Labyrinth of Shadows

by Kyla Stone

  I straighten my spine with a grunt. She’s heavy, but not as heavy as she should be. “Eryx says our bodies are starting to eat themselves.”

  “Good,” Leda says. “Less for the Minotaur, then.”

  “Keep your sense of humor. Maybe it will salt your meat.”

  “Good one, princess.”

  We fall into exhausted silence again.

  “It’s so cold,” Charis murmurs.

  She’s right. I lift the jar of glow-worms, shining the blue light across the closest wall. The vines are thick and lush. We’re on the right path, but the air is cold and growing colder. It’s always been chilly and damp, but this—this feels like something else.

  The passage opens into a wider chamber. I’m searching for the opposite tunnel when I trip over something. I stumble, nearly falling, my arm around Leda’s waist keeping me upright. I lower my jar, the bluish glow falling across a scene so garish I choke back a scream.

  Leda gasps and covers her mouth with her free hand.

  “What is it?” Gallus asks.

  “The—the others,” Charis squeaks. “We’ve found them.”

  Theseus stalks over to us, followed by Gallus, Eryx, and Kalliope. We crowd together, glowing jars outstretched, everyone careful not to get too close.

  At our feet lies four bodies. Cadmus and the three tributes who left with him—Minta, Danae, and Yanni. They’re curled in on themselves like worms, legs hunched against their chests, their bodies stiff. Danae’s arms are outstretched, beseeching, while Yanni’s hands remain clutched over his face, covering his eyes from whatever horror did this to them. Yanni’s face is hidden, but the features of the others are contorted, mouths twisted in fear and pain.

  “What happened?” Kalliope asks. “How did they die?”

  Eryx squats on his heels to better examine their bodies.

  “Don’t touch them!” Theseus warns.

  But it’s too late. Inquisitive Eryx is already reaching out and gently touching Cadmus’s hands, fixed in place while clawing at his own ears. Red, raw scratches from his fingernails mar his cheeks, throat, and ears. The scratches are the only marks on any of them. There’s no blood, no visible wounds.

  “The skin is chilled.” Eryx prods Yanni’s stiff legs. The body remains as it was, unmoved. “It’s almost as if they’re…frozen.”

  I take a step back, shivering in the frigid air. “But how?”

  “I can’t tell you how.” Eryx stands and brushes off his tunic. “Only what is.”

  “Whatever did this may be nearby,” Theseus says, his expression taut. “Stay near me. Remain together.”

  “We can’t leave them like this,” Charis begs, turning her pleading gaze on Theseus. “They’re unburied! With no coin to cross the river Styx—how will they reach the underworld? How will they ever find peace?”

  Theseus’s eyes are haunted. “I’m sorry. I—I know how you feel. It’s a…desecration.” He squeezes Charis’s shoulder, but his jaw is set. He glances at me before looking away. “We must concern ourselves with the living now.”

  I know he’s right, he’s doing what’s best for the group, but the stricken look on Charis’s face still strikes me to my core. I reach out and grasp Charis’s hand.

  “Theseus!” Gallus calls. He’s moved a few paces away, examining something along the far end of the chamber. “More bones.”

  His jar of glow-worms illuminates several human skeletons. The rotting tatters of their once-white tunics cling to the yellowed bones. An icy finger runs along my spine. How long have they been here, their once vibrant bodies slowly disintegrating to nothing but bone and scraps of cloth? This is the fate that awaits Cadmus and the others.

  “We need to take the bones,” Gallus says flatly. “We need more weapons.”

  Theseus winces, then his expression hardens. “Gallus is right. Take the thigh and leg bones. They’re the strongest.”

  Charis backs away, shaking her head.

  “We do what we must to survive,” Leda says gently. She holds out her hand. “I’ll take one.”

  “And I’ll take another,” Kalliope says immediately.

  Gallus does the dirty work of snapping the bones free from their skeletons. He hands one to Eryx, Kalliope, Leda, and me. Charis still refuses, and Theseus has his dagger. Gallus takes four and shoves them in his empty satchel. We follow his lead.

