Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

After my dream about Zara betraying us, sleep became an elusive luxury. I tossed and turned, my mind a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. The weight of the knowledge pressed down on me. I wanted to warn my team, but the futility of the situation gnawed at me. Even if I did, there was nothing we could do. The Mirror of Aethereal had chosen Zara. Without her, we couldn't complete our last task or obtain the Crown of Envy.

As dawn broke, I dragged myself out of bed, my body protesting every movement. I couldn't bear this burden alone. With trembling hands and a racing heart, I pulled Damon and Justice aside after breakfast. The words tumbled out of me in a whispered rush as I recounted my dream of Zara's alliance with Maci.

Justice's face darkened, his body tensing beside me. But it was Damon's reaction that caught my attention.

Damon's jaw clenched so hard I could almost hear his molars grinding. He ran a hand roughly through his hair, a humorless laugh escaping him. "Well, isn't that fan-friggin-tastic," he growled. "We've got our very own Judas in the ranks. Because this magical mystery tour wasn't already enough of a crapshoot."

He paced, his movements sharp and agitated. "So, what's the plan, huh? We waltz into this funhouse of horrors with Benedict Arnold in tow, hoping she doesn't decide to cash in her betrayal chips at the worst possible moment?" He stopped abruptly, his eyes burning with anger and determination. "I say we confront her. Air out this dirty laundry before it suffocates us."

He jabbed a finger for emphasis. "And if Miss Congeniality decides to go full dark side on us, well…" He patted the weapon at his side, smiling grimly. "Let's say I've got a few tricks up my sleeve for dealing with turncoats."

The intensity of Damon's reaction sent a shiver down my spine.

Justice laid a hand on his arm. "She has to come. The mirror chose her."

Damon's body tensed under Justice's touch, his fists clenching and unclenching. He opened his mouth, ready to argue, then shut it with an audible click of his teeth. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply, trying to rein in his anger. "Fine," he growled. "I'll keep the secret, but as soon as we get the Crown, that witch is going to burn before she turns it over to Maci."

As we headed to the SUV, my backpack felt heavier than usual. The strap of my quiver dug into my shoulder, and the familiar weight of my bow in my hand was oddly comforting. The jeweled dagger at my hip pulsed as if aware of the impending danger. I clutched the compass tightly, its cool metal surface grounding me amid the swirling anxiety in my mind.

I casually glanced at Zara's right hand but didn't see a silver ring. It could be on her left one.

I climbed into the SUV, my muscles protesting after the restless night, and settled between Lisa and Justice. Justice's body beside me was a comfort, while Lisa's proximity made me acutely aware of the secret I was keeping. I almost wanted to tell her about my suspicions, but the words caught in my throat. Lisa continued to be Zara's champion, and I didn't think she would believe me.

Brody drove us to the South Bridge, the compass in my hand pointing steadily in the direction we were heading. As we approached the entrance to the catacombs, a chill enveloped me that had nothing to do with the cool Scottish air. The gaping maw of darkness seemed to swallow all light. The stone archway was weathered and ancient, covered in a thin sheen of moisture that glistened ominously.

We descended the worn stone stairs, the air growing colder and damper with each step. The catacomb walls were rough-hewn rock. Our flashlights cast eerie shadows that danced and flickered, playing tricks on our eyes.

The passageways twisted and turned, a labyrinthine network designed to confuse and disorient. The air was thick with the musty scent of age and decay, making each breath feel heavy. Water dripped in the distance, the sound echoing off the stone walls in an unsettling rhythm.

As we ventured deeper, we passed numerous alcoves and chambers. Some held ancient stone coffins. Others were filled with piles of bones, silent witnesses to centuries of Edinburgh's history. I shuddered, my mind racing with morbid curiosity. How had they died? Were they victims of the plague or perhaps accused of witchcraft? The unanswered questions gnawed at me.

The compass continued to guide us through the underground maze until we came to a sudden halt. Before us stood a massive, ornately carved door with the image of a scale, the symbol of balance and judgment. I glanced over my shoulder at my team's weary faces. My gaze skipped over Zara, the sharpness of my suspicions making it hard to even look at her.

"This is it," I announced. My gut tightened with dread.

