The moment we step through the doors, they immediately shut behind us, sealing us in with a resounding thud andeffectively cutting off any means of escape. A feeling of immense claustrophobia washes over me. I force it down, along with my fear, and allow my eyes to adjust.
There are stairs that lead downward, spiraling in their descent. Cautiously, I step on the first one. The cracked stone covered in moss makes it slippery. The air is stale and still, as if nothing has stirred in quite some time.
Finnley’s heavier footsteps follow behind.
The stairs wind down to another level, where there are east-and west-facing arches. Both are covered with intricate ruins that appear ancient, as if this place has endured through centuries and withstood tribulations we could never understand.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and every nerve ending in my body is on high alert.
It’s too calm.
Too still.
Squinting up at the writings, Finnley rubs his hand across the ruins. A few stone pieces crumble and fall beneath his touch. He jumps back before they have a chance to land on his head.
The walls may appear to be steadfast and still standing, but they’re delicate from age. Or maybe it’s not steadfast at all and is trying to lure us into a false sense of security.
I trust nothing here.
“What’s it going to be, Lieutenant? Are we going left or right?” he asks over his shoulder.
Oh, so we’re pulling the rank card. For a second, I forgot I had that responsibility. How kind of him to remind me.
I walk up beside him and let my eyes roam over the delicate arches. Both are identical in nature. The only difference is that they sit on opposite sides. Why can’t one have like a giant snake ruin or something to give us some kind of hint of which way not to go? I can’t help but feel like either choice is the wrong choice.What if there isn’t a right option and one is just the lesser of two evils? The question is which is the lesser evil.
“We go right.”
“I would have gone left,” he deadpans.
“Well, I can’t change it now! They always say to go with your first choice and follow your gut, so now I’m obligated to go right.” I would be pissed if I changed my mind and went left, only to die because of my indecisiveness.
He smiles at the look of horror on my face and the fact that I am indeed second-guessing my decision. “I’ll go first. Follow me,” he says, ruffling my hair again as he passes by.
I scurry after him. “That’s not very lieutenant-like of me to let you go first.”
“Tough, because you’re not going in front of me,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone, like it’s the end of the discussion.
I grip his elbow, forcing him to turn back toward me. Indignation is plastered across my face, making it clear just what I think of his demands. “Listen, I’m going to pick my battles here, but just remember our lives are intertwined in this place. So regardless of you wanting to be a hero, by you going first, it only means if something is lying in wait for us, you’ll just die first, and I’ll be next.”
“Fair point. But I’m still going first.” He looks down at my hand on his elbow, raising a brow.
I sigh and drop his arm. I’ll forfeit this one, but if he thinks I’m going to back down to every order he issues during this trial, he’s wrong.
I follow him cautiously as we go through the east arch. I make my footsteps as light as possible. Who knows? Maybe we can just sneak our way through this without anything even knowing we’re here. I haven’t heard any screams or voices of other prospects. To be honest, I haven’t heard anything except the soft sound of our boots on the stone floor.
I wonder if they incorporated some kind of magical weave within this space to block out any trace of the others participating in the trial. It would make sense. I can’t imagine they would like groups of us working together. Or dying together, for that matter.
The army does need soldiers after all.
I keep close to Finnley. It’s so quiet I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
He holds up a finger, cueing me to stop behind him.
