Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Clinging to that belief, I hurried forward. My mind tried wandering to thoughts of how Lear and other candidates might be doing, but I shut it down fast. It would only distract me. I couldn’t afford any distractions right now.
I jumped over a blazing log only to stumble to the side and ram my shoulder into a statue. It shifted and swayed before clanging to the ground.
Damn, I wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the heat but I felt a little light-headed. Maybe it was from lack of food as well. Not that I’d be able to stomach anything at the moment—the taste of ash, grit, and phlegm sat thick on my tongue. Gods, I’d give anything to take a swig of water from my pouch right now.
I let out a wheezy cough that grazed my throat. It felt raw and scratchy. My nostrils were as hot and dry as my mouth.
I really had had enough of this crap. Enough of the shifting smoke, dancing flames, poor visibility, and constant obstacles. So it would have been a relief when I came across a split in the passage that—if past circuits were anything to go by—signaled I’d reached the end of it. Except … the crevice was too wide to jump, so dark it appeared bottomless, and the only method of crossing it involved the line of towering stumps that stood between the crevice and the other end of the passage.
I moved to the edge. Embers of fire trickled down from the ceiling to the dark ditch below. I didn’t know what was down there. I only knew it was growling.
Yeah, no thanks.
Eyeing the stumps, I nervously rubbed at the film of soot still coating my face. Considering I’d so far come up against a trench of manure, an aquamarine pool, and a river of blood, you would think that I’d feel more confident about crossing a simple ditch. But the others hadn’t been so deep—anyone who fell into them could also climb out.
This crevice, however? It not only seemed depthless, it had perfectly smooth walls. Unless you had wings, which I did not, you weren’t getting out of that ditch.
And it was home to something that growled.
Well, it bore repeating.
Come on, you can do this.
I could. Absolutely. I’d be fine.
Without taking another moment to think about it, I stepped onto the first spire. It didn’t wobble. Relief.
Holding out my arms for balance, I moved to the next spire. Again, there was no wobbling.
There was, however, a slight crack.
Wicked fast, I hopped onto the third spire, one foot almost slipping off when I realized how slim the circular stump actually was—I could barely fit both my feet on it at the same time. Something I stupidly hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
Seeing that the fourth spire was wider, I stepped onto it. No wobbling, no cracking.
The same went for the fifth spire. And the sixth. And the seventh.
Not the eighth and final spire. It swayed like a drunken idiot. I leapt to the other side of the crevice as quickly as I could, managing to land on my feet.
Relief blowing through my blood, I hurried to the end of the passage, took the upcoming U-turn, shoved my way through hanging moss … and found only blackness.
Seriously, it wasn’t simply dark, it was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything—not even my own hand when I held it in front of my face.
The loud noise from the previous circuit had been rapidly replaced by an eerie silence. The terrible heat had disappeared. Here, the air was cool and clammy. Just the same, the smells of dust, moist stone, and decaying greenery had replaced those of smoke, ash, and burning wood.
No way was I going to try to feel my way through the circuit. Heaven knew what surprises were around. So I called to my power, using the little sparks for light.
I squinted as I scanned what I could see of the passage. The ceiling was low here, and the ground was very uneven. Moss crept along the discolored stone walls. Water steadily dripped from ceiling fissures, forming little puddles. Weeds grew between the cracks that spiderwebbed along the ground.
There were statues, but no totems or spires. Instead, there were caskets, urns, and sarcophagi. Many of which had fallen.
My breath caught as my mind again flashed to the ‘nightmare’ I’d had last night. This was it. This was the ‘crypt’ where I’d seen the little boy run.
No, no, no, no, no. It had been real. Talon had been forced to run through this labyrinth as a child. I struggled to wrap my head around it.
The freaking place was hard enough for an adult to navigate and survive. A young boy? He must have been so afraid, must have come close to dying more than once.