Page 71 of The Onyx Covenant

Ahead, the valley comes into clearer view with each step. From this vantage point, I can see that it’s enclosed by a lofty wall of dense greenery—some kind of natural barrier. In the center, barely visible at this distance, stands a pair of towering metal gates.

And gathered before those gates are figures—other participants who have survived the journey. My heart leaps at the sight. Aria has to be among them. Orion? Have our friends made it after all?

We shift back to human form beneath the last stand of trees, our packs still on our backs.

“Well,” Theron says, dragging his wet clothes out and getting dressed. “At least we’re somewhat decent.”

I quickly do the same. Glancing down at myself, I have to suppress a hysterical laugh. My clothes are clinging to me.

“Very decent,” I agree dryly, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m sure the Covenant will be impressed with our formal attire.”

Theron’s gaze lingers on my chest for a moment.

Heat rises to my cheeks, but I resist the urge to squirm under his attention.

“See something interesting?” I ask with forced casualness, arching an eyebrow at him.

His gaze meets mine, unashamed and intense. “Something beautiful,” he admits. “Even soaking wet and nearly eaten by trolls, you’re the most captivating thing I’ve ever seen.”

That was too close. “I’ve never seen trolls before,” I breathe, still trying to catch up to what just happened.

He steps in close, sliding a hand beneath my chin and gently tipping my face toward his.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is low, rough with emotion. “The troll… the bodies… it’s fucking gut-wrenching to lose people. I’ve seen too much of it.” His thumb brushes over my jaw, slower than it needs to be. “But I couldn’t take it if I lost you.”

The world around us is chaos, but for a breath, all I can feel is him—steady, grounding, protective.

Then a shout comes from the group across the open field, and the moment shatters. We have to move. But his touch lingers like a promise.

I shoulder my pack. Theron does the same, and we begin the long trek toward the gates.

“The trolls usually stay higher in the mountains,” Theron replies, running a hand through his wet hair. “The storm might have driven them down.”

Then we walk mostly in silence, the rain slowing, thankfully.

As we draw closer, I scan the figures waiting at the gates as more emerge from the tent set up near the wall.

Wait…

“I can’t see Aria,” I whisper, my voice hitching. My pulse quickens, the momentary relief crumbling into fresh fear.

Theron squints, his jaw tightening as he surveys the small group. “I can’t see Kieran either,” he murmurs, concern evident in his tone. “Maybe they’re in that tent near the wall.”

My stomach twists into a knot, hoping he’s right. After everything we’ve endured—the storm, the trolls, the treacherous bridge—this new uncertainty is almost too much to bear.

“We need to hurry,” I say, already quickening my pace, mud splashing beneath my boots as I half run, half slide down the remaining slope.

Theron matches my stride. The gates remain firmly closed, offering no answers, no welcome. Just cold metal standing between us and safety—or whatever lies beyond.

My mind threatens to spiral with each step closer. The image of two opponents’ shattered skulls flashes unbidden in my thoughts, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

The surviving participants turn to watch our approach, but right now, all I can think about is Aria.

ChapterThirteen

LYRA

We burst into the clearing of the gate, where others stare at us, looking just as startled. The valley stretches before us, cradled between the towering Darkbone Peaks that loom overhead. Their jagged silhouettes pierce the storm clouds, dark against darker, watching our approach with stony indifference.

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