Chapter 14 Syrrah
Syrrah
Every Raider swears he’ll stay, and every Raider sails away.”
— CARVED ON THE DOOR OF A TAVERN IN THE DROWNED ISLES
The first night alone is the hardest.
Every shadow holds a threat, every sound an approaching hunter. I find a small alcove high in one of the maze walls, accessible only by climbing vines that look too fragile to hold a man’s weight. My stolen boots help with the climb, though my pretty new dress tears in the process.
From my perch, I can see a good portion of the maze—walls stretching endlessly in every direction, bathed in the blood moon’s crimson light. Somewhere out there, other brides are running, hiding, fighting for their freedom or surrendering to fate.
I wonder if somewhere out there Rooke is searching for me.
Let him search, I think bitterly. I’m done being found.
Sleep comes in fits and starts, broken by nightmares of hands grabbing me in the dark. I wake more than once reaching for Rooke, only to remember I’m alone.
The betrayal hurts no less each time.
In the quiet darkness, I allow myself to acknowledge what I’ve lost. Not just the safety of his protection or the warmth of his body against mine during the cold Labyrinth nights.
It’s the fleeting sense of belonging I had found in his arms, the feeling that I wasn’t just surviving this nightmare—I was living through it, discovering parts of myself I never knew existed.
For those brief days with him, I glimpsed something I’d never dared imagine—a life where my choices were my own.
I wrap my arms around myself, fighting back tears. I gave him everything—my trust, my body, very nearly my heart. I’ve broken sacred vows, violated oaths that defined my existence for as long as I can remember. For him. For us. Only to discover it was all built on falsehood.
The golden tattoo on my wrist catches the blood moon’s light—a permanent reminder of Kasaros’s decision.
“Never again,” I whisper to the darkness, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “Never again will I let a man—or God—define my path.”
The pain of betrayal remains sharp, but something else rises alongside it—determination, fierce and uncompromising. If I survive this place—no, when I survive this place, it will be on my terms. Not as Rooke’s lover, not as a prize, not as anyone’s possession.
I turn the dagger in my hands, watching moonlight dance along its edge. In my world, healers were forbidden weapons—our hands meant only for mending, never harming. Another constraint I’ve shed like an outgrown skin.
In this maze of horrors, I will forge myself anew. I will take what I need from this nightmare—strength, cunning, the will to survive—and leave behind what no longer serves me. Including the pain of Rooke’s betrayal.
I lean back against the cool stone, feeling peace despite the danger surrounding me. Tomorrow, I will find water, food, better weapons. I will learn this maze, master its patterns. I will reach its end, not because Kasaros or Rooke or anyone else directs me there, but because I choose it.
And if Rooke crosses my path again…. My fingers tighten around the dagger’s hilt.
I’ll show him exactly what kind of woman I’ve become—one who saves herself.