Page 36 of Storm of Stars
“Brexlyn,” Nova’s voice cut through the moment, cool and sharp as glass. I turned toward her, catching the way she gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. “You’re playing a very dangerous game,” she said, her words low but laced with something that almost sounded like fear. Not for herself, but for me.
I met her gaze without flinching. For the first time, I saw past the polished surface she always wore. Beneath it, her worry was real. Tangled. Raw. She cared about what happened to me.
“The game was already dangerous, Nova,” I said, my voice quiet but unshakable. “I’m just not letting them be the only ones writing the rules anymore.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded once, a reluctant surrender. Not agreement, not approval. Just acknowledgement that I had crossed a line I could never uncross. And she knew it.
“I can’t…” she whispered. “I don’t want you,” she swallowed hard then cleared her throat. “I mean,” she began again. “It’s been an honor watching you thrive in these trials, dear.”
I nodded. Genuinely thankful for her words. But it wasn’t what she said that meant the most to me. It’s what she couldn’t say. The words of support that were sitting there on her tongue were unable to spill off because of who she was conditioned to be.
“Your car is here,” she said after a beat, pulling open the front door, the night spilling in around her like a living thing.
I shifted my gaze back to Zaffir for just a heartbeat, a silent message passing between us. If things were different, it would have been a kiss. A goodbye wrapped in something warmer, something braver. But all we had was this look, this understanding stitched in the space between us.
I tucked it into my heart like armor, straightened my shoulders, and stepped out into the cold night, toward the waiting car.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Bex
I was on a plane again. This time, no parachute strapped to my back, no blindfold over my eyes. It was a smaller plane than I’d been in before, and I was alone, well, alone except for the pilot. He sat in silence, staring ahead, his grip firm on the controls as we flew northwest, away from Praxis. We’d been flying for over an hour now, and the landscape below had become increasingly unfamiliar, confirming what I already suspected, we were heading deeper into unknown territory, farther than we’d gone for the transportation trial.
The plane hummed steadily in the air, but there was an undercurrent of tension that I couldn’t shake. Eventually, the pilot started to slow the plane, descending smoothly over a wide expanse of water. As we lowered, the view below began to come into focus. A scattered group of small islands dotted the water’s surface, like a chain of forgotten rocks poking up from the depths. A sharp breeze swept through the open cockpit, and I could see eight other small planes like mine, scattered across the sky. They were flying lower as well, heading toward the islands, and my thoughts immediately turned to my Wildguard. Where were they? Which plane carried them?
Before I could process that thought, the speaker in the plane crackled to life, and Annalese’s voice cut through the static, smooth and cheery.
“Good morning, Challengers, and welcome to the lumber trial!” she began, her tone unnervingly upbeat. “Today, your task is simple. You’ll be dropped off on your own small island. Each island has a watchtower, but they’re broken, unsafe, beyond repair... mostly. Your task is to use the resources on your island to fix your watchtower and call for a rescue by lighting the rescue lamp at the top. If your light is lit at dawn tomorrow, you will be rescued, and you will pass the trial!”
I felt my chest tighten, the words sinking in. It sounded too simple. And I knew better than to trust anything that sounded simple in the Reclamation Run. There was always a catch.
“Fix your tower, survive the night, light the lamp, and signal the rescue team,” Annalese repeated, her voice almost sweet in its simplicity.
Survive the night.
There it was. Survival. She wasn’t just talking about building the tower or lighting the lamp. There was something else. Something on those islands that would make survival far from easy.
I glanced out the window, the first signs of the island coming closer. Each one was small, isolated, and rugged. There were no signs of habitation, no markers to indicate anything beyond nature’s cruel beauty. But I could sense it, the looming danger, the unknown that lay in wait for us. This wasn’t just a test of strength, skill, or even willpower. It was going to be about outlasting whatever threats the island would throw at us.
The plane banked hard to the left, the pilot starting the descent. I could already see the craggy shores of the island that would soon be mine to survive below, the jagged rocks and thick forest that stretched up toward the sky. Somewhere on thatisland was my watchtower, or what was left of it. I could feel my pulse quicken as the plane swooped lower. What else would be waiting for me there?
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my thoughts focused. The sky was bright and filled with the midday sun. The plane began its final descent, and I braced myself for whatever was to come.
The pilot pressed a button on his dashboard, and with a soft mechanical whir, the side door of the plane slid open. A rope ladder unfurled from the doorway, dangling thirty feet above the sandy shore below. The engine hummed steadily, the only sound accompanying the rush of wind as I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves. This was it.
They hadn’t provided us with a pack this time—not even a stick of jerky. At least Thorne had insisted on feeding us a hearty breakfast before we left. I was grateful for it now. A solid meal in my stomach would have to sustain me through the night. I could make it until tomorrow without food if I had to.
I turned my attention to the rope ladder, my fingers wrapping around the rough fibers. Carefully, I tested each step with my foot, feeling the sway of the plane still hovering above. I wasn’t sure how I felt about jumping off into the unknown, but there was no turning back now. My hands and legs moved with deliberate care as I made my way down. The cold air stung my skin, and my heart raced in my chest, but I focused on my breathing. One step at a time.
Finally, I felt the sand beneath my boots. My feet sank just a little into the soft texture, and I paused, steadying myself as I glanced back at the plane. And once I was free from the rope ladder, they pulled away, leaving me standing alone on the island.
I turned back toward the shore, the shoreline stretching thinly across the island, the water lapping gently against the sand. I bent down, letting the cool water wash over my handsand took a deep breath, the scent of lake water filling my lungs. It was thick and murky, tinged with the acrid scent of fish. The smell was sharp, but not inherently not unpleasant.
When I lifted my gaze, my eyes fixed on the island’s dense terrain. Towering, thick trees crowded the space, their trunks reaching up toward the sky, and the steep cliffs rose sharply at the edge of the land. Roots snaked outward, crawling up the rocks as though trying to claim the whole place. It would be hard to scale these cliffs.
As I looked around, something caught my attention, a camera perched against one of the trees, its small lens turning in my direction. I could hear the faint whirring as it adjusted to focus on me. I wasn’t surprised. These islands were much smaller and much more contained than the Wilds were. It would be easy for every inch of this island to be under the watchful eye of Praxis.
