Chapter Twenty-Five
Chloe
By the time Chloe left the training grounds, the fading light of day was swallowed by thick clouds that pressed low over the mountains.
Snow threatened again, the sky heavy with it, and the wind that cut through the stone corridors of the outer keep carried a bite sharper than before.
Her muscles ached from Markos’s relentless drills, every movement still echoing in her limbs, but it was not exhaustion that unsettled her.
She had not seen Farah since that morning.
Not in the halls, not in the courtyard, not even from a distance where their eyes might briefly meet before duty pulled them apart again.
It was unnatural after everything that had shifted between them.
After the way Farah had looked at her, the way she had touched her.
Chloe told herself it was nothing—that training schedules did not align, that Avra’s court thrived on separation before trials—but the unease remained, coiling tighter with every step she took toward her chambers.
The corridor ahead darkened as she turned the final corner.
The torches here burned lower than the rest of the castle, their flames flickering weakly against stone.
Chloe slowed, her senses sharpening instinctively, a faint prickle rising along the back of her neck.
Something was wrong. Before she could even turn, a hand clamped over her mouth.
The scent hit her first. It was sharp, bitter, laced with something sweet enough to mask its danger.
Chloe inhaled on instinct, and immediately regretted it.
Her body reacted too slowly, her limbs turning heavy, her vision blurring at the edges as she fought to twist free.
She reached for her power—nothing. Reached for the strength in her limbs—gone.
The world tilted. Darkness swallowed her whole.
Sound returned before her eyes could adjust. A distant echo at first—something like wind howling through hollow stone. Then something sharper, more jagged. A scream. Not human. Not anything she had ever heard before. Chloe’s eyes snapped open.
Darkness loomed above her, broken only by thin shafts of pale light filtering down from somewhere unseen.
The ground beneath her was damp, uneven, cold enough to seep into her bones.
For a moment, she didn’t move, her mind struggling to piece together where she was—how she had gotten here—until the memory crashed back all at once.
The corridor. The hand. The drug. She pushed herself upright, her head spinning as the world came into focus.
The labyrinth.
It stretched in every direction, walls rising high around her in twisting paths that seemed to breathe with the mountain itself.
Some were carved from raw stone, jagged and dark, veins of mineral glinting faintly in the low light.
Others were overgrown with thick, gnarled hedges, their branches woven tightly together, leaves blackened as if they had never known sunlight.
The air was thick, damp with the scent of earth and decay, and beneath it all—something else.
Something ancient. It couldn’t be. The third trial wasn’t supposed to occur for another week. They were supposed to have more time.
Another shriek echoed through the maze, closer this time. Chloe turned sharply, trying to gain her bearings and saw her.
“Farah!”
Relief hit her first, before bile rose in her throat. Farah lay only a few paces away, unmoving, her dark hair spread across the ground like spilled ink. Chloe scrambled toward her, knees scraping against stone as she reached her side.
“Farah,” she said again, more urgently now, shaking her shoulder. “Wake up.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Farah’s brow furrowed, her breath hitching as she stirred. Her eyes snapped open, sharp even through the haze of whatever had been used to subdue them.
“Chloe?” Her voice was rough, disoriented, but alive.
Another roar tore through the labyrinth, deep and guttural, vibrating through the stone beneath them. Farah pushed herself up instantly.
“Where are we?” Farah asked.
Chloe swallowed, forcing her gaze back to the twisting maze around them. “The next trial,” she said, the realization settling like ice in her chest. “They lied. There was no week.”
Farah cursed under her breath, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. Her hand immediately went to her thigh—no blade.
“Of course,” she muttered.
Chloe flicked her gaze around the space, a table stood not far from them, carved from the same dark stone as the labyrinth walls, its surface lined with weapons. Swords, axes, daggers—more than enough to arm an army.
They moved toward it quickly. But the moment Chloe stepped within reach, the air shifted and she was sent flying backward. A barrier. Invisible, but unmistakable.
Chloe’s hand met resistance, a ripple of magic that pulsed outward from the table, pushing her back with enough force to make her stagger.
