Instead, I promise myself that I will survive this. If there’s one thing I am, I’m a survivor.
16
Alette
The labyrinth looms before us,a silent, living monolith. The towering hedges stretch impossibly high, their tops vanishing into the misty sky. Each branch and leaf is so dense and entwined that they appear to be one impenetrable mass, as if they’ve grown together deliberately to keep the outside world at bay.
The entrance is nothing more than a black void carved into the greenery and surrounded by large rocks with a simple stone archway. It’s wide enough for all of us to walk through shoulder to shoulder, but it looks like the kind of darkness you don’t return from. Standing here, staring into it, I feel the weight of it pressing against me.
“So…” My voice rises just enough to draw the kings’ attention. “We just need to get to the other side of this labyrinth, right? It’s just a maze? A puzzle we have to work out?”
There’s hope in my voice. Maybe desperation. Because I’m getting the feeling there’s a lot more to this quest of ours than the kings have led me to believe.
King Oberon lets out a sharp laugh, the sound cutting through the heavy air like a blade. He crosses his arms, the lines of his face shadowed by the labyrinth’s towering walls. “Just get to the other side? Do you think the goddess made this for a pleasant afternoon stroll?”
I frown. “Well, if you knew it was so bad, couldn’t you have spent more time telling me what to expect and less time at balls?”
Wincing, I realize what I’ve said, but I also know I’m not wrong.
King Oberon looks surprised, but quickly recovers. “This isn’t just a hedge maze. It’s a test. A trial. The goddess isn’t going to let us walk through unscathed. There will be traps. Challenges. Awful things waiting to tear us apart.”
Each word feels like a hammer’s blow. I can’t stop the mental images of what those “awful things” might be: fanged monsters lurking in the shadows, traps snapping shut on unsuspecting limbs, and… no. I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away.
“You’re scaring her,” King Sylvian cuts in, his voice gentle but firm. He steps between us, his green eyes locking onto King Oberon’s with surprising authority. “You're not helping.”
King Oberon arches an eyebrow, clearly surprised by King Sylvian’s boldness.
“I’m not scared,” I interject quickly, though the words feel hollow. I force a small laugh, adjusting the straps on my pack to keep my hands busy. “It’s fine. Really.”
King Sylvian doesn’t call me out, but I catch the faint curve of his lips, a knowing smile that makes my cheeks heat.
“We don’t have all day to stand around,” King Oberon says, a bite to his words.
The others exchange wary glances, but they follow King Oberon’s lead. The moment we cross into the labyrinth, the air shifts so noticeably that I actually gasp. It’s colder here,an unforgiving cold that sinks into your skin and makes your muscles tense. The silence is suffocating, broken only by the sound of the wind racing through the maze. And it’s darker, as if the light has to filter through something to reach us.
“It feels like we stepped into another world,” I whisper.
“Maybe we did,” King Sylvian responds.
“It’s like moving between the human world and the fae world,” King Cassius explains, looking thoughtful. “Maybe we’ve been pulled into the world of the gods.”
“We’ll never know what the goddess made here,” King Oberon says, “so we should just keep going.”
I glance over my shoulder at the entrance. It already looks farther away than it should be, swallowed up by the walls of the maze like we’ve been walking for several minutes instead of just having stepped foot in this strange new world.
What’s wrong with this place? Could it truly be the realm of the gods?
We keep going. Our footsteps are loud in the quiet hedges. I notice, with unease, that there aren’t any sounds of birds or bugs. There’s no sign of anything living, other than us. The shadows press in from all sides, thick and heavy, as if the hedges are alive and watching us. The sunlight filtering down grows softer with each step, fading from bright day into the muted glow of early evening.
I rest my hand on the hilt of my dagger, seeking comfort in its presence. The warmth of the blade against my palm is oddly reassuring, but then it begins to glow.
“Whoa,” I whisper, drawing the blade from its sheath.
The light is faint at first, a soft bluish hue that grows brighter as I hold it up. It illuminates the path ahead, casting strange, dancing shapes along the walls.
“Why the hell is it glowing?” King Oberon asks, his tone equal parts suspicion and curiosity.
“I… don’t know,” I admit, though I grip the hilt tighter. The glow feels natural, as if the dagger is responding to the labyrinth itself.
