Chapter 9: The Trial

EGORAVEN: HEIR OF THE FIRST UNICORN - The Novelization adaptation of the comic series

The darkness swirled oppressive and heavy. Egoraven floated in the space, feeling more like she was being held rather than lifted in the thick miasma of black. Every move was met with resistance and a surge of intense heat from her midsection. Sharp pain swirled through her, and she attempted to scream, but only silence met her ears. Fingers tearing at the cocoon, the unicorn tried to escape, but the black only continued to envelop her.

“You must go to the tower…” a voice echoed. Egoraven tried to answer, but nothing came out. The only thing she could think of doing was open her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she had succeeded, as the darkness remained the same. Still fighting the pain and the stifling gloom, she attempted to look around, but her head remained firmly pinned in place. Before she could struggle more, a flash of light blinked in her peripheral vision. Straining her eyes, she saw the ghostly white unicorn swimming free in the same darkness that held her so firmly. If the unicorn could see her, they gave no notice as they disappeared back into the flash that brought them.

Egoraven listened to her beating heart, relinquishing herself to the mist. “A tower—?” she finally heard herself say.

* * *

The city gates were more crowded than usual. Not only were they choked with regular merchants coming in and out with their supplies and wares, but the last days of the tournament brought people hoping to get their chance at seeing the games before the season ended. The crowd buzzed with the excitement of a new champion.

The blacksmith waited patiently for his turn through the gates. It had taken Daniel several days to get this far, and having to wait a while longer didn’t bother him. As he leaned on his staff, he ran through his itinerary. But before anything, he was looking forward to stopping at the inn he would be staying at and freshening up. Combing his fingers through his shaggy black hair made him realize that after his trek, he was in sore need of a clean set of clothes. The line started moving, startling him out of his thoughts. A large caravan that the guards were inspecting was finally allowed through, and everyone surged forward in relief. Adjusting his pack, he followed the crowd through the gates.

The bustle of the city was not a surprise to him, although he couldn’t help but marvel at the place he hadn’t seen since he was a child and looked much more expansive than he remembered. Adjusting his glasses, he continued, the excitement of soon seeing his friends again bursting through him. It had been several months since they left The Coal Horse. Running the forge by himself was challenging, but reading how Egoraven had been climbing the ranks made all the hard work worth it.

An uncontrolled smile crossed his face, along with a twinge of nervousness. He unconsciously pat the pocket where he kept Egoraven’s letters. He had spent the downtime of his trip rereading them, chuckling at her less-than-elegant handwriting, and imagining her voice. She regaled tales of the various knights and the lavish banquets, but he found himself enchanted most when she wrote about what life was like in each city and town they encountered and how fascinated she was by mundane mortal things. And especially how his letters kept her company and made her feel he was still with her somehow.

When Johar sent word saying they had made it to tournament finals, Daniel knew at once he had to make it to the capitol one way or another. Even if she didn’t become champion, he didn’t care. He wanted to share in her victory of even making it this far. He wanted to celebrate with his friends. He wanted to celebrate with her…

He felt his heart flutter.

In his distraction, his staff hit the leg of a post, saving him from crashing into it. Snapping back to attention, he realized it was adorned with the latest tournament chart. At the far top was a golden shield flanked by a unicorn and an elf. Daniel felt his chest swell with pride, but the moment was fleeting as he felt a shove, and the parchment was suddenly snatched down.

“Hey!” Daniel snapped. The man nonchalantly crumpled up the parchment and shoved it into his satchel.

“Hey, yourself,” he responded as he pulled out another parchment and began to nail it to the board. Daniel was about to argue about the rude behavior when he took a double-take and immediately noticed the new chart was different—the unicorn crest was gone.

“Wait a minute—where’s Egoraven’s crest? It’s not here anymore.”

The man continued fastening the parchment. “Egoraven?” he muttered through the tacks he held with his lips.

“The unicorn woman who’s been competing at tourney,” Daniel answered, not believing how this peon could miss the highlight of the entire season.

“What? Are you new here?” he scoffed at the blacksmith.

“Yes, I am, actually. I just arrived from Doornham.” Daniel couldn’t hide any of his annoyance.

With a nod and a grunt, the man continued his work, not rushing to reply. “Quite the scandal. Royal proclamation removed her from the results.”

Daniel felt his stomach drop. “Why?”

The man tapped in the last of the nails. “Murdering nobles will do that.”

“WHAT?! What do you mean?” The blacksmith stared at the stranger, unable to believe what he had heard.

“Dunno any more details, just that the tourney will probably end with a new champion and an execution. Haven’t seen one of those in a long while.” With a shrug, he pushed Daniel aside to shuffle off to update the next board.

His mind whirling, Daniel shouted at him. “What happened to Egoraven? Where can I find her?”

The question stopped the man, who turned back. “Why would you want to do that?

“My business is my own. Tell me where she is being held,” Daniel demanded.

“Whatever, mate.” With a finger thick with callouses, the man pointed in the direction opposite where he was heading. “Better head off to the justice clerks, then. That’s where they process prisoners.” With one last huff, he walked off.

Daniel stood beside the signpost, completely stunned, his mind running a mile a minute. “Fuck…” Clutching his mouth, he dragged his hand. His stop at the inn would have to wait. He had to find Johar and Morgan, and especially Egoraven.

The administration center was a series of nondescript buildings in a separate, dedicated quarter. Daniel vaguely remembered the area from when he was helping his uncle deliver paperwork to the various offices long ago, but he had never dealt with the justice clerks before. It didn’t take long to find the place he needed. Looking like a miniature castle, he paused at the foot of the stairs and stared at the open gates leading to the doors. Around him, clerks, councils, guards, and their prisoners shuffled up and down the stairs as family members of the unlucky lined the sides, waiting for any information about their loved ones. No one paid him any attention.

Inside, he was greeted by an ominous foyer of marble, draped with banners of the royal family, centered by a giant golden plaque of Mithrea Helo, the sun god. As with all of the effigies, the large, sunken, carved eyes followed with judgment all who entered. A chill went down Daniel’s spine.

“Can I help you?”

Daniel jumped at the dull tone and turned to see an indifferent clerk holding a stack of parchments before him. He blinked at the blacksmith, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, yes,” Daniel started. “I’m looking for my friends. I was told they may have been arrested. Two—” he stopped himself. “Three,” he corrected. “Three doubans. A horse, a fox, and… a unicorn girl. I think they’re here by mistake.”

“Aren’t they all?” The clerk’s brow arched, but it didn’t completely erase the boredom from his face. “Are you here to pay their bail?”

Daniel gulped. “So, they’re here, then?”

The clerk impatiently shifted his stance. “If you’re here to pay their bail, you must go to the registrar’s office. If you’re not here to pay, you must wait outside until the trial date is set and announced.” He gestured to a guard to escort him back outside.

“I’m here to pay their bail,” Daniel quickly replied, hoping to gain some time to figure out what was happening.

Adjusting the stack of parchments, the clerk raised his hand. “Down the hall to the left.” He continued staring at the blacksmith, waiting for him actually to leave in the direction given. Tightening his lips, Daniel gave the clerk a nod and walked away under watchful, suspicious stares.

