Labyrinth of Shadows

by Kyla Stone

  If Theseus lives, he’ll murder my brother. And that, I cannot allow.

  To save my brother, Theseus must die.

  And I am the one who must kill him.

  Chapter Forty

  “It’s time to go,” Theseus orders.

  “How are we going to navigate the Labyrinth without light?” Kalliope asks.

  “We don’t have a chance in the dark,” Zephyra says, her voice tremulous.

  I stand with the tributes in a circle beside the pool. Our time is running out. We can all feel it. We’ve refreshed ourselves, gathered our strength, and now it’s time to move, to finally escape the Labyrinth.

  After my breakdown in the back of the cave, I wiped my face on my tunic, forcing myself to keep it together. I’ve lived with darkness inside me for this long—I know how to push it deep down, to lock it away. It always comes back, stalking the corners of my mind, haunting my dreams, blackening my soul—but this is the best I can do.

  Theseus keeps staring at me, trying to catch my eye, his expression a grim thundercloud of bewilderment, hurt, and frustration. He’s likely never had a girl reject a kiss in his entire life.

  I can’t bear to look at him, something dark and ugly twisting deep inside me. I can’t save Theseus, but at least I can save the other tributes. It may not make up for what I must do, it won’t absolve me, but it’s something good, something right.

  One of the glow-worms dangling from the ceiling detaches and falls at my feet. I pick it up, a thin tube of silken thread strung with droplets of mucus, like pearl beads on a necklace. The iridescent, glowing larva wriggles inside it.

  “Eryx,” I say, holding it out. “Can we take these with us?”

  “Yes!” Eryx claps his hands in delight. “But we need something to carry them in.”

  Leda tilts her chin at the clay jars we’ve abandoned near the pool, since our satchels are filled with water. “What about those? We could break the top off on the rocks, so it’s open and more light shines through?”

  Eryx beams at her. “Excellent idea!”

  Theseus nods grimly. “It will be enough.”

  A dull roar echoes through the cave. It’s still distant, barely audible, but we all know what it means—the Minotaur is hunting.

  I don’t believe he’ll attack me, but I have no such faith that he’ll spare the others. When that red haze of madness overtakes him, he’s blind to anything but his bloodlust. He is still a monster—capable of anything. I dare not underestimate him.

  “Move!” I cry.

  We dash around the cave, plucking the glow-worms from stalagmites and stuffing them inside our broken clay jars. Charis hesitates next to Nikolaos’s body, her eyes filled with anguish.

  “We have to go,” I say.

  “We shouldn’t leave him here.”

  Kalliope stiffens, her fingers clenched around her jar, but she raises her chin. “We did what we could for him.”

  “He’s in the underworld now,” I say gently, “out of harm’s way.”

  Leda grasps Charis’s arm. “He would want you to live. Come on!”

  Reluctantly, Charis allows Leda to drag her away.

  “Let’s go.” Theseus glances at me, his face smooth, cold, and aloof. His voice is flat. “Gallus, you’re with me.”

  Gallus shoots me a triumphant glare. He knows something happened between us. Now, he’s back in his rightful place, whispering in Theseus’s ear.

  Theseus is punishing me. It’s petty and cruel and does its work—I feel it like a blade between my ribs. I’ve disappointed and embarrassed him, neither of which he’s used to. His pride is wounded, and to Theseus, his pride is everything.

  My gut clenches painfully. Why do I feel like I’ve lost something precious? I don’t deserve his protection or his affection. I don’t deserve anything but his hate. Still, it feels as if a part of me is being torn to pieces with every step that brings me closer to the end, closer to the moment I must act. My heart is a deceitful, fickle, treacherous thing.

  But there’s no time to think about that now.

  The archway gapes like blackened jaws. My heart pounds in my chest, my palms slick with dread. In this moment, I’d give up every kingdom in the known world to avoid entering that vile darkness.

  A dull roar rattles through the cavern. Much closer.

  Charis gives a little shriek.

  Theseus plunges into the darkness, Gallus and Kalliope at his side. “Go!” he cries. “Run!”

