Chapter 9 #2
She pauses, and for a moment, I think she'll ignore my question and disappear, leaving me with a key and no explanation. Then she glances over her shoulder, her amber eyes meeting mine.
"Your sister incinerated a human assassin. He had a gloomroot-tipped arrow aimed for Varok's back. One heartbeat more and—" She makes a soft hissing sound, "Varok would be dead from the lethal poison of which there is no cure.”
My mind races back to Halvane's words, the hushed conversation I'd overheard. Leira burning a man to ash. Not a rumor, but the truth, confirmed by this naga female who has no reason to lie.
She fully turns to face me now, something softening in her reptilian features.
"Varok is like a son to me. I served as his guardian after the death of his clutch-mother. I have watched him grow from a hatchling to Sovereign Flame. The Sundering took my entire family, and Varok is all I have left.” Her clawed hand gestures toward the key.
“I owed your sister a debt for saving his life.”
I drop to my knees and collect the key with shaking fingers, cool metal pressing into my palm."Lurok," I say, clutching the key tighter. "Is he alive? Is he here?"
“My debt is now repaid.” Her expression hardens. "What you do with your freedom is your choice. Choose wisely."
She turns to leave, already slipping back into shadow.
Panic surges through me. “Wait!” I blurt. “If the worms succeed. If my father and the general finish what they started, Leira's saving Varok will be for naught. Vessan-Kar will fall, and everyone will be buried beneath it.”
She pauses mid-slither and goes perfectly still, and for one terrible heartbeat, I think I’ve said too much. That I’ve sealed my own fate.
"Do not concern yourself with the worms," she says over her shoulder, her voice carrying a confidence that seems almost impossible given what I know. "Varok received your warning. The Sovereign Flame has already dispatched the Talons to hunt down every explosive. Vessan-Kar will not fall.”
With that, she slips away, her russet scales fading into shadow as she disappears down the corridor beyond my alcove. Relief crashes over me so hard my knees nearly give out, but uncertainty curls beneath it.
I'm left alone with the key heavy in my palm, blood thundering in my ears, and a choice that seems impossible.
The right tunnel to freedom, or somewhere in this labyrinth, Lurok, wounded, captive, and dying.
My fingers close around it, the edges biting into my palm.
The smart choice is clear. The correct choice is less so.
If Lurok is still alive somewhere in this labyrinth, wounded and shackled, then I cannot leave him to die. I lift my head, my resolve as hard as the stone around me.
The key is small but intricately made, its teeth forming a pattern unlike any human lock I've seen.
Sweat drips into my eyes, blurring my vision as I try to steady my trembling fingers.
The metal scrapes uselessly against the lock once, twice.
I bite my lip, forcing myself to breathe.
With the third attempt, the key slides home.
I turn it with agonizing slowness, feeling each tumbler reluctantly surrender until the final, beautiful click.
The shackle falls away, and I feel the first taste of freedom in days.
I move cautiously to the entrance of the alcove.
The corridor beyond stretches in both directions, identical pathways illuminated by the same eerie biotech veins.
Right leads to three tunnels, the rightmost away from the labyrinth, toward freedom.
Left leads deeper in, toward voices that murmur too faintly to distinguish words but clearly signal danger.
The smart choice is obvious, but I turn left instead.
Something pulls me in that direction, some gut certainty that Lurok still lives, still breathes somewhere in these twisting passages.
The tunnel curves ahead, biotech veins flowing along its length like glowing arteries.
I press close to the wall, placing each foot with deliberate care to minimize sound.
The stone is cool against my shoulder, grounding me as I move deeper into danger.
The voices grow louder, then fade, suggesting multiple passages branch off the main tunnel. The air changes as I move deeper. It becomes warmer, carrying unfamiliar scents of herbs and something pungent that reminds me of machine oil.
My ears strain for any sound that might lead me to Lurok. A voice, a movement, anything. Instead, I hear only the faint whispers of conversations some distance away and the distant drip of water.
I pass several chambers filled with stacked storage crates. Nothing about this place feels like the naga city. This is something else. A secretive, hidden place of whispers and shadows.
A new sound of rhythmic scraping reaches me, like metal against stone.
I freeze, pressing myself into a shadowed alcove as a pair of naga slithers past. They speak in low hisses, words too quick and foreign for me to catch.
I hold my breath until they disappear around a bend, then continue forward, heart hammering against my ribs.
The passage splits again. Left feels colder, right warmer. I choose right this time, following heat like a promise of life. I count doorways as I pass. One, two, three. Then the fourth makes me gasp aloud, hand flying to my mouth.
Lurok.