Chapter 6 #2
“You’re human,” Cassius says quietly, like he’s reminding all of them. “You lose heat faster.”
“No kidding,” Ashton mutters, pulling me closer still.
Their movements grow more deliberate after that. More careful. Like they’ve all suddenly remembered something important. How easily I can break. How easily I could slip through their fingers if they aren’t careful.
The rain keeps pouring down, relentless, but in the center of it, surrounded by them, the cold eases just a fraction. Not enough. But enough to hold on.
Then, without warning, a rope ladder drops into the pit. It dangles in front of us, swaying slightly in the wind. None of us move, too stunned to react. Would… would the cyclops throw us a rope?
“Hello down there!” a cheerful voice calls out.
I look up and see a figure standing at the edge of the pit, a silhouette against the stormy sky.
The man is tall and lean, his features sharp and elegant in the faint light.
His silver hair gleams, and his eyes are a vivid green, practically glowing against the darkness.
He’s dressed in fine clothes, a flowing cape billowing behind him.
“Who the hell are you?” Oberon demands, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword, though it feels futile when we can’t even reach the guy.
“Lord Ferngull,” the man says with a friendly smile, bowing slightly. “At your service. You seem to be in quite the predicament. Allow me to assist.”
“Why?” Ashton asks, his tone suspicious. “What do you get out of it?”
I give him a look. Can we really afford to question the person saving us? At least while we’re still in the hole? Let’s question him when we’re safely free.
“Why, nothing at all,” Ferngull replies, his smile never wavering. “I was out for my nightly stroll and happened upon your… unfortunate situation. This hole often opens up in the worst places on the darndest occasions, so I keep it on my rotation. You'd be surprised how many creatures it captures.”
We exchange glances, the unspoken agreement clear. We can’t trust him, not completely. But we also don’t have a choice. Staying here isn’t an option.
“Alright,” Oberon says finally “We’re coming up.”
Lord Ferngull raises a hand, his expression calm. “Great, we’ll have you out of there lickitysplit.”
One by one, we climb the rope ladder, the storm raging around us, the rain soaking us to the skin. My hands ache from the effort, the wet rope ladder slippery beneath my fingers. When I finally reach the top, Oberon immediately extends a hand to help me up the rest of the way.
“Welcome back to solid ground,” Lord Ferngull says with a grin, and the light in his eyes seems genuine.
The others join us, their expressions wary as they face Lord Ferngull.
The tension between us is palpable, each of us bracing for trouble.
So far, all this labyrinth has brought is trouble, so I think our feelings are fair.
Though he doesn’t seem bothered by our suspicion, his demeanor is as friendly and non-threatening as could be.
Does that make him more suspicious?
“Now, then,” he says, clasping his hands together, his voice smooth, almost pleasant in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure you’re eager to be on your way, but I would advise against it.”
He glances out through the twisting maze, where rain lashes endlessly against the towering hedges, and wind tears through the narrow paths hard enough to make the thick walls shudder and sway.
“The labyrinth is never kind,” he continues, almost thoughtfully, “but at night… it becomes something else entirely. The paths shift more. The creatures grow bolder. And storms like this…” His gaze lifts briefly as thunder rolls overhead.
“They don’t pass quickly. They linger. They swallow sound, blur sight, hide what’s hunting you until it’s far too close. ”
A chill runs down my spine.
“Traveling through it now would be… unwise,” he finishes, turning his attention back to us with a faint, knowing smile. “My castle is nearby. Dry. Safe. You’re welcome to wait the storm out there.”
We hesitate, exchanging glances as the wind rises again, sharp and biting, the rain soaking through what little warmth we have left. The thought of staying out here, of wandering blind through a storm that hides more than it reveals, makes me uneasy.
“It’s your choice,” Lord Ferngull adds lightly, though there’s something firmer beneath the words. “But this storm isn’t in any hurry to leave. And neither are the things it conceals.”