  Chapter Forty-One

  We flee into the passage, back into the suffocating darkness, into the endless maze of corridors and tunnels twisting and turning like a knot of writhing snakes. I clutch my jar of glow-worms to my chest and run, the water-filled satchel slapping against my back, the rocky ground faintly visible beneath my feet. Ahead of me, the silhouettes of the tributes are limned in the glow of the jars they carry.

  The faint watery light skims the rough, craggy walls, shimmering off the leaves of the clinging ivy. I graze my fingers along the moonflower vines twining like ropes, thick and lush and completely covering portions of the passage. I hope Theseus knows the right way, that he’s following the thick, budding vines.

  We run in a pack, as close together as we can. I’m somewhere in the middle, dark shapes running beside me, behind me, ahead of me. The air is filled with the sounds of ragged, rasping breaths and our own pounding footfalls.

  Someone stumbles and falls. “Help!” Zephyra cries.

  Beside me, Charis starts to slow, but Leda jerks her arm. “Not you.” Louder, she says, “Zephyra’s hurt!”

  “Gallus! Help her!” Theseus calls from just ahead of us.

  I glimpse Gallus falling back behind me. He’s strong enough to bear her weight along with his own. For a heartbeat, my gut tightens in concern, but Gallus won’t disobey Theseus.

  The Minotaur roars somewhere behind us. The darkness sighs, the shadows quivering with anticipation.

  We run faster. My body aches, my chest burning. The blisters on my heels burst. Fresh pain spikes up my feet with each frantic step.

  Someone screams, a terrified, howling shriek echoing through the passageways.

  I falter, nearly stumbling. Leda reaches out and steadies me. We glance at each other in horror, eyes wide and glimmering in the bluish light.

  The scream comes again.

  The realization settles over me like icy fingers trailing along my spine. The scream doesn’t come from our group but from far behind us.

  “Who was that?” Theseus says as he runs, twisting to look over his shoulder. “Ariadne?”

  “I’m here!” I say.

  “Where’s Zephyra?” Charis pants.

  Still running, I scan the bodies around me. Leda and Charis races to my left, Gallus barrels on my other side. Eryx with his long, lean legs sprints just behind Theseus and Kalliope, who is gasping but managing to keep pace with him. Theseus is in the lead, slowing his own pace to remain with the group.

  “Where is she?” Theseus asks.

  But no one can answer.

  “She was with us,” Leda says between ragged breaths. “She fell…Gallus helped her.”

  “I pulled her up, like Theseus said,” Gallus says defensively. “She was right beside me!”

  Another scream echoes, even more distant.

  “Zephyra!” Charis says, stricken.

  “Don’t stop!” Theseus shouts. “Keep going!”

  I pump my legs, the breath tearing from my lungs. I can’t waste the energy to wonder what happened to her or worry that maybe I already know. I send up a prayer to the goddess to add wings to Zephyra’s feet. There’s no way we can stop or go back for her. We must survive.

  We run, surrounded by echoing screams and the terrible bellowing roars. I long to clap my hands over my ears, to curl into a ball and somehow forget that any of this is happening. My mind fills with images of flashing horns, a round, pale face gaping in terror, blood drenching everything.

  The scream comes again, a ter
rible keening wail.

  It stops abruptly, bit off in the middle.

  Zephyra is gone.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  We keep running.

  My heartbeat thunders in my ears. We hear nothing else behind us, no roars or bellows or thundering hooves, no skulking shadows leap out of the darkness to seize us and drag us to our doom.

  He doesn’t need to hunt anyone else. Not yet.

  My stomach lurches at the sickening thought. I stagger, my shoulder striking the wall. My brother did this. My brother took Zephyra from us.

  I both love and fear him, hate him and pity him for the terrible things he’s done, has been forced to do. I want to destroy him for killing my friends. I want to defend him for the humanity I know is still inside him.

  After a while, the other tributes slow, unable to keep up the frenzied pace. They clutch their sides, groaning. Ahead of me, Charis falls and struggles to get back up. Leda and I help her.

