Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
HOOK
The skittering starts up again—the same bloody spine-chilling sound as before. It echoes down the tunnel, sharp and relentless, claws scraping on stone and getting closer with every damn second.
Alice stiffens beside me, her body wound tight, and I catch the subtle way she steps back. She probably doesn’t even realise she’s done it—moving closer into my space.
“It’s not just me hearing that, right?” she whispers.
“No,” I say, my hand instinctively going for the hilt of my dagger.
The sound doesn’t just crawl through the tunnel—it burrows into my skull, sharp and jagged, setting my nerves on edge.
Alice glances at me, her eyes wide, even in this dim light. “Do you think it’s more spiders?”
“Oh, I’d bet my last bloody coin it is.” And I’m ready for them. I’ll hack off their big, hairy legs, gut their bellies—take the bastards apart one by one.
“It’s the maze,” Sophia says, her voice calm, like we’re discussing the weather. “It winds all the way around this place. I’m surprised you made it this far without falling into one of the Forgetting Wells.”
"Forgetting Wells?" That’s a fitting name. Exactly what my uncle had in mind when he threw me in one.
“There are plenty scattered about,” she continues. “More in the maze itself, but we should go back this way. The way you two were heading is just more of a deadend. Come.”
As much as I don’t trust her, the idea of staying here with that noise creeping up on us isn’t exactly appealing.
I hate following anyone else’s lead, but for now, survival takes priority.
We retreat into the main part of the oubliette—or Forgetting Well, whatever she’s calling it.
Alice’s light floats alongside us, though I’m not even sure she realises she’s still holding it.
She’s oblivious to a lot of things, I’ve noticed.
Still, I’ll give her this—she’s paying attention to Sophia and to this damned oubliette like she’s seeing it for the first time. I find that intriguing.
“How do we get out of here?” Alice asks, staring up at the hole we fell through—the same one Sophia must have lowered herself down.
"Through there." Sophia tilts her head, her red curls shifting slightly. “Why didn’t you summon a light rope?” she asks, so matter-of-fact it’s almost insulting.
I raise an eyebrow, glancing between Alice and Sophia. “A what now?”
“A light rope,” she says with exaggerated patience, stepping closer and snapping her fingers right in front of my face.
I don’t flinch. Not a bloody chance.
Alice furrows her brow and mimics the motion, pressing her fingers together like she’s about to perform some great mythical feat. Nothing happens.
Sophia lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as if we’re dim-witted children. I don’t care for it.
“Not like that. It takes intent, darling,” she says. “Magic isn’t about waving your hands around and hoping for the best. It’s about knowing what you want and pulling it from the threads of this place.”
Her eyes flick to me past Alice, and I can feel the judgment radiating off her. “Did you not even try to teach her?”
“I have no magic, remember?” I say, clicking my fingers. A weak, pathetic flare of light sputters and dies in my palm. “Nothing. Exactly why I’m here.”
“It’s fine,” Alice says quickly, the words rushing out as if she’s trying to save face.
“It’s not like I have magic either. I’m just—” She makes another attempt, mimicking Sophia’s earlier movements.
Her fingers press together, pulling apart with a tentative gesture.
And this time, something happens. A spark ignites between her hands, flaring into life.
It’s small at first, like a flame catching on kindling, but it grows rapidly—thick, bright, and burning with a fierce intensity.
“Oh?” Alice breathes, staring at the light in disbelief.
I step closer, the heat of it brushing against my skin. It’s tempting, like holding a weapon you’re not entirely sure won’t explode in your hands. There’s something alive in that glow, sharp and wild, and Alice is holding it like she doesn’t know whether to be proud or terrified.
“Not bad,” I say, my voice low. “Now, don’t just stand there gawking at it. Own it.”
Her gaze flicks to me, startled. “Own it?”
“Yes, love. It’s yours, isn’t it? Or are you planning on letting it fizzle out while you second-guess yourself?”
She narrows her eyes at me, and there’s a flicker of defiance in them. Good. She’ll need that.
“I wasn’t second-guessing,” she mutters, her grip tightening as the light steadies, pulsing between her hands like a heartbeat.
“Prove it,” I say, stepping back. “Put it to use. Show me this wasn’t just a fluke.”
