The Iron Trial

Slowly, he raised his hand, and for the first time, Call saw not just Aaron his friend, but the Makar, the chaos magician, someone who could be as powerful one day as the Enemy of Death.

Someone who would be the Enemy’s enemy.

His enemy.

Call remembered her the night before, grabbing his arms and trying to drag him away from the Chaos-ridden wolf. She’d risked her life for his. He’d never had a friend like her before. Never had friends like her or Aaron. Now that he had them, he didn’t know quite what to do with them.

“No, Callum Hunt. I am not the Enemy of Death,” he said. “You are.”

“I see through the masks of skin you wear,” the Devoured continued. “I see your future. One of you will fail. One of you will die. And one of you is already dead.”

“Don’t listen to it!” Tamara cried. “It’s a thing, not human —”

“Who would desire to be human? Human hearts break. Human bones shatter. Human skin can tear.”

“I am so much more than that. I am eternal.”

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?” he asked Call.

“Because you never are,” Call told him staunchly. “I have to be a jerk for both of us.”

The next morning, Master Rufus showed up at their door just after the alarm, carrying armbands that would distinguish their team during the first test.

But sometimes now, they all looked at one another and smiled the secret smiles of actual friendship. Exhausted friendship, but real friendship nonetheless.

They all yelled in excitement. Tamara yelled because she was happy, Aaron yelled because he liked it when other people were happy, and Call yelled because he was sure they were going to die.