Page 88 of These Fractured Bonds

Her muscles burned, and her lungs ached. All she wanted to do was lie there for an undetermined amount of time, but she was dead last, and she had no way of knowing how much time was left. Grunting, she sat up and pushed her legs out in front of her, bringing one of her feet toward her. The boot’s sole was melted, her foot bright red and tender to the touch. At least it hadn’t burned through her skin.At least. She threw her shoes to the side and made her way toward the next obstacle—a towering cliff where Fae, without any climbing gear, scaled it.

“Yeah, why would they give us gear?” she grumbled, already over the whole thing.

Her feet protested every step, sending jolts of pain as if asking why the hell she was still walking. By the time she reached the bottom of the cliff, she had regained her breath, and her core no longer screamed. She’d have to thank Leo and Bri later for their insistence on strength training, because she would have never survived that bridge otherwise. The stone cliff towered over her, and Yareli didn’t see many ledges to stop and rest in between.Even if her feet hadn’t been injured, it was a challenging climb. With the state of her body, it was going to be brutal.

She shifted her weight, arching her head to look up. “Fuck, I really don’t want to do this.”

The sound of a gong was followed by Andre’s voice. “An hour and a half left. Persevere, candidates.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, fuck you. I bet this cliff was your idea.” She climbed anyway, afraid of running out of time.

Her muscles shrieked the moment she began, but she pushed through it, desperate to reach the top as fast as possible. She stopped when she could, giving herself a couple of minutes to regain her breath. It wasn’t as frightening as the obstacle course had been; it was a test of endurance, and if Yareli was anything, it was stubborn. She reached the top after what felt like a millennium.

She lay on her back, lightheaded from the exertion. The stars twinkled at her, mocking her pain with their brilliance. She wondered if the night sky was shared by both realms. And as if that thought was the gateway, other useless ones rushed in, pestering and filling the crevices of her exhausted mind. They clawed their way out of the deep recesses of her mind as if they had sensed she was too drained to keep them at bay.Was her brother looking up at the sky now?Was her mom alone?What about her dad?Did she have one? Each question splintered her armor like cracks in porcelain, reparable, but never the same, always threatening a greater break. She had so many cracks now, she wondered when it would finally fall apart, but it couldn’t be now. She had to make it to the end.

Her feet were in bad shape, having been cut by the cliff’s sharp rocks; they bled in a constant stream, but none of the cuts were deep enough to be concerning. She lay there long enough that she ceased hearing the shuffling from other Fae who recoveredfaster than her. A tall, dark forest cut the night sky in half, and wooden arrows marked the way to the next hurdle.

It was quiet, and her gaze never stayed in one spot for long, but nothing jumped out from the darkness. The ground sloped upwards, and she found herself at a cliffside, a gentle breeze caressing her cheeks and blowing a few loose strands in front of her eyes. Something like a zip line was erected at the edge, but there was no harness. She approached the sign on the post, reading,Congratulations.Jump into your new beginning.

In the distance, a lake’s still waters glistened nearly black under the moon’s faint light. Yareli cursed. She wasn’t a strong swimmer; she remembered as much while drowning in her lake of memories.

“Terrifying, isn’t it?”

She jumped as a Fae walked into view from the tree line. She hadn’t seen or heard another living soul on her way up and had assumed everyone had already jumped.

“Haven’t jumped yet?” Yareli asked.

The Fae shook her head, shame coloring her dark skin a deep red. “No. Truth be told, my sole flaw is my fear of heights.”

“Can’t say I’m a big fan either.”

“But you’re going to jump.”

“Yeah,” Yareli agreed, surprised at the certainty that accompanied her response. She hadn’t thought that far yet. Actually, she had been thinking of everything that could go wrong if she jumped—the line breaking, strong currents taking her farther out from shore, everything really—but she hadn’t hesitated in her answer.

The Fae took a step closer to the cliff side, her dark braid whipping in the wind, saying softly, “I’m not sure I can.”

“You made it this far.”

“Why are you here?” she replied, ignoring Yareli’s previous statement.

The words left her mouth in an instant. “I’m here to prove a point—to myself and to others.”

“Most are. It’s what this is—a test of our resolve to move forward in the competition.”

Yareli looked up at the moon, which seemed to shine brighter as if waiting for her answer. Was her resolve fueled by pettiness? Would it be enough to get her through the rest of the challenges? No, it wasn’t all pettiness. Sure, she wanted to tell Allyah to shove it, but a part of her wanted to succeed for herself. To prove she could do it. If she could get through this with her own strength, then there was nothing she couldn’t do, right?

After a moment of silence, the Fae spoke again. “Ten years ago, my girlfriend participated. She didn’t make it. We knew it was a possibility—death, that is—but we believed the worst-case scenario was a few weeks of medical leave. When”—her voice hitched on the word, the pain in her words made it clear she still grieved—“she didn’t… when she died, a part of me didn’t comprehend what went wrong. So, I earned the right to participate this time, and now I understand. It’s brutal.”

She turned around, lifting a foot high enough to show that her foot was as mangled as Yareli’s.

“And I’m scared. I’m scared of surviving when she didn’t.”

Yareli gave her a sympathetic look, understanding driving her to speak honestly. “You can quit now, so why are you still here?”

“Because I’m prideful. If I give up now, I’ll be—”

“Pathetic.”