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Chapter Text

"Everyone here is afraid of dying, but I’ve done that already. Twice, if you count the part where I stopped being Lila Morgan. The next person to underestimate me won’t get a third chance."

{CHAPTER FIFTEEN}

My heart is a drumline in my chest, the rhythm unrelenting as I pull on my training leathers. The fabric is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the turmoil boiling inside me. It's September 29th, the day of the gauntlet—the culmination of all our training, the day we're supposed to shine. But all I can think about is the shadow that's been cast over everything. Xaden.

I clench my jaw as I recall the confrontation with him last night. That fucking asshole. He had no right to burst in like he did, to manhandle me. But what stings the most is the realization that I've let him get under my skin. I've let him see that he affects me, and that's a weakness I can't afford.

Rhiannon's hands are gentle as she weaves my hair into braids, her fingers deftly working the strands. It's a small comfort, a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos in my mind. Violet and Auralie sit nearby, their voices low as they discuss strategies for the gauntlet.

"You're tense," Rhiannon observes, her dark eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "Are you worried about the gauntlet?"

I force a smile. "Just nervous energy. I want to make sure I'm ready."

Violet looks over, her silver hair catching the morning light. "You'll do great, Liora. We all will."

A pang of guilt hits me. They don't know about my history with the Fourth Wing universe, about the knowledge I carry from my past life. They think we're all on equal footing, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Auralie, with her bright eyes and eager demeanor, chimes in. "I've seen you train, Liora. You're going to dominate out there."

Her words are meant to be encouraging, but they only add to the pressure. I'm not just representing myself today; I'm representing the new life I've built here, the friendships I've forged. And I can't let them down.

I stand up, the braids now secure, and give Rhiannon a grateful nod. "Thanks, Rhi. I needed that."

The morning air bites at my exposed skin as we stand in formation. The crowd of cadets has thinned considerably since that first day, leaving gaps like missing teeth in what was once a packed gathering. Each empty space represents someone who won't make it home, someone whose dreams ended here.

"Doria Merrill," Captain Fitzgibbons announces from the dais, his voice carrying across the assembly.

My stomach twists. I know these names, know their faces, know their stories. In my past life, they were just characters in a book. Now they're real people who've died real deaths.

"Kamryn Dyre."

"Arvel Pelipa."

The sharp intake of breath from Imogen and Quinn ahead of me sends a chill down my spine. The second-years' reaction drives home a truth I sometimes forget - death doesn't discriminate between years here.

"Michel Iverem."

Captain Fitzgibbons closes the roll with practiced solemnity. "We commend their souls to Malek."

Formation breaks, and Dain's gaze sweeps over our squad, pointedly skipping past us. My jaw clenches at the slight.

"Good luck today." Imogen's voice drips with false sweetness as she addresses Violet, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. "Hopefully you won't fall...short."

I bite back a smirk at Violet's composed response. The old Violet would have shrunk away from Imogen's barb, but this one? She's growing stronger every day.

"See you later," Violet replies, lifting her chin.

The hatred in Imogen's eyes burns bright enough to start a forest fire as she stares at Violet. The moment stretches like pulled taffy before she spins away, Quinn and Cianna falling in step beside her. Cianna's blonde curls catch the morning light as they retreat, bouncing with each step like she's starring in some twisted shampoo commercial.

Heaton approaches us, their red flame-styled hair a beacon against the stark surroundings. Despite being a third-year, they've always treated us with a surprising amount of decency.

"Best of luck." They tap their heart, right over two of their patches. Their smile, while genuine, doesn't quite reach their eyes - flat-lipped and reserved, but sincere nonetheless.

I watch Heaton's retreating form, still processing their unexpected show of support.

"I didn't realize Heaton actually knew how to speak." Two lines appear between Ridoc's brows as he scratches his head, looking genuinely perplexed.

Rhiannon shrugs, adjusting her leather straps. "Maybe they figure they should at least say hi before we're potentially roasted today."

"Back into formation," Dain barks the order, his jaw set in that familiar rigid line. His entire demeanor radiates cold fury, like a storm cloud about to burst.

"Are you going with us?" Violet's voice is small but steady as she addresses him.

He gives a curt nod, still refusing to look at any of us. The tension rolling off him is almost palpable, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Drama queen much?

We fall into position - eight of us arranged in two neat lines of four, mirroring the other squads around us. The leather of my boots creaks as I shift my weight, hyperaware of every sound in the loaded silence.

