“What kind of voice?” Jarron asks, voice suddenly lower.
“A woman whispering?” I shrug.
“Let me know if you hear it again,” he says. “But I’m not exactly inclined to listen to a disembodied voice right now.”
The groaning of a stone shifting against stone alerts me to some kind of movement. My breaths huff, and Lola shivers against me. Another shift, and light floods the tunnel. I cover my eyes but then blink the shock away. Between the stones, a soft yellow glow brightens the immediate area.
“There’s a ledge up here; we should be able to see what’s happening below,” Janet says.
Jarron moves first, shifting past Janet, but he keeps his hand clenched around mine. I meet Janet’s gaze, sharing our quiet fear, before I lean forward enough to look down over the ledge.
A hundred feet below, there’s a pit filled with stone walls twisting through it to create a sort of maze. There are also four platforms on each side of the pit with stone chairs. Viewing platforms? My stomach churns.
This is a source of entertainment, I remind myself. How many people come to watch young people fight to the death? My teeth begin chattering. Is this it?
Did we really find the Akrasia Games?
I press my lips together tightly, if only to hide the way they’re trembling. Is this where my sister fought and died less than a year ago?
I’ve faced these people before—this vile, evil game. The people who hurt my sister, who took her from me. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for it again.
Janet and Thompson are standing beside us now, looking down at the massive cavern.
“What now?” Lola whispers, asking the question we are all wondering.
As if on cue, an eerie tune rings out from somewhere below. Everything I can see from here is entirely empty, no sign of life, so I can’t tell where the music is coming from.
The tone dips and bounds into a melody. Simple. Childlike. And slightly off-key.
I shiver at the odd sound. In this context, it’s nightmare inducing, especially when it bounces off the stone walls of the cavern. The echo makes it sound like a purposeful round.
An echoing voice booms. “Thompson, Lola, Janet, Jarron, and Candice. You are all invited.”
My eyes widen. Well…
“What in the world,” Janet whispers.
“Take the stairs,” the magical voice croons.
Iridescent magic shimmers on the edge of our small stone ledge and then unfolds one step at a time until it reaches a platform a good fifteen feet above the pit. It’s still nearly a hundred feet down. Janet looks to me. I look to Jarron.
His stare is blank, focused on the magical staircase.
“They expected us,” I say. I suppose I knew that, but the question is, should we continue forward? Does that mean we are walking into a trap? Is it too late to retreat?
I need you to play along too,the note said.
We want to keep our villains here as long as possible. If we retreat now, will they flee before the authorities arrive?
One of my questions is answered when the stone behind us crackles and groans. I gasp and twist to watch in horror as the stones move entirely on their own, spinning and filling in the gap we’d created.
That can’t be good.
Janet slams her hands against the now-solid wall trapping us on the stone ledge.
Thompson does the same, slamming his fists against the wall. “We can’t break through it,” he whispers then stands and faces us. “At least, not without magic.”
Jarron’s eyes are pitch-black. His fingers are solid black claws. “They have other traps waiting for us.” His voice is full of gravel as he turns to me with a lingering, unspoken question.
