Page 16 of Labyrinth of Broken Vows
He lets out a huff of frustration, glancing away as if this conversation is testing every bit of his patience. “You won’t. The southern quadrant’s not a place you figure out on your own.” He scowls again, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. “If you keep going like this, you’ll be dead before nightfall.”
There’s a moment of silence, the tension between us thick, and I can feel my pulse hammering in my ears. His words sting, but I can’t help noticing the way he avoids eye contact, like being around me is making him nervous. And yet, despite that, he’s here, offering advice—even if it comes wrapped in grumpiness.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I say, crossing my arms defensively.
He grimaces, staring down at the ground again. “Good,” he mutters, almost too quietly. “Because I’m not offering it.” There’s a faint flush to his cheeks as he finally glances back at me, his eyes darting away just as quickly. “But... if you want tomake it out of here alive, you’ll need someone who knows these paths.”
I hesitate, watching him carefully. He’s clearly not used to talking to people—at least not like this—and yet, something about him feels genuine, even through the rough exterior. My guard stays up, but there’s a pull, a quiet tension beneath his awkwardness.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He looks away again, shifting uncomfortably. “Grom.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Grom?”
“Yeah,” he grunts, his voice rougher now. “And if you’re planning on surviving, you’ll follow my lead. You’re not making it far without me.”
There’s an awkward silence as he shuffles his feet, looking like he’s about to bolt at any second, but despite his clear discomfort, he’s standing his ground.
I swallow hard, torn between frustration and the realization that he’s right. I need him—at least for now. “Fine,” I mutter. “Lead the way.”
seven
Brielle
The silence between Grom and me stretches longer than the winding paths of the Maze. I’ve been following him for what feels like hours, my steps echoing his, trying to piece together this quiet, grumpy man who seems to know every twist and turn like the back of his hand. His pace is steady, purposeful, but he keeps his distance. The tension between us feels like a wall.
I clear my throat, deciding that the silence is unbearable. “What was that creature?” My voice is hesitant, unsure if he’ll even respond.
For a moment, he doesn’t. Grom keeps walking, his eyes focused ahead as if my question hadn’t even reached him. Just as I’m about to repeat myself, he answers, his voice low.
“A southern fiend,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear.
“A southern fiend?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… comforting.”
He grunts in response, clearly not in the mood for conversation. But I press on. “How do you know your way around here so well?”
There’s another pause before he finally responds. “I’ve lived in the Maze my whole life.”
His words catch me off guard. Lived in the Maze? I want to ask more—how? Why? But before I can, the air around us begins to chill, and I notice the sun sinking lower in the sky. I rub my arms, trying to fend off the chill creeping through my bones.
“We’ll need to camp here for the night,” Grom says, his voice matter-of-fact. “Start a fire. You can collect sticks while there’s still light.”
I glance around, the thickening shadows making the Maze seem even more sinister. “Here? Out in the open?”
He shrugs. “Yes. This spot will do.” He points to a mossy tree, its bark gnarled and ancient, the ground beneath it surprisingly flat.
“But don’t you have a home?” I ask, frowning as I glance around, hoping for some hidden cave or shelter that I hadn’t seen before. “Someplace safer than out here?”
Grom’s eyes darken, his expression hardening. “What I have is none of your concern. You’re still a stranger to me.”
The sharpness of his words stings more than it should, but I roll my eyes, swallowing the retort rising in my throat. Without another word, I turn and head off into the trees, determined to gather the wood he requested.
As I walk, my mind whirls with questions, suspicions that gnaw at the edges of my thoughts. The way Grom seems to know this Maze so intimately, his survival here—it all feels too convenient. Could he have some connection to the Maze King? Could he be working for him? Watching me? I feel so paranoid now.
I wander a little farther from our makeshift camp, eyes scanning the forest floor for sticks. The trees here are thick, their bark covered in strange, dark moss, and the ground is damp beneath my boots. The Maze feels alive, the air thick with something ancient and untamed. There’s an uneasiness that clings to me as I walk, but then my eyes catch movement up ahead.
A small creature, no larger than a house cat, peeks out from behind a twisted tree. It’s covered in sleek, dark fur, with glowing blue eyes that almost seem to pulse with their own light. Long, delicate whiskers twitch as it watches me curiously, and it pads closer, its movements graceful and cautious. Its body is serpentine, coiling slightly as it moves, but its face is almost fox-like, intelligent and alert. A tufted tail flicks behind it, stirring the air with a quiet hum.