Marching through the corridor, he could barely hear anything over the sound of rushing in his ears. This couldn’t be happening. The thought of Johar, Morgan, and Egoraven killing two people was preposterous. The man with the charts had to have been mistaken. And where was Amadaeo? If any of this was remotely true, or even not, wouldn’t he have found him already? Or was the unicorn being held somewhere else?

Yelling up ahead caught his attention. A man in a blue uniform was angrily leaving what had to be the registrar’s office. In the distant argument, he heard Egoraven’s name and picked up his pace.

Desmond fumed as he slammed the door behind him and paced, not noticing the man running up.

“Hey—Do you know anything about Egoraven—?”

Desmond's head snapped up, seeing the disheveled traveler before him. “Who are you?” he asked sternly.

“I should ask you the same question,” Daniel shot back with equal mistrust.

The wizard squared his back. “I am Desmond Treemont of the Varcyn School of Higher Sorcery.” He fingered the medallion he wore that verified his title. “And again, who are you?”

Daniel was in no mood for the stranger’s posturing. “I’m trying to find Egoraven. I’m Daniel Broderick, her friend from Doornham.”

Desmond lurched forward, his attitude quickly changing. “Are you also friends with Johar and Morgan?”

Hearing their names made Daniel relieved and worried at the same time. “Yes! By the gods, are they here too? What’s going on?”

Desmond grabbed Daniel by the arm and dragged him to the side. “Look, I need you to listen very carefully. I know we just met, but I need a giant favor from you if you want to help your friends.”

“What are you talking about?”

Desmond pointed to the registrar’s door. “You have to go into that office and claim yourself as the owner of three doubans to be released into your custody.”

Daniel couldn’t believe the request. “What?” His voice echoed in the hall.

With a loud shush, Desmond raised his hands. “They won’t let me do it because I’m going to be Egoraven’s defender in court, but her problems are much bigger right now.”

“I don’t understand—”

The sorcerer grew impatient. “I don’t have time to explain. At worst, tell them you need your property protected until after the judgment is decided. The horse and the fox can take care of themselves, but Egoraven is in a precarious situation. I can’t protect her without permission to enter the prison. And I need permission from her owner to get permission from the clerk to officially establish myself as her representative.”

Daniel couldn’t contain how offended he was. “Why are you talking about them like that? They’re people, not animals.”

Desmond grew more frustrated. “They’re close enough, and the charges are serious enough that they’re being treated like that,” he hissed, trying to control his temper. “I don’t know what kind of friend you are, but Egoraven is completely unable to protect herself, and I can’t help her unless you go in there and do what I just told you to do!”

Daniel stared, resigned that he had no choice in the matter. His friends were in trouble, and now it was up to him to help however he could, even if it meant sacrificing dignity to do it, whether it was theirs or his own.

“Fine,” Daniel answered. “Just don’t go anywhere.”

“I have nowhere to go.”

With another deep breath, Daniel entered the office.

Desmond continued pacing, wringing his hands and running them through his hair. He had been able to apply some healing magic to Egoraven as she was being transferred but was concerned at the severity of the wound. All this time being wasted fighting bureaucracy was time he needed to help her heal. He only hoped her chaotic magic was stable enough to do what it was supposed to.

The minutes seemed to stop as he waited, and he lost track of the time it took before the door opened and a clerk appeared. With several parchments in hand, they walked casually through the corridor back towards the foyer with no sense of the urgency that rattled the sorcerer. Daniel stepped slowly behind, leaving the office with a set of parchments of his own. His face was stony, sporting a frown and flushed cheeks.

“Did it work?” Desmond asked, only to meet a hard glare.

“I never want to fucking do that again.”

Desmond let out a relieved breath. “Get used to it because it’s not over yet.” He reached out to take the parchments, only for Daniel to snatch them out of reach, then smack the papers into his chest, disgusted.

“I don’t own anyone,” Daniel declared, more for himself. “They’re my friends, not my property.”

Shaking his head, Desmond looked over the paperwork. “It’s just a formality. Don’t take it personally. At least this way, they’re more likely to take better care of them than if you asked anyone here to treat them with respect on their own.” He paused, grunting at the amendment of penalties. “Well, at least the fine wasn’t too bad, considering.”

“It was bad enough,” Daniel muttered. “You’d think so too if it came out of your pocket.”

Desmond stopped at the last page. “Damn. I was hoping they would release Egoraven with Johar and Morgan.”

“No.” Daniel shook his head. “She’s the one being charged. They’re really holding her for murder! What in Helo’s name is going on?” He began to sound desperate. “And where’s Amadaeo? They didn’t know anything about a second unicorn.”

The sorcerer gave a pained reaction. “I’m sorry you must hear it like this, especially from me, but… Amadaeo is dead.” Even though Desmond had only known the unicorn briefly, he felt deep anguish at breaking the news.

The color drained from Daniel’s face. “What do you mean he’s dead? How is Amadaeo dead?” His breath caught as his throat tightened. This trip was turning more and more into a nightmare.

“I’ll explain everything when we get to her cell.” Desmond averted his gaze, folding the parchments and stuffing them in his satchel. “Egoraven is being held at the royal dungeons, not here, and I need to pick up my supplies. Do you have a place to drop off your things? We’re going to be a while.”

Daniel was still processing the news. Removing his glasses, he gave his eyes a rough wipe. Clenching his jaw to force his chin from trembling, he clutched at the strap on his shoulder, the pack suddenly feeling heavier as he leaned on his staff. “I’m staying at Gracemeadow Inn,” he barely got out, returning his glasses to their perch.

Desmond tilted his head at the name as he studied Daniel—a stocky, provincial-looking young man in a travel-stained cloak, wearing mud-caked boots and clothing that needed a good wash but would never look anywhere near new. His rough, callused hands belied a trade fitting of the menial station he seemed to belong to, but not one that would stay at an inn in the merchant’s quarter. “Gracemeadow? That’s a bit high-end for someone like—”

“Someone like what?” Even with eyes still glistening with tears, Daniel gave the sorcerer a hateful stare, making Desmond suck in his breath with regret at the thoughtless comment.

“Nothing.”

A tense, awkward silence hung between them.

Desmond cleared his throat. “Okay. We need to focus on Egoraven. Just meet me out front in the hour. At least Johar and Morgan should be released by then.”

Daniel pursed his lips and nodded, not feeling like speaking anymore.

* * *

The access to the dungeons was through a separate side entrance of the castle. Heavily fortified, it was very different from the hall of the justice clerks. This was not the holding place for petty criminals and rowdy city drunkards. The royal prison was where traitors of the realm faced punishments much harsher than a stay in an overcrowded jail with a sentence length determined by how quickly your bail could be paid. An armored guard dispassionately led the two men silently through the imposing corridors that seemed to shrink and tighten the further they walked, the fading light of the dwindling torches not affecting his step through passages he could probably maneuver through in his sleep.

With one last descent through a spiral staircase, they entered a corridor lined with cells on both sides. Faint light broke from the cages, their small windows offering some respite from the gloom and some ventilation but not enough to completely rid the space of the putrid air that made the sorcerer and the blacksmith cover their noses while the guard strode without any care. The faint shuffling of bodies and clinking of chains broke the dense quiet, with bolder inmates calling out and attempting to gain their attention. They continued walking, keeping their focus and ignoring them.

