Chapter 19
Alette
The world jerks violently as the spider hauls me upward, the web snapping tight around my body.
Silk bites into my arms, my ribs, my throat, pinning me in place as it drags me higher, higher…
straight into its nest. Its legs slam down around me, anchoring into the web with sharp, clicking force.
The vibrations rattle through my bones, through the strands wrapped around me, locking me in place.
I can’t move. My sword is trapped against my leg, useless, glowing, burning, but not enough. The spider climbs over me. Huge and menacing. Its body blocks out the dim light, its many eyes fixed on me as it lowers itself, mandibles opening with a wet, clicking sound that turns my stomach.
I suck in a breath that doesn’t fully come.
This is it. I’m going to die. The labyrinth is finally going to finish me.
Suddenly, heat explodes around me. A blast of fire slams into the spider, engulfing it in an instant. Flames rip across its body, searing through hair and chitin, and it lets out a high, shrieking sound as it thrashes directly over me.
The web shakes violently. The strands holding me snap.
I drop.
My stomach lurches as I fall, the world spinning, air ripping past me. I grab out, desperate, one hand free. My hand slams into a strand, and my fingers close around just in time. Pain rips through my shoulder as my weight jerks to a stop, my body swinging hard beneath it.
I scream, the sound tearing out of me as I cling, the web slicing into my palm, my grip slipping. Below me, far too far below, the stone floor waits. One fall. And I’m dead.
The burning spider crashes down past me, its body slamming into the ground in a burst of fire and impact that sends heat rushing upward in a violent wave.
The flames catch.
They spread.
Webs ignite all around me, fire racing through the strands, turning everything into a collapsing, burning trap. I’m not saved, no, I’m just going to die a different way. By fire, or by falling, whichever comes first.
“Alette!” Oberon shouts.
I twist, heart hammering, and see him on the staircase below, one arm braced against the stone, the other still lit with flame. His eyes are locked on me, sharp and furious and focused.
“Hold on!” he shouts.
I tighten my grip, ignoring the burning in my hands, the tremor in my arms, the way the strand is already starting to give beneath me.
I’m slipping.
I’m going to fall…
The others cluster below are tense and alert, their attention fixed on me.
Ashton is already tracking the web, eyes moving fast, searching for a path, for where to use his air powers to save me.
Sylvian stays anchored to the earth, holding the staircase together by sheer force of will even as it groans beneath the strain.
Cassius stands rigid beside him, gaze locked upward, jaw tight, every inch of him focused on keeping the space around Sylvian clear.
They’re ready to move. Ready to act. Waiting on me.
“What do we do?” Ashton asks. “I could use my air–”
Cassius’s voice comes out, calm. “Your air will feed the fire around her. Anything we do will hurt her more. She needs to get out of this herself. We just need to keep the spiders away from her while she untangles herself.”
I have to do this? Okay. Okay. “I can do this.” The words come out sharper than I feel, more a command to myself than anything else.
I tighten my grip on the web and start moving through the intricate trap I’m in, heading back to the staircase.
The strands cling immediately, dragging at my arms and legs, sticking to my clothes, my skin.
My other arm is still half-bound, the silk pulling tight as I wrench it free, the fibers stretching before snapping loose with a sharp sting that makes me wince.
Every movement is a fight, every inch gained hard-won.
My sword still tightly gripped in my hand is finally free.
I use it to slash at the web, the blade cutting cleanly, opening just enough space to push forward.
The web structure shifts under me as soon as I’m loose from the cocoon I was in, the web trembling, sagging in places where the fire has begun to eat through it. I resheath my sword knowing now what I have to do next. I need my arms free if I’m going to climb back to the staircase.
I freeze for half a heartbeat, gripping tight as the web sways, then force myself to start moving. Looking back isn’t an option. The only way out is forward.
“Alette, keep moving! You’re almost to the stairs!” Ashton’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and urgent as he uses his air to throw a spider from a web, splattering it below.
“You can do this!” Sylvian pants.
I lift my head, locking onto them. They feel impossibly far, but I move anyway, dragging myself along the strands, cutting where I have to, pulling free where I can’t.
The air is thick with smoke now, the smell of burning silk heavy in my lungs.
Every breath burns. My muscles shake with the effort, but I don’t stop.
Time passes. I stay focused. Inching closer. Closer and closer to the staircase. I’ve got to be close.
I suck in a breath, my chest tight, and look down. Oberon stands on the staircase, one arm braced, the other still lit with flame, his gaze locked on me with fierce intensity. Finally close. Nearly close enough to touch.
“Hurry up,” he calls, voice rough, edged with strain.
Relief washes over me, gone almost as quickly as it comes. The web is failing beneath me, the fire spreading faster now, heat rising in waves that make it harder to think, harder to breathe. The strands tremble, sagging, threatening to give way entirely.
“Move!” Oberon shouts.
I do. I force myself forward, ignoring the burn in my lungs, the tremor in my arms, the way everything feels like it’s about to collapse. One hand, then the other. One swing of my legs. Then another. The web shifts with every movement, but I keep going, driven by the only thing that matters.
Them.
