Chapter 20
Syrrah
Daughter of the stars, bearer of the first light, may your steps leave no shadow and your heart bear no chains.”
— HYMN TO GRAYAH
The Underworld King’s blood is hot on my hands.
He staggers forward, but I twist the blade deeper. Everything I’ve learned about anatomy, about where to focus when healing, where to protect from harm, I use now to hurt.
And I feel no remorse.
Gorbain collapses to the ground, blood pooling across the cold cobblestones.
“That’s for Keo,” I snarl, kicking his lifeless body. “And Craven.” Another kick. “Rooke.” Another. “Me.” Yet another. “And every other life you’ve ruined. I am no one’s prize,” I tell him, watching his tar-black eyes stare blankly out at nothing. “No one’s property. No one’s to break.”
I spit on his body, letting the anger bleed from me with the motion. The weight that has sat on my chest since this nightmare began lifts.
Then I turn and rush to Rooke. His breathing is ragged, his face pale from blood loss, but his eye blazes with pride.
“I told you to run,” he whispers as I check his injuries, hands trembling as I work.
“I decided not to listen.” I tear strips from the remainder of my dress to bind the worst of his wounds.
He catches my hands, stilling them. “Forget me for a moment,” he rasps. His fingers tighten around mine, his gaze boring into me. “Syrrah, are you hurt? Did he—”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt, my voice softening when I see the worry etched into his face. “He never touched me.”
His hands move to my cheeks, cradling my face. “Look at me, my heart.”
I meet his gaze, his warmth cutting through the icy haze of the Labyrinth. I can’t speak. My hands rest over his, holding them in place.
“That’s the first time,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. “The first time I’ve ever rioted against the cage I’ve lived in my whole life.” My chest rises and falls with the effort of my words, the weight of my confession. “And it felt….”
I can’t find the words.
His thumb brushes against my cheek. “You’re free, my Syrrah. You do not need to explain or justify. You can simply be.”
The words settle over me like a balm, soothing and grounding, but not erasing the fire still burning in my veins. For the first time, I don’t push it down or question it. For the first time, I let myself feel it.
I grip his hand tighter, noting how the air around us has grown heavy, charged with possibility. “What happens when we reach the end?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Another hunter, perhaps?”
“Comforting.”
His laugh is soft. “We could always turn back. Find a nice quiet corner of the maze to live out our days.”
“With the ghosts and shadow beasts for company?” I ask, helping him to his feet.
He staggers against me with a groan, leaning heavily against the Labyrinth wall. “I was thinking more of keeping each other company.” Despite his injuries, his grin turns wicked. “Very thorough company.”
Heat floods my cheeks, remembering exactly how thorough he can be. “But your brother.”
He sobers. “You’re right. I need to return home.”
My hand squeezes his. I collect the key then we stagger down the alley, slow and halting. Rooke’s injuries are many, and I worry for the cut in his side.
“I’ve had worse,” he assures me, as if that is somehow comforting.
We turn a corner and the passage opens abruptly into a vast circular chamber.
The ceiling arches impossibly high overhead.
Two doors stand at the chamber’s centre.
The first is simple—wood and iron, sturdy and practical.
Through its open arch, I catch glimpses of an ocean—the first I’ve ever seen, with waves crashing against distant shores.
The second door is extraordinary. Roses of deepest red and blue twine around its frame, their thorny stems seeming to grow from the very stone.
Their blooms pulse with inner light, casting dancing shadows across the chamber floor.
Beyond its threshold, I can see the healing temple where I spent so many years.
The familiar gardens stretch beyond, peaceful and unchanging.
I can almost smell the herbs, hear the soft chanting of afternoon prayers.
Home.
My breath catches, a yearning rising up in me for the familiar. The comfortable.
The cage.
“Two paths,” Rooke says softly. “Two futures.” He lets go of me. “Your choice, Syrrah.”
I step closer to the rose door, feeling the pull of home.
Everything I’ve ever known lies beyond—safety, certainty, a life bound by rules but free from fear.
I could return to my healing, to the quiet routine of herbs and prayers.
Forget the blood and terror of the Labyrinth, forget the taste of freedom on my tongue.
Forget Rooke.
“You could go back,” he says, his voice carefully neutral. “Return to your world, your life. You’d be safe there.”
“Safe,” I repeat the bitter-tasting word. “Safe and caged.”
“Better than dead.” His hand touches my shoulder. “The life I lead… it’s not gentle, Syrrah. There’s danger in every port, enemies around every corner. And now with Gorbain dead there will be a power struggle….” He trails off, pain evident in his voice. “I won’t blame you if you choose safety.”
I turn to study him—this impossible man who’s taught me so much about freedom and passion and trust. Who lied to protect his brother but chose love over duty in the end. His wounds are still fresh, his shirt stained with blood, yet he stands ready to let me go if that’s what I choose.
“Come with me.”
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “I can’t run from my responsibilities. More men than just Keo rely upon my success.” His smile holds an edge of sadness. “I’d understand if you never want to see my world after everything that’s happened.”
I walk to the second door, studying the iron and wood. Beyond the threshold, I catch more glimpses of what awaits—tall ships with billowing sails, crystal cities rising like dreams into the sky, mountains where dragons still soar.
A life of adventure and danger, of freedom and possibility.
A life with Rooke.
“You could die,” he says quietly. “Following me into my world.”
“I could die in my temple, safe and unloved.” I turn to face him. “At least with you, I’ll live first.”
Hope blazes in his eye. “You’re sure?”
“No,” I admit. “I’m terrified. But I’m choosing it anyway.” I step closer to him, resting my hand over his heart. “I’m choosing you. I’m choosing to love you.”
He makes a sound, a deep, needy, desperate sound and pulls me into a kiss that tastes of promises and possibility. When we break apart, his smile holds no trace of its usual mockery—just joy, pure and bright as sunrise.
“Together then?” he asks, offering his hand.
I take it, twining our fingers together. “Together.”
We step through the iron door as one, leaving the Labyrinth and all its horrors behind. Ahead lays an ocean of possibilities, a world of wonders and dangers I can’t yet imagine.
A world of freedom.