Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The anguish of my failure crashed down on me, as heavy as the rocks that had buried Brody. Everything my team and I had worked for, sacrificed for, was gone. And now, Brody was dead. The finality of it drove the air from my lungs.

I hung my head, our losses piercing my breaking heart. My vision blurred as hot tears welled up and spilled over, tracing burning paths along my dust-covered skin. Each salty droplet carved a jagged line through my beating heart. The pain was unbearable, worse than Mom's death. I hadn't watched her die, but I had witnessed Brody's and had been powerless to stop it.

The tears fell freely now, pattering onto the cold stone beneath my feet. In the oppressive silence that had fallen over us, each drop seemed to echo, a tiny sound that somehow magnified our grief. The unyielding chill of the floor seeped through the soles of my worn boots, a counterpoint to the heat of my tears.

Salt crusted my lips as acrid smoke filled my lungs. My shuddering gasps pulled in the musty scent of ancient stone, tainted with the rusty aroma of blood. Mine or another's, I couldn't tell. Fear lingered, sharp and bitter on my tongue.

As I stood there, shoulders hunched, I became acutely aware of the backpack I still wore. It felt heavier than ever, laden with our last remaining hopes. The Mirror of Aethereal, the Heartstone amulet, and the dagger—our weapons against the encroaching darkness.

I ran my fingers along the worn straps of the backpack, feeling the rough texture beneath my callused skin. At least Maci hadn't gotten any of them. The thought was a small comfort, a tiny spark of hope in the vast sea of despair threatening to engulf me.

The mirror, with its swirling, ever-changing surface, was safely wrapped in layers of soft cloth. I could almost feel its energy pulsing, a gentle reminder of the power we still held. The amulet, warm to the touch even through the fabric of the bag, seemed to beat in time with my own racing heart. And the dagger, its blade wickedly sharp and etched with ancient runes, lay silent but ready.

These artifacts were still with us. My tears still flowed, and my body ached from our latest battle, and I couldn't help but wonder. Would they be enough? With Lisa's betrayal and the loss we'd suffered, could these relics truly turn the tide?

I lifted my head slowly, blinking away the last of my tears. The others watched me, their faces mirroring my own pain and uncertainty.

Damon returned from the entrance of the cave covered with dust. Zara was slumped against the wall, and he drew her into his arms. Her body shook with silent sobs, her fingers clutching at his torn shirt. The sound of her muffled weeping mingled with the sporadic crackle of shifting pebbles, a haunting melody of grief and loss.

Justice tightened his embrace, his muscular arms enveloping me like a protective shield.

I melted into him, my body trembling against his solid frame. The warmth radiating from his chest seeped into my frozen limbs, battling the bone-deep chill that had taken hold. I inhaled deeply, drinking in his familiar scent, rich leather mingled with earthy sandalwood. It was the scent of home, of safety, and it made my heart constrict painfully in my chest.

A lump formed in my throat, threatening to choke me as the stark reality of our situation seized me.

"We've got to get back to the manor and tell the others," Justice murmured, his lips brushing my ear. His rough, raw voice broke my heart. "All is not lost, Sawyer."

I wasn't sure I believed that, and we didn't have forever. The sands of time were slipping through my fingers. We'd lost Brody. How many more of us would perish? My chest tightened at the thought of losing anyone else.

The wind picked up, bringing a caustic haze and an ominous undercurrent—the coppery stench of violence.

I pulled back slightly, searching Justice's face. His jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching beneath the skin. His eyes, usually a warm honey brown, were dark with grief and determination. The sight of him, weakened yet still fighting, made my heart constrict.

"There's nothing we can do," he continued, the words seeming to physically pain him. "Brody's gone."

The specter of loss loomed over us, and a surge of panic rose like bile in my throat. Justice was slowly dying, and we'd hoped the Crown would save him. Now, it was gone.

I couldn't lose him, too. Not after everything we'd been through. The thought of a world without him sent my mind reeling. Images flashed before my eyes of Justice's smile, his steadfast presence, the warmth of his embrace. Each memory was a knife twisting in my gut, a stark reminder of what I stood to lose.

The grief of Brody's sacrifice was still raw, a gaping wound that threatened to consume me. And with Justice's life hanging in the balance, that pain multiplied tenfold. My chest tightened as the magnitude of our failure crashed over me. We had come so close, risked everything, only to have our last hope snatched away.

I gazed at Justice, drinking in every detail of his face. The determined set of his jaw, the fire in his eyes that burned even now. How long before that fire was extinguished? The thought sent a jolt of terror through me, galvanizing my resolve. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "Justice," I whispered. "What if the Mirror won't help us anymore? Maci stole the Crown of Envy. What if that changes everything?"