As Daniel breathed through his palm, he was at least glad Desmond gave him some warning as to what he was about to encounter but regretted wasting the set of fresh clothing he had changed into for the occasion. Even considering the circumstances, he didn’t feel right seeing Egoraven again while wearing a tunic and shirt stinking of several days' worth of travel. However, if this were where she had been staying the entire time, she would have never noticed.

The guard slowed his pace, fumbling with a set of keys on his belt.

Desmond leaned to Daniel. “Remember what I told you. I did what I could, but Egoraven is not in the best condition. I need you to keep your wits about you when you see her.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “You keep saying that, and every time you do, I feel more and more like it’s because you don’t want me to do something to you when we get in there.” Nothing in the blacksmith’s voice signaled he was even remotely joking.

Desmond covered a cough. “Just remember where you are and focus on the task at hand,” he curtly answered as he adjusted the duffle strap on his shoulder. The loud jingle of keys and an even louder lock opening snapped them to attention. The door opened with the screeching creak of metal on metal, and the guard stepped to the side.

“I will be right here,” he gruffly announced. “Don’t take too long.”

The sorcerer glared at him. “As an official of His Majesty’s Royal Court and representative of this prisoner, I will take as long as I need, and you will wait for the entirety of it.” The guard sneered and rolled his eyes but said nothing more as they entered the cell.

Desmond let out a relieved breath when he saw the tiny room and its occupant as he last saw them before being chased out. However, Daniel had a different reaction.

“What the fuck?”

Egoraven lay on a dirty cot underneath a sliver of a gated window, wearing a shirt stained brown with caked, dry blood and her fur and hair a mess of tangles. Before Desmond could answer, the blacksmith rushed to the cot, calling her name. The unicorn looked as if she was sleeping, and Daniel expected her to turn over at any minute, but nothing happened. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed her hand and shook her, to no avail. Daniel looked over his shoulder to see the sorcerer unpacking his duffle.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Daniel demanded with growing anger in his voice. “What happened to her? Why is she like this?”

Desmond took a deep breath. “She’s in a healing trance. A very deep one. Like a magically induced coma.”

Daniel tightened his grip on the three golden fingers as he looked over the blood-soaked shirt. Hesitantly, he brushed her cheek and traced her mule-like ear that drooped lifelessly, hoping for the slightest twitches. He couldn’t believe he was seeing her like this.

“Who did this to her?”

Desmond pursed his lips, glancing out at the guard. “I dare not say it here,” he muttered. “The mage-priests refuse to believe what I saw that night and have forbidden any conjecture until the trial… if there is one.”

His tone brought Daniel back to his feet. “What do you mean, if there is one?” He gave the sorcerer a hard stare. How much he wanted to rid himself of this man and steal Egoraven away. At least there was a better chance she would revive sooner if she weren’t holed up in this dank prison reeking of piss, shit, and rot.

“The Mage Council is hoping she dies,” Desmond bluntly answered. “If it weren’t for me, they certainly would have tried speeding up the process. There are alchemists on the board who would love the opportunity to dissect her like a toad on a tray. Now we’re the only ones standing between her and them.” He hated having to say such a horrible thing, but if he needed to scare this blacksmith into cooperating, he would until other avenues of trust could be established. Watching Daniel’s face twist from anger to frustration, it was apparent the words had the intended effect. Satisfied with what he could get, Desmond returned to unpacking his duffle. “We need to get her off the cot. It will be easier for me to treat her.” As he spoke, he kicked aside a plate of food so rotten he couldn’t even recognize what it was originally supposed to be or even if it was ever edible. Pulling out a thin blanket, he set up as clean a space on the grimy floor as possible.

“Fine,” Daniel answered, not needing any further encouragement. Turning on his heels, he gave a soft huff as he paused, looking over the unicorn. Even in her state, there was something serene about her with her gentle breaths, porcelain skin, and white fur that remained unmarred by her stay in the filthy cell. Her spiral horn, which he remembered always shimmering no matter the light, was dull yellow like old ivory. The knots in her hair made his chest tighten.

“I need a brush.”

“What?”

Daniel let out another sigh. “A brush. Do you have a brush? You should have braided her hair. Now it’s going to take me forever to get these mats out.” His voice was more sad than pressing.

Rummaging through the duffel, the sorcerer pulled out a comb, not questioning the scolding over what he thought was an unusual thing to focus on. “I have this,” he answered. “It’s more for picking out nits, but…”

Daniel did not look at him. Crouching down, he tenderly slid his arms under Egoraven until he cradled her. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered into deaf ears. “I’m here. I have you.” He caught a faint whiff of roses as he lifted her, then kneeled, placing her on the blanket enough for Desmond to do what he needed but still keep her in his embrace. He had let her go once. He wasn’t going to do it again.

Desmond removed Egoraven’s ruined shirt, revealing equally caked, hastily wrapped bandages. Even with her being unconscious and unresponsive, the sorcerer still took care, gingerly cleaning skin marred by dark purple bruising, circling her waist like a malformed belt. Daniel resisted reacting, unsure if he was successful.

“It looks worse than it is, but it's still pretty bad,” Desmond replied, more for the need to say something. With a light touch, he placed his hand on her belly. A blue-violet glow began to emanate from his hand, with golden wisps tracing the entirety of the wound. A spark at the base of her throat caught both of their attention. Daniel looked at the scar curiously while Desmond frowned at it. “Even incomplete, that cursed sigil on her throat is still interfering.” He continued his healing spell, causing the scar to sparkle. “On a draining stone, it’s annoying enough, but this is blood magic. It can block a sorcerer’s magic completely if done correctly. Or, in Egoraven’s case, make her wound fatal.” He flexed his fingers, causing the magic to shine a bit brighter. “Fortunately, it wasn’t done correctly.” He looked up at the blacksmith, noticing beads of sweat forming on his brow. “Tell me if you’re feeling this,” Desmond continued. “I’m technically not supposed to do any healing while you’re holding her. Magic can be unpredictable and rope you in if you’re not a magic user yourself.”

Daniel just shook his head, tightening his embrace on the unicorn. “I’m fine,” he lied through a heavy breath.

Taking the cue, Desmond stopped his spell. The sigil was fighting him too much anyway, distracting Egoraven’s magic. He heard Daniel clear his throat, trying to camouflage a relieved sigh. “Well, the good news is that Egoraven is healing. I just don’t know how long this will take.” Pouring water onto a cloth, he gave her a general wipe down, figuring it might be longer until she got a proper bath.

Daniel cradled her closer, nuzzling her ear. “Hey... I know you're in there somewhere...” he whispered. “We're taking care of you, okay? We're not letting you go through this alone.”

The sorcerer hid a smile. He had just met this person, but how he treated Egoraven told him much more than his introduction as a friend let on.

The guard peeked into the cell. “I don't know why you're bothering. The king is going to have her strung up anyway.” The men returned his comment with annoyed glares.

“You need to mind your neck,” the blacksmith growled.

The guard jolted. “Mind mine? Killing a lord and a lady is treason. I'm surprised you two aren't in a cell of your own for helping a creature that should have stayed where it came from.”