"Awkward," Rhiannon whispers from beside me, her breath warm against my ear. She shoots a meaningful glance at Violet. "He seems kind of pissed at you."

I watch the wind play with Trina's hair, her braid coming undone by the capricious gusts. It's like watching a battle between nature and vanity, and I can't help but find it a little amusing. Violet's handiwork is being undone, strand by strand, and yet there's a certain grace to the way Trina's curls dance in the breeze.

"He wants something I can't give him," Violet murmurs, her voice barely carrying over the rustle of leaves. I step closer, curious despite myself.

Her eyebrows arch in a silent question, but Violet waves away the unspoken implications with a roll of her eyes. "Not like... that."

Trina smirks, her gaze flicking to where the Third Wing is forming up. "I wouldn't care if it was like that. He's hot. He has that whole boy-next-door-who-can-still-kick-your-ass vibe going for him."

Ridoc's voice cuts through my thoughts. "We're the biggest squad," he observes, and I glance over my shoulder to see him gauging the numbers.

Tynan, ever the optimist, chimes in. "What are we down to?"

"Hundred and seventy-one," Dain answers, his tone sharp enough to slice through the morning chill.

I shiver, not just from the cold, but from the knowledge that Xaden is somewhere ahead. I've seen him fight, seen him command, seen him manipulate shadows like they're mere extensions of his will. It's impressive, I'll give him that.

"But what will we do if we're chosen?" Trina's voice quivers, betraying her fear. It's a valid question. With the number of cadets dwindling, the chances of being bonded to a dragon are increasing. But it's not just about being chosen. It's about proving ourselves worthy.

"Stop letting fear leach into your voice," Luca snaps, his irritation evident. "If the dragons think you're a coward, you'll be nothing but a name tomorrow."

Ridoc snickers. "She says, inducing more fear."

Luca fires back a retort, but I'm only half-listening. My attention is fixed on where the First Wing has already begun to file out. The reality of what's about to happen is setting in, and I can feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on me.

Violet leans forward, her voice low. "Just portray confidence, and I'm sure you'll be fine."

Trina nods, her lips forming a silent 'thanks' that's carried away by the wind.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. The gauntlet awaits, and with it, the chance to prove that Lila Morgan is truly gone, and Liora Emberveil has taken her place. I'm not just some lost girl from another world, thrust into a life of battle and strategy. I'm a fighter. I'm a survivor.

And I'm ready.

"Nervous, Rhi?" I ask, glancing sidelong at Rhiannon as we shuffle forward in line. The First Wing is already moving out towards the Gauntlet, their steps brisk with a mix of fear and excitement. We're next, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

"For you?" Rhiannon scoffs, her dark braids swinging as she turns to face me and Violet. "Not at all. We've got this." Her confidence is infectious, but it does little to quell the butterflies doing acrobatics in my stomach.

"Oh, Liora meant about the history test tomorrow," Violet teases, her silver hair catching the morning light. She's trying to lighten the mood, but her joke falls flat under the weight of the day's events.

"Now that you mention it, the whole Treaty of Arif might just be the death of me." Rhiannon grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Leave it to her to find humor in our academic woes, even on a day like today.

"Ahh, the agreement between Navarre and Krovla for mutually shared airspace for both dragons and gryphons over a narrow strip of the Esben Mountains, between Sumerton and Draithus," Violet recalls, nodding along as she quotes the textbook verbatim. Her memory is as sharp as ever, a testament to her intellect and determination.

Rhiannon shoots her a playful smile. "Your memory is terrifying."

I can't help but agree. "She's not wrong. It's like you've got a library stored up there."

Violet's lips twitch in a modest smile, but it quickly fades. "But my memory isn’t going to get me up the Gauntlet," she murmurs, her gaze drifting toward the towering structure in the distance.

I nudge her gently, offering an encouraging smile. "No, but your determination and skill will."

A voice cuts through our conversation, sharp and commanding. "Fourth Wing!" Xaden's voice echoes across the field, not that I need to see him to know it's him. His presence is like a shadow looming over us, a constant reminder of the games he plays with our lives. "Move out!"

The order reverberates in my chest, and I feel the collective intake of breath from our squad. This is it. The moment we've been training for, the trial that will test our mettle and our worth.

Rhiannon locks eyes with me, her earlier confidence now tempered with resolve. "Let's show them what we're made of."

Violet nods, her jaw set in determination. "Together."