With a trembling hand, I touched the door. The stone was cool beneath my fingers, but the instant I made contact, a surge of energy pulsed through me. The door swung open with an ominous creak, revealing not the expected darkness but a passageway lit by flickering torches in ornate sconces.

As we stepped over the threshold, the air shifted dramatically. It became crisp and clear, tinged with an otherworldly scent I couldn't quite place. The labyrinth walls seemed to shimmer as if not quite solid.

"Stay close," Brody warned. "Remember, we'll each face our own challenges here."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the labyrinth came to life around us. The walls shifted and changed, creating new passages and dead ends. I felt a tugging sensation as if an invisible force was trying to pull me away from the group.

"It's separating us!" Lisa cried.

I tried to grab Justice or Damon, but my hands passed through empty air. The world around me blurred and twisted, and suddenly, I was alone in a corridor that hadn't been there a moment before.

My heart raced as I spun, trying to get my bearings. The walls here were like mirrors, but instead of my reflection, I saw distorted versions of myself, each consumed by a different shade of envy.

One reflection showed me glaring at Justice with jealousy over his strength and near-immortality. Another depicted me coveting Lisa's magical abilities. Each image struck a chord, revealing desires and resentments I had tried to bury.

"This isn't real," I muttered, trying to steady my nerves. "It's the labyrinth playing tricks."

Yet, as I started forward, the reflections seemed to come alive, their whispers echoing in my mind. Each step became a battle against my darker impulses, the labyrinth forcing me to confront the envy lurking in the depths of my heart.

I clutched the compass tighter, its solid presence a reminder of my purpose. Somewhere in this maze of mirrors and illusions, my team was facing their own battles. Beyond that, the Scales of Balance awaited. If we could overcome our own reflections to reach it.

An image shimmered into existence before me, as tangible as a mirage in the desert. A man materialized, his hair the same shade as Damon's, his features eerily familiar yet frustratingly out of reach in my memory. My heart clenched as I watched the scene unfold.

Damon appeared beside the man, and their laughter echoed off the mirrored walls of the labyrinth. I watched, transfixed, as they sparred together, their movements in perfect sync. The man's eyes gleamed with pride as he clapped Damon on the back.

The image shifted, kaleidoscoping through holidays and birthdays. Warmth and joy radiated from their interactions, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness I felt. In every scene, I stood in the background, a ghostly figure barely visible. The man never once turned his gaze toward me, his attention solely fixed on Damon.

My throat constricted. Tears burned my eyes as I struggled to remember. Was this my father? I couldn't recall a single moment with him. The void in my memory yawned wide, a chasm of loss I couldn't bridge.

Hot, bitter envy surged through me like poison. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging painfully into my palms. I wanted that relationship desperately. The easy camaraderie, the shared laughter, the proud glances. The unfairness of it all made my chest ache, a physical pain that threatened to overwhelm me.

"It's not real," I whispered, hoarse and unconvincing. But the emotions—the longing, the jealousy, the sense of abandonment—those were all too real.

I stumbled forward, reaching out to touch the image of the man who might be my father. My fingers passed through the illusion, leaving me grasping at empty air. A sob tore from my throat, raw and primal.

"Why can't I remember?" I screamed at the mirrored walls, my reflection fractured and distorted, showing a thousand versions of my anguished face. "Why him and not me?"

The envy coiled tighter around my heart, threatening to suffocate me. It whispered seductive promises. If only I could remember, if only I could have what Damon had, everything would be better.

Yet, as the thought formed, I knew it was a lie. This was the labyrinth's test. Using my stolen memories against me, twisting my love for my brother into something ugly and corrosive.

With a herculean effort, I forced myself to take a deep breath. "No," I demanded, my voice gaining strength. "I won't let this define me. My worth isn't determined by memories I can't recall or relationships I might have missed."

I squared my shoulders, facing my fractured reflections. "I choose to let this go. I choose to be happy for Damon, not envious. I choose to forge my own path, with or without these memories."

As I spoke the words, something shifted within me. The envy didn't disappear entirely, but its hold on me weakened. The images faded, the laughter becoming distant echoes.

I took a step forward, then another, moving past the fading illusions. The test wasn't over, but I had passed this challenge. Whatever lay ahead, I would face it with a clearer heart and a stronger sense of self.