Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

My legs are like lead, but I tell myself to keep moving. Scratches mar my dirty arms. Knots are forming in my muscles. I brace my sore hand against the wall for support. I thought this was supposed to be a test of strength, but it feels more like a reminder that I don't belong here.

The faster I go, the faster I will find the end. I pass the torch, expecting another to appear to light the way.

Darkness remains ahead.

I take a steadying breath. What now?

The air becomes cooler, momentarily welcome against the heat as it chills my sweat. I fall against the wall for support and start to shiver. My breath comes out in white puffs. Does this mean the physical test is over, or is it the beginning of freezing to death?

The way behind me is blocked. There is only one direction to go—forward into the darkness. I use the wall as a guide as I walk.

I tell myself that I have survived worse than this.

I try not to think about him. Paul. But sometimes, in the quiet moments between chaos, I wonder if he ever senses something is missing. That there is a piece of his life, of me, that he's forgotten. It is better this way. It has to be. For his sake. For his daughter's. For my own. But even as I tell myself that, a small part of me doesn't believe it.

I must keep going. This labyrinth is only a moment in time, and soon it will be over. Tiny green lights appear like glitter over the walls. They move as if alive, insects crawling over the rock. They're smaller than the butterflies I followed before.

I withdraw my hand, careful not to touch them. The tiny bioluminescent creatures stir. They swarm into the darkness, giving the softest of lights. It's difficult to make out much, but I take a tentative step to follow where they lead.

The energy differs from before. Something's coming, and it isn't good. I focus on the darkness for a hint of what is to come. The walls move, silently shifting in the shadows as if the labyrinth is preparing for my next trial .

The swarm of insects moves faster, forcing me to quicken my pace to keep up with them or be left behind in the dark. I feel like a rat in a scientist's maze. Only the scientist is a cruel sorcerer with a sick sense of humor.

The walls constrict, and the path becomes narrow. I have to turn to the side to pass by. Breathing becomes harder as the cold air thickens.

I don't want to be alone. Not here. I mouth Costin's name, wishing he would sense me and come for me. But I know that I must face these trials unaided. There is a reason the labyrinth let me in when I was alone in the subway tunnel.

I'm moving faster now to keep up with the insects. Unease marks every step I take. And then, finally, I hear something. At first, it's faint, like someone whimpering into a pillow.

"Anthony?" I call, recognizing the sound from before.

I run to find him. The faint cry becomes louder, echoing down the narrow passageway.

Anthony's whimpers continue to grow, turning into moans. He's in trouble. He needs me.

I lift my arms as I run through the insects. They scatter around me and fall to the ground like a burst of confetti. I see a new light up ahead, and I go toward it.

Finally, the passage opens up into a vast chamber. Shadows cling to the edges, and I have no idea how deep it goes. That doesn't matter now. My eyes are drawn to the center of the room. Anthony hangs suspended in the air. His body is shackled with writhing gold tendrils of magic. They hold him by his wrists and ankles. A thick band wraps around his waist and another winds around his neck.

The magic around his neck coils and tightens, causing him to whimper and moan. My heart seizes in my chest as panic sets in. My brother's eyes are closed, his face contorted in pain. His skin is draining color as if the snare is alive, feeding off him and drinking his magic.

"Anthony!" I rush toward him, but the moment I cross the threshold into the room, the air crackles with dark magic, and the tendrils writhe faster, sensing me. They pull tighter, and he lets out a sharp cry of pain. "Let him go! He has nothing to do with this. This is my trial, not his."

The magic doesn't listen. I have no command over such ancient and cruel things. I don't know how to fight this kind of magic.

I can't lose him. Not now. Not like this. Not like Paul.

But I'm not trained for this. My parents sheltered me from the knowledge of these things. They kept me away from magic and spells. They only taught me that which they thought would help me defend myself. Mortals have no use for magic. We're not meant to dabble where we don't belong.

"Feels familiar, doesn't it?" The voice seems to slither in behind me. I don't have to turn to know it's Conrad. "Shall we watch him die together?"

"Help me get him down," I beg.

Conrad laughs. "I rather like him as a chandelier."

I should have known Conrad wouldn't help me.

"Go away. Leave us alone." I clench my teeth and focus on Anthony. I look for something I can use to reach him. I have to get him down.

"Tamara," Conrad's voice whispers as if coming from the far end of the room. Seconds later, it sounds behind me as a distraction. "Tamara."

"Stop it," I yell.

Anthony thrashes and moans.

