The other Idirians watched with rapt attention as Talia and Layt made their way inside the watch tower. It was a circular hall with seats arranged along the walls and partitions separating each pair. At the center of the room was the giant screen that would display the events of the trials.
It was there that Weylin would either bring her glory or turn her into a hermit for the next millennia.
Nadeem grinned at her. He gave her a mocking salute.
“Well, if it isn’t the master of scales herself.”
Talia sent him a glare. “I see everyone is already here. You must have a lot of free time on your hands.”
His grin widened. “Who in his right mind would miss another disaster show?”
Murmurs erupted around him, agreeing with his words.
Talia smiled. “I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed this round. You better look for another means of entertainment 'cause this trial will take its whole course.”
“Will it now?”
His grin dimmed. Certainly, due to the confidence she was exuding, something she wasn’t truly feeling. But she would loath to let them see her falter. Even if her candidate was going to lose this time around, she would still hold her head high and meet their stares head-on.
They stared each other down. The others looked at them, expectant. Then Layt stood between them, his back to Nadeem.
“Let’s go to our seats.”
With a final glare toward Nadeem, Talia allowed him to pull her away.
“This is not the time to start up fights,” Layt hissed once they were away from listening ears. “Not when you’re not the overseer. Need I remind you that you no longer make the rules for this round of trials.”
Talia huffed. “It matters not. I made them.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Everyone knows. Which will make it impossible for you to intervene.”
Talia snorted. Right. As if she would let something like that stop her.
Layt was dragging her to her usual seat. Right in the middle. In front of all Idirian eyes, like the host she was supposed to be. She knew changing seats would make it seem as if she was running away from their scrutinizing eyes. But to make her plan work, she had to let go of her pride, a tiny little bit.
She dragged Layt to another assortment of seats. More secluded, with a veil to hide the people behind it. He shot her a curious look.
“You said you wanted to win the bet, didn’t you?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue.
“Well then, I’ll be needing your assistance.”
“The great master of scales is needing my assistance? Has the world come to its end?”
She shot him a look. “It will if Weylin loses the trials.”
He looked at her, debating whether there was some truth to her words. Talia smiled sweetly at him. It only served to deepen the frown on his face.
“Alright, fine. But you take responsibility if I ever get caught.”
She tapped his shoulder. “I’ll even wage a war for the sake of our tarnished honor.”
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He snorted, but he followed her to the chosen seats.
It wasn’t long before Lamin entered the hall. She sauntered to the middle, a beaming smile splitting her face. She opened her arms wide as if trying to encompass the whole hall in her embrace. The others watched her with apprehensive stares. Her grin widened further if possible.
“I’m ecstatic to announce that these trials will be supervised by yours truly.” She gave a theatric bow, rejoicing at the gasps that echoed around the hall.
Chaos erupted. Talia ignored the stares that burned at the side of her face. Half-murmured exclamations reached her ears, wondering whether the master of scales had finally lost it after spending hundreds of years with no one but those wretched souls for company. Talia ignored them. She took a sip of the tea presented to her. Layt sighed from the seat next to hers.
“I still can’t believe you signed away your rights to the trials.”
Talia savored the delicate flavor of the camomile tea. What was the human saying? Oh, right.
“No use crying over spilled milk,” she said.
“This is a whole year shipment’s worth we’re speaking about!” he protested.
She shrugged. It already happened. There was no use crying over it. Still, it wasn’t like she had no way to make sure Weylin at least advanced to the real trials.
The last candidates couldn’t even get to the real trials. They had failed before the event even began. She wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen this time. She was going to make sure he passed the illusion with flying colors. Or at least with a passable degree. She would personally make sure of it.
No more failures.
She watched Lamin announce the start of the games. So lost in thought, she failed to note what the Idirian said that made Layt’s face a shade paler. But before she could ask him, the small screen in their booth shimmered to life, and there, standing before her was Weylin. His face was still in barely concealed shock, his arms trembling as they slowly lifted from his side to encircle the small child clinging to him.
The illusion had started. She had made it so it would fulfill the candidate’s deepest desire, to entice them to stay and forget about anything and everything. The illusion would reach into the soul’s very depth and bring out all that would make it sing and yearn for life.
But at the end of the day, it was all but an illusion. And like all illusions, they would be dispelled, and the nightmares would begin.
“Deploy your aegis,” Talia instructed Layt.
His shield would cut them from the rest of the hall. They would still be there, but their presence would be a feeble and intangible thing.
With a sigh, Layt did as told. She took out the small vial from her dress and let Ilya’s soul out in the open. She had brought him for this sole reason.
In these trials, Ilya would be her stand-in.
The poor man shivered as his eyes fixed beyond the veil, eyes roaming around the many Idirians watching the giant screen with rapt attention.
“Is this the tower?” he asked.
“It is.” She stood up and pushed him into the seat. “Your job is easy.” She grinned at his nervous stare. “Sit still and look pretty. Layt will take care of the rest.”
Layt snorted but nodded his assent, his hand waving in the air to tell her to get on with whatever she was planning.
She couldn’t ask Aseel to play the part. As an older being who roamed Idir before her existence, there was bound to be someone who could read through the illusion and figure out it was Aseel and not her. But no one knew a thing about Ilya’s energy signature. Heck, she doubted anyone knew what a soul’s energy signature felt like. So it suited her just fine.
She patted the nervous man and gave him Weylin’s flower. Sadly, she couldn’t bring it with her to the trial grounds. It was safer here. And more useful, too. For the illusion to work, Ilya needed to hold onto something with her energy signature.
So… two birds with one stone, like the humans said.
Ilya cradled the flower in his palms, treating it like fragile glass. Talia thought about telling him that with her powers, it was sturdier than the bricks in this very tower, but let the matter go as murmurs erupted in the hall. She turned to the screen, frowning at the sight of Weylin smiling softly to the old woman who spoke to him.
He was already lost in the illusion. She needed to act fast.
“See you after the trials,” she told them.
Ilya jerked his head into a nod, his fearful eyes fixed on the sight beyond the veil.
“Don’t lose me my bet,” Layt said.
Without a second word, Talia called her sword. It materialized in her hands, faint purple energy running through its blade.
“I can never get used to the sight of this thing.” Layt grimaced.
With a slice in the air, a portal opened. Talia couldn’t remember the last time she had used her powers to open portals. When was it? The first hundred after setting food into Idir? She couldn’t tell. But if there was one thing she remembered, it was that Idirians often complained about the nausea its proximity caused them. They called it the abyssal stench.
Talia snorted. Weaklings.
It was one of the reasons why she enlisted Layt’s help. With his shield, none would be the wiser.
Without a second look, she stepped into the portal.