I keep my eyes forward as we file out, but my ears are tuned to every sound around me. Flame Section moves first, our boots echoing against the stone. Claw and Tail Sections follow behind, the formation tight and practiced.

The gate creates a momentary bottleneck, bodies pressing close before we funnel through into the familiar tunnel. Mage-lights cast an eerie glow, throwing shadows that dance along the rocky edges of our path. I suppress a shiver, remembering how these same shadows bend to Xaden's will.

Dain's movement catches my attention as he falls back, positioning himself between us. His voice is barely a breath when he addresses Violet. "Change your mind."

Rhiannon's eyes meet mine, both of us pretending we can't hear the exchange.

"No." Violet's response rings with newfound confidence.

"Change. Your. Mind." Dain's desperation bleeds through as he grabs her hand, hidden by our tight formation. "Please."

"I can't." Violet shakes her head. "Any more than you would leave Cath and run to the scribes yourself."

"That's different." His grip tightens. "I'm a rider."

"Well, maybe I am, too," Violet whispers as daylight appears ahead of us.

"Don't be—" Dain cuts himself off, dropping her hand like it burns. "I don't want to bury you, Vi."

"It's inevitable that one of us will have to bury the other." Her words are matter-of-fact, devoid of drama.

"You know what I mean."

I can't stay quiet anymore. "Hey," I interject lightly, "Violet's going to be fine. Focus on hoping for her success instead of worrying about what might never happen."

The light at the end of the tunnel grows, expanding into an archway that’s ten feet high, leading us to the base of the Gauntlet. The air is crisp, tinged with the scent of pine and the distant tang of metal from the chains and rigging that make up the obstacles ahead. My heart pounds in my chest, a steady drumbeat that echoes the anticipation coursing through my veins.

"Please don't do this," Dain begs, not bothering to lower his voice this time as we emerge into the mottled sunlight. His eyes are locked on Violet, filled with a desperation that's hard to watch.

I step aside, giving them a semblance of privacy, though there's little to be had with the rest of the squad shuffling around us. The view is spectacular. We're still high on the mountain, thousands of feet above the valley, and the greenery seems to stretch endlessly to the south, with random clusters of squat trees among colorful slopes of wildflowers. My gaze turns to the Gauntlet carved into the face of the cliff, and I can’t help but follow each obstacle higher and higher until I’m staring at the top of the ridgeline that the maps I’ve studied show leads into a box canyon—the flight field. I bite my lip as I stare at the break in the tree line.

"I don't know if I can watch," Dain says, drawing her attention back to him.

"Then close your eyes." Violet's voice is steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil in Dain's.

"What changed between Parapet and now?" Dain asks again, his tone pleading.

I want to tell him that everything has changed. That Violet has changed. We all have. But it's not my place to speak for her. Instead, I focus on the Gauntlet, on the ropes and platforms that represent our greatest challenge yet. I know what's at stake here—not just for Violet, but for all of us. We're not just fighting for survival; we're fighting for our place in this world, for the chance to soar on the backs of dragons.

The wind picks up, whipping strands of hair around my face as I watch Violet square her shoulders, her gaze fixed on the towering structure before us. "I have to do this, Dain," she says, her voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves. "For myself. For my family. For everyone who believes in me."

Dain's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he might argue further. But then he nods, a curt, reluctant gesture that speaks volumes. "Just... be careful."

Violet offers him a small, reassuring smile. "Always."

I step forward, joining them as we prepare to face the Gauntlet. My mind races with strategies and contingencies, but I push them aside. Now is not the time for doubt or hesitation. Now is the time for action, for proving that we belong here, in the skies of Navarre.

I glance at Rhiannon, who gives me a determined nod. We're ready. We've trained for this, studied the maps, memorized the routes. We know the risks, the dangers that lie ahead. But we also know our own strength, our own potential.

As the first of us steps forward to begin the ascent, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the challenge that awaits. The Gauntlet looms above us, a monumental test of our courage and resolve. But we're not backing down. We're not giving up.

I stand at the first obstacle, my heart thundering in my chest. The spinning log stretches before me, fifteen feet of polished wood suspended over a deadly drop. Behind me, I hear Auralie's breath catch.

"We can do this," I say, forcing confidence into my voice. "Just like we practiced on the balance beams. Quick steps, don't hesitate."

Jack's mocking laughter echoes from somewhere in the crowd behind us. I clench my jaw, refusing to let him get to me. Without another word, I step forward, focusing on the log. As soon as my foot touches it, it begins to spin. I sprint, letting muscle memory from my gymnastics training guide me.

