greater than she allowed others to see.

After more than two hours had passed, he had walked her back to her quarters and bid her goodnight, but as he had turned to leave, she had caught hold of his arm and pulled him back around.

Without warning, she had leaned in and kissed him once on the lips.

Then she had slipped through the door and disappeared without another word.

The sensation had lingered for many hours afterwards.

On the evening of the third trial, they had sat together again. She had been different then – less emotional, but more… distant. As though the spark within her had been extinguished.

Today, she had done better. Third place. It had been the one bright part of his otherwise disappointing day. And he knew that, deep down, it was not their result in the Luminara trial which was truly bothering him.

It was the thought that he would not get to spend another evening alone with Zara.

Instead, he would spend it looking at Cassian’s stupid face at the champions’ dinner.

Speaking of which, it was time to get ready. He drained the last of his drink and rose from his chair.

They arrived together – Orion and his team. They were dressed almost entirely in white, the men in tailored suits and the women in simple knee-length dresses, with the only adornments being the blue trim on the suit lapels and dress hems, and the fur shawls draped around their shoulders.

He looked around for Zara, almost without thinking, and found her within seconds.

She wore a tight-fitting dress of gold and bronze that complemented her skin perfectly, sweeping down onto the floor in an elegant trail, with the skin at her shoulders and hips exposed. Her blonde hair had been styled into an intricate knot atop her head, and she appeared to have applied something to her face which brought out the sharpness of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips.

With some difficulty, he tore his eyes away, not wanting to be accused of staring. He turned his attention instead to the gods who had, thankfully, chosen that moment to follow them through the grand doors at the entrance to the hall.

He and his team moved quickly out of the way to let them pass. Glacius met his eyes briefly as she passed and offered him a polite nod of recognition.

Soon after this, Lykarian asked them to take their seats for dinner. Orion felt his spirits lift slightly when he discovered that the champions would be seated together and that he would be positioned between Calista and Zara.

He gave the Solarian a small smile as he moved towards his chair and, after glancing quickly around, she returned it.

As they settled into their new places, the aetherbound emerged carrying a more elaborate-than-usual array of dishes from across Divinia. Orion had mostly avoided food from outside Nivalis, preferring not to risk upsetting either his routine or his stomach by trying unfamiliar varieties, but as the others dug in with enthusiasm, he allowed himself a few small indulgences – a Ferroxian meat skewer, a Luminarian bread, some small Verdantian fruits. Just this once.

He ate quietly as the conversation flowed around him. Talon, Calista, Kael, and even Elara spoke with a relaxed comfort that would have been unthinkable only a few days earlier. Zara spoke only occasionally, and he found that it was during these moments that he would look up, hanging on her every word before turning his attention back to his plate. Cassian, sitting at the far end of their group, was mercifully subdued.

“I don’t know much about Nivalis beyond the ice and storms,” said Kael. “What kind of creatures survive in a place like that?”

It took Orion a moment to process the fact that he had been asked a question.

He looked up.

Everyone was looking at him.

Zara was looking at him.

“Few,” he said eventually. “And none that you would wish to meet in a fight.”

Kael laughed – not cruelly, but Orion’s stomach twisted all the same. He must not come across so bluntly. Not in front of Zara.

“There are frostwolves,” he went on. “They hunt in silence; you won’t hear them until it’s too late. Deep below the ice, there are leviathans the size of warships, though few have seen them and lived. Even the birds, icewings, have talons sharp enough to tear through armour.”

Kael whistled.

“And here I was thinking Verdantia was dangerous.”

“It is,” Orion said with a shrug. “But, in Nivalis, the cold would kill you before anything else does.”

Silence.

That went well, he thought glumly.

“You did well in the trial today,” said Talon to Zara after a few minutes.

Orion looked up in surprise and saw that same expression flicker across Zara’s face before she regained her composure.

“It was better,” she said. “But not enough.”

“You’re gaining,” said Talon, encouragement clear in his tone. “That’s what matters.”

He had really grown a lot since the trials had begun.

“One strong trial can change everything,” added Calista. “We’re all close now.”

“Too close,” said Kael with a grin. “Every point matters from here on out.”

Orion found himself nodding along.

