Gavin hurled a second dart down the opposite tunnel. The monsters swarmed toward the sound, their massive weight crushing the stone. Our path quaked, the ground crumbling in huge chunks before crashing into the pit.
They just kept coming.
I shouted the turns, panic clawing at my spine as we leaped over the fissures. The entrance to the moat was up ahead. We were so close.
A monster crashed through the wall ahead of me. I skidded to a stop, slamming into a crumbling ledge. The impact rattled through me. I blinked the dust from my eyes.
“Marin!” Gavin’s voice split the chaos, a desperate roar echoing through the tunnel.
The creature stood between us, its wings cleaving through stone, severing the tangled branches that barely held the floor together.
Another screech split the air.
A second gargoyle landed behind me. Then a third on the pillar to my left. We were surrounded. A sickening twist wrenched my stomach as the ground beneath my boots jolted.
Terror carved into Gavin's face as he lunged for me, hand outstretched.
Cracks spiderwebbed through the stone. The branches gave way with a splintering snap.
The maze tilted.
“No—Marin!”
His voice was the last thing I heard before the ground dropped out from under me.
I screamed, the sound ripped away as I plummeted into the pit.
Chapter 40
Marin
Falling.
I plunged, heart in my throat, terror clenching like a fist. No sound. Just the wind howling past, whipping my hair, my mind blank with panic.
Slam!My body crashed into something thick and earthy, sponge-like, that swallowed the force of my fall. The air whooshed from my chest. I gasped, but nothing came as my throat convulsed, desperate for breath. I stared up, unseeing through the mist as rocks and debris continued to rain down.
The monsters screeched above. Wild. Savage. Crashing into stone.
A shout—severed.
Gavin…
My vision blurred, eyes fluttered closed. Blackness swirled. Then, a gasp. I came to in silence. The maze was eerily still. My heart raced, my mind sick with fear.
Did Gavin fall?
Had the monsters—?
A choked sound broke from my throat. No. He was fine. Gavin Blackwood would never fall to a statue—or six.
He was alive.
He had to be.
I sat up, and pain burned through my side. Blood dripped from my fingers, soaking into the moss.
Frowning, I slid my sleeve to my elbow and winced. Deep slashes ran down my arm, jagged and raw. The fabric was shredded from the branches in the maze. I ripped what was left of the sleeve and clenched my teeth as I wound the strip around my forearm, tying a knot to stem the bleeding.