The sorcerer turned his eye back to Daniel. “Ignore him,” he sternly replied. “We have more important things to do here. Let's get her in a clean shirt and back to the cot.” They took their time as the guard impatiently returned to his post, jangling the keys at his belt. Realizing nothing more could be done, Desmond began to pack up the scattered items, stuffing the used bandages and dirty shirt into a sack to be burned.

With the same gentleness as before, Daniel hoisted Egoraven back up, pausing before returning her to the trundle. “Don't you die on me. This is not how I wanted you in my arms.” Placing her on the mattress, he combed his fingers through her hair, trying to smooth out the tangles. Kneeling, he stared at her sleeping face, taking some comfort in her light breaths. As much as he wanted to kiss her blush lips, he also wanted to earn that right. To see her smiling at him as he did it. He would just have to wait. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead instead, hoping to see her horn shimmer—for any sign that she knew what was happening. All remained still.

The two men quietly left the cell, listening to the door squealing and clanging closed. With a fumbling of keys, the guard locked the bolt. “Would be so easy just to take her head now and end the whole thing,” he casually remarked.

In an explosion of movement, with the startled sorcerer bracing against him, the blacksmith lunged. “DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER,” he screamed next to Desmond’s ear.

The guard jumped, grasping the pommel of his sword but not unsheathing it. “How dare you!” he cried back. The prisoners jeered at the looming fight.

“BOTH OF YOU,” Desmond barked, keeping his body between the two men. Sensing Daniel standing down, he turned to the indignant guard. “It is by the King's decree that this prisoner stands trial before his Royal Highness undefiled.” He couldn’t help pointing a scolding finger. “If you or any of the guards here so much as dare disturb a single hair on her—and I will know—by Helo's word, I will turn you all into something unnatural for it!” He fought the instinct to cringe at his ridiculous threat. Desmond did not have the power to turn cream into butter, much less a man into—whatever. But he was still a sorcerer, after all. It wasn’t important what kind. He just needed the guard to think it was possible.

The man sucked his teeth. “Damned wizards—Helo will judge you for cavorting with demons,” he grumbled as he led the way back out of the dungeon to the continued taunts from the surrounding cells.

As they returned to the light and air of the outside, Desmond turned to the blacksmith, who looked weary and drained. Daniel removed his glasses and rubbed his face, trying to shake off everything.

“So, how are Johar and Morgan doing?” Desmond asked, trying to make small talk.

“Just slightly traumatized,” Daniel answered in a weak attempt at humor. “Good thing I have a room with two beds since it’s looking like we’ll be stuck here for a bit.” He folded his arms as he ruminated on what had happened. “Do you think Egoraven is safe here?”

Desmond gave a heavy exhale. “As safe as any of us would be,” he answered. “I did put a protective scrawl on the floor of the cell. That should keep the guards from bothering her, at least.”

They both stood in silence.

“So, I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning, then,” Daniel finally replied.

“Yes. Tomorrow morning,” Desmond answered.

The sorcerer and the blacksmith turned away from each other. “I need to buy a brush,” Daniel said aloud as he walked off.

* * *

The blackness churned around a reddened moon, looking too large and bright in the space. A tower pierced the darkness, a decrepit cylinder of crumbling stone crowned by a rotting wood spire. Egoraven floated towards it but could not get close enough, its image undulating and making her question what she was seeing. She was weary of the hallucinations, of the pitch, of the voices that called to her but led nowhere. Her hands fell to her midsection.

“You must reach the Chamber of Helo,” the disembodied voice echoed. “The ancient magic is strongest there. You must go.”

Egoraven had long stopped questioning who was speaking and shut her eyes. Before, she couldn’t tell the difference in this deep dark. But this time, a faint light appeared when she did, immediately transfixing her. She felt herself drawn towards it, feeling her body soar as the point widened the closer she went. Unlike the moon and the tower, this tunnel felt solid. She was moving towards something instead of floating around another vision. As she reached out, the voice called one more time.

“Only there can we help you.”

The blackness disappeared into the light.

“Who can help me…?” Egoraven asked as everything went white.

* * *

The unicorn awoke with a violent gasp, her body jerking as her eyes shot open. Taking a deep breath, her nose filled with a fetid stench that made her choke. The coughing fit forced her to sit up, trying to clear her lungs as disorientation clung like a heavy cloak. Shaking her head, Egoraven glanced around the darkened room, unconsciously running her fingers over the loose braid cascading over the front of her shoulder. The only light was from the moon shining through the narrow window, accompanied by the faint glow of her horn.

“Is this another dream? Where am I now?” she murmured, smoothing her disheveled shirt. Exhausted but needing to move, she dragged her legs over the side of the cot. As her hooves touched the floor, a pain shot through her side, forcing her to double over.

“GAH! Why hasn’t the magic healed it yet? I know I don’t have that forsaken pendant—”

Egoraven slowly righted herself and cautiously stretched her back, hoping not to trigger more pain. As her senses cleared, she noticed her surroundings.

“What the—”

It was a narrow rectangular room of solid stone save for the small window above her, crisscrossed with iron bars crusted with rust. Aside from the cot she sat on, nothing else was in the room except for a bucket in a corner and musty straw scattered throughout. Blaming her haze, she had trouble piecing together where she was until her eyes focused on the furthest wall. A metal bar was bolted into the stone. From it dangled a pair of equally rusted chains ending with iron cuffs. Her ears and tail twitched nervously at the sight when her head impulsively snapped to its opposite—a door made up of crisscross metal bars matching the window. The moans of other prisoners broke the intermittent silence.

This was not a dream. It was a dungeon.

Panic waved through her, with her heart threatening to jump out of her chest. “Where am I?” she cried, clutching the mattress as if it was the only thing holding her in place.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”

Egoraven’s ears perked forward, praying that this was just another hallucination. Listening to the rustling by the door, she held her breath as a dark figure, backlit by torchlight, appeared. The unicorn squinted until her sight adjusted, catching the moonlight glinting off a familiar pair of glasses.

“Daniel!” she cried as she jumped from the cot and threw herself against the bars, desperately grasping at the blacksmith. Unable to contain his relief and excitement, Daniel completed the embrace as best he could, both entangled around the metal that dared to keep them apart.

The more Egoraven realized she wasn’t dreaming—that this wasn’t a trick of the darkness, the more she felt a tremendous pressure building within. The more she felt the man in her arms, the more she grasped and clung to him, the more she breathed in his scent, the more her emotions welled into a flood that could no longer be contained. Memories exploded all at once. Pressing her face into his shoulder, she let out a muffled wail.

Daniel stood silently as Egoraven's choking cries made him curse the bars as he tried to hug her tighter. His heart breaking, he let his tears fall, weeping with her. He should have asked her to stay in Doornham. He should have convinced her not to leave. She would have been safe with him. Even Amadaeo would still be alive if they had just stayed at The Coal Horse.

They would have been happy.

Egoraven wrenched away, a sudden realization overcoming her. “Daniel—! What is going on? What are you doing here?”

