Page 15 of War Hour

Staring at the beast that I have no hope of besting, I realize why so many people don’t pass the test.

I’ve never killed before. There were few who grew up on the streets who haven’t fought; the unhappiest people were always on edge and twitching for a brawl. But to be the one to take the life from something that breathed and feared just like us?

Tracing the weapons laid out before me, I reach for the only one I’ve held in the past. A dagger. My hand hesitates over the hilt, but I pick it up gently, as if squeezing it too hard would shatter it.

The Kadara lets out another growl, pacing the middle of the pit, and I freeze, eyes darting between the weapons and the animal.

The dagger is heavier than mine. Moving the blade through the air, I familiarize myself with its weight and grip before testing its sharpness, growing more comfortable with it the longer I hold it.

This is the Court of Valor’s Trial. That must mean something. Valor means bravery and courage. Maybe that’s what I need to have to pass and make it out alive.

I should be able to do this. I’d carried a dagger on the streets.

Even as the thought crosses my mind, I’m lying to myself. How did one come up with a strategy to kill a powerful beast without touching it in a room where there was nowhere to hide?

The perfectly circular cavern is empty other than the Kadara, and I would bet the chain will give the animal just enoughreach to make it to all sides of the room, except for the hallway entrance I stand in. Nowhere would be safe.

Moving forward, I realize the Kadara follows each step I take, crouching as it hisses. I can’t take it by surprise or get behind it. The layout of the room leaves no chance of an advantage, which leaves taking it head on as the only option.

I just need to think about this logically. Talk myself through it.

The fastest and most humane way would be straight to the heart. Make it quick—for me and the creature. It has the speed and the size, so the best bet would be to use its momentum against it. Have it do all the work for me.

A sob works its way up my throat as I try to shake the nerves vibrating through my body, but I swallow deeply, pushing the emotion back down.

Glancing back to the table where I took the dagger, my eyes rest on the sword. I grimace when I pick it up, staggering under its substantial weight, before moving to the empty wall just outside of the pit’s entrance. Close, so I can easily duck inside but far enough away to draw the Kadara in.

Taking in a deep breath, I try to control my breathing. Freaking out would not win this battle for me. Lifting the sword, I raise the heavy blade above my head before letting it fall against the stone wall.

Again, I raise the sword and smack every surface with it. The sound pulses against my head, and I have to force myself to concentrate despite the distraction.

The Kadara lets out a string of growls, amping up in ferocity as I clang the metal. My rhythm stutters as I look at the growling animal, hesitating out of fear.

It paces, turning on its heel every five feet, but its eyes never move from me. A roar bursts from the beast, making me falter, taking me by surprise at the sudden vibration circling aroundthe pit. The Kadara leaps, feet pounding as it bounds toward me. Its wings push back as air rushes over their protruding size.

I balance the sword in my dominant hand and the dagger in my other. All I need to do is get the blade behind the neck and the dagger in front of it. The Kadara’s force should do all the work. I didn’t have to truly attack it. It would be just defending myself.

My stomach lurches, panic sweeping through me as the distance between me and certain death shrinks rapidly.

Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.

Staring down the Kadara as it bounds toward me, I lock my knees to stop their slight wobble. My stomach drops as it launches into the air. I fall to my knees, ducking in surprise, not expecting it to take flight so close to the wall.

Instead of the attack I expect, the winged animal curves to the right, gliding in a circle around the room. As it does, I get a full view of the underside of the beast.

Covered in scars and gouges, with patches of fur missing from various spots, the Kadara looks like it’s been through countless battles. The longer I look, the more I find.

Welts traverse its sides, as if the whip had wound its way around the body as it made contact. The end of its tail is jagged and uneven, like part of it had been cleaved off.

Of all the Trials, it was the same beast standing against tens of hundreds of people who tried to kill it.

I lower my weapons from my fighting position and watch the animal glide until it rests back in the middle of the pit. It lands on its feet, wings folding into its sides.

It doesn’t make any sense.

There are different ways to beat the Trial. It was the reason those who successfully Trialed didn’t all receive the same ability. The way you completed the Trial determined the power you would be given.

But how is this beast living after having withstood centuries of torment? There is no way I’m the first to think of killing it.

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