The world blurs as I race across, and then I'm leaping onto solid ground. Relief floods through me for a moment before I see the next challenge - four granite pillars spaced three feet apart, jutting out over the abyss.

My stomach lurches, but then I catch sight of Xaden and Garrick watching from the top platform. Something in me steels at their presence. I won't show fear, not to them.

I launch myself at the first pillar, then the second, third, and finally the fourth, each jump sending my heart into my throat.

The giant spinning wheel comes next, rotating counter-clockwise like some deadly hamster wheel. I time my jump carefully, launching myself inside. The world spins dizzyingly as I run with the motion, waiting for the right moment to exit on the other side. One wrong step and I'll plummet to my death.

I make it through, pausing only for a breath before facing the five buoy balls swinging in wide arcs. Using my momentum, I launch myself between them, each grab and release precise. I hear Auralie following close behind, her determined breaths matching my own.

I catch my breath on the platform, eyeing the next challenge - three iron rails stretching across the chasm, followed by a series of unstable pillars that shake with each impact.

"Auralie," I call out, my heart pounding. "Go ahead of me." I've trained her for this, shown her the techniques that might save her life. Still, fear gnaws at my gut as I watch her step forward.

I glance back, seeing Violet's determined face as she navigates the buoy balls. Rhiannon follows close behind, with Ridoc and Sawyer not far after. They're all holding their own, but my attention snaps back to Auralie as she grabs the first rail.

Hand over hand, she swings across the first rail, then the second. My muscles tense, ready to move. As she reaches for the third rail, I see her grip falter. Time seems to slow as her fingers slip.

"No!" I scream, launching myself forward without thinking. My body moves on pure instinct as I release my hold on the rail, propelling myself through the air. My hand catches her arm while my other grasps the edge of the first shaking pillar. Pain shoots through my shoulders at the sudden strain.

"Hold on!" I grit through clenched teeth, hearing the panicked shouts of our friends behind us. My arms feel like they're being torn apart, but I refuse to let go. With every ounce of strength I possess, I lift Auralie up toward the pillar's edge.

"Grab it," I gasp. "Quick!"

She scrambles onto the pillar, and I watch as she makes her way across the remaining ones, each one shuddering beneath her feet. Only when she reaches the platform do I allow myself to focus on my own predicament.

My arms scream in protest as I pull myself up onto the pillar. Somehow, I find the strength to push through the burning pain, launching myself across the remaining pillars until I collapse onto the platform beside Auralie.

Auralie rises shakily to her feet, extending her hand down to me. Her fingers tremble, but her grip is strong as she helps pull me up. Our eyes meet, and I see the mixture of fear and gratitude swimming in hers.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the wind. "I thought I was—"

"Don't," I cut her off, squeezing her hand. "We're not done yet." I won't let her dwell on what almost happened. Can't let either of us get lost in the what-ifs when we still have obstacles ahead.

My shoulders burn as I roll them, testing the strain. The pain is there, sharp and insistent, but I push it aside. We're alive, and that's what matters. Behind us, I hear the others making their way across the rails, their movements careful and deliberate.

"Come on," I say, turning toward the next challenge – the rolling logs. Seven of them, each rotating in opposite directions, forming a deadly staircase up the cliff face. "Remember what we practiced – constant movement. If you stop—"

"I know," Auralie nods, her jaw set with renewed determination. "The logs will crush you or roll you off."

I give her a quick smile, proud of how she's pulling herself together after the near-fall. We approach the first log together, watching its rhythmic rotation. The wood is worn smooth from years of use – or perhaps from the bodies that have fallen trying to conquer it.

"Ready?" I ask, positioning myself beside her.

Auralie takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and nods. "Ready."

The stair of seven rolling logs looms ahead, each one spinning in a different direction. It's a daunting sight, but I square my shoulders and step forward, refusing to let fear hold me back. "I'll go first," I say, my voice steady despite the knot of apprehension in my stomach.

I take a deep breath, channeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins into a burst of speed. My boots pound against the log beneath me, the rhythm matching the frantic beating of my heart. The logs are slick with condensation, making the ascent treacherous, but I refuse to slow down, refusing to give in to the danger that lurks with every step.

"Fuck!" I curse under my breath as a splinter digs into my palm, followed by another and another. The pain is sharp, but I grit my teeth and push through it, my focus solely on reaching the top. Four splinters.