The blacksmith hid in the shadows as he composed himself. Adjusting his glasses, he turned back to her. “Once I received Johar's letter that you had made it to the finals, I arranged to come to Varcyn. But when I arrived, things were obviously… different.”

“How long have I been here?”

Another voice answered. “You’ve been unconscious for about a week.” They both turned to see Desmond walking up to them.

Egoraven’s ears shot forward. “A week?”

The sorcerer took his place next to the blacksmith. “Yes—You didn’t even move the whole time. I had to keep assuring everyone you weren’t dead.”

Daniel nodded. “He said you were in a very deep healing trance.”

The unicorn ran her hand over her belly. “Then why don’t I feel any better?”

Reaching out, Desmond lightly touched the scar at the base of her throat. “You are lucky whoever did this didn’t finish the sigil. You could have actually died.”

She tried to get a look at it, but she could only feel the bumpy surface.

“But why didn’t your magic heal the sigil?” Daniel asked.

Her ears twitched and then drooped as remnants of that night flashed in fragments she could barely remember, save one. “Because it was done with a piece of unicorn horn,” Egoraven answered, absent-mindedly tugging at the braid. A sudden gasp escaped her. “Wait! Johar and Morgan—!”

“They are all right. They’re staying with me,” Daniel immediately jumped in. “I was able to pay their way out. You, on the other hand, we’re still negotiating for.”

She cocked her head. “What do you mean, negotiating?

The two men hesitated as they glanced at each other. Desmond cleared his throat. “You were arrested for the murder of Cerrik and Alexandria.”

“WHAT?” She tightened her grip on the bars, as her knees threatened to buckle.

He continued. “Rumors of dragons entering the lands outside of Edinrahn have also spread, and the moon has remained in a perpetual eclipse, frightening an already superstitious general populace. The mage-priests are calling for your sacrifice to appease the gods.” Desmond hesitated. “You are going to face a tribunal.”

The unicorn fell back, numb with shock.

“We’re trying everything we can to help you, and we must leave to continue doing so,” he finished, giving the blacksmith a pat on the shoulder.

Egoraven locked eyes with Daniel, hoping for any sign that this had to be a cruel joke. That none of this was true. She tried to speak, but no words would come out. She felt his hand close on top of hers.

“Do not give up…” Daniel spoke softly, “because the people you matter to haven’t.” He extended a finger, giving her braid a quick caress. Sharing one last glance, he pulled away and disappeared into the shadows after the sorcerer.

Egoraven fought to maintain her balance until finally collapsing onto the unforgiving cot. As the tears returned, she buried her face in trembling hands.

* * *

“Egoraven of Edinrahn, you are brought before his Royal Majesty King Jason Gerhard the Second of Ternam, The Lord Mage Eustin Romparte of the Royal Council of Mages, and High Mage Priest Orslow Voldare, may Mithraea Helo bless their names.”

Egoraven straightened her back and gave her tail a slight swish as the herald’s voice called the court to attention. She stood on a small podium for all to see in the austere hall. To her right, beneath tall, stained-glass windows, was the jury box of ornately carved dark oak, where twelve knighted nobles sat with severe stares in her direction. She could tell with a glance she would find no supporters there.

To her left was a similar bank of men seated at a long table. Their dark blue uniforms belied their roles as recorders of the proceedings, scribbling on the myriad of parchments scattered before them. Behind them sat another row of observers—their orange and blue robes with golden chains marking them as members of the Mage Council. She doubted she would find any allies there as well.

Without turning back, she swiveled her ears towards the gallery seats behind her. Curious onlookers sat watching the proceedings, mostly waiting for their cases to be brought before the court. Her attention focused on the front row where Orchid, Daniel, Morgan, and Johar sat. Desmond was seated separately at a small table. She could feel their nervousness, hearing the slight clicking of Daniel anxiously adjusting his glasses as Orchid sniffed into a lace handkerchief. The tension in the air was thick, and it was all she could do to keep her own emotions in control.

She kept her head down, glancing through her eyelashes at King Jason seated on a dais, flanked by his high priest in red and his lord mage in black. Egoraven gave a small shuffle, causing the chain of the metal cuffs at her wrists to clink. She resisted the urge to laugh and break free. To show them all how no rope nor chain could hold a unicorn. Even the bars of her cell were no match for her strength, and she could have escaped at any time. But she knew better. Her survival depended on letting the humans have their illusion of control. No display of her power would end well for her. The struggle to maintain this facade was near unbearable.

The herald took a parchment from the long table and positioned himself before the dais. “The charges against you are as follows,” he started to read. “Murder of Cerrik Deanjou, Champion of Duke Mercer of Doornham. Murder of Lady Alexandria Beusaugh of Dallyn. Bodily assault of several knights of tournament ranking. Falsification of tournament records. Open practice of illegal magic. And conspiracy to overthrow the rightful rulers of Ternam.” Without any reaction, he rolled the parchment back up. “How do you plead?” he asked with a practiced monotone.

Egoraven felt herself jolt at the charges. “Murder? Conspiracy? Of course, I plead not guilty!” she spoke, indignant and loud.

High Mage Priest Orslow Voldare, a rotund, balding sorcerer, shifted uncomfortably in his hard chair. “The evidence against you marks you. Confess before Helo now, and we will show you mercy before his court.”

The unicorn furrowed her brow as she stared directly at him. The decorum of not looking directly only applied to the king. “I will confess to nothing because I did nothing.”

Lord Mage Eustin Romparte, in black robes with his unkempt white hair, leaned forward. “Do you refute the evidence against you?” he asked incredulously.

“I competed openly under the name of my kingdom—under the banner of Edinrahn, a banner that was and still is rightfully mine,” Egoraven answered. “King Jason was the one who decided that I was not worthy of my own title.”

Her defiance triggered insulted murmurs from the jury box.

With a knocking of his ring on the arm of his chair, Mage Voldare called the room to order. “May I remind you that you stand before us at trial only because of Desmond Treemont’s intervention, so I suggest you curb your voice before the king.”

“You would rather execute me than admit to your fair city that an elf had you fooled the whole time,” Egoraven snapped. “Your city was infiltrated, and your most powerful sorcerers didn’t even notice!” She couldn’t help raising her voice.

The jury murmured again, accompanied by the frenzied scribbling of the recorders.

“Elves wouldn’t dare come into Varcyn and risk the ire of the Council of Mages.”

“An elf dares and already has,” the unicorn called back. “Here I am, taking the brunt for the mark he has left, and you were too distracted by his glamour to notice!” With a jingling of chains, Egoraven pointed to King Jason, who presided over the affair in stern silence. “Why would an elf fear your council when even your own King Jason didn’t recognize him for what he was at his own tournament banquet, no less?”

The monarch did not react.

“So, you admit that you were using your magic when you were forbidden to do so? That you saw through this alleged elf’s glamour?” Mage Voldare continued.

“You cannot forbid what comes naturally to me. Your talismans are powerful, but not enough that I wasn’t able to see.”

King Jason finally spoke. “Then what other magic do you wield? Did you enchant Alexandria as Cerrik believed, which is why you attacked him? That you would have killed him if several of our finest knights had not intervened?”

