Page 17 of Labyrinth of Broken Vows
I crouch down, mesmerized by the little creature. Its large eyes blink at me, unafraid, and I extend a hand slowly, hoping not to scare it off. To my surprise, it takes a step forward, sniffing the air around my fingers before nuzzling against my palm with surprising warmth.
“Well, aren’t you friendly?” I whisper, running a finger gently along its fur. The creature lets out a soft, musical chirp, almost like a purr, and I can’t help but smile. In a place so full of danger, this tiny, friendly thing is a strange comfort.
I glance back in the direction of Grom, who is still by the mossy tree, busying himself with something out of sight. The creature nuzzles me one last time before slinking back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as it came.
Gathering up a few sticks, I head back to the where we will be setting up for the night, feeling a little lighter than I did before. But as the shadows stretch longer and the air grows colder, the weight of what lies ahead settles back in.
When I return, Grom is already arranging the fire pit, his movements efficient and practiced. He doesn’t look up as I drop the sticks beside him, but I can tell by the way his shoulders tense that he’s aware of my presence.
As I sit beside the log Grom had dragged over, he situates the sticks I’d gathered and starts a fire. I watch him, amazed at how quickly he moves. The heat reaches me and I am grateful as the chill slowly lets go of its grip on me.
My stomach growls loudly, a reminder of the emptiness gnawing at me. I watch Grom as he prods the fire with a stick, his face a mask of concentration. The flames flicker, casting his rugged features in an orange glow. He grumbles under his breath, his voice low but loud enough to reach me.
"Could've had a nice meal if you'd killed the shadowcoil."
I whip around, staring at him in shock. “I would never do such a thing,” I snap, the indignation rising in my chest. My mind flashes to the small creature I’d seen earlier, was that a shadowcoil?. “It wasn’t hurting anyone.”
Grom finally looks up from the fire, his eyes meeting mine with a cold, unflinching stare. “Then you’ll stay hungry.”
My anger flares, and I glare at him, my fists clenching. “You eat those beautiful creatures? That’s horrible.”
He shrugs, unfazed by my reaction. “Beauty means nothing here in the Maze,” he says bluntly, his voice as rough as the stones underfoot. “You’ll learn that soon enough. Everything here, whether it looks beautiful or not, is just trying to survive. That shadowcoil included.”
The weight of his words hangs between us, a grim truth I don’t want to accept. I stare into the fire, trying to push down the lump rising in my throat. “I could never kill something like that,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
Grom’s laugh is low and humorless. “You say that now,” he mutters, turning his back to me as he stirs the fire again. “Butthe Maze will change you. Hunger changes people. Fear changes people. You’ll see.”
Grom's words feel less like a warning and more like a prophecy. The shadowcoil had seemed so harmless, its glowing eyes watching me curiously. But here, in this twisted world, even the innocent were prey, or worse.
My stomach growls again, louder this time, and Grom looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Still think you’ll survive on principle alone?” he asks, his tone mocking.
I meet his gaze, refusing to back down, but the fire in my chest dims a little. How long could I last with nothing to eat? How much of myself was I willing to sacrifice just to survive? The time seems to move at a slow pace as we sit in silence.
Finally, after what feels like hours, I turn to Grom, curiosity bubbling within me despite the unease in the air. “Why do you stay here? You seem to know your way around; surely you could find a way out.”
He grunts, a low, rumbling sound that echoes through the quiet of the maze. “And where would I go?”
I gesture to the walls, “There are towns out there; places where people live.”
He chuckles, but it’s a nervous sound that barely masks the bitterness in his voice. “You think those towns would accept me?” He gestures to his troll-like form, with its rugged features and hulking stature. “I’m a beast from the Maze. And if it’s so nice out there, then why are you in here? Running from the towns you speak so highly of.”
I roll my eyes, frustration bubbling up. “I told you, I’m here to save someone.”
His laughter is sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Save someone? I sure hope they’re worth saving.”
A moment of silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken thoughts. I take a deep breath, summoning mycourage. “Henry. My husband was taken by the Maze King. I am here to save him.”
Grom studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes softening with understanding. “You must really love him to risk your life for him,” he says quietly. “I wonder… would he do the same for you?”
The question hangs heavy in the air, and I feel it strike a chord deep within me. My heart sinks as I meet his gaze, the firelight flickering against the shadows of my doubt. Grom stands up abruptly, his silhouette framed against the dying light. Left alone by the fire, I am consumed by the weight of his words. Would Henry have done what I’m doing for him? Deep down, I know the answer all too well. He wouldn’t.
I sit alone by the fire, letting its warmth soothes the bitterness swirling within me. I should be home, nestled in my bed, safe and sound. Instead, I’m out here; out here for him. But as the flickering flames dance before me, I shake my head; the more I ponder it, the more I realize it’s a lie. Deep down, I wanted this adventure, craved it. I needed to prove myself.
The Maze King may be an insufferable man, but he’s right about one thing: I’m here to prove something, to myself more than anything. Still, he’s mistaken if he thinks he has any real effect on me. His voice echoes in my mind—“My she-wolf”—but I refuse to let it spark anything within. I try to convince myself that his words don’t ignite a heat in my chest. I've never had a man speak to me like that, like I’m more than just a woman, more than a companion or property to a man. He says “You’re mine”, so maybe hes not all that different.
Yet, there’s a depth to his claim that doesn’t feel like ownership; it feels like a connection, a tether that pulls at my curiosity. I find myself wondering what he truly looks like, how his voice sounds when it isn’t weaving through my mind like a dark, tantalizing whisper.
Suddenly, a piercing shriek disrupts the stillness, followed by a sickening, wet sound that chills me to the bone. Grom returns, a shadowcoil dangling lifelessly from his hand, its body limp and covered in a sheen of fresh blood. My eyes widen, welling with tears at the sight of the creature that had offered me the first glimmer of kindness in this wretched maze.
