“I’ve got him,” Sylvian says firmly, but there is something in his voice that says he might not have him for long.
“Let’s move!” Oberon growls, and we surge toward the throne, every second suddenly too precious, too fragile.
Panic presses in from all sides as I dart to the area by the throne and grab our scattered packs, my fingers clumsy and unsteady as I fumble with straps and loose items. I don’t stop to think about what I’m taking. I don’t sort or check or plan. I just grab everything within reach and throw it over my shoulders, the weight dragging at me as I force my legs to move faster, even as they threaten to give out beneath me. I barely make it back to the others before Oberon and Ashton take everything but my own pack and throw their packs, and Sylvian and Cassius’ packs, over their backs.
We start heading for the exit, me in the lead. Behind me, the others shift and stumble, and I can hear the strain in every movement. The sound alone tears through me, because they should not be this slow, this wounded, this close to falling apart.
Then I hear it. The faint rumble of footsteps, distant but unmistakable.
My entire body locks for half a heartbeat before a fresh wave of panic crashes through me, cold and sharp, racing downmy spine.They’re coming back. They’re already too close.My pulse surges, loud in my ears, drowning out everything but the desperate need to move, to get out, to not be caught here again.
“This way!” Ashton hisses, his voice low but urgent, cutting through the chaos.
I turn toward him, barely able to see in the dim light as he gestures to a short, narrow opening carved into the wall. It is so small I might have missed it, even with him pointing directly at it. When I peer inside, I see a tight tunnel leading into darkness, the space barely wide enough for us to fit through.
Hope flares, sudden and fragile. The cyclopes will never follow us in there. They can’t!
“This is it,” I whisper, more to myself than to anyone else, and I drop to my knees without waiting.
One by one, we force ourselves through the opening, squeezing into the narrow passage, Cassius being helped by Sylvian and Ashton. The stone presses in on all sides, rough and unforgiving, scraping against my shoulders, my knees, my palms as I crawl forward. The air is stale and heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and stone, and each breath feels too shallow, like there’is not enough of it to go around.
Behind me, I hear Ashton suck in a sharp breath, and I know he’s pushing himself harder than he should. I hear Oberon’s rough muttering and Sylvian’s measured voice pushing them onward. And somewhere between those sounds, I hear the faint, uneven rhythm of Cassius’s breathing, and it makes my chest tighten so hard it hurts.
We just have to keep moving.We have to.
I press myself against the wall as the tunnel bends, my breath catching as the sound of the cyclopes floods the chamber behind us. Their growls echo through the space we just escaped, low and furious, the vibration of it carrying through the stone and into my bones. Then the cyclops king roars, and the sound is so loud,so filled with rage, it feels like the entire cave trembles beneath it.
“They’ve escaped!” he bellows, his voice crashing through the space like a physical force. “Find them! Do not let them leave this cave!”
The words slam into me, sending another wave of fear crashing through my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to steady myself, trying to push back the panic clawing its way up my throat.If I lose control now, if I freeze, we’re dead.
My body trembles despite my efforts to control it, fear coursing through me, but I press myself into the stone and hold still. Every muscle is tight, every sense straining, waiting for the sound of pursuit.
It doesn’t come. Not yet.
We’re not safe. I know that. I can feel it in the air, in the relentless pounding of my heart, in the fear still twisted deep inside me. But at least we have a chance.
A chance to escape. A chance at a life beyond the cyclops. Beyond this cave.
Beyond the labyrinth.
3
Alette
The muffled grumbling of the cyclopes grows louder, closer, their heavy footsteps echoing through the cave as they spread out to search. The sound scrapes along the stone, uneven and relentless, making it impossible to tell exactly where they are. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might give us away, each beat loud in my ears as I press myself flatter against the rough wall of the narrow tunnel.
“Find them!” the king bellows, his voice shaking the cavern, fury ripping through every word. “They were here recently. I can smell them.”
The words send a fresh wave of panic through me, sharp and suffocating. I don’t move, barely even breathe, every muscle locked tight as the sound of something massive scraping against stone echoes closer. A shadow shifts across the narrow opening behind us, blotting out the faint light for a moment before passing on. One of them is right there. So close I can feel the vibration of its steps through the ground beneath my hands.
Behind me, Ashton’s breathing hitches, and I reach blindly, finding his arm and squeezing hard.Stay quiet. Stay still.
“They cannot have gone far,” another cyclops rumbles, its voice lower but no less dangerous.
“They are wounded,” the king snarls. “They will not get far. Search every passage. Every crack.”
A heavy impact shakes the wall, dust sifting down from above, and I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself not to react. Not to move. If they look in here, if they so much as lean down and peer inside, it’s over.
