the steps of the scaffold, flanked by a pair of guards holding iron batons. The warden was a thin elf with close-cropped silver hair and a narrow nose.
He stepped to the edge of the scaffold and held out his hands. “Prisoners, you have been brought here for an important announcement.”
Then, he stepped back and crossed his arms across his chest. Ten seconds, thirty, a minute passed. He didn’t speak again.
“What’s going on?” whispered Hulda.
I shook my head. “No idea.”
The warden leaned over and spoke quietly in one of the guards’ ears. The man shrugged. I was starting to get the impression that no one knew what was happening.
“Tell us where you got that ugly face!” shouted a prisoner near the end of the line.
The pair of guards spun in the direction of the voice.
“Who said that?” demanded the warden.
There was no response. We prisoners might be bold, but we weren’t stupid.
The warden and his guards stood there for another minute, and I stared at the gallows, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to die there.
Another shout rang in the darkness: “Cat got your tongue, warden?”
Before the warden could answer, the air behind him began to shimmer with dark magic that had an oily sheen, and my breath caught at the sight. With an electric crackle, the magic rapidly expanded. For a long moment, it hung there like a tiny black hole until a robed figure stepped through.
Instinctively, I whispered, “Skalei,” under my breath, but of course, my blade didn’t appear.
Around me, prisoners gasped. Hulda’s mouth fell open. Even the warden, who must have known this was going to happen, looked surprised. This type of powerful magic was reserved for the upper echelons of Night Elf society. Most Night Elves had never even seen a spell performed.
The robed figure stepped to the edge of the scaffold, pulling back their cowl of thick, gray fabric. I recognized Thyra, one of the three Shadow Lords. Slung over her shoulder was a matching gray satchel. She looked even more stooped and aged than she had a few weeks ago.
“Prisoners of the Audr Mines,” said Thyra in a surprisingly clear voice. “I have an important announcement that affects us all, from the Shadow Caverns all the way down to the prisoners in the blackest tunnels. We have negotiated an armistice with the High Elves. For the next month, there will be no hostilities.”
My heart leapt as a low cheer erupted from the line of prisoners. This was exceptional news, even if it didn’t do much to help us personally. Our families would be safe. In the thousand years of our confinement under the earth, the High Elves had never stopped trying to ruin us. If they’d agreed to a truce, it was a potentially giant breakthrough.
Or, as I quickly started to suspect, a trick.
A suspicion that Thyra immediately confirmed. “However, the High Elves have called for a Winnowing.”
At these words, gasps arose. It had been a thousand years since the last Winnowing.
“And you agreed to this?” the warden blurted out, his nostrils flaring with fear.
Thyra’s tone was grave. “Something drastic must be done to change our circumstances. This year, our mushrooms are blighted. It’s not only prisoners who are starving. We are all starving. Your families have no food. The great High Elf sorcerer Galin has returned. His magic is already strengthening the wall. This is our only chance to free ourselves. This is our only chance, and I mean our only chance, to survive.”
“What has this to do with us? The prisoners are weak. If there is to be a Winnowing, you must send our best fighters. Not these wretches!” The warden was practically yelling at Thyra. If he wasn’t careful, it would be his corpse swinging from the beam of oak above his head.
Thyra ignored him. “The terms of the armistice are that all elves are to be subject to the Winnowing. Trust me when I tell you I don’t want to send convicts and prisoners to the tournament that will define the fate of our people, but that is what we agreed on.”
“I don’t understand!” the warden nearly shouted. “The purpose of a Winnowing is to kill off the weakest of us. To strengthen our bloodlines. What does it have to do with the war?”
For the first time, Thyra smiled, silver eyes gleaming. “We have agreed on a new set of terms, warden. The tribe with the most remaining elves will rule over the others. If we win, the