Egoraven shook her head at the accusation. “They attacked me,” she cried. “I only hurt Cerrik because I was defending myself. And I did not enchant Alexandria. That was also the work of elf magic. Had I even realized, I would have tried to break the enchantment myself.”

The gallery broke out in a wave of chattering.

“This elf, you claim,” King Jason continued. “Do you know him?”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “He is Crown Prince Rillian Ciridan of Edinrahn,” she reluctantly answered, hating having the name on her tongue.

“Are you not Crown Princess?”

She sighed again. “Yes. Yes, I am, but Your Majesty has refused to acknowledge the title because the Dragon Lords rule Edinrahn now.” Egoraven allowed herself a quick glare before averting her eyes. She knew she had skirted a dangerous line.

“And do you deny any knowledge of dragons entering the lands outside Edinrahn? Of murdering humans? Of wishing to overthrow the rightful rulers of this kingdom? Do you understand that we have never faced these problems before you came here?”

Egoraven began to feel her energy waning. “I cannot deny that because of me, an elf has entered your city on behalf of dragons and wreaked havoc. An elf that murdered Lady Alexandria, Sir Cerrik, and my uncle. But, this proves no collusion between us. Unicorns and dragons have always been mortal enemies.” Speaking of the Raikashans made rage bubble within her. “If you execute me, you will lose your only chance of stopping them. As only Arias, the first Unicorn, could defeat Miraon, the first dragon, no human can defeat the Dragon Lords.” Her eyes locked with King Jason’s. Decorum be damned. “That is Helo’s will.”

Mage Voldare pounded his fist on the armrest. “How dare you purport to know the will of the Creator!”

Egoraven felt her courage return. “I am closer to the Creator through Arias than humans will ever be. Remember—humans were created second.”

The hall erupted in outrage. “Blasphemy! Sacrilege! And we wonder why the Goddess is suffering! This beast’s hubris wounds us all!” cried voices all around.

The unicorn held firm as the herald called for order in the court.

A hush fell in the hall. After a deliberate pause, King Jason continued his query of the unicorn. “You are a creature of magic that legends say we should not trust. We have the goddess moon blood red, two nobles are dead, and dragons and dark magic are on the move. By your admission, your magic lies unbridled in this city, yet you claim what is in your heart is different than what we have always known of Edinrahn.” He leaned back on his throne. “Why should I ignore the wishes of justice by my loyal subjects who feel you are responsible for the ill fortunes before us?”

Egoraven found herself unable to answer. Her ears twitched as her mind raced, trying to find the words that could bring any favor to her. For the first time since the start of the interrogation, she turned her head to see the front row of the gallery. Her friends stared back, frightened and unblinking.

At that moment, Egoraven realized this was much larger than she was. It was only a matter of time before the dragons descended upon the kingdom. These fragile mortals were all in danger, and the only thing standing between the wrath of the Raikashans and these people was a unicorn they were determined to execute. Unbeknownst to them, her answer would seal their fate. Even if she couldn’t save Edinrahn, she couldn’t allow the same to befall Ternam. The thought of what the dragons would do—her friends suffering—even dying—made her blood run cold. Through quivering lips, she gave the only answer she could.

“Because I am a loyal subject as well.”

A collective gasp threatened to suck the air out of the hall as everyone shuffled, confused.

“All I wanted was to be a knight, for I thought that was how to help my people,” she quietly explained. “But all the tourneys in the world will not make me what, in the end, I have to prove to you yourself that I am worthy of.” She stiffened her back and raised her chin. “If King Jason holds his subjects above all, I claim myself one before all.”

Cynical laughter answered her declaration. “One does not swear fealty because it is convenient,” chuckled Mage Voldare with no tone of humor.

“What could you possibly offer Varcyn and all the kingdom of Ternam in exchange for your life?” followed Lord Romparte, staring her down.

Egoraven steeled her courage. “I offer the only thing that not even your king can will away no matter how much he decrees.” She dropped to one knee. “I offer you Edinrahn.”

The hall erupted in a frenzy. Desmond stared in surprise at Egoraven, then turned to the front row, his mouth agape, only to find them all with the same reaction. They shrugged at each other, mutely asking the same question, with none of them understanding what was happening.

A frantically banging gavel from the long table brought the hall back. Somehow, King Jason looked more serious than he did before. “I refuse to believe that the unicorns and the elves would be so willing to give up their powerful kingdom,” he replied in disbelief.

She remained in her kneel. “As rightful heir, I can do whatever I wish with my kingdom and enter any contract I see fit. Unicorns have no need for castles and kingdoms. Even if Prince Rillian tries to reclaim the throne, without the unicorns, the elves have no true allies and will be unable to defend Edinrahn alone.”

King Jason tented his fingers in obvious contemplation, horrifying his counselors.

“My lord,” Lord Romparte pleaded. “You will be entering into a devil’s deal. That much magic cannot be controlled.”

The jury refused to remain quiet. “No! That animal deserves nothing and must be punished,” cried a knight from the bench. “The Lord Helo demands it! Will we wait for his wrath before doing what justice calls for?” His compatriots echoed his sentiments, triggering a wave of arguing amongst both sides of the hall.

Hearing enough, Desmond shot up from his chair. “Please! My lords, if I may speak?” he yelled over the fray. The gavel pounded again.

“Desmond Treemont, you may address the court,” demanded the king, his furrowed brows projecting his continued rumination on the unicorn’s offer.

The sorcerer cleared his throat. “I cannot deny the signs and offer no excuses. However, if your majesty has misgivings about performing the duties that Helo dictates, then the only one above the king who can decide is Lord Helo himself.” He walked over to the podium where Egoraven had stood back up. He gulped as he braced his stance before the dais. “The only way for Egoraven to prove her intentions is to face the Tower of the Sun and Helo’s Chamber.”

Loud gasps followed his words. Orchid choked back a sob.

“What is that idiot doing?” Daniel hissed, trying to keep his voice low and forcing himself to remain seated. “He’s going to get her killed!”

Johar snorted softly, clenching his jaw. Morgan looked over, not understanding, but their reactions, even the courtesan he hated weeping as she did, tied his stomach in knots. The fox sank back, tightly clutching his hands.

Egoraven’s ears perked forward. The tower! That’s the tower! screamed in her mind. The sorcerer was pointing where she needed to go without knowing it.

“Only the kingdom’s strongest knights are honored to face the Tower,” replied King Jason.

Desmond raised his hands in appeal. “That decision is for Helo to make. If she is worthy, she will survive the Tower, and having her as an ally would benefit the kingdom. But if she fails, the Tower will finish her before any executioner ever will, so there is nothing to lose.”

“Oh! What a relief!” muttered Morgan sarcastically at the callous explanation. Daniel roughly rubbed his temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

King Jason and Egoraven locked eyes. Under different circumstances, he would have punished anyone daring such a thing but decided to put aside the rules of royal etiquette for now. He contemplated the deal put before him—the thought of gaining control of such a magically powerful valley—the idea of having such a creature in his court and how it would greatly raise his position among the outer kingdoms. Varcyn’s magic would be matched in a sister territory under his banner. All he had to do was trust a unicorn.