Justice's grip on my shoulders tightened. Doubt flickered in his eyes, quickly masked by fierce resolve. But the seed of uncertainty had been planted, and it took root in my own heart.

My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. "This is all my fault," I choked out, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

Justice gently clasped my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes looked almost black in the dim light. "No, it's not," he stated firmly, his thumb brushing away a tear. "We were betrayed."

Guilt gnawed at my insides like a ravenous beast. All this time, I had suspected Zara. She was new to our group, with her own motives of wanting to restore her Thistlewood coven. But as I watched her cling to Damon, her pain as raw and real as my own, I knew I had been wrong. She had never betrayed us.

A friend had. One I never expected to be our Judas.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. I had put my trust in the wrong person. Lisa didn't care about us. All she cared about was her phoenix and her dog. The memory of her smile, once warm and reassuring, now seemed cold and mocking in my mind's eye.

My fingernails dug into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks. "How could I have been so stupid?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

As we huddled together in the aftermath of disaster, the pressure of our next steps pressed down on me. The journey back to the manor loomed ahead, a path now darkened by loss and the shadow of betrayal. The warmth of Justice's embrace and the sounds of our shared grief were the only things anchoring me to the present, keeping me from being swept away by the tide of guilt and regret.

Justice glanced up at the ceiling. "I don't think we're out of the woods yet. We'd better get out of here before the serpent brings the rest of this place down on us."

His firm grip on my arm steadied me as he guided us out of the tunnel and back into the Labyrinth of Reflection. The sudden shift from the close, dusty confines to the vast, echoing space of the labyrinth made my head spin. The air here was different, cooler, with an underlying mustiness that tickled my nostrils and reminded me of old books and forgotten secrets.

My heart hammered as we moved forward, each step a reminder of our narrow escape and the heavy price we'd paid. Brody's absence felt like a physical wound, a gaping hole that ached with every breath. I leaned my head against Justice's shoulder, not caring about the grit and dust that clung to us. The fabric of his shirt was damp with sweat and tears. Mine or his, I couldn't tell anymore.

The failure nearly strangled me. Maci had the Crown of Envy. She had the jump on us. Dread seeped through me, bitter and sharp, as I imagined what she might do with its power. This was all my fault, no matter what Justice said. The thought ricocheted around my skull, a punishing mantra I couldn't silence.

Whispers echoed through the labyrinth. They started as a soft susurration, like leaves rustling in a gentle breeze, but quickly grew louder and more insistent. The voices seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, a cacophony of indistinct words that set my teeth on edge.

Zara stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. Damon's hand clenched around hers. The memory of our last journey through this place, facing our deepest fears and most painful memories, hung over us like a storm cloud ready to burst.

"Everyone join hands," Justice's voice cut through the whispers, steady and commanding. His fingers intertwined with mine, warm and reassuring despite the tremor running through them. "I'm going to draw on vampire speed to get us out of here and back to the catacombs."

We formed a chain, our linked hands a lifeline in this maze of mirrors and shadows. Zara's palm was clammy against mine, and my own muscles coiled, ready to spring. Around me, bodies shifted restlessly, feet scraping softly against the ground. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, as if sensing our imminent departure.

Justice's eyes met mine for a brief moment. In their depths, I saw a mixture of determination and fear that mirrored my own emotions. Then, his pupils dilated, expanding until they nearly swallowed the warm brown of his irises.

A jolt of energy surged through our linked hands, raising goosebumps along my arms. The world around us blurred, the whispers rising to a fevered pitch before suddenly cutting off, replaced by the rush of wind in my ears. My stomach lurched as if I'd plummeted down the first drop of a roller coaster.

Justice dragged us through the labyrinth at impossible speed, my grip on Zara's hand like a vise. The mirrors reflected distorted, stretched versions of our chain. The chill air whipped at my face, drying the tears on my cheeks and tearing at my hair, each strand a live wire in the rushing wind. Zara's fingers trembled in mine, or maybe it was my own hand shaking.

Despite the dizzying pace, one thought remained clear in my mind. We were one less than we should be. Brody's sacrifice hung in the air, a silent passenger on our frantic journey back to the catacombs, then home to the manor.

The vampire's preternatural velocity careened us around corners. Our feet barely touched the ground, skimming over worn stone slick with centuries of moisture. The cool, dank air of the catacombs rushed into our lungs, carrying the musty scent of decay and forgotten history.