NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Trial by Flame
The fire in the courtyard was not for warmth. It was a test.
Elara stood at her window, staring down at the circle of students surrounding the flickering flames. Their shadows danced wildly on the stone walls, distorted by the firelight. Above them, the night sky pressed in like a lid. No stars. Just clouds—dark and heavy, as if watching too.
The Trial.
Lira had said it so casually, like it was some school game. But Elara could feel it in her bones. This wasn't a game. It was something much older, something hungry.
From above, she saw one student step forward into the firelight. A tall boy, face hidden behind a porcelain mask like the one in her wardrobe. He walked toward the fire without flinching.
Then another student joined him. Then a third.
Lira had said: "When the third bell rings, don't scream."
Elara turned from the window and stared at the Grimoire. It lay open on the desk now, even though she hadn't touched it since before dinner.
The words had changed again:
"They walk into fire to remember what was burned."
"You must go."
She didn't want to.
Her entire body screamed to stay locked in this room. To board the door shut. To forget everything—the drawer, the letter, the questions. But the Grimoire had already told her the rules.
She couldn't ask anything else until she faced the Trial.
And she needed answers.
She slipped into the robe from the wardrobe. The fabric was rough and too long in the sleeves. The boots fit perfectly, as if tailored for her.
She left the mask behind.
When she reached the courtyard, the fire snapped and crackled louder than it should. It didn't smell like wood burning. It smelled like paper. Old, rotting paper.
Five students stood around the fire now. A sixth walked forward. All wore masks. None spoke.
Lira stood to the side, arms folded. Her mask dangled from one hand. She watched Elara with unreadable eyes.
"Elara Wynne," a voice called from the shadows.
It was the Dean.
Dean Magra stepped forward, flanked by two masked professors. Her cloak shimmered with symbols that hurt to look at. Her smile was thin and sharp.
"First night. First trial."
She held up a candle. The flame turned black.
"Step into the circle."
Elara's legs moved before her brain caught up. She stepped inside the ring of firelight. It was warmer here, but not in a comforting way. The heat pressed against her skin like fingers.
The Dean pointed to the fire.
"Step into the flames."
Gasps echoed in her ears. She wasn't the only first-year, then. The others hadn't expected this.
Elara stared at the fire.
It wasn't high. Barely knee-level. But it moved like it was alive. The flames whispered. She could almost make out words.
Run.
Burn.
Remember.
She took a breath.
Then stepped into the fire.
Pain.
But not heat.
It wasn't like touching a stove or boiling water.
It was memory.
Flashes.
A room. A girl. Screaming.
A hand pulling her into darkness.
A book that snapped shut with a scream.
Then another image: her mother crying into a pillow, whispering, "She's not mine. Not anymore."
Elara dropped to her knees in the fire. The flames wrapped around her like ribbons, curling over her arms and legs, but they didn't burn her skin. They burned her mind.
She heard a voice in her head.
A man's voice. Cold. Familiar.
"You were supposed to die with the others."
She screamed—but only inside.
Outside, her mouth was clamped shut. She remembered Lira's warning.
Don't scream.
Because if she screamed, it would hear her.
Another voice answered the first.
A girl.
"She remembers. She always does. That's why they keep bringing her back."
What did that mean?
The fire roared louder.
She couldn't see the courtyard anymore. Just smoke. Just shadows. Just a black void swallowing her thoughts one by one.
And then—
Silence.
A pop.
The fire vanished.
She was standing outside the ring.
Back in the courtyard.
The other students stepped back.
Dean Magra smiled. "She didn't scream."
One of the professors marked something down in a black ledger.
Lira walked over, her voice quiet. "You saw it, didn't you?"
Elara nodded slowly. "I saw something."
Lira tilted her head. "No. You saw before. Not just this life. The ones that came before it."
Elara's stomach turned. "What do you mean 'before'?"
Lira leaned in.
"Everyone here has lived twice. Some of us more. Hollowmoor doesn't let us go. It rewrites us. Again and again."
Elara stepped back. "That's not possible."
But even as she said it, her mind flashed again.
A name she didn't recognize, but felt.
Talia.
She'd been called that once.
Hadn't she?
Dean Magra raised her arms. "Trial is complete. Those who screamed will be sorted tomorrow. Those who didn't... proceed."
Several students were taken away.
One boy was crying. A girl fainted.
Elara was left standing.
Alive.
Awake.
And terrified.
Back in her room, the Grimoire was open.
It had been waiting.
The page read:
"Trial survived. One memory returned."
"You may now ask your second question."
Elara didn't hesitate.
"What am I?"
The ink didn't move.
Then slowly, painfully, words formed:
"You are not Elara."
"You are what's left of her."
"You are the copy. The echo. The remainder."
"She burned. You replaced her."
Elara gripped the desk to stay upright.
Her hands were shaking. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
Another line appeared:
"Two questions used. One remains. Ask too soon, and the bell tolls faster."
Then, in larger ink:
"Third bell draws near."
A sound rang in the distance.
Soft. Hollow.
Dong.
Elara froze.
The second bell.
She had one question left.
And the truth was eating her from the inside.