In Chap­ter 40, Feyre’s deter­mi­na­tion and the weight of her dire cir­cum­stances col­lide as she faces her sec­ond tri­al under Amarantha’s cru­el watch. With a haunt­ing atmos­phere in the cav­ernous room, Feyre finds her­self stand­ing before an audi­ence of faeries, includ­ing her cursed love, Tam­lin, and the taunt­ing Ama­ran­tha, who rel­ish­es in her pow­er over the cap­tive girl. The gild­ed walls of the cham­ber offer a false sense of grandeur, mask­ing the dark­ness that looms as Feyre steels her­self for the tri­al, deter­mined to endure what­ev­er Ama­ran­tha throws her way, even as doubt threat­ens to over­pow­er her. As the tri­al begins, Feyre’s eyes briefly meet Tamlin’s, a shared moment of silent com­mu­ni­ca­tion and under­stand­ing pass­ing between them, giv­ing her a fleet­ing sense of hope amidst the cru­el world around her. Yet, the loom­ing threat of Amarantha’s wrath hangs heav­i­ly in the air, mak­ing every step for­ward feel like a gam­ble with death.

Feyre’s task quick­ly reveals itself to be more treach­er­ous than she antic­i­pat­ed: a seem­ing­ly impos­si­ble rid­dle, accom­pa­nied by the weighty deci­sion of pulling the right lever from three, with the fate of her friend Lucien hang­ing in the bal­ance. As the ground shifts beneath her feet and she is low­ered into a dark pit, the ter­ror of the sit­u­a­tion inten­si­fies, with Lucien’s chained form appear­ing on the oppo­site side, help­less and vul­ner­a­ble. The rid­dle and the cru­el set­up leave Feyre with a sink­ing feel­ing, know­ing that fail­ure would result not only in her own death but also the death of the inno­cent faerie beside her. Her fear of the task grows with each pass­ing sec­ond, and her lack of lit­er­a­cy only deep­ens the anx­i­ety, leav­ing her par­a­lyzed in doubt.

Despite the over­whelm­ing odds, Feyre’s deter­mi­na­tion ris­es to the sur­face as she faces the chal­lenge head-on. She knows the grav­i­ty of her actions—her sur­vival or death rests on a split-sec­ond deci­sion, one that could seal her fate. In the face of seem­ing­ly insur­mount­able pres­sure, Feyre makes her choice, trust­ing in her instincts and hop­ing that luck will be on her side. When the cho­sen lever stops the spiked grate mere inch­es above her head, a wave of relief crash­es over her, though it’s tem­pered by the emo­tion­al toll the expe­ri­ence has tak­en. She emerges vic­to­ri­ous in the phys­i­cal sense but feels deeply shak­en by the ordeal, real­iz­ing how much of her sur­vival was due to mere chance rather than skill or intel­lect.

In the after­math of her tri­al, Feyre strug­gles with her vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty, ques­tion­ing whether her vic­to­ries will be enough to sur­vive the loom­ing third tri­al. She reflects on the emo­tion­al and psy­cho­log­i­cal toll this jour­ney has had on her, con­fronting the dark­er side of herself—one shaped by pain, loss, and the con­stant shad­ow of death. Rhysand’s pres­ence offers some com­fort, though it is com­pli­cat­ed by the lay­ers of resent­ment and con­fu­sion she feels toward him. His aid pro­vides a strange sense of solace, yet Feyre can­not ignore the com­plex web of emo­tions that tie her to both him and Tam­lin, who remains locked in his own silent strug­gle to pro­tect her.

Feyre’s jour­ney through this chap­ter high­lights her capac­i­ty for resilience, but it also empha­sizes the heavy cost of sur­vival in the faerie world. Every choice she makes seems weighed down by sac­ri­fice and moral com­pro­mise, forc­ing her to grow into a woman shaped by the bat­tles she faces. Yet, through all the blood, sweat, and fear, Feyre’s spir­it remains unbroken—her love for Tam­lin and her dri­ve to pro­tect those she cares about fuel­ing her in the face of unspeak­able odds. This tri­al, like the ones before it, reveals the com­plex­i­ty of her inner strength, the blurred lines between right and wrong in her world, and the pro­found depth of the rela­tion­ships that anchor her in the storm. The stakes are only get­ting high­er, and the jour­ney she must under­take is far from over.