The time had come.
I sprinted like a chased doe being hunted down into the wild prison, my legs taking control of my brain.
I ran with all the blood my heart was pumping.
I ran with all the air in my lungs.
I ran because I didn’t need to see him riding on a black chariot to know that hell was chasing after me.
Inside the maze, panic rushed through my veins. The concentric rings seemed infinite with patterns that all looked similar. I stumbled upon countless dead ends, my only wish to make this hunt stop. The smell of pine, leather, and fresh rain gave a dramatic turn to this place, a morbid atmosphere. I was trapped, engulfing myself in a knot impossible to untie. With layer after layer of pathways, finding the end was impossible.
My feet hit a rock abruptly, and I tumbled over the wet grass. My pure as white dress was soiled with dirt. I stood up, ignoring the bruising on my knee. I had to move on, even if the hostile nature was tearing my dress apart, scarring it until the beauty of it no longer existed.
I swore I could hear the demon voices calling my name through the bushes of trees; I sensed their presence in the fog. I kept an eye on the lighted oak tree in the center. I had to reach it. Each tunnel felt like hell was chasing after me, gaining ground on me every minute.
My hair was wet, pieces of grass stuck on the lengths, from my fall and the running. I found myself stuck between paths, and I stopped to catch my breath. I wasn’t that far from finding the exit, but I was incapable of making a decision. I was too deep in the maze to back down, and no one would rescue me. My only certitude was that I needed to get closer to the light, even if it was where everyone would be. I wouldn’t make it in the darkness.
I took the path to the right. Fleeing through it, I met some players kissing heavily against the trees. The dresses of the women were lifted up, their moans melding with the groaning of the men. Some of them were tied up, their hands on the rope tightened on the branch, their breasts offered in view of anyone. Sometimes, the roles were reversed. They giggled with appetency like demons owning the night. What was I doing here?
I passed by them, anxiety consuming me. My courage vanished in the wake of my fear. My forehead creased, my eyes begging for this night to end. I was ready to admit defeat. The tree branches terrorized me into a gloomy lullaby. The players’ moans ofpleasure crept through my spine. The cold air smelled like death itself.
I ran, having no idea where I was going until I arrived at the promised land. The center, where the light stood on top of an oak tree. I knew I was exposed under the light, but the monster you can see is easier to beat. I curled up on myself, waiting like an abandoned child. I counted the seconds in the hope of making the trembling of my body stop.One. Two. Th—
“Lily,” a low breath tinged with menace resounded.
I bolted away from the tree in panic, my skin bristling. My eyes frantically searched the area, having a mind of their own until they stopped at the shadow in front of me.
I was facing a stern and pitiless Radcliff.
The Unseen.
The Wealthy One.
The Giver of Wealth.
“What’s the goal of this? Why are you doing this?” I lost control of my voice in a high-pitchedscream.
He didn’t reply, scrutinizing me with a deadly stillness.
I took a step back when his foot cracked the dead branches on the ground. We stalked in circles around the tree in a murky dance. A silent duel, like wild animals observing the foreigner. His hands in his pockets, Radcliff stood upright and ruthless. He had a rare—yet terrifying—elegance, as if he were coming from another time. Me, on the contrary, I was a mess. Weak and vulnerable. A part of my soul had been corrupted tonight, rotten to the core.
“People like to play games.” His lips turned cruel at the corners.
He waltzed his fingers through the fresh air, like one would do listening to a classical masterpiece. He then inhaled his surroundings as if it were the most sumptuous of perfumes. Radcliff was in his element, becoming one with the scary and the madness. The night and the wicked.
“They like the prospect of winning while some others enjoy losing to someone so they can free their desires without judgment,” he continued in a cold, detached tone, as if he was biased by humans. The curse of a man who has seen it all—the atrocity and the corruption, the lowest points of humanity. To the point, he must have erased goodness from his heart.
“Do you?” I asked, my pitch unsure and soft.
He loomed slowly toward me, each of his steps making my heart leap in my throat. I was undeniably scared of that man.
Not by whatever repulsive appearance he might have, no.
Not by whatever gossip I heard, no.
I was scared of that bond we both felt. That life-threatening fascination.
“Do you play?” I repeated, hoping he’d stop.