Oberon reaches for me the second I’m close enough, his grip firm despite everything. I take his hand, and he pulls me against him so suddenly I nearly fall into his chest.
I can’t breathe. The fear, the relief, the sheer force of it crashes through me all at once as I cling to him, my grip tight, my body shaking.
But there’s no time to stop.
The web is still burning. The spiders are still hungry. Sylvian is fading. And we’re not out yet.
“You really are something,” Oberon mutters, giving me a tight squeeze before letting me go.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I reply, my voice shaky.
“Let’s get out of here,” Sylvian says, desperation in his voice.
We break through the last strands and surge out of the opening.
Rain slams into us instantly, cold and violent, soaking through everything, washing away the heat and smoke and filth of the chamber.
The storm roars overhead, wind tearing at us as we stumble onto slick stone, blinking against the sudden gray light.
“Move!” Oberon barks.
There’s no argument.
Behind us, the spiders are still coming. The opening isn’t safety. It’s just another part of the labyrinth.
We run.
My boots slip in mud and water, my lungs burning as I force myself forward. The ground is uneven, twisted, half-swallowed by roots and mud, but I don’t stop. I can hear them behind us, skittering, screeching, the sound cutting through the storm.
“Don’t slow down!” Ashton shouts.
I push harder.
Every step feels like it might be the one where I fall, where I don’t get back up. My ribs scream, my arms shake, my breath tears out of me in ragged bursts, but I keep going because they’re right behind me.
Because they’re still alive.
Because I am too.
Eventually, the sounds start to fade. Not gone. Just… farther. The spiders don’t follow as fast in the open. The fire. The storm. Something slows them.
And then, the sounds of a chase fade altogether, and I know it’s over. At least surviving against the spiders.
My legs give out before I decide to stop. I drop hard into the mud, catching myself with my hands as my whole body shakes, my breath coming too fast. Rain pours over me, cold and relentless, plastering my hair to my face, washing blood and dirt down my skin.
Around me, the others stagger to a stop. No one speaks. We’re all just… breathing. Alive.
I press my hand to my side, wincing as pain flares with every inhale. We made it. I don’t know how, but we did.
Except, we’re all injured. They’re injured. I push myself upright, unsteady, and look at them.
Cassius stands closest, his blade still in his hand, rain soaking through his clothes, his chest rising too fast. There’s a cut along his arm, dark against his skin, already slowing.
Sylvian is a few steps away, one hand pressed to his side, his jaw tight.
Oberon’s shoulder is bloodied where the spider struck him, the fabric torn.
Ashton is breathing hard, braced slightly like the fall and the fight both hit him harder than he’s letting on.
They’re all hurt.
I move to them without thinking. “Are you okay?” My voice comes out rough and uneven.
Cassius’s gaze snaps to me immediately. “Are you?”
“I’m fine.” It’s a lie. “You’re bleeding.”
“So are you,” Sylvian says quietly.
I ignore that and step in close to Cassius first, my hand brushing his arm, checking the wound even though I barely know what I’m doing. It’s already slowing.
Fae. Of course they’re already healing. Still, my chest tightens.
I rise onto my toes and kiss him. It’s quick, but not light.
His hand closes around my waist the second I sway, anchoring me with a touch that feels almost desperate, like he needs to know I’m real too.
The moment lingers, perfect and fragile, before I step back and turn to Sylvian.
He’s watching me, something softer breaking through the tension.
I reach for him, my fingers brushing the place he was hit.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ll heal,” he says.
“That’s not the point.”
My throat tightens. I kiss him too, slower this time, my hand curling into his shirt like I need something solid to hold onto. He exhales softly against my lips, his thumb brushing my arm.
I move to Oberon next.
The heat of him is still there under the rain, coiled and sharp. The wound on his shoulder looks worse up close.
“Oberon…”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I don’t like it.”
He huffs something low. I kiss him too, firmly, my hand braced against his chest. He stills, then his hand closes around my wrist, not stopping me, just… holding.
Finally, I come to Ashton. He straightens when I reach him, like he’s trying to pretend nothing touched him. But I see the shift in his stance.
“You’re not fine either.”
“I am,” he says. “We all are.”
“Promise?” I kiss him softly, something steadier in it.
When I pull back, I look at all of them again. Rain runs down their faces. Blood washes away in thin lines. The storm rages around us.
But they’re here.
All of them.
Oberon rolls his shoulder, wincing slightly. “We’re not done yet.”
Ashton nods. “We can’t stop. Not here.”
Of course not.
We never get to stop.
I let out a slow breath. Every step has been worse than the last. Every path leads to something trying to kill us. And somehow… I wouldn’t go back. Not to the cabin. Not to the quiet life I had before. Not after this. Not after them.
The realization sinks in deep and certain. Whatever happens when this is over, whether they still want me, whether I belong in their world at all… I’m not the same person who walked into this labyrinth.
I look at them again. Really look. Even like this. Bloodied. Soaked. Exhausted. I would choose this. I would choose them.
“Let’s keep moving,” Oberon says.
He’s right, we should, even if the only thing I want to do right now is hold them close to me and pretend it could last forever.