I looked back to the mansion—smoke rising and even a fire burning in the west wing.
It was like nothing I had ever witnessed before.
I had heard accounts of the civil war. There was an old fisher in the village, I couldn’t remember his name—Father would politely stand and speak with him if we passed by. It was the polite kind of way he sometimes spoke with me as a child. Like he didn’t want to hurt my feelings but whatever I was speaking of wasn’t that interesting or maybe just didn’t make much sense.
I remembered the old man had scared me once, with stories of houses and people on fire.
Father had been getting supplies; I needed new shoes, and we were going into Maria to shop. I had been excited. But the old man had started speaking and I tried to be polite like Father, to engage in the conversation, to nod and hum. But the stories hetold that day were the stories of his grandfathers’ father. Stories of the civil war.
Of houses and people and even babies on fire.
Father must have rescued me from the horrible tales at some point, but stood on the hillside looking at the mansion—the mansion that could soon be ruins—I was reminded of the old man and his stories.
The spark had been lit.
The orange glow was growing and it felt like soon everything could be on fire.
I knew that I might have already been spotted on the hillside, but how would they know who I was from such a distance. It wasn’t like I was anything special looks-wise, nothing about me really stood out. Not like Selene, with her height and her hair and her image that was known by everyone. I was just a girl. Sure, my eyes were unique but you had to see me up close to spot that, and my sand-coloured hair wasn’t uncommon. From this distance, I was just a servant. That’s what I told myself as I began to run down the hill.
Running downhill was surprisingly not as easy as I had first thought. It was difficult to keep my balance; occasionally I would skid precariously—my heart in my throat—on the wet dirt before finding purchase again and continuing down.
There was no way around it, I couldn’t sneak up on the mansion, I could only run directly towards it. I wasn’t surprised when rebels broke off from the orchard and began to chase me. They were gaining on me fast —longer legs, more accustomed to running. I was closer to the maze than the mansion when Sasha’s idea to hide in the maze earlier came back to me. I don’t know what it was exactly, but something about the maze almost called to me. It felt like safety. One glance over my shoulderand I knew I would not reach the mansion before the rebels had captured me, but I could reach the maze. Maybe.
And maybe I was crazy, maybe the way the cold air scraped down my throat and into my burning lungs and the way my legs felt heavier than they ever had, had interfered with my ability to think, but I changed course. As I ran down the stairs towards the maze, the feeling of safety from the maze grew.
I was making the right decision.
The maze was protection.
The maze knew me.
I entered the maze and immediately the ground rumbled and shook. I turned to see the rebels had stopped before the entrance. Shock and fear marred each of their faces. The walls grew and closed over the entrance.
“What do we do now?” I heard one ask.
“She’s as good as dead now,” another replied.
“Yeah, but we need her body,” someone else stated. “Who’s going to believe she’s dead without proof?”
“The maze will spew her out eventually,” the second voice answered. “We wait.”
It was odd, their voices were clear and yet not. Like listening to sound under water —it was distorted yet clear. Magic, undoubtedly. I could even hear their footsteps as they walked away, muttering that someone or other wasn’t going to be pleased. But then —nothing. I could no longer hear the chaos, the fighting, the fire burning.
Lady Aquilae had screamed instantly. Selene had listened intently, curiously. I expected the maze to begin its torture, but nothing seemed to be happening. If I made it to the centre, themaze would open an exit for me. I began to walk. Occasionally the ground would rumble and a wall would slowly move. It was almost as if I was being guided somewhere.
It was strange, how calm I felt. How I felt so utterly safe. Before, my heart had been pounding so hard and fast with my efforts it sounded like the ocean in my ears, my breaths coming quick and desperate, my legs burning and heavy, a stitch in my side. But within the maze, I was fine, as if reset. Even the worry for Selene that had consumed me and sent me down the hill back towards the danger of the rebels was not as all-consuming. I was worried, I knew I needed to find Selene, but the sense of safety, of peace within the walls of the maze was so powerful, a part of me wanted to stay here.
As I walked, the maze began to move more—twisting me around, turning and changing direction. I might have been in the maze for five minutes or five hours, I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t know. But the maze seemed to be growing upset, as if it had feelings, moving more and move. And the ground began to shake more violently.
Previously it had rumbled almost gently as new walls grew and moved, pushing up from the earth, never too close to me, never too fast—but now the earth shook and the walls of the maze grew, shooting up rapidly, knocking me down to the ground and turning me so fast I no longer knew which direction I faced.
And then the sound began. The sound of stone being blasted through.
Explosions.
I knew instinctively that someone—or someones —were trying to breach the maze to reach me, and that the maze was guarding me, pushing me back, keeping me safe.
As the explosions grew nearer, the maze surrounded me more and more until there was no exit, no other direction to turn. I was surrounded by walls taller than I could ever hope to climb, all around, a diameter no taller than myself. I doubted I could even lie flat on my back if I wanted to in the space I was enclosed in.