  “We walk until we hear it again,” Theseus calls back to us. “Save your strength.”

  I suck in heavy breaths, my chest heaving, my side burning. Sweat drips down my forehead and stings my eyes. I lean against the wall, trembling with weariness.

  Leda offers me a swig from her water-filled satchel.

  My thirst is a physical thing, a pulsing burn in my throat, in my mouth, my tongue a dry lump of dust. I gulp the water down. I force myself not to drink it all. “Thank you,” I rasp.

  Leda wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her arm. “You have to live until you can get us out of here.”

  I try to smile, but it takes too much effort.

  More time passes. More walking. More pain. More darkness. Our water runs dry; our throats burning with thirst. But there are no doors that open and close to trap us. There are no deadly worms. No horrific screams, no monsters.

  Finally, Theseus stops us to rest. We huddle into a ragged circle. The rest of the tributes’ faces are barely visible. Shadows smear the walls, inky darkness crouching all around us.

  “What happened to Zephyra?” Charis asks.

  “The Minotaur killed her,” Leda says flatly.

  Charis weeps softly. Eryx closes his eyes and expels a breath.

  “But the question is, why?” Kalliope asks furiously, her hands fisted on her hips. She’s breathing hard, her eyes wide and black, hard and glistening as stones. She’s as shaken as anyone. “I don’t understand. How did she get separated?”

  I glance at Gallus. His face is unreadable in the dim blue light, his eyes deeply shadowed beneath the shelf of his brows. His threat echoes in my ears. If a wolf is stalking you, give it something it wants more than you. I remember what I saw when Selene fell through the closing stone door, how Gallus shoved her.

  I shiver, a chill settling deep into my bones, and turn to Gallus. “What happened?”

  Gallus’s face goes blotchy. “How dare you? You’re the one taking us around in circles, leading us into a trap so your monster can rip us into pieces!”

  “That’s not true,” I say, keeping my voice even. “You were supposed to help Zephyra. Just tell us why you’re here and she isn’t.”

  “I don’t owe you a thing.”

  I can’t keep my anger and suspicion inside. I can’t remain silent. Not this time. “Did you do something to her? Did you hurt her?”

  Gallus bares his teeth. “Why, you little—”

  “Enough!” Theseus strides into the center of the circle, raising his arms. “I will not have my people at each other’s throats!”

  “She’s not our people,” Gallus spits.

  Theseus whirls on Gallus. “Did you not understand me? I’ll hear no more of this.”

  “But he—”

  The sharp, furious look Theseus shoots me could cut glass. “Gallus is my companion, my brother-in-arms. I won’t entertain accusations without evidence or proof.”

  “He threatened me,” I say, trembling with anger. “I saw him push—”

  “Zephyra is gone!” Theseus says, his voice splintering the air. He turns in a circle, pinning his gaze on each of us in turn. “It’s no one’s fault. Gallus tried to help her. She fell behind. No one noticed in the chaos.”

  Theseus is still as loyal to Gallus as Gallus is to him. I see it in the set of Theseus’s jaw, the indignation in his eyes. Theseus won’t believe me, can’t allow himself to believe me.

  “We must stick together,” Theseus says, almost begging. “If we turn on each other now, we’ll fall apart! I refuse to let that happen. I’m going to get you out of this place, no matter what it takes.”

  I clench my fists until my nails dig into my palms. I long to seize Gallus around his thick, bulging neck and strangle him until he admits what he’s done.

  I know he did something to slow Zephyra down, tripping her or worse. I know he pushed Selene, offering her to the worms. I know it like I know the shape of my own fear.

  Theseus squeezes Charis’s shoulder. “We’ll mourn Zephyra like we will mourn the others—when we are safely back in Athens, and not before. All right?”

  Charis and Eryx nod blankly, numbly.

  Theseus turns to me. “Ariadne?”

  I should feel sorrow, grief, something for Zephyra. Instead, only a low, helpless fury burns through me—and an unerring determination to get Leda, Charis, and Eryx out of here alive. “Yes,” I force out. “I understand.”