  No one glances back at the bodies of the lost tributes as we pass through the chamber into the opposite tunnel. The air grows colder still. I can’t stop shivering.

  “Tell me what you’ll do when you leave this place, Leda,” I force between labored breaths. I need to get the frozen faces of those poor tributes out of my head. In truth, I’ve thought little of them since they chose to break away from Theseus, but I never wished them dead. The thought of whatever did that to them prickles the hairs along the back of my neck.

  Leda gives a little moan. “I can barely think past the pain of this moment.”

  “You owe me an answer.”

  “I owe you a kick in the shin for making me walk so fast.”

  “I thought you wished to avoid being eaten. Was I mistaken?”

  She gives a sharp bark of laughter. “The ships,” she manages through chattering teeth. “I’ll build the m-most magnificent ship even Crete has never seen, a ship that can hold a thousand men—and women—that can sail past the very borders of the known world.”

  “I would like to see such a ship.” In spite of my exhaustion, I manage a smile. This part of my heart, at least, is loyal and true. For Leda, Charis, and Eryx, I’ll do anything to ensure they make it out of the Labyrinth alive.

  My breath expels in white puffs. Bumps lift all along my skin. I draw myself closer to Leda’s warmth, both of us shivering.

  “Cold,” Charis whispers. “It’s so cold.”

  Ahead of us, Eryx says, “S-something’s wrong.”

  “What?” Charis asks.

  And then I hear it.

  A rustling whisper, like a blade sliding from its scabbard.

  I whip around, Leda pulling away, wincing a bit but standing on her own. I hold up my jar, but the light barely illuminates further than two or three paces. The whispering dark crouches, waiting.

  That soft, scraping sound comes again.

  I stiffen. “Quiet!”

  Everyone goes silent and still but for their shivering.

  I can’t help it. I look back at Theseus, and our eyes meet. I don’t know what he sees there—I don’t even know what I feel—desire, shame, remorse, fear—but immediately, he strides to my other side. He stands beside me, closer than he needs to. Emotions flit across his face, but then the shadow clears and the look he gives me is not of irritation or derision, but concern. “What is it?”

  He tilts his head as he studies me, his eyes careful and searching. I want to drown in those eyes. Whatever hurt he felt, he’s put it away. In the midst of danger, of a new threat, he’s back on my side. Relief floods through me. I shouldn’t feel it, but I do. I shouldn’t want him near me. I do.

  A hollow ache spreads inside my chest. It makes me despise myself, but I can’t help it. He is Theseus. Without his golden brightness to warm me, the darkness is unbearable.

  There’s so much I wish to say, but I can’t speak any of it. The words inside me are jagged as glass; they would cut us to pieces. I swallow them down. Swallow the pain, the poison.

  “Ariadne?”

  I nod. “I am all right.”

  Both hands occupied with the glow-worm jar and the dagger, he presses his shoulder against mine in a comforting gesture. It nearly undoes me.

  I blink away the stinging in my eyes. “Did you hear that?”

  Side by side, we both hold out our jars, straining to search the darkness beyond. “What do you see?” he asks softly.

  “Nothing. I can’t see anything. But there’s something. I know there is.”

  “You’re right.” He nods grimly. “This is no earthly chill.”

 
“What do you mean?” Kalliope asks. “What is this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  We look at each other, dread on each drawn face. Our breath steams in front of us. The cold is a sinister thing, thick and alive, creeping closer, closer.

  We can all feel it. Something is coming.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Look,” Eryx croaks, pointing at the walls.

  Frost creeps along the stones, whitish-blue streaks slithering like searching fingers. Icicles form like teeth above our heads.

  “Theseus, what do we do?” Kalliope backs away. The ice crackles after her. The ground is suddenly slick, and she nearly slips, throwing out her hands for balance.

  “Don’t touch the walls!” Theseus says, alarmed. “We don’t know what this is.”

  Kalliope snatches her hand from the ice-glazed stone. “What do we do?” she repeats, a note of hysteria in her voice.

