"It's a trap," Zane grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the tunnel entrance. "We need to get out now!"
We turned to flee, but the entrance collapsed in a shower of rock and dust, sealing us in. At the same instant, a shimmering barrier sprang up around the perimeter of the chamber, a mirrored ward that reflected our frightened faces back at us.
"Magic dampening field," Zane cursed, pressing his hand against the barrier. "Teleportation is blocked. We're contained."
"Contained for what?" I coughed through the settling dust.
The answer came in the form of a low rumble as the sigil on the floor began to rotate, the stone patterns grinding against each other like massive gears. The air grew heavy, charged withpotential, and I felt pressure building in my ears like descending too quickly in an airplane.
"The ward is contracting," Milo observed, his face unnaturally pale in the magical light. "It's designed to compress inward over time."
"How much time?" I was already dreading the answer.
"Hours, maybe?" He shrugged helplessly. "Hard to tell with this type of magic. But eventually…"
"Eventually the walls crush us," Zane finished flatly. "Charming."
Horrace unwound himself from my shoulders, dropping to the floor to investigate the barrier. His tentacles pressed against it experimentally, twelve eyes blinking in sequence as he processed what he was sensing.
"Can you break it?" I asked him.
He made a negative sound, tentacles waving in frustration. Through our connection, I felt his assessment, the barrier was specifically designed to contain magical energy, including his inter-dimensional abilities.
"Great," I slumped against the wall, trying to ignore the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped. "So we walked right into a cultist trap, and now we're stuck until they come back to do whatever creepy ritual they have planned."
"Or until the ward crushes us," Milo added helpfully. "Whichever comes first."
"Thanks for that clarification," Zane's voice dripped sarcasm.
Despite the gravity of our situation, I found myself fighting a completely inappropriate urge to laugh. Here we were, trapped in a magical death chamber, and we were still sniping at each other like roommates arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes.
"So what's the plan?" I looked to Zane, who was methodically examining every inch of the barrier.
"Working on it," his forehead beaded with sweat from the chamber's increasing humidity. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing the lean muscles of his arms as he continued his inspection. "It's too hot in here."
Mmm. Maybe this trap wasn't all that bad.
I noticed Milo watching Zane, his eyes lingering perhaps a second too long on the exposed skin. When he caught me noticing, he blushed furiously and busied himself with his skeleton crew, sending them to search for weaknesses in the ward.
"You know," Milo broke the tense silence after several minutes, "if this were a horror movie, this is the part where we'd start sharing deep dark secrets to pass the time before our inevitable demise."
"We're not dying here," Zane's voice was firm. "But feel free to share your deep dark secrets if it helps you cope."
"I once accidentally reanimated my foster mom's prize-winning roses," Milo offered immediately. "They tried to strangle the mailman."
Despite everything, I laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the enclosed space. "That explains your thing for plants."
"Plants are less complicated than people," Milo grinned. "And they rarely complain when you reanimate them."
I leaned back against the wall, feeling the cool stone against my overheated skin. The chamber was definitely getting warmer, the air thick and humid. "How long do you think before someone notices we're missing?"
"Fenric checks in every four hours like clockwork," Zane replied absently, still focused on the barrier. "When we don't respond, he'll send Rook."
"So we just need to not die for four hours," I summarized. "Piece of cake."
"Speaking of cake," Milo chimed in, "did I ever tell you about the time I tried to reanimate a wedding cake? The bride was not happy when her three-tier vanilla buttercream started doing the waltz."
I smiled despite myself, grateful for Milo's attempts to lighten the mood. Horrace had returned to my side, draping himself across my lap in a comforting weight. Through our connection, I felt his concern, but also his determination. He wasn't giving up, and neither should we.