  Theseus whirls and stalks back to the front of the group. Gallus follows him silently. He glowers at me as he passes, teeth bared in a half-smile, half-snarl, a warning in his gaze. Or maybe a promise.

  I suppress a shudder. He may be built like a bear, but Gallus is a snake, coiled and waiting, biding his time. I don’t know when he’ll strike, but I know he will. I’m sure of it.

  Kalliope hurries after Theseus, her hand already brushing his shoulder to offer solace, her lips curved in a beguiling smile. The look she gives me when she glances back isn’t one of triumph or loathing—it’s pity.

  “Why would Gallus want to hurt Zephyra?” Charis asks me as we trail the others into a wide passageway, the ceiling so high above us the light doesn’t reach. Her forehead wrinkles delicately. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does,” I say quietly. “The Minotaur was hunting us—until he found Zephyra. If Gallus hurt Zephyra, she would be easy prey.”

  Leda falls into step on my other side. “You think Gallus chose to sacrifice Zephyra so the rest of us could get away.”

  I hesitate, not sure how much to say. I decide on the truth. I want to trust them. I need to trust them. And if Gallus is a threat, they need to know, even if Theseus refuses to believe it. “I think he did it so he could get away—and Theseus. I’m not sure how much he cares for anyone else.”

  Leda makes a sound in the back of her throat. “It makes a terrible sort of sense.”

  “How can you say that?” Charis whispers, shocked.

  Leda shrugs. “Predators pick off the old and wounded first. The rest of the herd escapes because of it. Maybe we’re alive because of what Gallus did.”

  “That makes him a murderer!” Charis says.

  “Maybe.” Leda’s voice goes hard. “Maybe it makes him a survivor. Sometimes, a good person must do a terrible thing in a terrible place.”

  Sometimes a good person must do a terrible thing. Am I just as culpable as Gallus? Aren’t I willing to do the same thing, to sacrifice one person for another? I shudder and wrap my arms around myself. No. I cannot be the same. I’m saving my brother. Gallus is a selfish snake willing to destroy anything—and anyone—who gets in his way. We’re nothing alike. And yet, something inside me feels hollow.

  “And when the Minotaur returns?” Charis whispers. “Or some other horrid monster?”

  Leda and I glance at each other over Charis’s head, both thinking the words she doesn’t say: who will Gallus choose to sacrifice next?

  I know who Gallus will come for. I must be careful. And now, when I most need my wits and cour
age, I’m weak and exhausted, dizzy with hunger and fatigue. I need to be better. I need to be smarter. I must stay alive.

  Here in the Labyrinth, deadly enemies lie in wait everywhere.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  It feels like we’ve been walking forever. We walk, we rest, we walk some more. We drink the last of our water and ignore the empty, knotted pits of our bellies. I run my hands up my sides, feeling every rib. I try not to touch myself.

  How many days have we been trapped in here? Eight? Ten? More? Night and day make no difference. The paths of the sun and the moon hold no sway here. They’re meaningless in this place where time itself stands still.

  We’re tired, faint with fatigue and bone-weary. We stink from dirt and sweat and fear. The cold, damp air sinks into our bones, rattles deep in our chests. It’s hard to hold onto hope in this sinister, despairing darkness that will not end.

  But we keep going. We have no choice.

  Beside me, Leda wavers and falls. I grab her beneath her arm and haul her to her feet. “Are you all right?”

  She shakes her head. “I just—I’m dizzy.”

  “We’re getting weaker,” I say. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

  She jerks her arm back. “I’m taller and heavier than you. You’re a twig.”

  “A strong twig. I somersault in front of charging bulls, remember?”

  She tries to take a step and her ankle twists. She growls in frustration and rubs her face with the back of her arm. Her hair hangs lank around her cheeks, her shoulders slumped, her face slack.

  I offer my arm. “I can take the weight.”

  She scowls at me.

  “Let her help,” Charis says wearily, shivering, her arms wrapped around herself.

  Leda accepts my help without further protest. I slide my arm around her waist; she grimaces but slings her arm across my shoulder.