Standing, he called his counselors and met the rest of the mage-priests at the far side of the hall. A flurry of heated whispers came from the cluster of orange and blue robes and gleaming chains. No one else in the hall dared to make a sound. Egoraven sighed, not quite relieved but knowing this battle was at least won. The only question was by how much.

The private meeting was adjourned, with everyone but the king not elated with the outcome. King Jason strode back to the dais with his two counselors, who were not hiding their disapproval.

“Kneel, Egoraven of Edinrahn,” boomed the king, announcing her name with the authority she knew she always deserved. Egoraven did as she was commanded. Desmond continued to stand beside her.

“I sentence you to have the Great Lord Helo decide your fate. You will face the Ordeal of the Tower.” By that one declaration, the trial was over.

Desmond swung his arm and frantically waved his hand at the front row, signaling the courtesan and the blacksmiths to stand. “As per the ritual, Egoraven will need her entourage to prepare her.”

“She will be released into your custody,” King Jason answered without looking at any of them. He turned back to Egoraven, pleased that she kept her gaze towards the floor. “And may Helo have mercy on you…” he ended as he returned to his throne.

Without any command, the bailiffs came over in practiced synchronization, preparing the hall for the next case on the docket to be presented. Unlocking her cuffs to free her from her bonds, they gathered the odd group and escorted them out. No matter how important this had all seemed, in the end, it was just another item on a long list of royal responsibilities.

Egoraven couldn’t believe what she had done.

* * *

The highest point in Varcyn, the Tower of the Sun was surrounded by as many legends about it as it was surrounded by the city itself. It was unknown how or when it was built as nothing in the archives contained any useful information, nor were there any usual markers hinting at its age. Any writings of the strange tower with its unprotected spiral steps leading to a decrepit peak described the odd structure as always existing. However, even from that amorphous beginning, the tower was known to be unusual. This was no relic from a long-gone castle or the abode of an eccentric occupant. Adventurers from long past ventured to the lone tower, expecting it to be an easy plunder. Instead, it was discovered as a source of powerful magic, with stories quickly spreading as many reached the top and just as many never returned from their treacherous climb.

Sorcerers from all over the realm descended to the area, trying to figure out the tower's secret, only to have the land claimed in the name of the founding ruling family. This was where the first iteration of the Council of Mages was formed, dedicated to protecting the realm and its magic. But with protection also came control, and control of the mysterious tower became the priority.

The sorcerer’s college formed the foundation of what would become the capital of Ternam. As the city grew, it became the center of all magical instruction in the kingdom, with every witch, wizard, and warlock making their way to the tower just as the adventurers of old had done centuries earlier. To this day, no one knows any more of the tower than they did before, but what little they did know became the basis of what was now known as the creator of heroes—the Ordeal of the Tower.

Starting underground, the tower was connected to the royal castle and the School of Sorcery by a series of tunnels leading to a grotto chapel housing the entrance. Then, narrow steps wrapped outside to the crumbling turret. The chamber is where it is said Helo comes down to pass judgment on the brave souls who make it to the top. If they are worthy to serve the kingdom in his name, the knight awakes back at the bottom of the tower—safe but shaken from their ordeal. If the knight is not found worthy, it is said that Helo drives the knights insane until they throw themselves off the tower.

Either way, no one speaks of what is up there.

Egoraven sank into the steaming water of the tub, its heat controlled by the set of enchanted rune stones beneath it. Candlelight flickered all around the room, along with a crackling fireplace. This should have come as a welcome respite after spending the time she did in the royal prison. Instead, the unicorn concentrated on keeping her mind clear of reminders of her sentence. This was not a random bath for lounging. The fragrant oils and herbs in the water were an important part of the cleansing ritual, and she used the time to meditate on what was expected. Her ears twitched, the only reaction she gave to soft sniffling beside her.

Orchid sat next to the copper tub, taking a cloth and gently scrubbing Egoraven’s skin. There was nothing sensual about the act, bathing her as a servant would. The touch of perfectly manicured hands that before would inflame deep yearning did nothing. Occasionally, the courtesan would pause to wipe the tears that stung her eyes, understanding the severity of the ritual as she thought of the men she had known who went through the same, especially those who did not survive it. Orchid did not attempt to speak, which was just as well as Egoraven elicited not even the slightest acknowledgment of her save for what was necessary.

Stepping out of the tub, Egoraven stood still as Orchid patted her dry with a towel. The private ceremony required complete submission by the aspirant. Once dressed in her underclothes and smelling of jasmine and sage, Egoraven was ushered into the next room.

The courtesan presented Egoraven to the next step of the rite. Daniel came over with the rest of her clothing—a pair of simple breeches and a linen shirt. Wordlessly, she followed the instruction of his gentle touches, reminding her of being readied for tournament contests, except without the armor. She averted her eyes as he buttoned her shirt, not wanting to take in his somber expression and to hide the flush of her cheeks she blamed on the bath. As his fingers reached the swell of her chest, she caught herself holding her breath, but he continued his buttoning without any comment or hesitation. His part was complete.

Even the fox had his duty. Kneeling before him, she felt a brush go through her damp hair, and then small, clawed hands began to plait the strands into a long braid falling down her back. His work done, Egoraven stood and faced Johar, lowering her head in deference. Raising his hands over her, the horse man began to speak.

A knight is always brave in battle…

to be without fear in the face of his enemies…

Loyal to their king…

Loyal to their Creator…

A knight is willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

To their fellow countrymen, a knight is to be humble, merciful, and courteous…

to safeguard the helpless and do no wrong…

Almighty Helo, Eternal Father, Lord of Lords, have mercy upon her, a humble knight in your Divine Service.

Oh— Helo, I pray for your indulgence and blessings.

Forget not your servant in her trials.

I pray that your Will be done in all things, both great and small.

Let her always be worthy of you.

Let her not forget you in good times or bad. Armor her with the armor of your Righteousness.

Give her the sword of Truth that she shall confound your enemies and be unto you a true knight.

O Lord, in her hour of need, be with her.

As he completed the prayer, a soft knocking came from the door, followed by creaking, revealing Desmond and two ceremonial guards waiting in the hallway. “It’s time,” he quietly spoke.

The group made their way to the tunnel. Egoraven kept her pace and continued to keep her mind clear. She paid no attention to the vaulted ceilings and the high columns that may or may not have been older than the school above them. She focused on the guards in front, wondering how many they had led before and how many had returned.

And whether she would be one of them.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, its path made golden by the torches in iron sconces bolted to the wall every few feet. If anyone was bothered by the distance they had been walking, no one spoke of it. In fact, no one spoke at all during the entire trek. The only sound accompanying them was their footsteps and the tapping of hooves.

With a turn, the change from the tunnel to the alcove was abrupt. Suddenly, the hall opened into a cavernous chapel carved of stone and earth. Tall pillars braced the dome-like ceiling, with wood pews set in neat rows. More ceremonial guards dotted the perimeter as mage-priests gathered around the steps leading to an ornate golden gate. Before the smaller entrance in the gate stood King Jason, as stern and stoic as ever. The priests hushed their already low whispers, watching the retinue take their place in the center of the room.

“Egoraven of Edinrahn. You have been sentenced to stand before the great Mithrea Helo in judgment.” King Jason’s voice boomed in the alcove. “May he have mercy on you and return to us a knight if he finds you virtuous. May his vengeance be swift if he finds you damned.”

