Oberon notices immediately, his grip on my hand tightening. “Is that…?” he asks, his voice low.
“A woman crying?” I whisper, my pulse quickening as I strain to listen.
The sound is faint but insistent, a woman’s sobs seeping through the walls, tugging at something deep within me, a pull of empathy that makes my heart ache.
We both fall silent, and there it is again, the unmistakable sound of pain, coming from a room just ahead. The door hangs slightly open, torchlight spilling into the hall while shadows twist through the dimness. I glance at Oberon, who nods, his expression hardening into something serious and protective.
Carefully, we step closer, peering into the room. The servant inside startles at our presence, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the dim light. There’s a mix of fear and vulnerability etched in her features. She jumps to her feet, smoothing her dress and apron with trembling hands.
“I… I didn’t mean to disturb anyone,” she stammers, her voice thick with emotion.
“Are you alright?” I ask, stepping forward, the words spilling out before I can think better of it. I want to reach out, to comfort her, but I know I shouldn’t. Not with a stranger.
She shakes her head quickly, a forced smile plastered on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just tired. Long day,” she says before brushing past us and disappearing down the hall.
Oberon and I exchange a glance, unease settling in my stomach. There’s something off about her reaction, a disconnect that sends alarm bells ringing in my mind. “What was she doing in here?” I wonder aloud, the worry creeping into my voice.
Oberon steps into the room, grabbing the torch from the wall, the light illuminating the sparse furnishings within. The room is modest, almost bare, but what catches our attention is the far wall, covered in names carved into the stone. Hundreds of them, maybe more, etched in uneven lines that stretch from floor to ceiling.
“What is this?” I whisper, my fingers brushing over the jagged letters. The names feel heavy, oppressive, as if the walls themselves carry the weight of their stories.
“I don’t know,” Oberon says, his jaw tight. “But I don’t like it.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve stumbled onto something important… and dangerous. “We should tell the others.”
Oberon nods, his expression dark as he leads me back out of the room. The storm’s echoes grow louder in the silence that follows, the sound of rain slamming against the stone walls. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not alone, that there are unseen eyes watching us from the shadows. The labyrinth has a way of twisting reality, and I can feel the uncertainty tightening its grip around my heart.
“It’s probably nothing,” he says. “Lord Ferngull has been nothing but kind, so has his people.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Still, we’re both heading to tell the others, so maybe it is something after all.
14
Alette
Rain lashes against the castle walls in a relentless rhythm that fills the air. Thunder rolls low across the sky, the storm stretching endlessly over the labyrinth below. I stand beneath my bedroom’s balcony’s cover, my hands resting against the cool stone as I look out over it. From here, it almost doesn’t seem real.
The twisted paths, the dark vines, the shifting shadows. It’s all softened by distance, blurred by rain and the shifting glow of lanterns. It looks almost… beautiful. Almost harmless.
Except, I know better.
My breath slows as I lean into the railing, letting the chill ground me. It doesn’t quite work. Because I’m still warm. Still humming. My body hasn’t settled since I left him.Oberon.
The thought alone sends a quiet ripple through me, heat curling low in my stomach, lingering in a way I don’t fully understand yet.
I press my lips together, shifting slightly where I stand, suddenly too aware of myself. Of the way everything still feels heightened. Sensitive. Like something in me has been woken up and refuses to go back to sleep.
I exhale slowly. Trying not to think about the way his hands felt. The way his voice dropped when he spoke to me. The way I—I stop the thought there, my face warming. But the feeling doesn’t fade. If anything, it sharpens. Because now that it’s there… I want more.
My fingers tighten slightly against the stone as my thoughts drift, unbidden, to the others. Cassius. Steady. Careful. Sylvian. Controlled. Intense. Oberon. Overwhelming and all-consuming.
There’s something else. Something unfinished.
My attention snaps to Ashton so suddenly it steals my breath. The feeling is immediate and dangerous, all heat and reckless impulse. His grin rises first in my mind, followed by that confident, predatory edge he wears so easily. My pulse stutters.
And suddenly, I can’t think of anything else. What he would be like. How different it would feel. The way he would touch me. The way he would look at me… my breath comes quicker now, shallow, my body reacting before I can stop it.
