Page 73 of Mostly Shattered

“Tamara.”

I hesitate and take a deep breath. I really hope that’s not Draakmar calling out to me.

Chapter

Seventeen

My legs are like lead, but I tell myself to keep moving. Scratches mar my dirty arms. Knots are forming in my muscles. I brace my sore hand against the wall for support. I thought this was supposed to be a test of strength, but it feels more like a reminder that I don’t belong here.

The faster I go, the faster I will find the end. I pass the torch, expecting another to appear to light the way.

Darkness remains ahead.

I take a steadying breath. What now?

The air becomes cooler, momentarily welcome against the heat as it chills my sweat. I fall against the wall for support and start to shiver. My breath comes out in white puffs. Does this mean thephysical test is over, or is it the beginning of freezing to death?

The way behind me is blocked. There is only one direction to go—forward into the darkness. I use the wall as a guide as I walk.

I tell myself that I have survived worse than this.

I try not to think about him. Paul. But sometimes, in the quiet moments between chaos, I wonder if he ever senses something is missing. That there is a piece of his life, of me, that he’s forgotten. It is better this way. It has to be. For his sake. For his daughter’s. For my own. But even as I tell myself that, a small part of me doesn’t believe it.

I must keep going. This labyrinth is only a moment in time, and soon it will be over. Tiny green lights appear like glitter over the walls. They move as if alive, insects crawling over the rock. They’re smaller than the butterflies I followed before.

I withdraw my hand, careful not to touch them. The tiny bioluminescent creatures stir. They swarm into the darkness, giving the softest of lights. It’s difficult to make out much, but I take a tentative step to follow where they lead.

The energy differs from before. Something’s coming, and it isn’t good. I focus on the darkness for a hint of what is to come. The walls move, silently shifting in the shadows as if the labyrinth is preparing for my next trial.

The swarm of insects moves faster, forcing me to quicken my pace to keep up with them or be left behind in the dark. I feel like a rat in a scientist’s maze. Only the scientist is a cruel sorcerer with a sick sense of humor.

The walls constrict, and the path becomes narrow. I have to turn to the side to pass by. Breathing becomes harder as the cold air thickens.

I don’t want to be alone. Not here. I mouth Costin’s name, wishing he would sense me and come for me. But I know that I must face these trials unaided. There is a reason the labyrinth let me in when I was alone in the subway tunnel.

I’m moving faster now to keep up with the insects. Unease marks every step I take. And then, finally, I hear something. At first, it’s faint, like someone whimpering into a pillow.

“Anthony?” I call, recognizing the sound from before.

I run to find him. The faint cry becomes louder, echoing down the narrow passageway.

Anthony’s whimpers continue to grow, turning into moans. He’s in trouble. He needs me.

I lift my arms as I run through the insects. They scatter around me and fall to the ground like a burst of confetti. I see a new light up ahead, and I go toward it.

Finally, the passage opens up into a vast chamber.Shadows cling to the edges, and I have no idea how deep it goes. That doesn’t matter now. My eyes are drawn to the center of the room. Anthony hangs suspended in the air. His body is shackled with writhing gold tendrils of magic. They hold him by his wrists and ankles. A thick band wraps around his waist and another winds around his neck.

The magic around his neck coils and tightens, causing him to whimper and moan. My heart seizes in my chest as panic sets in. My brother’s eyes are closed, his face contorted in pain. His skin is draining color as if the snare is alive, feeding off him and drinking his magic.

“Anthony!” I rush toward him, but the moment I cross the threshold into the room, the air crackles with dark magic, and the tendrils writhe faster, sensing me. They pull tighter, and he lets out a sharp cry of pain. “Let him go! He has nothing to do with this. This is my trial, not his.”

The magic doesn’t listen. I have no command over such ancient and cruel things. I don’t know how to fight this kind of magic.

I can’t lose him. Not now. Not like this. Not like Paul.

But I’m not trained for this. My parents sheltered me from the knowledge of these things. They kept me away from magic and spells. They only taught me that which they thought would help me defendmyself. Mortals have no use for magic. We’re not meant to dabble where we don’t belong.

“Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” The voice seems to slither in behind me. I don’t have to turn to know it’s Conrad. “Shall we watch him die together?”

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