Page 46 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

The beast leapt closer, barking once in agreement. He hoped that meant the monster would follow him.

“I am sorry!” she sobbed. The sound nearly broke Corin’s heart. “I am s-so sorry!”

“You gave him my sword!” the same figure shouted.

“I know,” Corin whispered back to her, his voice rough but steady. “You don’t owe them anything. Not anymore.”

He ran.

XVII

Voices rang out behind them, begging him to stop and come back, to save these illusions who were dead set on torturing them.

Despite the chaotic noise, Corin continued on. If not for him, for Ariadne.

He had to get her out of there. Immediately.

The chamber screamed as they crossed the threshold, different than they had first entered through. As soon as his feet hit the stone outside of the chamber, the mist seemed to tear itself apart. The figures reached out but were met with nothing. Their voices shattered into distant echoes before silence slammed down like a solid door.

Bristle sprinted behind them, snarling at any voice that called out to demand something of them. It followed along swiftly, often having to slow down to make sure it didn’t get too far ahead of the pair.

The corridor before them was dark, narrow, and mercifully empty, but Corin didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. He continued to run through the hall until his lungs burned and his legs shook. Only then did his steps begin to falter. He slowed them gradually until he came to an exhausted halt.

He pressed himself to a wall and slowly lowered himself, still holding Ariadne tightly against his chest. She clung to him fiercely, face buried against his shoulder and waves of trembles rushing through her.

Bristle moved all around the two, scanning the corridor for any other figures set to haunt them. Seeing none, it collapsed at Corin’s feet and began to nibble on a spare stone in front of it, seemingly pleased with itself and completely forgotten the prior chaos.

“It’s over,” he assured softly once he caught enough of his breath to speak. His hand brushed along Ariadne’s back in slow, grounding motions. “You’re safe now. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Her breathing gradually steadied as he continued to whisper reassuring words into her hair. Still, she didn’t pull away from him.

For a long while, the only sounds were her labored breathing, Bristle’s slow nibbling, and Corin’s soft words or safety. The Labyrinth was eerily quiet around them, and Corin cursed it in his head.

Eventually, Bristle fell asleep, content with the stone set in its mouth.

It took some time, but Ariadne eventually lifted her head from Corin’s chest. Her eyes were bright red and laced with tears as they searched his face with a sense of something raw and vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He met her gaze without flinching. “Yes,” he corrected. “I should have.”

Corin felt something shift between them then, something unspoken and fragile. He knew the Labyrinth had brought the two of them together—he still wasn't sure why—but the haunted chamber made him realize that maybe she wasn’t there to save him.

Maybe he was here to save her.

They rested for

a while after that. They both needed it, and Bristle had been snoring away without a care in the world for what seemed like hours. Corin wished he could sleep like the beast, but there was something keeping him awake.

He was completely exhausted from the run and carrying Ariadne, but that cursed chamber had taken an emotional toll that wouldn’t dare let Corin rest peacefully.

Thankfully, the corridor where they rested was deathly quiet, almost as if the maze needed to rest too after that encounter.

Corin didn’t want to thank the Labyrinth for anything, especially after it brought on such a torturous mist, but he had to believe that it didn’t quite want to kill him yet.

He sat with his back against the cold stone, knees bent and head tipped back to stare into the darkness above. He missed the sky in Ariadne’s chamber and had half a wish to go back to see it again.

Ariadne had shuffled off of his lap after her tears had dried against her cheeks. She sat a short distance away from him. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her gaze unfocused.