❝ 𝐘𝐀'𝐀𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐄
- arabic term meaning 'you bury me,' a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them. ❞
⤷ in which an ex assassin meets a thief orphan who's skil...
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
tw: severe panic attack and slight self harm
CHAPTER ELEVEN ✔️
...
COLD SWEAT RAN UP against the nape of Percy's neck, she fought a wince—it felt like needles. She glanced around at her surroundings. Walls. It was all she could see.
It was silent and dark, save for the occasional tapping of some type of pipe leak. The walls were covered in moss, dirt, and grime. She stood from the stone ground, rubbing her cold arms.
A maze? She wondered, rounding a corner. The pathways she was walking down led her to believe she had stumbled into some type of labyrinth.
Her leather shoes made no noise as she padded along. She came across a fork in the road, debating which way was the best decision. Her nervous habit of scoping out everything in sight seemed to have put in its two weeks, anxiety grew in her stomach at the thought of having no way out if she chose the wrong way.
What if she was stuck there? God, she couldn't believe she was admitting that she should've stuck with Leorio.
Right is always right. Percy settled, turning in said direction. The silence was deafening. It was one of the few times she could actually hear herself breathing, naturally being as quiet as a mouse. But the dark maze was quite the competition.
The red-haired girl huffed, placing her hands on her hips as she stopped. The height of the walls surrounding her were high. She tested the waters, grabbing onto the vines and heaving herself up, only for them to snap in her grip. She fell to the freezing floor. It would take a miracle for her to trek it.
Luckily enough, Percy's miracles were tucked in holsters on her thighs. She swiped two from their hold, standing from her previous defeat and stabbing a dagger into the wall with as much force as she could muster. She was met with an underwhelming clang! and rendered herself lost.
Scratch that. There was no such thing as miracles.
With no other choice, she continued her endeavor through the seemingly endless labyrinth the old fashioned way.
She suddenly stopped in her tracks, a pinch being felt at the back of her neck as her vision went white. She rubbed her eyes.
When her sight cleared, she was taken aback to see a painfully familiar foyer. The goosebumps—product of the freezing cold atmosphere—still remained on her skin, though her new surroundings seemed like they'd be warm.
A chandelier hung from the ceiling—which was dome shaped—and the floors were tile. Behind her were the grand doors, and directly in front of her were two stair cases curving into the second floor. It was familiar because she lived there for 14 years. It was the foyer of the orphanage.
