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He tries to calm himself, but it is hard, being naked and surrounded by fire. The urge to try and leap from the platform is so strong he can feel it in his teeth. Almost irresistible.

But he’s not going to let the faeries see his fear. It won’t burn him, he knows that. Not truly. This is magical fire. Like the fire of the salt door. He just needs to press down his fears and stay where he is.

He lifts his chin and looks at the fairies on the dais. “At last, some warmth in this frozen place,” he says and moves his naked body as if he is enjoying the burning heat.

As he pretends to be revelling in the fires, he glances upwards again at the cage. Perl’s father. Destroyed by the fae for trying to do exactly what Perl does now. Punished as a traitor.

And Perl risks that. Perl came back here knowing he could end up there.

Exeinil laughs at Kerik’s playful movements in the fire. “I like it,” she says, addressing Perl. “You know, if it fails, after it has been to the pit I will keep it for myself.”

“Majesty,” Prince Vane says, leaning forward, “You cannot. It is a male thrall. That would be against the wishes of The Aeons.”

Exeinil waves her hand in the air. “Those rules are not made by The Aeons. Those are your mother’s rules and the rules of the Timeless Court. This is not Oria. This realm is mine. I shall change the rules as I wish.”

Kerik sees Vane’s tight expression as he sits back. He feels a little satisfaction at it.

He looks up at the burning cage. He swears he can see the face of a man in the white fire as he hears the voice in his head again.

Your path is to help my son.

Batraous? He knows it, sudden and sure. Perl’s father. A great warlock. He is hearing the voice of a Hevelikar philosopher who lived 500 years ago.

And then he sees it. This time he doesn't even need to close his eyes. The fire that surrounds him becomes the fire of the world burning.

Attar destroyed. Demons taking the city, taking the world. And he knows as he watches the destruction of everything he once knew that this is real. He is seeing the future. The future Perl is trying to prevent. The horrors that haunt Perl. That force him on and on with his mission. It’s real. It’s all real.

Ur-Durik is rising. Kerik knows it for certain. He is rising now. In this moment. The demon is coming and Kerik needs to find his brothers and defeat him before he frees the entire Bellator army from under the Amber Forest. He knows this as if he has always known it.

He looks back at Perl, the vision of the Bellator still vivid in his mind. Perl has been working so hard for so long, alone, trying to save mortals from the return of the demons his ancestors created. With no one to help him and only shame and stigma if he is caught.

And Kerik feels it then. A warm feeling deep in his belly. He admires Perl, but more than that. He loves Perl. He cannot help but love him. He would do anything for Perl. Anything Perl commands. He will be Perl’s Magician. Perl’s thrall. He will fight Perl’s battle no matter the cost.

Even if it means he must forget about using magic to become Duke of Fanost. Even if it means his life.

Perl gave him magic, despite what he knew about magic and mortals because the cost of not doing so was too great.

Perl is brave. Perl has made so many sacrifices. It is time for Kerik to make one too. He will stand here in this fire forever if that is what Perl needs him to do.

He doesn’t know how long the second position lasts, but he bears it and the flames vanish quite suddenly when it does. The platform lowers at the same moment, giving Kerik a sudden shock before he quite understands that the fire has gone and he isn’t being lowered to a fiery death.

He finds himself gasping on the platform before the dais. But he is whole and unburnt. He quickly gets onto his knees and puts his forehead on the floor. Is it over? Has he done it?

But then he hears Exeinil say, “And now for the last part of the final test. Perlash-zeren-ai, you will be permitted enough magic to construct this torment for your thrall.”

Kerik kneels up, sitting back in time to see Perl nod. He walks down from the dais and over to Kerik, unspeaking and unsmiling. Kerik is struck by the desperate urge to touch him. He wants Perl to kiss him and the need for it is so strong that when Perl reaches him, standing over him, he moans.

Perl looks as serious and cold as he has looked since that conversation in his chamber. And Kerik knows he cannot speak with Perl now. He must complete this final part of the test first. But his mind feels strange. He feels almost as if those flames that surrounded him are still burning, but now, burning inside him.

“Sit, thrall.” Only then does Kerik realise there is a stool behind him on the platform. It looks exactly like the stool he’d sat on for the first test.

Kerik gets to his feet and sits down on the stool. Perl moves around behind him. Kerik feels Perl’s hands on his, moving his wrists behind his back, then a familiar weight around them as Perl cuffs him.

Perl’s touch makes Kerik shiver with want. He almost moans.

Perl walks back around in front of Kerik and a second stool appears on the platform, identical to the first. Perl sits down upon it.

“Do not move, thrall,” Perl says in a plain tone, not a command as it had been before. Not anything really. Kerik frowns at him puzzled as Perl leans forward. For a moment Kerik thinks Perl is about to kiss him. His heart speeds up. He is overwhelmed by the need for that kiss. He gasps, eager — too eager —, but Perl stops. He is a breath away from Kerik.