"How does it feel, watching another person you care about slip through your fingers?" Conrad's ghostly form materializes close to Anthony, his blackened eyes gleaming with malice. He looks up at our brother. "Helpless? Weak?"

"Shut up," I order. "I'm not listening to you."

"That would be a mistake," he warns. "Maybe we should have the labyrinth bring somebody else? Paul maybe? Or how about his cute little button of a daughter?"

"Don't you touch them! We had a deal." I see a rock, and I go to it. I try to push it toward the center of the room. It doesn't budge.

"How does it feel to know that you will fail everyone that you care about?" Conrad's voice is a poisonous whisper. He's always been able to cut right through me. He knows exactly where to strike.

"Shut up, Conrad." My voice is steady, but I don't feel brave. I can't let him see he is getting to me.

Conrad steps closer, taunting, "Paul was right there, wasn't he?" He points to the floor next to my feet. "Right next to you. Bleeding out. And you couldn't do anything. Just like now."

I flinch at the memory. Images of Paul flash in my mind—the sound of gunfire, the blood covering his chest, the life fading from his eyes as he died in my arms. Guilt and pain flood in.

"Anthony always thought he was better than me," Conrad sneers, circling our brother. "But look at him now. My little puppet."

The magical shackles around Anthony's wrists and ankles begin to move as if making him dance. Anthony cries out in pain. The sound only makes Conrad smile.

"Not so superior now, are you?" Conrad taunts. His eyes turn back to me as I continue my search. "You will not find anything to help him. You might as well accept it. You failed Paul. You'll fail Anthony, too. You'll always fail. "

My vision blurs with tears I refuse to let fall. Anthony is gasping for breath, the dark magic constricting him more with each passing second. I can hear his fear beneath the pain. It echoes my own.

I can't lose him.

Not again.

This isn't Conrad's doing. He only wants me to believe that he has control. Conrad always liked for people to think he was more than he was. I lost perspective for a moment, but I'm in the labyrinth.

Suddenly, the air shifts. The labyrinth is closing in on me. The pressure grows, dark energy builds in the room, and a new realization dawns. The labyrinth isn't just testing my strength. It's testing my will. My choices.

This is a test of knowledge. So that means I have to know the answer somewhere deeply hidden within my brain.

I force myself to stare at Anthony. His complexion is as pale as a vampire's. I try to remember bits of conversations I've eavesdropped on in the past. This is dark magic holding him captive—old, powerful, dangerous, and very real. There was a story our grandfather used to tell us about being trapped. Perhaps it was more of a warning, a way to teach children how to defend themselves against monsters. I try to remember the details, but it was so long ago.

Conrad's spirit fades.

I know this. The magic is tied to the mind, locking Anthony in some kind of trap as it feeds off the emotional energy of its victim. I need to disrupt its connection.

But how?

"You can't save him. You never could save anyone," Conrad reappears, sitting on the ground as if watching a show. "You might as well admit defeat."

I clench my fists. I touch my neck, but there is no amulet to comfort me.

Anthony's breath comes in short, ragged gasps, and his face contorts with pain.

"You let Paul die." Conrad points upward, and the magic on Anthony's neck tightens like a noose. "And now you're going to watch Anthony die, too. You always fail, Tamara. Being human is what you're good at."

I move closer. I feel the magic shifting at my nearness. It's drawing energy from everything in the room—not just Anthony.

Conrad appears across from me, his cold eyes locking with mine. "You're not strong enough to save him. But you can end this, you know. You can make a choice. A life for a life. You for him. Tell the labyrinth you'll take his place."

I feel the weight of the world bearing down on me, the magical threat pressing in, Conrad forcing my hand. The shackles around Anthony move with life, but this time, they quiver. The magic is waiting for me to decide.

Anthony doesn't deserve this. We weren't close growing up, but I've always loved him. There was always a bond, even when he was off at his fancy school, living in the world of magic that I could only dream about. He's my brother, my blood.

My attention moves to Conrad, and my resolve wavers. I know who he is now—what he has become. The man in front of me isn't the brother I used to trust. Yet, despite everything, there's still that tug, that piece of me that clings to the version of him I grew up with, the one who shielded me from the crueler parts of our shared world. The one who kept me company when everyone else abandoned me to tutors and loneliness.

My mind flickers back to those days, to the way we whispered secrets to each other when no one was listening. He was my best friend, my companion. More than that—he was my protector, my brother. I trusted him with all my secrets. I trusted him with my fears, my hopes, all those little pieces of myself I never showed anyone else .

"Choose, Tamara," Conrad whispers, a twisted smile curling his lips. "You or him."

