Eventually, the ceiling started to creep upwards. But not quite enough that I didn’t have to—
The ground shook and dipped as another quake hit. I planted my feet to maintain my balance, but it didn’t work. The force of the quake threw me against the wall; the rough stone scraped at the skin of my side. Dust rained down on my head and neck, slipping down my tunic.
I coughed up dust and ash. Such a lovely combination. Well, at least it wasn’t myburnedside that had crashed into the wall. Small mercies and all that.
Once the ground stilled, I pushed onwards, stepping over a stone head that had broken free from a fallen statue. I kept my ears peeled, listening for any indication that I was being stalked. I heard nothing. But then, I was making so much noise that it was hard to pick up other sounds.
A droplet of water slid right down my collar, startling me. I was so on edge I almost jumped—which would have made me bang my head on the godsdamn ceiling.
I could not have been more grateful when the aforementioned ceiling returned to its normal height, allowing me to stand up straight. My back and shoulders truly were hurting from the muscle strain of hunching and bending.
Reaching a stone wall thatalmosttouched the ceiling, I couldn’t help but silently groan. Frustration made the backs ofmy eyes sting. I was tired. Hurting. Bleeding. And the last thing I wanted to do while my palms were cut to shit was traverse a freaking wall.
It hit me that, making things harder, I would have to do it blindly. I couldn’t hold onto my powerandclimb.
Sometimes, I hated my life.
I scanned every inch of the wall, trying to memorize the locations of the best fissures, ledges, crevices, and knobby edges that I could use as both handholds and footholds.
The quake having passed, I set one foot on a ledge. Intensity rubbing at my nerves, I let my sparks disintegrate. Pitch blackness swallowed my surroundings.
Taking a shaky breath, I reached for a bulging piece of the wall and started to climb. It hurt like holy hell, aggravating almost every wound I had, but I kept going. Even when I was pretty sure that I’d accidentally touched a splatter of bat guano—I knew the smell of it—I kept going.
I felt a slightgivein the rock beneath my foot, and panic slapped me. I lifted my leg fast, listening as bits of rock scattered down to the ground. Dust gusted up to meet me, fanning my face.
I kept my mouth closed to muffle my cough as I scrabbled to gain another foothold, scraping my face and knee on the wall in the process.
If I never climbed anything again in my life, it would suit me just fine.
Grimacing at the taste of gritty dust on my tongue, I kept ascending, my heart pounding each time my sweaty palms seemed like they were about to lose their grip on a handhold.
Another quake hit. I heard something clatter to the ground behind me. Bits of shale shook loose, skipped down the wall to which I clung, and tumbled down on my head.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the barrage, clinging so tight to the wall that my sore hands spasmed.Ow, ow, and ow.I’d have new wounds on my skull for sure.
The moment the quake subsided, I wasted no time in moving, not wanting to be still on the wall when the next one struck. Within minutes, I’d slid over the top of it and was making my descent, sadly and accidentally kicking loose bits of rock that noisily then went skidding along the ground.
My feet finally on the floor once more, I rubbed my palms on my tunic to wipe away the dust and guano.
I then called to my power again.
I supposed I should be relieved that the labyrinth wasn’t instead a maze. If there was more than one path to follow, I would get lost down here for certain, and no one would ever see me again.
The ground began to tremble once more.Ugh.I flattened my back against the wall. The quake was harder this time, making my body tremor and my teeth clatter.
Stone scraped stone as a statue rubbed and heaved against another. A nearby coffin tumbled to the floor, the lid burst open, and something clattered to the ground.
I froze, staring down at a skeleton covered in rags. Little worms were sliding through the holes in its skull. A prop. It was just a prop, I told my churning stomach.
Once the quake passed, I started walking again, moved as fast as I dared. I felt the tickle of warm, wet trails drizzling down my face. Not sweat, blood. I ignored it, focusing on listening for sounds that I was being pursued. Still, I heard nothing. It seemed—
My foot caught on something, and there was a slight wrench in my ankle as I tumbled forwards. My sparks of moonlight popped out of existence as my palms slammed to the floor.Fuuuuuck.
Gritting my teeth through the throbbing pain, I conjured another small shower of moonlight and peered behind me. A fissure. There was a fissure in the ground, and the toe of my boot was wedged in it.
It took some awkward fumbling before I’d pulled it free. That my ankle was smarting like a mother was not a good sign. I gingerly tested it when I pushed to my feet. Pain zipped up my calf, but it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. I’d trekked through the Pines in worse pain than this.
I realized that pretty much everything I’d encountered during my treks throughout the last forty days had prepared me for the wonders of the labyrinth—well, prepared me as much as possible. I wasn’t sure anyone could truly be mentally primed to face these caverns.