I sprint up the logs, my body twisting and turning to keep up with their unpredictable movements. I can hear Auralie behind me, her breaths ragged but determined. The sound of her struggle fuels my resolve, and I push myself harder, faster, until the ground below is nothing but a blur.

The memory of Auralie's tragic fate in the book—crushed between these very logs—flashes through my mind, but I shove it aside. This is not the end of her story. It can't be. We've come too far, fought too hard to let it end like this.

With a final surge of energy, I reach the top of the log stair, my muscles burning with exertion. I turn just in time to see Auralie following close behind, her face set in a mask of concentration as she navigates the spinning logs with a grace that belies their deadly nature.

As she reaches the top, I can't help but let out a triumphant whoop, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the Gauntlet. We did it. We actually did it.

The final obstacle of the Gauntlet stands before us, a soaring chimney-like tower that rises into the clouds. In the books, I'd imagined this would be the easy part, a simple climb to the top. But Navarre has a way of turning expectations on their head. Instead of solid ground, there's nothing but a yawning chasm, a drop that sends a jolt of fear straight to my core.

I steady my breathing, taking in the sight. The only way up is by jumping into the abyss and climbing using the internal structure of the chimney, or by taking the less risky route and scaling the exterior with a rope. It's a no-brainer, really. The rope is the safer option, offering a semblance of control in this precarious situation. But taking the rope leads to consequences. Do I care? No. Or should I?

I stare at the chimney shaft, my heart pounding with anticipation rather than fear. The memory of reading about this part floods back - you have to brace yourself in an X position, using opposing pressure to climb. My gymnastics background screams that this is my moment.

"You're not taking the rope?" Auralie asks, her voice tight with concern.

I flash her a confident grin. "Where's the fun in that?"

Without hesitation, I launch myself into the shaft. My arms and legs spread wide, pressing against the smooth stone walls. The pressure points sing with tension, but my muscles respond perfectly. This body - my new body - is stronger than I ever was in my previous life.

I start climbing, shifting my weight in controlled movements. Push with the right leg, pull with the left arm, alternate. The rhythm comes naturally, like a vertical dance. Sweat beads on my forehead, but I'm grinning. This feels right.

"Holy shit," I hear someone mutter below.

The shaft narrows slightly as I ascend, increasing the pressure needed to maintain position. My shoulders burn with the effort, but I keep pushing. Twenty feet up. The exit ledge is visible now, a rectangle of light above me.

I adjust my stance, pressing harder against the walls. My enhanced strength makes this possible - what would have been impossible for Lila Morgan comes almost naturally to Liora Emberveil. Each movement is calculated, precise. No room for error, no space for doubt.

"Keep going!" Auralie's voice echoes up the shaft, and I realize I've gathered quite an audience below.

I focus on the next few feet, ignoring the growing strain in my muscles. The exit is close now, just a few more pushes. This is what I was meant for - not just surviving this world, but conquering it.

With one final push, I haul myself over the ledge, rolling onto solid ground. My muscles quiver from exertion, but satisfaction courses through me. I crawl to the edge and peer down into the shaft where Auralie stands, hesitating.

"You can do this!" I call down, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "It looks way worse than it actually is. Just spread your arms and legs wide, and use the pressure to hold yourself up."

Auralie's face is pale as she stares up at me, but determination glints in her eyes. "You make it look so easy."

"That's because it is. Trust me – the hardest part is just taking that first leap. After that, it's like climbing a ladder sideways." I demonstrate the X position with my arms. "Keep your limbs straight and strong. The walls will do most of the work."

My heart pounds as I watch her gather her courage. I know she can do this – she has to do this. I didn't save her from the rails just to lose her here.

"I'm right here if you need me," I add, projecting confidence into my voice. "Just take it one move at a time."

I lean over the edge, my heart in my throat as Auralie takes her first leap into the shaft. Her body snaps into position, arms and legs spread wide against the walls. For a moment, she stays frozen, testing her hold.

"That's it!" I encourage. "Now just push with your right side and move your left up."

She follows my instructions, moving with careful precision. Each movement is calculated, deliberate. Unlike my fluid ascent, Auralie takes her time, making sure each position is secure before advancing.

"Keep going, you've got this," I call down, watching as she methodically works her way up the shaft. Sweat glistens on her forehead, her teeth clenched in concentration. The muscles in her arms quiver with effort, but she doesn't falter.

When she's about halfway up, she pauses, taking deep breaths. "This is harder than it looks," she grunts.

