The faint shafts of light shift again, highlighting the path ahead—stars, flowers, a curled serpent. I commit it to memory, my lips moving soundlessly as I mouth the sequence under my breath. Movement catches in the corner of my eye, flickers of shadows dancing along the jagged edges of the abyss.
It’s not real. Focus, Aella.
I hurl myself onto the next tile, lungs burning as I gasp for air. A sharp cramp tears through my stomach like a vise, nearly doubling me over, but there’s no time—no room—for hesitation. The pounding in my skull grows louder, like a drumbeat of impending doom, my trembling limbs threatening to give out. I glance back for a split second, and my stomach drops—a section of tiles has already begun to collapse, falling silently into the endless abyss below.
Panic surges through me. The last jump is a haze of desperation—I throw myself forward with every ounce of strength I have left, my balance teetering on the edge of failure. My knees slam against the final patch of light-soaked tiles, pain exploding through my body. My fingers claw at the surface as I drag myself forward, heart racing. Behind me, the tiles crumble faster now, the sound of nothingness swallowing them whole.
I barely register that I’ve made it. My body collapses against the door, my lungs rasping against the molten weight of the poison clawing through me. Every second that passes feels less real, less mine.
Any sense of accomplishment is fleeting when I finally lift my gaze.
I haul myself upright, every ounce of strength I have left straining to make the motion possible. My breathing is ragged, and my vision pulses faintly at the edges, but I force myself to look at the door properly for the first time. My chest feels ready to collapse, and yet the shadow of survival keeps me moving. Keeps me hoping.
The door’s surface is smooth and unyielding, carved from the same stone as the rest of the labyrinth. Where a handle should be, there’s…nothing. Just a shallow circular slot at the center. I lift my aura weakly, its flickering glow casting faint shadows across the surrounding edges.
Steadying myself, I press trembling fingers to the slot, tracing its edges. Smooth. Perfectly hollow. “Another test,” I whisper, the sound barely audible over the pounding in my head.
I grit my teeth and lean heavily against the door, pressing my forehead to the cool stone. My mind spins as I try to recall what Master Cyril said the labyrinth would test.
My resilience—the way I’d pushed forward through to this point, through dead ends, even when the poison gnawed at me and survival seemed impossible. I’d survived. The mosaic? That was my perception, wasn’t it? Reading patterns, finding the path that made sense when nothing else did. Every step was a heartbeat away from falling into darkness, but I solved it. I beat them.
The knot in my stomach tightens, and my eyes flicker to the slot again.
A perfect fit for the aura.
A new sound prickles at the edges of my perception. It’s faint—an arrhythmic scrape, like fingernails against stone in the distance. My heart stutters, and I cast a glance over my shoulder, the dim tunnel yawning behind me in endless shadow.
Every ounce of logic screams at me that it can’t be real. Nobody else could have found their way here. And yet, the sound persists, growing no nearer but refusing to fade entirely.
I press my brow to the cold surface of the door, forcing my focus ahead. Maybe it’s the poison twisting my senses. Or maybe it’s the labyrinth’s answer to my doubts. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I have a choice to make now.
With trembling fingers, I raise the glowing orb. It flares weakly, like it can sense the moment that’s coming. The circular slot waits, expectant, carved with sharp precision—a cruel mouth ready to swallow what I have left. To take my light and sight.
“Sacrifice.”
I press the aura into place, and the glow instantly stutters out. I stumble forward as the door swings open with a groan. The darkness beyond reaches for me, ready to claim my defeat.
And then my body revolts.
My knees hit the ground, and I heave as acid rises in my throat. When the bile finally scorches its way out, tears sting my eyes. My hands—now trembling—wipe across my mouth. I try to force myselfupright, but my head spins, nausea a living thing clawing through my gut.
The nightshade. I’m running out of time.
The faint scrape of a boot against stone echoes from behind, slicing through the thickness of my panic. I freeze, but the sound grows louder. It’s deliberate—taunting me.Another scrape, this time accompanied by the metal shriek of steel against rock. My pulse thunders in my ears as I force my legs to stand.
I have to move.I have to.
Wasting no more time, I place my left palm on the wall and stumble forward, pushing through the pain and nausea. The ground beneath me inclines, leading me steadily upward. The sounds of my pursuer grow louder, and my heart beats harder against my rib cage with each echoing footfall.
Louder.
Closer.
A frustrated sob escapes me, and another screeching cry of metal on stone replies.
And that’s when I feel it.
A faint breeze coming from up ahead, so subtle, like the soft caress of a feather against my soul. I angle my face, and the light brush of wind strokes my left cheek.
