Enzo raises one hand in the air. “Let’s begin.” Then he snaps his fingers—and every torchlight in the cavern flickers out at once.

The room goes dark.

For a second, I panic. I’m completely blind. The dizziness that I felt yesterday with the nightstone now floods my senses. This is one of my worst fears, that I might someday lose my only good eye, and that I will then live in eternal darkness for the rest of my life. I look wildly around, blinking. Nothing but silence. Then, occasionally, a gust of cold wind—a murmur of breath—an echoing footstep. My heart pounds. Please, let there be a little light. I squint hard into the darkness, trying to force my sight to adjust.

Right as I’m able to make out the faint outlines of the cavern floor, I notice that all of the Daggers are gone.

Suddenly, Enzo’s voice comes from somewhere in the darkness. “Spider. Star Thief.” Its deepness now frightens me.

I tense. Nothing happens.

Then, out of nowhere, rushes of wind. The beating of wings. Suddenly there are thousands—millions—of them, squealing little creatures with fleshy wings beating against me, whirling around me in invisible circles in the blackness. I scream, then fall into a crouch as they swarm. My arms cover my head. Bats. They’re bats. Their tiny claws cut at my skin. I squeeze my eye shut.

Someone large shoves me violently backward. I go flying, then fall hard to the ground. The blow knocks all the wind out of me. I gasp for air. A sharp metal edge slices across my upper arm—I cry out, my arms flying up in defense, but another cut slits open the skin of my other arm. Warm blood trickles out. I turn my head frantically from side to side. Where is my attacker? I can’t see a thing. Someone kicks me in the back. I arch at the sharp pain. Another kick—and then the feeling of rough hands grabbing me by my robe, hauling me up in the air. I grasp desperately for my power, wishing I could pull it from deep within. But nothing happens. As I struggle, a low growl of a voice comes from somewhere in front of my face.

“What wolf?” Spider snaps. “She’s a little lamb.”

I clench my teeth and struggle, kicking out with my legs. I strike only air, and collapse to the floor.

“She has a bite,” someone says elsewhere in the cavern. It sounds like Raffaele.

One lantern flickers on in the cavern—its glow catches me off guard—and I squint in its direction. The millions of bats flutter fiercely in the new light, screaming, then they swarm into a cloud and disappear down one of the cavern’s dark tunnels. As if they’d never been here in the first place. I glance around. A short distance away is the hulking boy, who must be Spider, and the girl with the eagle. Elsewhere, standing by pillars and walls in the shadows, I notice others. One of them snickers. Thin trickles of blood drip down my arms. The cuts look smaller than I expect, considering how much they sting. They’re not even trying, I think feverishly. They’re toying with me. How had Spider even been able to see me in the darkness?

The light vanishes. My vision adjusts faster this time—and in the darkness, I can see the faint silhouette of the Spider crouching. He attacks again. This time, he rushes at me with terrifying speed and disappears from view right before he can reach me. I look around for him, cursing my missing eye and poor peripheral vision.

He materializes on my weak side. Then he catches me around the neck before I can stop him. His arm tightens, choking me. I struggle. Sight. I realize abruptly that his powers must give him the ability to see where others cannot. “I’ll have a sheepskin decorating my floor tonight,” he says.

I throw an elbow as hard as I can. He must not have expected me to fight back, because I hit him hard in his throat. He gags, releasing me again. I fall to my knees, gasping. Spider whirls around, his eyes narrowed at me in rage, and I brace myself for another attack.

“Enough,” Enzo says quietly. The word is a low, disapproving command that emerges from the shadows.

Spider steps away from me. I crumple in relief, sucking up air in the darkness. The torchlights all flicker on again. We stare at each other—the young Dagger’s eyes green and gruff, mine wide and stricken. I don’t feel anything in my chest except for the pounding of my heart.

Then Spider straightens and sheathes his blade. He doesn’t bother helping me up. “One-eyed weakling,” he says, his voice full of disdain. “Should’ve left you to the Inquisition and saved us all the trouble.” He turns away from me.

A spark of anger shoots through me. I imagine what it would be like if I strangled him in return, my dark illusions flowing down his throat and blocking his air. Can my powers do that? The whispers hiding in my mind nod, hungry and eager. Yes, yes. “Coward,” I whisper to his back. He doesn’t hear me, but the girl with the eagle—Star Thief, I suppose—does. She blinks.

Enzo studies me with interest as Raffaele whispers something in his ear. Do they approve?

A moment later, Enzo raises his voice. “Windwalker.”

Windwalker? I look around the cavern, searching for my next opponent. Finally, I catch a glimpse of her. She’s the tall, pale girl, the one who doesn’t look Kenettran. She chuckles as she steps toward me, sleek and menacing, and I take a step back. “With pleasure, Your Highness,” she says to Enzo.

My breathing is too rapid. Calm down. Focus. But the force of the last attack has left me trembling, and the anticipation of what might come next sends prickles of terror down my skin. Spider has the power to see in complete darkness. What can the Windwalker do? Fly, perhaps?

Then—a piercing scream shatters my senses. I flinch. My hands fly to my ears in a vain attempt to shut out the sound, but it only grows worse. The sound destroys everything around me, turning the world into blinding streaks of red and piercing every corner of my mind. I can’t see. I can’t think. It goes on and on, a razor-sharp knife digging into my ears. I must be bleeding. I feel the dull sensation of cold stone against my skin. Tears stream down my cheeks. I’ve fallen, I realize dully.