“He has a point there,” Ashton says softly.
“But, which is safer–” I begin, but then stop myself from saying more.
Lord Ferngull's gaze lingers on us a moment longer, sharper now, more assessing than before. Like he’s weighing something.
“Forgive me,” he says after a beat, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve offered shelter without even asking who I have the pleasure of hosting.”
The others go still beside me. Knowledge is power, and we don’t know this man. He’s obviously a fae, from his pointed ears to his strange beauty, but that doesn’t mean his loyalty is to these four men. The labyrinth could’ve twisted him into something else. Something dangerous to us.
And yet, he is offering us his hospitality. Our names are a small price to pay. Right?
“I’m Alette,” I offer softly, knowing my name won’t matter when he hears theirs.
Sylvian steps forward. “Sylvian,” he says, voice smooth and cool, carrying easily despite the storm. “King of the Winter Fae.”
A brief shift crosses Lord Ferngull’s face.
“Cassius,” comes the next introduction, sharper, edged with something darker. “King of the Water Fae.”
“Oberon,” the fire fae says, low and rough, power threaded through the single word. “King of the Fire Fae.”
A final step forward. A quieter voice, but no less certain.
“Ashton,” he says. “King of the Wind Fae.”
It takes Lord Ferngull a second to respond, his pleasant expression faltering as his eyes widen ever so slightly and the weight of it sinks in. He looks from one to the next, like he’s making sure he heard correctly, like he’s counting them.
The shift in him is instant. He straightens sharply, then bows, deep and formal, nothing like the easy friendliness from before.
“My apologies,” he says, and now there’s no mistaking the reverence in his voice. “Had I known I stood before the Fae Kings themselves, I would have greeted you with the honor you are due.”
When he fully stands once more, something like awe lingers in his expression, bright and unmistakable.
“It has been a very long time since a Fae King has walked these lands,” he continues, a breath of disbelief slipping through. “To receive all four at once…” He shakes his head slightly, as if still trying to reconcile it.
“I am… deeply honored. Please, whatever aid you require, it is yours. My home, my protection, my resources. You need only ask.”
He bows, deep and formal, nothing like the casual friendliness from before. This is something older. Reverent.
“To my castle?” he asks.
Are we going there? Does this mean we’re safe? I honestly can’t tell. Nothing seems to be safe in the labyrinth.
My gaze goes to the others, but they’re all staring at me, frowning.
“She could get sick spending a night out in a storm like this,” Cassius says.
“We can’t risk that,” Oberon murmurs.
Reluctantly, I take a deep breath, my pulse quickening as I look at the strange man. “Alright. We’ll go with you.”
Lord Ferngull beams, the smile transforming his sharp features into something almost disarming. “Wonderful. Follow me, then.”
We fall in line behind him, the storm swallowing the sound of our steps as we move deeper into the labyrinth. Rain soaks through everything, cold and relentless, and I pull my arms tighter around my shaking body, already imagining what waits ahead.
A real roof. Dry clothes. Warmth that seeps into your bones instead of cutting through them. A fire. Food that isn’t rationed or scavenged. A bath.
A bed.
The thought alone makes my chest ache.
I glance at the others as we walk, at the tension still lingering in their shoulders, at the way they stay close without thinking, and I wonder if they’re picturing the same things. If they’re as tired as I am. If they want, just for a little while, to stop fighting and breathe.
Something about this feels… too easy. The thought lingers in the back of my mind, quiet but impossible to ignore.
The labyrinth has never given us anything without a cost. It doesn’t offer comfort.
It doesn’t offer rest. But the storm rages harder around us, wind howling through the hedges, rain blinding and cold, and the alternative is staying out there in it.
Wandering. Freezing. Waiting for something worse to find us first.
I let out a slow breath and push the doubt aside, just enough to keep moving.
Maybe this time… it’s exactly what it looks like.
Maybe, for once, we’ll be safe.