Page 177 of Powerless

Dead end.

I backtrack, turning left instead of right and pick up my pace despite my slight panting. I fall into a routine of random guessing, retracing my steps, and cursing. Lots and lots of cursing.

“Dammit!” I’m yelling at nothing but the sixth dead end I’ve had the pleasure of stumbling upon. I spin on my heel and head back the way I came, barely glancing at the Sight who just witnessed, and recorded, my little outburst. I huff, senses feeling dull in this damp maze. The cries of the crowd outside are muffled, muted by the layers of thick foliage separating me from them.

It’s eerily quiet in here, nothing but the sound of my pounding feet, pounding heart, and panting breaths filling the silence.

And then the maze shifts.

The path I’m standing in narrows, the hedges on either side of me press in.

I’m about to be squashed.

This is my nightmare. My most terrifying, claustrophobic nightmare.

I sprint for the end of the path where another one awaits, one that isn’t moving and won’t crush me if I make it there in time. My lungs are burning, my feet shifting in the sand with each stumbling step.

Twigs and leaves and thick greenery brush my shoulders on both sides, threatening to swallow me whole as they continue closing in. But I keep running towards my salvation, towards the path awaiting me only a few yards away.

Branches and thorns I hadn’t seen before now tear at the exposed skin on my arms, unrelenting as the walls continue to push against me. Any longer and I’ll be trapped between foliage, skewered by branches and thorns.

Dead. I’ll be dead if I don’t get out.Now.

I dive.

I hit the clear pathway hard, rolling to break my fall.

And that’s when pain erupts up my leg.

Lying on my side, chest heaving, I follow the stinging sensation to my left foot—the one trapped between the two hedges that have now molded together.

A strangled cry slips from my lips, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle it. Red, hot blood is running down my leg, dripping onto the sand beneath it. I sit up, trying to calm my breathing as I stretch shaky hands towards the ankle that is barely covered by my now shredded boot.

I lean forward and claw at the tangle of twining branches, leaves, and thorns ensnaring my leg. After barely managing to snap off a branch, I’ve never wished for my dagger more than in this moment.

This maze is the work of Blooms, the work of Elites. Power fills the foliage creating these walls, woven together with the branches and leaves and thorns to make them thicker and stronger and deadlier.

I gulp down air, forcing myself to ignore the flaring pain in my foot. My hands clamp around my calf. I take a shaky breath. And then I pull.

It’s like fire. The pain is so hot, so searing. I bite my tongue until I taste blood, watching as I pull more and more of my foot into view while simultaneously pulling the ruined boot off my foot. I stop, gasping for breath and a break from the pain.

Without my boot to protect my foot from the thorns and jagged branches, it is a mangled mass of torn flesh. Well, the part of it I can see, that is. The other half of my foot is still swallowed by the hedges now fused together, refusing to release me.

I swallow my scream of pain when I pull at my foot again. More torn flesh comes into view, bloody and looking like red ribbons trailing deep across my skin. But with one final yank followed by one final yelp, my foot is freed.

I fall onto my back, gasping for air and gasping from pain. I blink up at the sky, allowing myself one more moment to breathe before sitting up and tearing off the bottom strip of my tank. The burgundy fabric blends with the seeping blood from my wound as I wrap it around my foot as best I can.

Adena would be both fascinated and disgusted by how perfectly the colors match.

I push off the ground and stagger to my feet.

Pain. Sharp pain and a slew of curses.

I limp forward, trying to ignore the throbbing ache from my foot that’s climbing up my leg. But I can walk, proving that the injury could have been much, much worse.

Sweat clings to me, soaking the tank that is now torn dangerously short, displaying a good chunk of skin before the band of my pants wraps under my bellybutton. And despite the damp, cool breeze blowing through the hedges of the maze, I’m uncomfortably hot and sticky.

I press on, off balance from pain and the lack of both shoes. The darkness deepens as I head further into what I hope is the center of the maze and what awaits me there.

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