Chapter 6
Alette
The silence in the pit presses in on all sides, thick and heavy, broken only by our breathing and the faint whisper of leaves far above.
The air smells like damp soil and moss, clinging to my lungs with every breath.
I keep expecting the cyclopes to appear, to loom over the edge and drag us out one by one, but nothing comes.
Which… I guess is a good thing?
Oberon is pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The confined space clearly getting to him, his steps sharp and restless, his hand flexing at his side like he wants to burn something just to prove he still can.
The faint light from above catches the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw keeps tightening.
“Stop,” Sylvian says mildly from where he sits against the wall. “You’re going to wear a trench into the ground, and then we’ll really be stuck.”
Oberon shoots him a look but doesn’t stop.
Sylvian sighs, dragging a hand through his long black hair before glancing at me. “On the bright side,” he adds, his tone almost light, “if we do dig ourselves deeper, at least we’ll be consistent. We’ve done nothing but go down since you met us.”
Despite everything, a small, surprised breath of laughter escapes me. It feels strange. Out of place, but not unwelcome.
Ashton perks up immediately, his gorgeous brown eyes practically lighting up. “There it is,” he says, a grin tugging at his mouth as he shifts closer, coming to sit beside me. “Knew we could still impress you.”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “This is your idea of impressive?”
“Surviving near-death experiences while looking this good?” he says, flashing a crooked smile. “Absolutely.”
I huff out another quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, here I am,” he murmurs, just a little softer, his gaze lingering a second longer than it should before he leans back against the wall.
Cassius hasn’t moved much, still propped where we left him, but his eyes are open, distant and focused. “It isn’t random,” he says quietly, like he’s continuing a thought we can’t hear. “The suppression of our powers. It’s inconsistent, yes, but not without cause.”
Oberon finally stops pacing, turning toward him. “Meaning?”
Cassius shifts slightly, wincing before settling again.
“Meaning the labyrinth isn’t blocking our power entirely.
It’s limiting it. Weakening it at specific moments, likely based on proximity, intent, or…
” He trails off, frowning faintly. “Something environmental. Something we haven’t identified yet. ”
“So it’s choosing when to screw us over,” Ashton mutters.
“In a manner of speaking,” Cassius replies.
“That’s comforting,” Ashton says dryly.
“It’s information,” Sylvian counters, his green eyes thoughtful. “Which is better than nothing.”
Oberon exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before looking up toward the opening again, like he’s measuring it, calculating distance, angles, anything that might get us out of here faster.
“It doesn’t matter right now,” he says finally. “We’ve been burning through what little strength we have left trying to force something that isn’t working.”
He looks at each of us in turn, his voice lower now, more controlled. “This shouldn’t just be a brief break from trying to get out. We need to rest. I mean, actually rest, not this. Rest enough that we have the energy to really try to get out of here. We’re all spent.”
I blink at him. “Rest?”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “You just broke chains meant to hold fae kings. They carved into us for gods know how long. And we’ve been running since.
” His gaze sharpens slightly. “We’re not climbing anything or digging our way out of this if we collapse halfway through it.
Which means we have to sleep, eat, and drink… somehow.”
Sylvian nods once. “He’s right. We should recover what we can, then try again. The ground, the walls… something here will give if we hit it hard enough.”
Ashton nudges my shoulder lightly. “On the upside,” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear, “I’ve realized something important.”
“Oh?” I glance at him.
“I have terrible luck when I’m not near you,” he says, completely serious. “So, for my own survival, I’m going to have to keep you close from now on.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“Tragically, it’s a you solution,” he replies smoothly.
Sylvian snorts softly from nearby. “Convenient how that worked out.”
“Remarkable, really,” Ashton agrees, not even a little ashamed.
Despite everything, I feel a little better. His words don't fix anything. We’re still trapped. Still underground. Still with no options. But for a moment, just a moment, it feels a little less like we’re going to die down here.
“There’s a grove near my home with trees that bear golden apples,” Sylvian says, a small smile playing on his lips. “If you eat one, it fills you with this incredible happiness. It’s like the world’s worries melt away.”