"Throw it up into the hole," Sophia says. "Imagine what you want it to become."
Her lips press together in determination. She takes a breath, her hands moving with more confidence now. The light shifts, no longer wild and untamed but bending to her will. With a flick of her wrist, she throws it upwards.
The light arcs into the air, burning a path through the darkness above us. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, like glitter cascading from a shattered star, the light splinters and twists, coming together piece by piece.
It solidifies into the shape of a ladder, each rung glowing faintly but unmistakably solid.
Sophia waves a hand in a casual, there you go gesture. “See? Not so hard.”
I ignore her, my attention fixed on Alice. She’s staring at the ladder, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. "I did that."
“Not bad at all,” I say.
Sophia steps back, her green eyes glinting with amusement as she gestures towards the ladder. “After you, Captain.”
I narrow my eyes at her, my hand resting on my dagger.
“And leave Alice down here alone with you? I don’t think so.
You go first.” This isn’t about being protective.
Not at all. But I’ve been with Alice these past few days—I know her.
I don’t know Sophia, and by her own admission, she’s tied to Thorin.
I’m not about to trust one of the Queen’s people with Alice no matter what she claims. “You go first, then me, then Alice,” I say firmly.
Sophia stares at me, her bright green eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
The corners of her lips curl into a smirk as she steps closer, leaning in just enough to make me bristle.
“Careful, Captain,” she purrs, trailing her fingers up my chest with deliberate slowness.
“The world might think you actually care about something.”
I grab her hand, pushing it firmly away. “I do, love. Myself.” I gesture towards the ladder. “Now, ladies first.”
Although the ladder is made of light, it’s oddly solid—like wood, but glowing as though spun from thread. It makes no sense, but I don’t question it. What does it matter? As long as it gets the job done and we get out of this fucking hole, the thing could be made of paper for all I care.
When I step onto the firm ground above—where we fell—I take a moment to glance around. As Alice climbs up, I head to the door we came through when we were running from whatever the hell that machine was.
The place feels different now. The massive, menacing machine is gone, and the hedges are neat, trimmed and perfect, not a leaf out of place. It’s unsettling—like someone came along and scrubbed away all the chaos, leaving behind the wrong kind of order.
Alice pulls herself out of the hole, dusting herself off, her hands brushing at her dress.
As Sophia strides ahead without hesitation, she snaps her fingers, sending a row of glowing orbs into the air to light our path. The orbs hover, casting long shadows against the pristine walls of greenery.
Alice steps beside me. “Are we supposed to follow her?”
I narrow my eyes, watching Sophia ahead of us, rounding the bend.
The orbs she’s conjured leave a trail behind her, like breadcrumbs for us to follow.
I’m not quite ready to move yet, and maybe Alice isn’t either, because she stays beside me, silent but close enough that I can feel her warmth in the chill of this place.
“I think so,” I say, though my focus is elsewhere. I’m listening, my head tilted—not for the machine. No, I’d hear that damn thing a mile away. I’m listening for people, for an ambush, for something that might reveal this is all a trap of Sophia’s making.
Alice shifts beside me, her movement drawing my attention.
Her gaze is on the path ahead, but the faint tension in her jaw tells me she’s waiting for me, for some kind of lead.
She steps forward, hesitant at first, then into the middle of the path.
“Are you coming?” she asks, her voice steady, though I can hear the undercurrent of doubt.
I bite down on my lip, some sarcastic comment daring to escape. But the way she stands there—alone, defiant—stalls me. There’s something captivating about her, about the way she refuses to cower even when the odds are stacked against her.
“Is there any other choice?” I finally reply.
Her lips twitch, almost a smile, and then she turns and keeps moving.
I follow Alice. We follow the lights, and as we pass each one, they blink out, leaving nothing but darkness behind us. The shadows press close, as though the maze itself is trying to swallow us whole.
It doesn’t take long to catch up with Sophia. She’s stopped ahead, waiting for us, her silhouette framed by the faint glow of her lights. “Stay close,” she says, without turning to address us. “The maze has many faces, but it remembers you.”
Alice’s steps falter beside me. I glance at her, catching the flicker of unease in her expression. Without thinking, I place a hand lightly on her arm.
She looks up at me, startled by the gesture.