I try to feel that connection we once had—or that I thought we had. It was us against the supernatural world. So much about him is familiar, even though black erases his eyes and ash covers his skin. Even though I hate myself for it, there's a part of me that still loves him, still wants to help him. Despite the malice in his smile, despite everything he's done to me, I can still see the boy I loved. He has been so much of my life.

I'm so tired of pretending that everything is fine, that I can keep going, no matter what the world throws at me. But the truth is, I'm running out of steam. Each day feels like a new battle, and the weight of it all is crushing me, piece by piece. My defenses have been up for so long, but the cracks are showing. I hate that I feel like this. I hate that I can't just keep it all together.

It's not just Conrad or the constant threat of the supernatural. It's everything—Paul's death, the memory of what we had, the endless nightmares, and even the haunting presence of my family's expectations. I've been trying to be strong for so long, but I feel like I'm at my breaking point. I want to give up, even though I swore I wouldn't.

I loved Conrad and would have given my soul to help him. But that was then, and this is now .

I'm tired of crying, but the tears still come. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, trying to remind myself of the truth. A cold realization settles over me, and I understand. The labyrinth wants me to decide. It's testing my loyalty, testing whether I can make the impossible choice.

Conrad's been so much of my life, whether or not I want to admit it. He's shaped who I am in ways I didn't even realize until it was too late. There's an ache deep in my chest, a pull that refuses to go away. I don't want to feel it. I shouldn't feel it. But it's there, the stubborn echo of something I once thought was real.

I want to hate him.

I want to wipe the smug look off his face. He thinks he's won. I can't remember the exact story, but my grandfather indicated that dark magic feeds on negative energy, on things like fear and betrayal. I always thought he was talking about monsters, but maybe it applies to people, too. Conrad is nothing if not a walking embodiment of all of that.

It should be easy. After everything he's done—the lies, the murders, the betrayals—it should be the easiest thing in the world to let the labyrinth take him.

But it isn't.

The boy I knew is long gone. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't make the memories fade or the part of me that still wants to save him go away. I hate myself for it, for that sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can be saved.

My eyes drift to Anthony, still struggling, the dark magic choking the life out of him. He never betrayed me. He's never tried to twist the knife in the way Conrad has. He doesn't deserve to suffer.

There is no choice.

"Take him," I tell the labyrinth as I force myself to look Conrad in the eye, my voice steady now, even though the pain lingers in my chest. "Take Conrad."

For a moment, the room goes silent. Even Conrad seems caught off guard. His smirk falters as the magic quivers and shifts focus.

Conrad's eyes widen, a flash of anger crossing his face. "You think you can sacrifice me?"

"I'm sorry, but you left me no choice." I step closer to him. "The magic wants negative energy, and you have more than enough to feed it."

The hold on Anthony loosens as the dark energy withdraws from him to slither toward the ghost. The magic recognizes the darkness in him, latching onto it like a predator drawn to blood.

"You'll pay for this," Conrad snarls, his ghostly form flickering as the magic surges around him. "You'll regret this, Tamara. I swear it."

Conrad tries to disappear, but the magic takes hold. He screams as the shackles clamp down to feed on the darkest parts of him. I force myself to watch through the knot of guilt and regret wrenching my insides.

Conrad's eyes darken, his face distorting in fury. I can see all the things he wants to say, but the threats never make it past his lips.

As the last of the magic leaves Anthony's body, I reach up to catch him as he falls. His weight pummels me to the ground. I push him off me. He's weak, but alive.

The labyrinth sucks Conrad into the shadows. The screams stop, and he disappears.

"Anthony?" I touch his face as he blinks up at me.

"Was that… Conrad?" Anthony groans as he sits up. He looks around, confused. "How did we get here?"

I want to explain everything, but I'm not sure we should take the time. "We're in the labyrinth."

"The… labyrinth?" Anthony looks around with renewed awareness. He surges to his feet and reaches to pull me next to him. "How the hell did we wander in here? You can't be here, Tamara. It's too dangerous for mortals. Supernaturals train for decades before taking up the challenges."

The light in the room fades, and the torchlight flickers at the exit.

"We should go," I tell him.

"Yeah." He's weak, but he's alive. That's what matters.

I saved Anthony. But part of me wonders if I'll ever be able to save myself from Conrad.

We leave the chamber, and Anthony stops to look at the tunnel. "Who else is here?"

I know what he means. I can't shake the feeling that we're not alone. My instincts tell me that someone—something—is watching.

"I don't know." I focus on Anthony, happy to no longer be alone. I stay close to him as we stumble forward. We're not safe yet. "Come on. We have to get out of here."