"You're doing amazing. Just a few more moves and you're here."

With renewed determination, Auralie pushes on. Her movements become more confident as she nears the top, finding a rhythm in the alternating pressure of limbs against stone.

Finally, she reaches the exit. I grab her arm, helping her haul herself over the ledge. She collapses beside me, breathing hard but grinning.

"I can't believe I just did that," she pants, wiping sweat from her brow.

I squeeze her shoulder, relief flooding through me. "I knew you could."

The adrenaline hasn't quite left my veins, but there's a sense of camaraderie here at the top of the chimney, a shared victory between Auralie and me. We've faced the Gauntlet's worst and lived to tell the tale. But as I glance at the final obstacle ahead—a ten-foot vertical ramp—I know we can't afford to let our guards down just yet.

The least deadly, perhaps, but the shame of failing now, after everything we've overcome, would be a bitter pill to swallow. I watch as the first few cadets approach the ramp, some making it on their first try, others slipping and sliding back down to the mercy of the Gauntlet.

Auralie turns to me, her eyes shining with a mix of exhaustion and resolve. "We've got this," she says, and I nod, offering her a grin that's only half-feigned confidence.

"Yeah, we do," I reply, pushing off the ground to stand. My muscles protest the movement, but I shake off the discomfort. There's no room for weakness here, not when we're so close to the end.

I approach the ramp, eyeing the slick surface that glistens under the harsh sunlight. It's almost like an invitation, a challenge to test our mettle one last time. I dig the toes of my boots into the gravelly ground, bending my knees in preparation for the sprint that's about to come.

The key, I realize, is momentum as always. Literally. I'll need to run as fast as I can, to channel all my remaining energy into that final burst of speed. With a deep breath, I push off, my boots pounding against the earth as I race toward the ramp.

The world blurs around me, the wind whipping against my face as I close the distance. I can feel the burn in my thighs, the strain in my calves, but I don't dare slow down. Not now.

As the ramp looms before me, I leap, reaching out with my hands to grasp the edge. My fingers connect with the solid ledge, my body swinging forward as I cling on for dear life. For a heart-stopping moment, I dangle there, my legs kicking wildly beneath me.

But I refuse to let go, to give in to the pull of gravity that's trying to drag me back down. With a grunt of effort, I haul myself up and over the edge, collapsing onto the blessedly flat surface of the ramp's summit.

I lie there for a moment, my chest heaving as I draw in ragged breaths, the taste of victory sweet on my tongue. I've done it. I've actually done it.

I turn my head to see Auralie making her approach, her own sprint filled with the same determination that carried me through. She's moving fast, her eyes locked on the ramp with single-minded focus.

I hold my breath as she nears, watching as she launches herself into the air with a fierce cry. Her hands close around the edge of the ramp, and I reach out, grabbing her wrists to help pull her up. Together, we tumble onto the platform, our bodies tangled in a exhausted heap.

"You did it," I gasp, my voice filled with pride and relief. "We both did."

Auralie laughs, a bright, joyous sound that echoes off the stone walls of the Gauntlet. "We did," she agrees, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears of triumph.

We sit up, our shoulders brushing as we take in the sight of our accomplishment. Below us, the Gauntlet stretches out like a twisted playground, a testament to the trials we've endured. But we're still here, still standing, still fighting.

I help Auralie to her feet, both of us breathing hard from our victory over the Gauntlet. My muscles burn, but the pain is worth it knowing I prevented her death. In the book, she would have been crushed between those rolling logs - another nameless casualty in Basgiath's brutal training. Not this time.

"That was incredible," Auralie says, wiping sweat from her brow. "The way you caught me back there... I thought I was done for."

"Just looking out for my fellow squadmate." I squeeze her shoulder, fighting to keep my voice steady. The reality of how close she came to death makes my stomach churn.

Below us, more cadets tackle the final ramp. Some make it, others slide back down to try again. I spot Violet approaching the logs, her face set with determination. She's taking them slower than I did, but her movements are precise and controlled.

"We should help spot the others," I tell Auralie, nodding toward the edge of the platform. "Make sure no one else has any close calls."

She nods, her expression serious. "Yeah, definitely. I wouldn't want anyone going through what almost happened to me."

We position ourselves near the edge, ready to assist if needed. I can't help but smile, watching Auralie move with renewed confidence. She's alive, she's safe, and she's stronger for having faced her challenge. One small change, one life saved. In this world of dragons and danger, sometimes that's the best victory you can hope for.