  Theseus steps in front of me protectively, pushing me behind his body, the rest of the tributes behind me. He stares into the darkness as if he can see something there, one hand gripping his dagger, knuckles whitened. I peer around him, trying to see where he’s looking, but there’s nothing.

  “Should we run?” Leda asks.

  Theseus doesn’t answer.

  “Theseus!” Gallus cries.

  I tug on his arm. “Theseus? Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Theseus shakes himself from his stupor. “I…thought I saw something.”

  “We shouldn’t stay here,” I say, thinking of the four bodies we left behind, thinking of their frozen, terrified expressions. “It isn’t safe.”

  “Ariadne’s right.” Theseus nods. “We need to run.”

  But no one runs.

  The air grows brittle. My skin feels like it’s coated in ice. Run, I tell myself. Run! I command my legs to take a step and find they can’t. I can move, but with great difficulty, as if my bones are frozen.

  “What’s wrong with me?” Gallus looks wildly around. “My legs are stuck!”

  “This is the gods. This is…” Charis’s voice trails off. Her gaze fixes on something in front of her, eyes widening.

  “Charis?” Leda asks.

  “No,” she whispers. “No, it cannot be. No, no, no…”

  “What do you see?” Theseus asks me tensely.

  I stare at Charis in growing alarm. “I don’t see anything, but she does.”

  Charis is ashen-faced, staring at something no one else can see. Her wide, startled eyes dart back and forth. She raises her hands and presses them over her mouth. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re not supposed to be here…”

  There’s another rustle, soft as an expelled breath.

  Leda gasps.

  I crane my neck, searching. “Leda? What is it?”

  Leda stands a pace from me, hands hanging limp at her sides, staring at something over my shoulder, stricken.

  I follow her gaze. There’s only the darkness, the steam of our breath, only the frost crackling white on the stones, the icicles dripping down from the ceiling.

  “Stay close to me,” Theseus says in a low voice.

  Gallus shakes his head, stumbling away from us, hands raised defensively. “No! You’re dead, you’re dead!”

  Kalliope shrinks, cowering from an unseen assailant. I’ve never seen such fear on her face. “Please,” she begs desperately, “please, no…”

  I spin, searching the darkness, still seeing nothing. “What is it? What’s there?”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” Gallus screeches.

  Beside me, Theseus goes stiff. He curses, scowling, and cuts swaths in the empty air with his dagger, stabbing some invisible enemy.

  I barely flinch out of the way. He doesn’t even see me, his eyes wide and glazed. “Go back to the underworld where you belong!”

  “What do you—”

  And then I see it.

  Movement deep in the shadows, gliding toward me.

  A pale, watery figure appears. A shock shudders through me, for I recognize the handsome, almost girlish face, the confident, graceful stride, the slim hips and strong shoulders. For a heartbeat, pure joy engulfs my heart. “Androgeus!”

  He’s still beautiful—long black curls, oiled and shining, spilling over his shoulders, a strong nose defining a narrow but pleasing face, dark eyes fringed with thick lashes, full lips forming a ready smile.

  But this is impossible. How is this happening? How is he here? My oldest brother is dead…understanding wraps its cold fingers around my mind.

  He is himself, but he’s also insubstantial. I can see right through him. He’s a shade, one of the dead escaped from the underworld—or maybe down here, we’re so close to its gates that the dead can travel the Labyrinth’s passages as easily as their own.

  He glides closer, still smiling. I find I’m smiling in return. Shade or no, I’m delighted to see him. The joyous, glorious brother of my youth, the sun I orbited around—until he was murdered.

  He looks exactly as I last saw him so long ago, waving heartily at me as his ship departed for Athens—but for the bloom of scarlet staining his bare, gleaming chest. When he moves, the wounds of the spears used to stab him open and close like tiny red mouths.

  My smile falters.

  “What have you done?” he asks me through grinning lips.

  “I’m—I’m saving our family.”

  “By falling in love with an Athenian?” He gestures at his bloody chest. “After they murdered me?”

  “No,” I say, feeling the lie on my tongue. “I’m not.”

  There is none of the dazzling exuberance and good humor I knew glittering in Androgeus’s gaze. His eyes are flat, dead things. “You have betrayed me.”

