Zig-Zag (Sinister Season #2)

Prologue

Kasper

Hundreds of years ago

The chill of the October night seeped into my bones, a creeping cold that gnawed at my bones like a ravenous beast. I stumbled through the twisting paths of the maze, the towering hedges looming like sentinels watching my every move.

A cruel wind howled, sending a shiver down my spine and mingled with the bitter scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.

Despite the chill and the wind, the evening air was thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the distant laughter of those celebrating All Hallows’ Eve.

I’d been drawn to the maze by the thrill of it, by the maze and the old forgotten gardener’s house on the grounds that housed Bartholomew University.

It started off as a dare among friends that turned into a solitary nightmare.

The whispers of the night taunted me, urging me deeper into the labyrinth's heart.

Every time I tried to go back, I would find myself walking deeper and deeper, each turn feeling more disorienting than the last. The paths appeared to be shifting and twisting as if the maze itself had a will of its own.

“Just a game,” I muttered to myself and the chill of the night.

I shouldn’t have come out here, the first signs of illness had struck days ago.

A cough that rattled in my chest, the fatigue that wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud.

But I brushed it off, too caught up in the season, and the thrill of the dare, of the chase and far too proud to admit weakness.

Now as I stumbled through the shadows and did my best to not trip on the vines that slithered silently, a chill far more profound than the night's air was wrapping around my lungs and squeezing.

A cough tore from my throat, wet and raw, echoing off the stillness as if it were mocking me.

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling how hot my skin felt despite the cold that encased my insides.

Such a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of death that danced at the edges of my consciousness.

“Just a little further,” I gasped out loud to no one, maybe just to the maze.

I could feel the desperation start to claw at me.

The maze continued to mock the situation, its paths stretching endlessly, and each turn leading me further away from the sounds of celebration.

Away from the lit bonfires and warmth of other human souls.

Each breath became a labor, each step an agonizing reminder of my mortality.

I felt the weight of the night as it pressed down on me, the darkness that seemed to promise no escape.

I rounded yet another corner which I had been hoping was an exit to these decaying stalks.

A wave of dizziness washed over me and I stumbled, my knees buckling as I fell to the damp ground, the world around me blurred, the inky shadows that had been kept at bay now crept in and clouded my reality.

A violent cough once again wracked my body and I could taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue.

Panic surged from deep inside, a primal instinct that urged me to fight, to try to rise and run, but my body was unable, it betrayed me. Heavy and unyielding.

The darkness gathered close, it wrapped around me like a lover's embrace, and try as I might, I welcomed it.

Surrendering to the damnation that pried at my consciousness.

I laid there in the maze, aware, yet unaware, the last tendrils of life slipping away.

The chill of what the doctors had called pneumonia claimed what life I had left.

The laughter of the partygoers had faded into nothing, replaced by the haunting echo of my own heartbeat, a slow and dying drum.

Then, silence.