The group falls into a tense silence, the frustration palpable. I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. We need to do something, but I have no idea what. Cassius turns to me, his expression expectant.
“What do you think, Alette?” he asks, his voice gentle.
I take a deep breath, deciding to just go with my instincts. “I think we should keep going forward. Going back could put us right back in their hands. And Sylvian’s right about not using his powers to escape, we can’t risk collapsing the tunnel. We have to trust that there’s a way out ahead.”
Oberon doesn’t look happy, his jaw tightening as he glares at the tunnel ahead.
I step closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Have a little faith,” I say softly, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The gesture seems to melt some of his anger, and he sighs, nodding reluctantly.
We press on, the flickering light of Oberon’s flame guiding our way through the oppressive darkness. The air grows colder the deeper we go. Just when I think I can’t take another step, the tunnel widens into a massive chamber, and the sudden shift in space feels almost like a breath of fresh air.
It’s hard to see far into the room, with only Oberon’s light to guide us. It’s so tall that the light doesn’t reach the ceiling, but I spot a pillar, I’m guessing there are more, keeping the dirt from swallowing the room.
“What is this place?” Sylvian murmurs.
The room is eerily quiet, the only sound the soft shuffle of our footsteps. I can’t help but feel a sense of wonder at the vastness of the chamber, the way it opens up like a hidden sanctuary.
As we move further in, something cracks under my foot. I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat. The noise reverberates against the walls, echoing ominously, and I can feel my pulse quicken.
“What was that?” Ashton asks, his voice sharp, tinged with anxiety.
Oberon lowers his flame. I lift my foot and look down, my stomach turning as I see what lies beneath. Bones. Hundreds of them, scattered across the floor like the remnants of some grisly feast.
“A room full of bones,” Cassius says grimly, shadows moving across his pale face in the shifting light. “Not exactly reassuring.”
I draw my dagger, and it slowly grows into a bright sword, the blade casting a pale glow that joins Oberon’s flame in illuminating the frightening scene. Skulls stare up at us with empty sockets, their jaws frozen in eternal screams, and a shiver runs down my spine as I force myself to keep moving.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, my voice shaking.
The others nod, and we turn back toward the tunnel we came from. But when we reach the entrance, it’s gone. The walls have shifted, the path replaced by solid rock.This damn labyrinth.
“What the hell?” Oberon growls, slamming a fist against the wall. “When will this place stop its games?”
“It’s the labyrinth,” Sylvian says, his voice grim. “It wants us dead, by any means necessary.”
Okay, so we don’t go back. We can’t. We only have one choice.
“Then we keep moving forward,” I say firmly. “There has to be another way out.”
The group hesitates, but they follow as I lead the way deeper into the chamber, every step feeling like a march toward an uncertain fate. The bones crunch beneath our feet with every step, the sound grating on my nerves. Our flickering light casts grotesque shadows, making the bones seem to writhe and shift… an unsettling sight.
None of us say it, but all of us think it. “What killed all the people here?”
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, I see it, a faint glow of light ahead.
“Is that… daylight?” Ashton asks, sounding doubtful.
We quicken our pace, the sight of the light breathing new life into our weary bodies. As we approach, the light grows brighter, revealing an opening that beckons us forward. But as we step through the doorway, we discover that it’s really just the light from a wall of glowing rocks in the next chamber.
Yet another creepy chamber.Except, this one is worse.
The tunnel opens without warning. I take one step forward. And stop. Webs. They blanket the chamber, thick and layered, sagging from the ceiling in heavy sheets. Some cling to the walls. Others stretch across the open space in dense strands that glisten in Oberon’s firelight like wet threads.
The air smells wrong. Sweet and rotten at the same time. And the webs move. Not from wind. From what’s inside them.
Air catches in my throat as something shifts overhead. A leg unfolds. Then another. A massive spider lowers itself from the ceiling, its body as large as a horse, its weight barely disturbing the silk that holds it.
More follow. Shapes peeling out of the dark. Eyes catching the light. Mandibles clicking softly.
