Labyrinth Book One ✔

Chapter 3

If being hunted by a Lycan seems daunting, that’s nothing compared to the labyrinth.

When inside, I’m disgusted to learn it changes. Nothing remains the same. It means I’m running blindly into the unknown. There’s no way to backtrack or choose another passage. When I make a choice, the labyrinth holds me to it.

The Lycan warriors have an unfair advantage, guided by their sharp sense of smell and keen eyesight. They can smell fear, and they thrive off it. It calls to them just as strongly as the smell of arousal. That much is evident by how their eyes clouded with lust when they saw us.

I must keep my wits about me, or I won’t reach the centre before sunrise. Then perhaps I can sneak to the beach unnoticed and sail home on a small rowing boat.

My thoughts are hampered as the scenery changes again. Moisture coats the dark grey stone, making the prospect of climbing it seems impossible. My satin shoes hold no traction on the smooth surface, and I must be careful not to slip on the moss-covered path. The open-air corridor is discouraging, seeing no turns or corners on either side.

Looking heavenward, I can see the inky night sky clearly above me. There is not a single cloud in sight. Scattering stars fill the sky, creating a jewel-encrusted canopy high above me.

I trudge carefully, mindful of where I place my feet. The stone begins to rumble, then slides at different angles, offering me a choice between left or right. I choose to go left, praying that it’s the right decision. Time is against me, granting me only one hour’s head start before a creature, more powerful than I ever imagined will hunt me down and make me his bride.

How will I even begin to stand a chance against such a being?

My feet skid to a stop as I come face to face with a dead end. I turn on my heel, darting in the opposite direction, only to realise the way I came is now barred. The walls have moved, confusing me as to which direction I came from.

“What is this place?” I scream my frustrations into the night.

I hyperventilate for a few seconds as I desperately scan my surroundings, looking from left to right. I attempt to scale the walls desperately, trying to determine the fastest way to the centre.

My soft satin shoes slip as I try to find my footing, causing me to slide back down the wall. The stone is damp for a reason. There is no way to cheat the wall and climb it. That will only waste time and precious energy.

I make a split-second decision to run to the right. I am unsure why as I gather my bearings, but it seems the most obvious way to go. Going left somehow feels wrong, as if it will lead me back to the beginning.

I don’t have to travel far when encountering an obstruction in the middle of the pathway. It looks like a game of some sort. From further observation, I notice a series of riddles engraved into the stone. The moon shines brighter, illuminating the inscriptions etched into the stone path. It also kick-starts a series of events. The game has been activated, and cannon guns emerge from the walls on both sides of me.

One wrong answer, and I could be blown to smithereens. There is no way around this situation other than to read the clues and try to answer them correctly and, at the same time, keep an accurate account of how much time has passed. As far as I know, the second horn has not sounded. The lack of screams is a testament to that. That can only mean an hour hasn’t yet come to pass — a theory I’m basing on a logical fact.