“No one is safe in the standings anymore,” he agreed.

“Speak for yourselves,” cut in Cassian.

The boy was leaning back in his chair, his familiar smirk back in place.

Orion felt anger rise within him.

“You seem awfully confident for someone who didn’t even finish the last trial,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

Cassian’s expression tightened slightly, but the smirk remained.

“And yet, I’m still ahead of you,” he said, lifting a goblet to his mouth. He took a sip before continuing, deliberately letting the words linger. “Strange, isn’t it? A champion of Nivalis, known for endurance, barely scraping by whilst I, despite one setback, remain at the top.”

Oh, that little shit.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Orion managed through gritted teeth. “Your lead won’t hold.”

Cassian laughed – and unlike Kael’s, this laugh was full of malice.

“Big words from someone who’s spent the last two trials watching others overtake him. Did I hear you were down to fourth place?”

Orion opened his mouth to respond. Then stopped. He glanced around.

Kael and Calista were looking at each other worriedly. Talon looked concerned too. Elara was staring at the ceiling, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. Zara’s eyes were narrowed, though fixed firmly on the table in front of her.

“That’s enough,” Lykarian called. “The gods have expressed their wish to speak with each of you. During dessert, you will be called forward one by one.”

Cassian’s smile widened.

“Finally,” he said. “Something worth sitting through this for.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt once more as the champions turned their attention back towards the gods and waited to be called forward one by one. Kael went first, then Zara, Talon, Cassian, and finally it was his turn. Orion made his way forwards and dropped to one knee before the gods.

“You have done well, Orion Iceheart,” said Heliora. “Not just in the trials, but outside of the arena too. My council member has spoken highly of you. The aid you have offered my champion has not gone unnoticed.”

Orion looked up at the goddess, who sat in quiet contrast to her champion, with her dark skin and hair, but he could hear the warmth in her tone. Those from Solaris continued to surprise him.

“The weakest amongst us must stick together,” muttered Zephyros under his breath, earning an icy glare from Glacius.

“Your performance in your home trial was impressive,” admitted the storm god, rolling his eyes at Glacius’ expression. “But I dare say the lands of light and fire will be less kind to you.”

“I would not be so quick to rule him out, brother,” said Thoros. “The boy is strong, focused, and determined. I can see why you chose him, sister.”

“Your team lacks cohesion,” said Athenaea, without preamble. “My trial caught you out today, although you were not the only ones to struggle. Put that right tomorrow and you have every chance of reaching the final trial.”

“He will,” said Glacius, her voice leaving no room for doubt.

“Does anyone have any other words for Orion?” asked Lykarian.

“I do,” spoke a quiet voice.

It was Morpheus and, to Orion’s surprise, she rose and approached him, stopping only a short distance away. She leaned forwards until she was inches from his ear. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but felt a bead of sweat run slowly down his back in discomfort.

“Do not fear,” she whispered. “Whilst today may bring you pain, the future will bring you comfort, and what your heart most desires may still be yours.”

She stepped away and returned to her seat, the words still ringing in his ears.

The other gods did not seem to have noticed and, when no one else spoke, Orion was invited to return to his seat.

After Calista and Elara had made their way to the gods and back, Lykarian spoke again.

“This night is not merely for counsel and judgement,” the High Emissary said. “It is also for tradition. And so, as is custom, we celebrate not only the trials, but those who walk them.”

Then the dancing began.

He felt his mouth fall open as the gods set out onto the floor – Thoros and Heliora, Glacius and Zephyros, Sylvanis and Athenaea, Morpheus alone, albeit with the illusion of a partner trailing in her wake.

A mix of fear and dread spread through him. He knew what must be next.

Kael led the way, accompanied by one of his Verdantian teammates, Elara drifted almost dazedly forward, alongside a bemused looking boy in dark Elysian formalwear, and then – he felt a brief surge of amusement and vindication for how he had treated them – Cassian, being dragged by the small older woman from the Celestial Council. His face was red with embarrassment as his teammates roared with laughter from the edge of the floor, drinks still firmly in their hands.

