Chapter 22
There are no Rules
The door to the maze didn’t open.
It disappeared.
Slowly, in one long, drawn out fade, as if to say: Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart?
Too late now.
I stepped through, the cheers of Tarran and the Carls fading away as soon as I did. The moment my foot crossed the threshold, I felt it: a tug at the base of my spine, like a thread had just been looped around me. The air shimmered, heavy but sweet, like spun sugar over rust.
Behind me, the door vanished, and in front of me was a bright light. No, a spotlight illuminating a sign floating in midair.
RULE #1: THERE ARE NO RULES
“Well, that’s just peachy.”
I hadn’t been allowed to bring anything, not my staff or any provisions. All I was allowed were the clothes I wore and a hair tie I’d used to get my long tresses out of my face.
The spotlight flowed me as I stepped forward, and I whipped around as a disembodied laugh whizzed past my face.
Then a voice—King Reddick—echoed through the space, low and lilting.
“Welcome to the stage, dear sky girl. To win my key, you need only do one thing: make it out of the maze alive.”
The laughter didn’t echo.
It danced, bouncing from side to side like a mischievous sprite, throwing off my senses. I squinted into the dark beyond the spotlight, unable to make out my surrounds, but everything outside its glow was pitch black. There were no walls, no floor, just an endless void.
Until the music started.
It wasn’t good music, more a carnival organ being strangled in slow motion. Notes bent like hot wax, tumbling over each other in a jingle from hell. The ground beneath me seemed to vibrate, and when I looked down, I could finally see something.
Checkered tiles, black and white and shifting, rose like teeth from nothing. They arranged themselves into a dizzying path beneath my feet, splitting in three directions from where I stood. Three paths. Each tile pulsed faintly with golden veins, as if alive.
A new sign dropped from above, slamming into existence with a slight ding.
CHOOSE WISELY. OR DON’T. I DON’T ACTUALLY CARE.
“Fantastic,” I groaned. “I think I might prefer the broody king over this.”
I stared at the paths. They all looked the same to me.
Same size, same length, same gaudy, checkered pattern.
After a brief hesitation, I chose the middle path, trusting my gut that I likely wouldn’t lose off the first hurdle.
As I stepped forward, the spotlight followed me, hovering like a concerned parent.
Whirrrrrrrrrr.
A new sound, like gears turning. Metal scraping on metal. The path narrowed abruptly, and my stomach dropped, thinking I had chosen wrong. It spun beneath my feet, a shout leaving my lungs as I stumbled. Cool tile touched my palms as I caught myself on a wall that hadn’t been there a moment before.
“Test one,” the voice purred, amusement lacing his tone. “Let’s see if you can keep your head on straight.”
A mirror sprouted from the floor in front of me. No, dozens of mirrors. “Not again,” I complained. “What is with you stupid brothers and your idiotic mirrors?”
The walls exploded outward, as if in response, forming a kaleidoscope maze, reflections stretching in every direction. Me, me, me—and in one corner, not me.
Her eyes were wrong.
I lunged—but the mirror shifted, melting sideways, and suddenly, I was chasing nothing through a revolving corridor of faces. Each mirror whispered as I passed, and I almost covered my ears with my hands.
“She’s not ready.”
“She’s already lost.”
“She’s never going to get out.”
I gritted my teeth and pressed on. It was like a funhouse at a carnival, and slowly but surely, I started to make my way through it, keeping my eyes downcast toward the floor.
At one turn, the floor turned into a trampoline. At another, gravity reversed, and I floated up until I learned there was a ceiling. When my back hit the top, my fingers brushed against a button I pressed. A soft whisper said ‘boop’, and I dropped straight down into something leathery and….moving?
Hisses filled the air as the spotlight that always followed me illuminated the hundreds of snakes I’d fallen into.
“NOT REAL! BUT SURE FEELS REAL, DOESN’T IT?”
A deranged cackle split the air as I screamed, and the snakes exploded into confetti. Covered in multicolored paper and breathing hard, I pulled myself from the pit and stumbled finally out of the labyrinth of mirrors.
A tea party awaited me in the next area.
Stuffed bunnies, porcelain foxes, and one seated mannequin in a velvet dress all turned their heads in sync when I entered.
“You’re late,” they chorused.
My heart raced, still stuttering from the fear the snakes had instilled. I said nothing, stepping past them, but the mannequin moved at lightning speed to block my path. Her glassy eyes glowed crimson.
“You can’t leave until you drink something.” Her voice was gravelly and grating, like she was speaking through one of those cheap voice changers you could buy on the internet.
On the table, three cups steamed. One blue. One gold. One black as night.
A new sign fell into place in front of my eyes.
RULE #2: THERE ARE NO RULES EXCEPT WHEN THERE ARE.
There was absolutely no way I was drinking the black one, a strange, rotten odor wafting from it.
That left me with two. I squinted between the blue and the gold.
The gold was shimmering, enticing, faintly fruity The blue was still, solid in color, the kind you’d see in a paint can.
The obvious choice would be to pick the gold…
I grabbed the blue. The moment I sipped, everything around me froze. The room cracked like glass, and I fell through—
Landing hard in a floor piled high with clocks, all tick tick ticking away in a maddening song. And then, I heard the roar.
I was running now, not knowing what from but knowing I couldn’t let it catch me, past endless hallways, taking turns I knew I wouldn’t remember. I just knew I couldn’t let it get me.
The air thickened. Syrupy. Hard to breathe. And still, that incessant laughter followed me, echoing from behind, all while the clocks kept ticking.
And then, the clocks struck twelve in a horrifying crescendo, and the hallway ended with the sudden silence.
A door. Not a disappearing one this time—a real, solid, unpainted wood door with a brass handle. I didn’t trust it.
But did I have another choice? Maybe this was the end, and I’d finally reached the exit?
I reached for the handle.
Behind me, the King’s voice purred, closer than before. “Oh, sweetheart. That was the easy part.”
The door opened, and all I saw was shadows as I stepped through.