All Chapters of THE AUREUM TRIAL: BLOOD OATH: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The world seemed to slow, every sound hollowing out around me like the echo inside a shell. I stood frozen, laughter still clinging to the edges of my breath, caught mid-chest as if even air needed permission to leave my lungs. My eyes locked on the mirror—not just the mirror, but the figure reflected within it. Tall. Still. Watching.I turned, inch by inch, disbelief unfurling like smoke in my veins, thick and curling. And there he was. Leaning against the wide double doors with the kind of practiced ease that made him look carved from something older than stone—Atlas Blackwood.He wore black, as always. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled up just enough to bare the taut lines of his forearms, cords of muscle etched beneath pale skin. His coat caught the flickering amber light from the wall sconces, making him look less like a boy and more like a shadow given shape. One boot was braced casually behind him against the door, and his arms were crossed over his chest in a pose that loo

I needed to know what was happening. I needed to stand up, to move, to understand. But each attempt to push myself upright was met with the cruel reminder of how frail my body felt. I gritted my teeth, closing my eyes for a moment, willing the dizziness to subside. I dug my fingers into the edge of the bed, trying to find the strength to rise, to move, to seek answers. But as much as I wanted to stand, my body felt like a traitor, betraying me with every failed attempt.The door to the infirmary opened quietly, and a shadow fell across the threshold. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The surrounding air seemed to shift as Atlas Blackwood entered, his presence filling the room with a gravity that pulled at me, making my pulse race with something I couldn’t name—something far more complicated than fear alone. I tried to steady my breathing, to steady myself, but everything about him made that impossible. His presence was an overwhelming force, and though I knew he hadn’t ackn

His hand came up—not harsh, not rough, just firm. A single large palm closing gently around my forearm. I froze mid-step.“I didn’t ask your name,” he said.The air caught in my lungs. My heart stuttered, then lurched into a sprint. I looked down at his hand first—his fingers wrapped around my arm, the heat of his skin burning through the thin fabric of my sleeve—before I looked up at his face.That was a mistake.His gaze was steady. Direct. Unapologetically searching. And terrifying.My mind scrambled, words clawing for purchase. Name. Name. Name. My real name dangled at the edge of my tongue, aching to be spoken—but I couldn’t. Not to him. And then—my eyes caught on the bedside table just to my left. A single glass vase stood there, delicate and clear, catching the dying light like a prism. Inside it was a flower—bright, proud, and impossibly pink. I recognized it instantly.Leilani.“My name is…” My voice faltered, then caught again, stronger this time. “Leilani.”He tilted his he

The air inside the study alcove was hushed, the kind of hush that settled into your bones when the world outside moved too quickly, and you had no choice but to find stillness or be crushed beneath it. Callum and I had been at it for over an hour now—two bent heads, one page, and a shared frustration toward the stubborn logic of ancient glyphwork. The candle beside us burned low, its flame flickering weakly against the draft seeping through the high arched window. Outside, I could hear wind dragging across the northern courtyard, but inside, there was only the sound of parchment and the soft scratch of Callum’s pen as he traced a correction in the margin.“Wait,” I murmured, leaning closer, pointing to the edge of a binding glyph. “That curl—doesn’t that change the suffix? Wouldn’t it alter the structure of the entire incantation?”Callum adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowing. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “It shifts it from passive intent to active cause. If you tried to use it as-i

I don’t remember standing. I only remember the sound of my chair dragging—slow and scraping—against the old stone floor as I rose to my feet with a kind of terrible clarity, like my body had moved before my thoughts caught up. Ingrid had just said something about getting in and then—“I did.”I could feel the blood drain from my face. Feel the quiet thrum of disbelief curdle into something darker. Heavier. A stormcloud slow-building behind my ribs.“You what?” I said, and the words didn’t come out loud—they came out low. Dangerous. The kind of low that felt like it should be followed by a tremor in the ground or a window shattering somewhere in the distance.Ingrid took a breath like she was about to explain herself." It wasn't my fault"“What did you say?” I asked, even though I’d heard her.She wrung her hands. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”I felt the weight in my chest begin to shift, something slow and dreadful cracking open. “You gave them my name,” I said, my voic