A flash of gold pulled his eyes away from the Tempestian. Zara had entered the floor with a boy from her team. Jealousy seared through him like a blade. The lights seemed to circle, almost magically around them, and the circle of dancers appeared to widen momentarily to allow them to pass through to the middle of the floor. He could not believe that everyone wasn’t watching her.

Then two more dancers, one in crimson, one in white, moved clumsily across his vision, laughing softly to one another. Talon and Calista. Together. A few eyes were watching the pair, one Ferroxian, one Luminarian, with curiosity, but there appeared to be no scorn, judgement. Hope flared in him again. 

He prepared to step forward, unsure of exactly what he was going to do, but certain that this was his moment to act. But, just before he could, there was a tap on his shoulder. 

He spun around.

Freya.

“Want to dance?” she asked, smiling, her hand outstretched.

“Erm…”

She frowned slightly.

“Of course,” he said quickly, taking her hand in his.

They moved mechanically around the floor. Orion had received dancing lessons alongside his other academics and knew he was competent, but he lacked flair, or indeed any form of expression. That required emotion and enjoyment, and he knew he felt neither. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on Zara, over Freya’s shoulder.

When the song ended, he thanked Freya, who smiled in a slightly confused sort of way, and made his way back towards the edge of the dancefloor, taking a drink from a passing aetherbound as he went.

He drained it without stopping for breath.

Its bitter taste stung the back of his throat, but he shrugged it off and took another at the next opportunity, then another. All the while he watched and waited. Finally, Zara finished dancing with the boy from her team and stepped away from the floor.

Give her a few minutes, he thought. She won’t want you setting upon her straight away.

He lasted perhaps two.

His feet began moving before he truly noticed.

Suddenly, she was standing in front of him.

“Zara,” he managed hoarsely.

Several pairs of Solarian eyes flicked towards him suspiciously, but nobody said anything.

“Orion,” she said. “You seem… different. Big night?”

“Of course,” he replied, though his attempt at enthusiasm sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Can I interest you in learning a little of the Nivalian dancing style? It is not as flashy as some I have seen tonight, but I think you would still enjoy it.”

Her eyes narrowed and she glanced around once more, as though checking who might be listening. Then she grabbed his wrist and stepped closer.

“Not right now,” she whispered. “It’s too much. With everyone here. Watching.”

He stared at her.

He felt the sharp sting of rejection spread quickly through him like poison.

How could he have been so stupid? So naïve?

“But… but I…” he stammered.

“Pull yourself together, Iceheart,” she said, her voice returning to its normal volume. “I thought those who lived in the ice could handle their liquor better than this.”

She released him and turned away, her teammates laughing and pointing back towards him as she rejoined them.

She did not look around again.

He walked slowly back towards his place at the edge of the dancefloor.

He felt numb.

And for once, it had nothing to do with the temperature.

He looked around.

He saw his teammates – Stellan and Freya, Leif and Ingrid dancing together, whilst Henrik and Eirik chatted animatedly with drinks in hand. Once again, he was the odd one out.

His feet began moving once more.

He needed to get out of here.

He couldn’t breathe.

The cool air of Concordia hit him like a blast.

Relief.

He kept walking until the lights of the hall were little more than a glint in the distance.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath.

His head was pounding. It was the first time he had truly noticed.

Zara was right. He did need to pull himself together. Despite his embarrassment, he could not allow tonight to ruin his chances in the remaining trials.

He still had a job to do.

The Nivalis quarters were not far from here. He should go and sleep this off.

He moved to continue walking, but found that his movements had slowed – imperceptibly at first, but with each passing second his limbs felt heavier and less coordinated.

The pain in his head was spreading downwards, through the rest of his body.

Confused, he looked down.

What he saw made his eyes widen.

Blood drenched his chest, the crimson standing out starkly against the white of his shirt beneath his unbuttoned coat, even in the dim light.

How… did that… get there?

His thoughts were slowing.

He tried to reach towards the blood, to see whose it could be, but found that his hand would not respond.

His knees hit the ground.

Then his back struck something hard and solid.

A wall.

He slid slowly downwards.

Was this… his blood?

Was it always this dark?

The world began to disappear around him.

And then… warmth spread through him.

Just for a moment.

Zara?

His eyes flickered open. He thought he saw a flash of crimson.

Then everything went dark once more.

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