“What—”
Farah stilled beside her. “I know this,” she said, her voice tightening.
Chloe turned. “What do you mean?”
Farah hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before her expression hardened. “It’s a binding spell. Blood-based. It is the olde magic of the phamarkos. Sacrificial. My father’s kind of magic.”
Chloe’s pulse quickened. “Then how do we break it?”
Farah met her gaze. “Blood.”
Understanding clicked into place. Chloe did not question it.
Her nails extended into claws and she pressed it into her palm.
The sting was sharp, immediate, blood welling quickly.
Then she did the same to Farah. For a moment, neither moved.
Then Farah reached out, her hand closing around Chloe’s, pressing their palms together.
Blood mixed instantly, warm and slick between them.
The barrier shuddered. A pulse of energy rippled outward and shattered. The air cleared. The table was theirs.
Farah moved first, her gaze scanning quickly before settling on a double-sided axe, its blades gleaming faintly in the dim light.
She lifted it with ease, testing the weight, her grip firm and familiar.
Chloe reached for two swords, their hilts cool beneath her fingers.
She strapped them across her back, the familiar weight settling against her spine, grounding her in something she understood.
Another roar echoed.
Closer.
“Move,” Farah said.
They didn’t hesitate as the labyrinth swallowed them whole.
Each turn felt wrong. Each path seemed to lead nowhere and everywhere at once. The air buzzed faintly—not with a sound, not quite—but something deeper. A pull.
Chloe slowed, frowning. “Do you feel that?”
Farah nodded. “Yes.”
“It’s like—”
“A thread,” Farah finished. “Pulling us somewhere. It’s what Acacius told me—what your brother confirmed in his letter.”
“Then we follow it,” Chloe said.
It was the only direction they had. They moved quickly, boots pounding against stone and earth, the distant sounds of the labyrinth growing louder with every step.
Scraping claws. Low growls. The echo of something massive shifting just out of sight.
They weren’t alone. Turning the corner was a mistake.
The creature towered above them, easily three times their size, its body a grotesque blend of muscle and shadow, skin stretched too tight over something that should not exist. Its eyes burned with a dull, lifeless glow, and when it moved, the ground trembled beneath its weight.
A titan.
Chloe didn’t think. She drew her swords, steel singing as they met the air. “Run!” she screamed, but Farah did not falter.
The creature lunged.
Chloe moved on instinct, ducking beneath its sweeping arm as one of her blades struck against its side. The impact barely slowed it. Farah’s axe came down hard, biting into its shoulder—but the creature roared, unfazed, swinging wildly. They couldn’t kill it. Not like this.
“Go!” Chloe shouted.
This time, Farah didn’t argue.
They broke away together, sprinting down the nearest path as the titan’s roar chased them through the maze.
Its footsteps thundered behind them, close enough that Chloe could feel the vibration in her bones.
A turn. Another. A third. All leading nowhere.
The sound faded, not gone, but distant enough.
Chloe slowed just enough to breathe and something moved in the shadows ahead.
It was too late. The second creature struck fast, claws slicing through the air.
Pain exploded across Chloe’s stomach and she gasped, stumbling back as heat and wetness spread beneath her hands.
The world tilted for a moment, her vision blurring.
“Chloe!” Farah’s voice cut through her daze.
Chloe forced herself upright, teeth gritting against the pain. “I’m fine,” she lied.
The creature lunged again. This time, they didn’t stay to fight, it would be hopeless anyway. They ran faster than before, driven now by something sharper than fear. Survival. The thread pulled stronger, buzzing beneath Chloe’s skin, guiding her forward even as her strength began to waver.
“Do you see that?” Farah called.
Ahead, the maze opened. A clearing. Light.
Chloe pushed harder with every step, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood soaking into her clothes, ignoring everything but the space just beyond reach.
They burst through the final turn—and the labyrinth fell away into something else entirely.
She slowed to a halt barely in time to keep her from tumbling right off the cliff that now lay before them.
Dirt and rock tumbled below, but no sound of it hitting ground came after.
The light they saw only moments before was merely a mirage.
They were trapped.