I can almost see it in my mind. The sunlight filtering through the leaves, the sweet scent of the apples hanging in the air. Sylvian, even happier than ever. Golden light pouring over his bronzed skin and perfect face.
“And there’s a river near my castle,” Ashton adds, his tone more animated now, some of that familiar spark slipping back into his voice. “The fish there glitter like jewels, and they sing. It’s… surreal, really.”
He glances at me as he says it, like he’s not just describing the place, but offering it.
I can picture it, not just the river, but him there.
Standing at the edge of the water, the light catching in his hair, that crooked smile on his face as he watches something beautiful and pretends it doesn’t affect him.
The kind of place that feels alive in a quiet, impossible way, where the air hums with something soft and magic, and the sound of it would wrap around you until you forgot everything else.
It doesn’t feel like a story. It feels like somewhere I could step into… somewhere he’s inviting me to see.
“You’d like it,” Oberon says, turning to me, his brown eyes warm and earnest. “We’ll take you there when this is all over.”
The idea of seeing these places with them, of having a future where we’re not constantly fighting for survival, sends a strange warmth through me.
It’s an odd feeling, wanting something like that.
Wanting a future where they’re part of my life.
I’m not sure what to make of it, but it blooms like a flower, fragile yet determined to grow.
Overhead, the first rumble of thunder breaks the quiet, shaking me from my thoughts.
I look up, watching as dark clouds roll across the sky, blotting out the stars and swallowing the moonlight.
Lightning flashes, illuminating the pit for a brief moment, casting eerie shadows that dance along the walls.
“Great,” Oberon mutters, crossing his arms, his expression darkening as the storm rolls in. “Stuck in a pit during a storm. Just our luck.”
The rain starts as a light drizzle, barely more than a mist against my skin, but within moments it turns into a downpour.
Cold water pours into the pit, onto us, soaking the ground beneath us, dripping down the walls, pooling around our boots.
The chill cuts through me fast and deep, sinking into my bones like it’s determined to stay.
I suck in a sharp breath, my body reacting before I can stop it. My arms wrap around myself, but it doesn’t help. The cold keeps creeping in, relentless. My teeth start to chatter, a faint tremor at first, then worse, my whole body beginning to shake.
“Gods,” Ashton mutters, looking up at the sky above us. “I asked myself how this pit could get worse, and the world answered. That’s on me.”
I try to regain control, but it’s hopeless. The trembling only intensifies, locking up my muscles and numbing my fingers.
“Alette.” Sylvian is there before I can respond, his hand firm on my arm as he pulls me toward him. “Come here.”
I don’t argue. I don’t have the strength to.
He sits and draws me down into his lap, wrapping his arms around me immediately, one hand sliding up and down my arm in slow, steady strokes, trying to bring warmth back into my skin.
“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing near my ear. “You’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” I try to say, but it comes out shaky, barely controlled.
“You’re freezing,” he replies gently, not believing me for a second. His hands keep moving over my arms, firm and rhythmic, like he’s trying to will the warmth back into me. “My little human,” he adds softly, almost to himself.
That seems to snap the others into motion.
Oberon moves in first, crouching close behind me, his hand coming to my side, warm even through the soaked fabric as he rubs hard, trying to generate heat.
Ashton shifts in on my other side, his arm sliding around me, pulling me between him and Sylvian, his usual teasing gone, replaced with something more focused.
“Gods, you’re ice cold,” Ashton mutters, his hand moving up and down my other arm, mirroring Sylvian’s movements.
Cassius, slower but no less deliberate, leans in from the front, his hands finding mine, cold fingers curling around them, rubbing them between his palms to bring feeling back.
They surround me without hesitation. Without question. Four bodies closing in, blocking the wind, trapping what little warmth they can between us. I’m pressed in from every side, their hands moving constantly, rubbing my arms, my back, my hands, trying to fight the cold that’s taken hold of me.
But my teeth won’t stop chattering.
“I can’t—” I try, but the words break apart as another shiver tears through me.
“You’re alright,” Sylvian murmurs again, tightening his hold just slightly. “We’ve got you.”
Oberon’s voice is rough. “Should’ve thought about this sooner,” he mutters, frustration laced through it, but his hand doesn’t stop moving.