“Is this…?” I squint, hoping to see something—anything—in the oppressive darkness.
“The entrance of the Labyrinth,” Rafe answers darkly, giving his dagger an expert twirl in the air and catching the handle.
“Oh. Fun.” I scratch absently at the inside of my wrist.
The guys position themselves so they’re surrounding me—Everett and Rafe taking the lead, with Krystian and Zaid behind me—and then we move as one.
The darkness is unnerving and absolute. The farther away we get from the door, the darker it seems to become, until I can barely make out the men in front of me. The only indication they’re still here are the occasional grunts and curses.
Instinctively, I reach forward, my hand brushing the soft cotton of Everett’s shirt. I expect him to push me away, but instead, he grabs my hand in his, interlocking our fingers together.
I push out a breath of relief.
“Flashlights aren’t working,” Zaid says from behind me.
“Phones aren’t either,” Rafe grunts out.
“So we’re just supposed to walk in absolute darkness?” I ask.
The second the question leaves my lips, though, hundreds of lights flicker on, one after another.
Torches.
Fire twists and dances high above us, illuminating the pathway—the graying stone walls, dripping with an undefinable liquid, and compacted dirt walkways.
“So…how do we know when we’re nearing a puzzle?” I query. “And how do we even know which direction to go?”
The pathway up ahead splits into three directions.
“We don’t,” Everett answers, and I realize, somewhat belatedly, that he’s still holding my hand.
Is it because he doesn’t notice? Or because he wants to?
My heart pounds dauntingly against my rib cage, and unease curls up my spine like red creeping thyme.
We reach the first fork in the tunnel, and Zaid steps around us, his head cocked to the side.
“I’m not going to be able to hold the form for long,” Zaid tells us, confusing the shit out of me. “You know how hard it is when I’m not outside during the daytime.” He pauses, frowns, and then adds, “But the flames should be enough—if they don’t go out.”
Huh?
I must’ve spoken it out loud, because Zaid turns towards me, an unexpectedly serious expression on his face.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Then, to my utter shock, he coalesces into shadows, disappearing from view.
I jerk forward, but Everett, who still has a tight grip on my hand, pulls me to a stop.
“He’ll be fine,” he assures me, his tone gruff. “He’s just checking each pathway to figure out which way we need to go.”
The next few minutes are the longest of my life, which is saying something. Fear grips my throat in an impenetrablechokehold. I can’t help but think of the worst-case scenario. What if the flames sputter out? What if a monster attacks Zaid in his shadow form? What if he can’t find his way back? What if?—
The shadows deepen in front of us and then solidify, Zaid’s body taking form followed by his face and inky hair. Lines of tension create furrows between his brows, and sweat drips down his cheeks. He places his hands on his knees and takes a couple of harrowed breaths, as if he ran a marathon.
“Sorry,” he pants out. “It’s hard to hold the form in these conditions.”
I strain to go to him, to comfort him, but Everett’s grip on my hand remains firm. All I can do is stare, biting on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
