7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

T he wards rippled over her skin as she passed through them. Zylah had no idea which direction to take; every passage looked the same, rock and root and dirt and darkness. When she’d tried to escape before, slivers of sunlight had still poked through gaps from above, wherever above was. But now the sun had set and the shadows were deep.

She held tightly to the orblight for fear it might fall from her grasp and shatter to the floor, leaving her alone in the dark. Strange noises echoed from deeper within the maze, every sound fraying her nerves and sending her heart racing all over again.

Get out. Find him. The two thoughts cycled on repeat, fashioning her resolve into something sharp.

A root snagged Zylah’s foot and she fell, arms outstretched to keep the orblight safe, her chest taking the brunt of her tumble. “Fuck,” she whispered into the dirt, laying prone as she caught her breath. She couldn’t risk calling out to Arioch, couldn’t risk anything that would draw attention. If Raif had been brought in and out by another Fae, or worse, a vampire who had once been a Fae with the ability to evanesce, then Zylah couldn’t risk being discovered.

Instead, she pressed on, smothering the fear threatening to overcome her. Small creatures scuttled in the shadows, something that was too much like a hiss far too close for comfort, but Zylah ignored it all. The maze changed as she moved. Sometimes the passages seemed like they were dug into the side of a mountain, sometimes the walls glistened with little shards of purple crystal, other times they were completely covered in tree roots and vines. Every now and then a cool breeze blew, a thin shaft of moonlight slashing across the dirt. She’d brought no water with her, and realised now what a stupid mistake that was.

The walls began to glisten again in the glow of the orblight, something crunching underfoot as the passageway narrowed. Shadows moved and strange sounds echoed from up ahead as the rock closed in on her, until the light cast evenly on either side and Zylah could take in her surroundings more clearly. Her palms grew slick at the sight. Insects. Long and thin, shiny black bodies with hundreds of tiny legs, crawling and writhing and twisting over the walls, over each other, underfoot.

She stifled a yelp. At her feet, dozens of them crawled over her boots. But she couldn’t go back, only through. Zylah sucked in a steadying breath, praying they didn’t bite, or worse, possess venom as she took a step forwards, more of them crunching beneath her feet.

The walls narrowed until the passage was barely wider than the width of her shoulders, the ceiling close enough to touch. She cradled the orblight to her chest, mouth closed as insects fell into her hair and crawled across her shoulders. Only when one slipped into the gap between her tunic and her neck did she run, one hand against the wall to steady herself, fingers pressing against dozens and dozens of the things, the passageway narrowing, narrowing, the ceiling getting lower, until Zylah was forced to her hands and knees, one hand still awkwardly clutching the orblight as she crawled.

They were in her hair, her boots, her clothes, everywhere. Zylah bit back a whimper, desperate not to shatter the orblight as she shuffle-crawled through the tiny space, a sob escaping her when it opened out and she could push up onto her feet, yanking insects from her hair and running.

But her boot caught something, and she tripped, clutching the orblight as the insects crawled over her, tearing them off and reaching into her clothes to cast them away, all the while trying not to make a sound, but there were too many. She had no choice but to lay down the orblight, silently clawing at her hair and clothes, hands shaking as she pulled the things from her, kicking off her boots and biting back a curse.

A whistle sounded, barely audible, but the insects began to retreat. A second whistle and every last one of the slithering mass fled. Zylah released a quiet string of curses as she pressed her hands to her head to make sure they were really gone.

“Zylah?”

She scrambled for the orblight, holding it up to see Arioch engulfed in shadow, a piece of metal in his hand. The whistle, no doubt.

“I need to get one of those,” she told him. “Thank you.”

Arioch waited for her to pull her boots back on before offering a hand. “The light,” he explained. “They’d have followed you until dawn.”

Zylah clutched the glowing orb to her chest. Arioch must have come from the shadows, found his way to her in the dark.

“I’ve been here a long time, Zylah,” he said, as if he’d guessed her thoughts. “I’ve known my way around by touch alone for more years than I care to count.” He shielded his face from the orblight, an arm raised, and Zylah immediately pulled it behind her back.

“We need to move.” Zylah explained what she’d given Raif. How she didn’t know if he was dead or if she’d just bought herself some time. “Come with me.”

“They’ll come looking for you,” Arioch said, looking back the way she’d come. “If not Raif, the others. I can slow them down.”

“No.” Zylah took a step towards the Seraphim. She wouldn’t leave him there. “Come with me.”

Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. “I am sealed in, Zylah. I cannot leave the way you are going, no matter how much I wish to.” He looked behind him into the gloom, some sound or movement Zylah hadn’t detected drawing his attention.

She wanted to protest, to tell him they’d find a way, but the look on his face told her it was futile.

“You’ll come back for me when you have your magic. I know you’ll stay true to your word.”

“I will,” she promised him.

Arioch motioned for her to follow, leading the way through more passageways than Zylah could keep track of. “The maze is intended to trick anyone within it. To challenge, to manipulate. There are creatures here that will prey on your fears, your flesh. Things in the walls that will have you tearing at your hair and losing your mind. You can still turn back.”

A chill ran down Zylah’s spine, but she chose her words carefully. She had no intention of being a prisoner again, though she didn’t think Arioch would take too kindly to her declaring that, given his predicament. Pallia’s words came to her instead, from when Zylah had almost died and thought she’d seen her grandmother’s ghost. “There are people out there who need me.”

The Seraphim nodded as they rounded another corner, tree roots covering every section of wall. “I’d hoped you’d return. I kept a journal many years ago, when I was determined to make my way out of here. Take it.”

For the first time, Zylah realised he was wearing a bag slung across his body, and from it, he pulled a battered notebook wrapped in cord. Zylah eyed the blood-stained cover as she took it from him, trepidation rising before she shoved it aside.

“Many wander into the maze determined to beat it. The maze always wins,” Arioch explained, a hint of something that might have been embarrassment in his voice.

“Beat it how? What lies at its centre?”

He looked away from her then. “Only suffering.”

Zylah flicked through the journal, taking in sketches and symbols, a brittle map that folded out into several sections. At a glance, none of it made sense. The maze was vast.

Arioch passed her the shoulder bag, quickly relaying its contents: a full bladder, two daggers, scraps of fabric like the ones she’d saved back in her room, a flint and striking rock. “I’ve been forced to take from the dead many times,” he admitted.

“So have I.” And she knew the kind of desperation that had no doubt driven him to do it, too. “Thank you for this. For all of it.” Zylah fastened the cord over the journal and slipped it into the bag with everything else, eager to soak up whatever he could tell her, whatever she could use to escape.

“You’ll need a sling.” Arioch flicked his chin at the orblight. “Don’t go anywhere without a weapon in your hand, even when you sleep.” He rolled the whistle between his fingers. “The crawlers will stay away, but it will attract other creatures to you, ones you do not want to meet alone. Any time you see water droplets on the rock wall, collect them. If a rotten scent permeates the air, run.” He was talking faster now, words spilling out of him. “If you lose the light, rest come nightfall. The maze was designed to have just enough light during the day. Maddening if you’re like me, but I suspect your eyesight might be better than mine.”

“Zylah!”

Raif. “He found me,” Zylah breathed.

The Seraphim glanced somewhere over her shoulder, a frown creasing his face. “Do not linger near the mouth of the maze, even if you need to rest. It’s too dangerous. And whatever you do, don’t let her touch you. Down here. Go.”

“Go where?”

But the Seraphim didn’t answer. Arioch’s foot met her back, and then Zylah was falling.