Labyrinth Book One ✔

Chapter 5

With nothing to grasp onto, I pad down the uneven, jagged steps leading to the Labyrinth's depths. The damp, slimy surfaces are green with algae. My wits need to remain sharp, or I’ll slip and tumble to my death. Sweat runs down my face. The air is thickening, becoming so dense I can almost chew it and taste the heated vegetation around me.

A noise startles me. I glance over my shoulder, fearful that the warrior is close. I’m sure the Lycans know this labyrinth inside and out. Why else would they use it for their hunting ground? As if they don’t already have an advantage, being stronger and faster than us. Maybe that’s why the labyrinth continuously changes, to give them a greater challenge. I imagine life would get boring here, cooped up on this island, far out at sea, unchartered, unknown, where no one will ever find them.

Stepping onto the earthy ground, I shove aside my tangled thoughts and take a moment to study my surroundings. It’s too dark to see clearly. I’m reliant on the moonlight to keep the shadows at bay. The passing clouds cast an eerie veil across my light source, allowing the darkness to creep back momentarily. Something soft and damp touches my hand, and I turn with a gasp, frightened of what had touched me, but it was just a dewy leaf. A wild and overgrown wilderness makes up the walls of a maze. The moonlight can scarcely seep through the mosaic of thorns. It’s so quiet. I can’t hear a chirp, a croak, or a scuttle. Nothing. Not even the hoot from an owl or a rustle of leaves. A deadly silence has swallowed me whole and lured me into the dark.

With an uneasy heart, I venture onward, unable to go back. On and on, I meander through the wild maze with its reaching branches and scratching thorns. The deeper I go, the harder it is for me to see the path to determine the way. The parting clouds grant me a flicker of moonlight, and I see something dark slither along the path. It’s impossible to identify what it is among the fallen leaves, but it’s the first sound I’ve heard since leaving the staircase. It sounded like a hiss, or at least, I think it was. I can’t be sure. All I know is I heard something. I initially thought it was a snake, but as it coils around my ankle, a sharp pain spikes my skin like a mouthful of teeth, not fangs, and I scream. With a rough tug, it pulls me backward, and I land with a painful thud. It drags me across the ground, my dress bunching beneath my arms, bare skin scraping through the dirt, scratching, grazing, hurting, burning, the fire around my ankle blazing as whatever it is attacks me. The louder I scream, the tighter it squeezes.

“Help! Somebody, help me!” I call out, despite knowing no aid will come.

Fingers grappling, reaching, searching, desperate to find something to use to defend myself, touching, feeling, finding a sharp, jagged rock. The stone bites my palm as I whack my unknown captor repeatedly until it relents, lets go, and retreats into the shadows.

“Argh.” I struggle to stand, limping, gasping, my heart racing, eyes wide with panic.

A sinister chill crawls up my spine as the unruly foliage moves around me, branches snapping their restraints, twisting and coiling, towering above me.

Gulping hard, my eyes bulge as the plant life springs to life, moving and reaching for me with withered fingers armed with spiked thorns. I suck in a breath to scream, and a loud, guttural roar shatters through me. The light brightens, illuminating the monster vines and their tubular heads with jagged teeth and clawed vines. Another almighty roar steals its attention, the plant-like heads turning at the sound, which is my cue to escape. My injured leg hampers my mobility, but I grit through the pain and limp along the passage.

The warrior will catch me. I know this. I am not foolish enough to think I can outrun him forever, but I will not stop trying.

A vine snags at my hair, tearing strands out by the root and burning my scalp from the violent assault. I hiss through my teeth, fighting off lash after brutal lash. Each flower head snaps its teeth in my direction, hungry to tear the flesh from my bones. Another vine reaches out, coils around my throat like a viper’s fangs, and drags me back. My feet skid through the fallen leaves, finding no anchorage. Choking, I dig my nails through the vine, drawing thick, viscous liquid until it releases me. Gasping, I scramble free, hoping it hadn’t poisoned me. It takes every ounce of strength that I have, but I manage to prevail, scrambling to the end of the path where the vines have no choice but to retract back in defeat.