  I gulp, telling myself he doesn’t mean it, that the loathing in his expression is a mistake. “I love you!”

  “Do you know the one advantage of being dead? I can read the thoughts unspooling from your head, the lies you speak as easily as breathing, dear little sister.”

  “You don’t understand,” I say, aghast. I look around wildly, mindful of the others, but they’re engaged in their own tortured conversations with the dead. They aren’t listening. “My devotion is true.”

  He raises his faint eyebrows. “Is it? I wonder, is Theseus as faithless as you are?”

  I feel sick. Nausea gags my throat—a toxic stew of grief, guilt, and fear.

  “You will fail her, you know. Mother should have gone to Phaedra, not you. She’s the beautiful one, the cunning one.”

  Despair sweeps over me, thick and dark and choking. He’s right. Of course, he’s right. How could I ever believe I could pull this off? I failed in the arena. I failed my mother my whole life, unable to replace the void Androgeus left in his wake, and then Asterion—I was never worthy of my mother’s attention or affection.

  My eldest brother’s beautiful mouth curls in scorn. “You will only disappoint her. Why do you even try?”

  “No,” I whisper. “That isn’t true.”

  “You’ll join me soon enough.” His smile is faint but unmistakable, sly and greedy, hungry. “You’ll never leave this place. The Labyrinth will be your grave.”

  Cold dread seeps deep inside me. The priestesses claim time is insubstantial to shades in the underworld. Trapped beneath the earth, they see both the past and the future. What if he knows? What if he speaks the truth?

  “Who do you think will do the grisly deed?” Androgeus asks. “Our dear brother, the Minotaur? Or handsome Theseus, a dagger sliding through your ribs?”

  I crumple to my knees. The ice-slicked rock is so cold it burns my skin. Clouds of steam puff from my numb lips. “Stop, please. Just stop it!”

  “Who do you think most deserves your blood? Which one have you betrayed the worst?”

  I want to curl into a ball of shame and despair. All my fears collide inside me at once, my doubt and loathing and aching hunger, my desperate need to be loved, my failures, all the hollow places inside that fear fit perfectl
y inside—Androgeus knows them all, opening them one by one, like locked doors.

  “You are nothing. You are without honor.” His eyes are a scorched black. “Your own father despises you. Your own mother detests you. The Athenian prince is only using you.”

  I try to run, to flee. My foot lifts from the icy ground, but slowly, and with great difficulty. I pant from the exertion of moving my limbs. “That’s not true, that’s—”

  “Mother doesn’t love you. She never did. She sent you in here to die.”

  His words are weapons, sharper than any blade. I feel them cutting away my determination, my strength, my courage, my will, until I’m nothing but a husk, a tortured wisp of myself—just like him. “No!”

  “She hates you. She will always hate you.” He smiles again, slick and venomous. “After all, you’re the one who sent her beloved son to the Labyrinth.”

  The nightmare crashes through me—the sun shining so bright it hurt my eyes, the blood splattered across my arms, pain like a hammer crushing my chest. My body lying on the ground, drenched in blood, my own and the boy’s—the boy whose name I can’t bear to even think, not even now, not even in my own head.

  And another memory, one I’ve buried deep down, dredged up by the shade of my older brother, the hissing poison of his words—my silence as they dragged my brother away in chains.

  I shake my head, trying desperately to push out the vile memories, to hold the overwhelming despondency at bay. “Stop it! Please!”

  Around me, Kalliope and Leda cringe and tremble in misery, Gallus grovels hopelessly, Charis and Eryx stricken and weeping, each one facing some ethereal wraith spitting invisible poison, each one giving in, despondent.

  Only Theseus battles against his. It’s futile but still he fights, his expression desolate, eyes bleak as if all hope has been sucked from his soul.

  We’re trapped, all of us, cowering before the shades of our nightmares. They’re destroying us with our own despair.

  The shade of my brother skulks so close frost forms on my skin, freezing my bones. “You have betrayed your family, your blood, your honor,” he spits. “The goddess has turned against you. You should just die right here. It would be better for you. Just die.”