Chapter 17
The sudden burst of light is so intense, it nearly blinds me.
My vision tilts wildly as a mosaic of color on the ground shifts into a dizzying dance of vibrant hues, a whirl of crimson, azure, and alabaster.
I stumble, and a faint crunching sound reverberates.
My hand slams against the wall to keep me upright, and I take a stumbling step back as I clutch my aura like it’s the only thread tethering me to sanity.
I blink rapidly, hoping to clear my sight, but the vision before me remains unchanged.
Shafts of golden light pour down from above, illuminating sections of a mosaic floor that stretches the length of the tunnel. At the far end, a door stands waiting, its presence inviting me forward with the hope of escape.
The intricate tiles gleam with shapes and patterns—birds and flowers and beasts. But my gaze snags on the fracture lines spiderwebbing through a section to my left. My stomach lurches as a chunk of the floor crumbles into black nothingness.
My thoughts spiral, frantic and unfocused, colliding like shards of a shattered floor.
The crunching sound I’d heard lingers in my mind—tiles breaking underfoot?
The ground beneath me now feels steady, the mosaic solid under the soles of my boots.
I glance down, forcing myself to focus. A pool of golden light encases me, spilling across the floor and highlighting the slab of untouched tiles beneath my feet.
I survey the space once more, my attention drawn to the patches of tiled floor illuminated by the overhead light. I pause, my eyes narrowing as I study the pattern. It’s far too intentional to be mere coincidence—each pool of light positioned with precision.
A pathway.
My pulse quickens, but I focus on the patches of light. It’s a fragile promise of safety, one I cling to as I move forward. The nausea swells as I step onto the first patch of light-touched tiles. I pause, standing as still as possible as I wait, expecting to drop to my defeat any moment now.
The ground beneath me holds.
My throat is dry and burning when I croak, “Okay, move. Don’t stop.”
I navigate cautiously from one patch of light to the next, each step demanding a slightly longer stride.
As I progress, the distance stretches to the point where I’m nearly forced to leap.
Approaching the end of the tunnel, I make my next jump just as the golden light flickers.
I land clumsily, my balance faltering as I teeter to the right before regaining my footing.
Another section falls away ahead. I force my legs to move again, leaping to a tile marked with an oak leaf.
My vision doubles just before I land, and for a sickening moment, I think I’ve miscalculated.
My boots scrape against the edge, the tile groaning ominously beneath my weight, but it holds. Barely.
Somewhere in the distance, a faint rhythmic sound stirs—irregular and soft, like the trailing of boots dragging lightly across stone.
My chest tightens, and I whip my head back toward the stretch of pathway behind me.
The spaces between illuminated tiles remain empty, the gaps wide open to the abyss below.
I shake my head. It must be my own movements echoing wrong, refracting off the walls of this cursed place. Still, the sound lingers longer than it should. Tighter than a figment of my imagination. The pit of my stomach churns with something half formed, uneasy.
I force myself to focus on the illuminated path and its intricate, golden rules. Whatever waits back there, real or not, time is already winning my fight.
The faint shafts of light shift again, highlighting the path ahead—stars, flowers, a curled serpent. I commit it to memory, my lips moving soundlessly as I mouth the sequence under my breath. Movement catches in the corner of my eye, flickers of shadows dancing along the jagged edges of the abyss.
It’s not real. Focus, Aella.
I hurl myself onto the next tile, lungs burning as I gasp for air.
A sharp cramp tears through my stomach like a vise, nearly doubling me over, but there’s no time—no room—for hesitation.
The pounding in my skull grows louder, like a drumbeat of impending doom, my trembling limbs threatening to give out.
I glance back for a split second, and my stomach drops—a section of tiles has already begun to collapse, falling silently into the endless abyss below.
Panic surges through me. The last jump is a haze of desperation—I throw myself forward with every ounce of strength I have left, my balance teetering on the edge of failure.
My knees slam against the final patch of light-soaked tiles, pain exploding through my body.
My fingers claw at the surface as I drag myself forward, heart racing.
Behind me, the tiles crumble faster now, the sound of nothingness swallowing them whole.
I barely register that I’ve made it. My body collapses against the door, my lungs rasping against the molten weight of the poison clawing through me. Every second that passes feels less real, less mine.
Any sense of accomplishment is fleeting when I finally lift my gaze.
I haul myself upright, every ounce of strength I have left straining to make the motion possible.
My breathing is ragged, and my vision pulses faintly at the edges, but I force myself to look at the door properly for the first time.
My chest feels ready to collapse, and yet the shadow of survival keeps me moving. Keeps me hoping.