Resisting the urge to look at her friends one last time, she climbed the stone steps slowly and deliberately. Deferring to the king and keeping her eyes lowered, as she reached the top, the golden door in the gate was opened, leading towards a plain double door that looked as if it were about to rot off its hinges. Her ears twitched at the sight of it. How could this be something that inspired such awe and fear? But as she stood before it, Egoraven found herself hesitating.

She stared at the door, wringing her fingers as she eyed the rusted handles. “I guess even this is up to me,” she spoke to herself as she reached out.

With hardly a touch, the doors heaved and creaked, opening towards Egoraven seemingly on its own. The sapling of magic awoke, making her tingle all over. The doors stopped, revealing nothing but pitch black. She stepped inside.

The doors slammed shut, startling the unicorn. The dark enveloped her, reminding her of her odd dreams. The only light was the faint glow of her horn—however, it wasn’t enough to keep from fumbling around. At least the room felt solid and real, even if she couldn’t see anything. Carefully walking around, Egoraven wondered what she was supposed to be looking for. This was a tower, so shouldn’t she need to go up? She reached out, hoping to touch the walls. If she could follow a wall, she should be able to find stairs.

But there were no walls.

“Hello…” Egoraven shouted, trying to get a sense of how large the room was. To her frustration, her call dropped like a stone. For a space that seemed endless, there was no echo. This would not be as simple as she hoped. Deciding nothing was being accomplished by stumbling about, Egoraven stopped. Tilting her head, she swiveled her ears, hoping to pick up anything that might point her in the right direction. Her ears shot forward.

It was faint, almost inaudible, but she heard something.

Was that wind?

Taking the chance, she followed the sound. Even in the dark, she knew she made the correct choice as she caught the whiff of fresh air in the musty place. As a sliver of light appeared ahead, her heart began to race. Stone steps revealed themselves, spiraling towards a glowing open door. Not wanting to stay in the dark any longer, Egoraven trotted her way up.

“Sunlight! Am I at the top already? Were all the stories about the tower just that?”

The relief of breathing in cool air and feeling the sun’s warmth on her skin after what felt like too much time in the black vanished as she crossed the threshold. She stepped out, shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness, only to realize that a rushed misstep would have ended her trial right there.

Gripping the archway, she noticed there was no door at all, having walked through an opening that led straight to the outside of the tower. A gasp escaped as she looked down over the vast courtyard, much higher than she thought, not remembering anything but the few steps that had gotten her this far. The wind howled, blowing through her hair and making her thank Morgan for the braid that kept most of it in check. People gathered below, dark dots scattering all over. She couldn’t tell if they were watching the tower or going about their business, unaware of her even being there. She shook her head.

Gathering her courage, she studied the platform. It didn’t extend much from the opening, barely wide enough for her to completely step out. Keeping her grip on the archway, Egoraven gingerly slid a bit more onto another stone step jutting out next to it. With a nervous gulp, she eyed what she had hoped was an exaggeration of the tower’s legend. Another strong gust of wind forced her to press herself against the wall.

“So at least this part is true, then…” Egoraven muttered to herself. Extending a leg, she planted a hoof on the next step as the wind whipped again. “So high! And the steps so… small!” Her teeth began to chatter. Bracing herself, she inched to the next stone.

The climb was much more laborious than maneuvering a dark room, with each move threatening to give the wind enough advantage to sweep her off the tower. Egoraven gripped the façade, using her strength to drive her fingers into any crevice that would allow. She thought about the men who had already made this journey and wondered how their much taller and broader frames even made it this far, much less the whole way. Maybe it wasn’t a god who drove them to jump, but the much simpler idea that they just fell.

Don’t look down—don’t look down—don’t look—

Egoraven cried out at the shock of her hoof slipping. Everything became a blur as her body collapsed, her extremities flailing and grabbing at air. Her mind went blank. A hard thud woke the unicorn from her stupor, splayed across steps barely the width of herself. Loud, rasping gasps escaped her, taking what little energy she had left to calm down. She had not tumbled off the tower. She was still alive. Crawling to the widest step, which wasn’t much, Egoraven curled into a ball, burying her face in her knees.

I’m not going to make it. I can’t do it.

Egoraven was too terrified to cry. She sat in her position for a long time, trembling from the cold and listening to the wind mocking her. She couldn’t tell how high she was but knew the entrance was too far to return. The effort it would take would be the same as pushing forward. The problem was that she couldn’t get herself to move either way. She almost laughed at the thought of trading this moment to be back in the dungeon. At least there was nowhere to fall except off a cot. She scraped her hoof on the edge of the step.

Damn these hooves. These stairs were in no way meant for someone like me. I’ll never reach the Chamber like this.

Finishing the thought, she perked up at the realization.

“Wait—that’s right. These stairs weren’t made for someone like me… but perfect for someone like me…”

Even though many had failed in their climb, others had succeeded. Humans had done this before, and after her, humans would do it again. Why did it have to be different for a unicorn? But it didn’t have to be. Especially not for a unicorn like Egoraven. The sapling sparked awake, and reluctantly, she gave into the shift. What felt like a precarious perch now had some semblance of breathing room—at least enough not to feel completely treacherous, although the wind still attempted to prove otherwise.

Pressing herself against the wall, Egoraven slowly stood up on trembling legs, her hooves replaced by toes that gripped better into the step. Even the extra digits on her hands helped to keep her balance. She still disliked this human body, but at least with the concentration required to remain in this smaller shape, her mind was no longer clouded with fear. She only hoped her magic would hold long enough to reach the top.

“Climb,” she commanded herself.

Her shadow shifting made her somewhat conscious of the time it was taking. Her human body made the trek easier, but it was still arduous and slow going. There would be no rushing this task. It would take as long as it needed.

I don’t want to fathom how high up I must be, she allowed the thought. None of the stories about the tower mentions anyone going down the steps.

Egoraven didn’t know when it happened, but the narrow steps began to develop a slight lip. As she stepped from one stone to the next, it began to rise along with the path widening to the point she didn’t have to hug the tower any further. She kept her gaze straight lest she dared to look down. It had been too high for comfort the first time she did. Egoraven didn’t want to know how high she must be now after what felt like hours of climbing.

The wall grew until the ever-determined wind could no longer bother her.

Finally protected from any chance of falling, Egoraven sped up, skipping steps until they ended before a simple door decorated with a gleaming plaque in the shape of the sun with staring eyes.

Realizing she had finally reached the top, Egoraven collapsed before the door, her knees weak from exertion. You would think a tower made by a god wouldn’t look so much like it’s about to collapse any minute... she thought as she noticed the crumbling stone and disintegrating wood of the turret.

With a loud sigh, the spell holding her human shape released. Egoraven relished being back in her body, her tail swishing in contentment and feeling her horn sparkle. Even the feel of her hooves and odd hands came with welcome relief. No matter what she had to do, she always knew who she was.

Peeking through the loose strands of hair covering her face, Egoraven caught the gold plaque, the hollow eyes boring down almost as if reminding the unicorn that her ordeal was not yet over.

With a huff, Egoraven reached for the door and pushed it open.