The door’s surface is smooth and unyielding, carved from the same stone as the rest of the labyrinth. Where a handle should be, there’s…nothing. Just a shallow circular slot at the center. I lift my aura weakly, its flickering glow casting faint shadows across the surrounding edges.
Steadying myself, I press trembling fingers to the slot, tracing its edges. Smooth. Perfectly hollow. “Another test,” I whisper, the sound barely audible over the pounding in my head.
I grit my teeth and lean heavily against the door, pressing my forehead to the cool stone. My mind spins as I try to recall what Master Cyril said the labyrinth would test.
My resilience—the way I’d pushed forward through to this point, through dead ends, even when the poison gnawed at me and survival seemed impossible.
I’d survived. The mosaic? That was my perception, wasn’t it?
Reading patterns, finding the path that made sense when nothing else did.
Every step was a heartbeat away from falling into darkness, but I solved it. I beat them.
The knot in my stomach tightens, and my eyes flicker to the slot again.
A perfect fit for the aura.
A new sound prickles at the edges of my perception. It’s faint—an arrhythmic scrape, like fingernails against stone in the distance. My heart stutters, and I cast a glance over my shoulder, the dim tunnel yawning behind me in endless shadow.
Every ounce of logic screams at me that it can’t be real. Nobody else could have found their way here. And yet, the sound persists, growing no nearer but refusing to fade entirely.
I press my brow to the cold surface of the door, forcing my focus ahead. Maybe it’s the poison twisting my senses. Or maybe it’s the labyrinth’s answer to my doubts. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I have a choice to make now.
With trembling fingers, I raise the glowing orb. It flares weakly, like it can sense the moment that’s coming. The circular slot waits, expectant, carved with sharp precision—a cruel mouth ready to swallow what I have left. To take my light and sight.
“Sacrifice.”
I press the aura into place, and the glow instantly stutters out. I stumble forward as the door swings open with a groan. The darkness beyond reaches for me, ready to claim my defeat.
And then my body revolts.
My knees hit the ground, and I heave as acid rises in my throat. When the bile finally scorches its way out, tears sting my eyes. My hands—now trembling—wipe across my mouth. I try to force myself upright, but my head spins, nausea a living thing clawing through my gut.
The nightshade. I’m running out of time.
The faint scrape of a boot against stone echoes from behind, slicing through the thickness of my panic.
I freeze, but the sound grows louder. It’s deliberate—taunting me.
Another scrape, this time accompanied by the metal shriek of steel against rock.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I force my legs to stand.
I have to move. I have to.
Wasting no more time, I place my left palm on the wall and stumble forward, pushing through the pain and nausea. The ground beneath me inclines, leading me steadily upward. The sounds of my pursuer grow louder, and my heart beats harder against my rib cage with each echoing footfall.
Louder.
Closer.
A frustrated sob escapes me, and another screeching cry of metal on stone replies.
And that’s when I feel it.
A faint breeze coming from up ahead, so subtle, like the soft caress of a feather against my soul. I angle my face, and the light brush of wind strokes my left cheek.
I stumble toward it.
My steps are erratic now, my balance failing.
My body feels…disconnected. Like it doesn’t belong to me anymore.
My skin is too tight, the flesh beneath trembling as I push my legs to keep moving.
But the darkness surrounding me twists. Deeper shadows warp and bend, shapes flickering along the walls at the edges of my vision.
My heart slams against my ribs as I whip my head toward them.
Nothing. There’s nothing there.
Yet the whispers start next, soft voices indistinct but menacing as they coil in my ears. They sound like they’re coming from everywhere, from inside my head.
The ground tilts beneath me, or maybe I tilt—I can’t tell.
I slam into a flat surface as my balance betrays me. The surface gives way, and my weight carries me forward into blinding light. The roar of a crowd assaults my ears, louder than thunder, but it doesn’t even sound real. It distorts and breaks apart, twisting into something unrecognizable.
Strong arms wrap around me as my knees buckle.
My chest heaves, but I can’t seem to catch a proper breath.
My head jerks up, eyes meeting Keres’s face, but his smirk shifts, his features melting one moment, snapping into sharp clarity the next.
“Congratulations, Aella,” he says, and his voice echoes like it comes from miles away.
I try to respond, but nothing comes.
There’s no victory here, only the poison coursing through me. My limbs give out as it works deeper.
Around us, the crowd is still cheering, their voices tangling into strange, bell-like peals. The world tilts, then twists, sickening and chaotic. I reach out to hold on to something—anything.
And the nightshade pulls me into its dark embrace.