Page 86 of To Dwell in Shadows
“A few things about the Thronefall Flame. There’s a bunch of blank journals, so I started taking some notes?—”
A shout echoed through the maze. Sam’s head jerked up—was it Vanthee? But the frantic whimpering that followed was unmistakably male.
“What do you think is going on in there?” Selene asked uneasily.
“Probably just a beast to get past or a trap to escape from,” he replied.
Another demon was ordered into the maze. Sam was next.
“Tell me more of what you learned.”
“There were some dates listed for when the comet might fall, but they’re written in Old English.”
Another male scream made Selene wince, but she pressed on. “I tried to do some calculations, but I didn’t get very far?—”
“Prince Samael! Your time to enter the maze has come," Ghar bellowed, cutting her off.
“We’ll speak of this later tonight,” Sam said, then bent to kiss her.
“Good luck, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Sam said. “See you soon.”
He walked toward the maze entrance, trying to avoid his parents’ gaze but failing. They had moved from their perch atop the wall; his father now reclined in a chair to maintain the illusion of good health.
“May the darkness be yours, my son,” King Asmodeus called. Sam turned and saw pride shining in his father’s eyes. Queen Lamia stood beside him, blowing Sam a kiss as he passed.
He stepped between the two looming walls that marked the entrance.
The air was colder inside, smelling of moss, dust, and decomposing vegetation. Immediately, he saw why Vanthee had been the only competitor to turn left.
To his right, a narrow pathway was visible. It was paved withcracked flagstones, but clear of obstacles. On his left, he could take only two steps before colliding into a solid wall.
Sam pressed his hands against the wall, assuming it was an illusion, but it didn’t move. He began to pull away the dead roots covering the stone and realized it wasn’t a wall—it was a door. Quickly, he searched for a way to open it, using his hands to feel for a secret lever or recessed handle. Nothing.
Minutes passed. The plan had been to go left, but the door refused to yield.
Sam exhaled in frustration. How was he supposed to help Vanthee if he could barely make it past the entrance? Then, it hit him—Vanthee must have used her powers as Guide to get through.
The thought steadied him. He was wasting time abiding by a plan they had only guessed would work. He needed to make progress to help Vanthee win—or risk her disqualification when her time ran out.
Taking the right-hand path meant enduring the humiliation of passing the entrance again, exposing his mistake to the crowd. He did so swiftly, ignoring the hoots and jeers that echoed behind him as he ran.
Once he came to his first obstruction, he paused. He needed to know when Vanthee emerged, so he focused on his hearing. The sounds of the crowd had faded, but he couldn’t hear any other movement. Even the wind had vanished. He strained to detect the rustle of another contestant, a whisper of movement—anything. But there was only the sound of his own heartbeat.
Reasoning that the announcement might be more audible near the end of the maze, he pressed on.
After hitting two dead ends and a corridor that looped back to a path he’d already taken, he was starting to get annoyed. He could see the footprints his boots had left in the lichen and dirt, which was helpful, along with the faint traces of other contenders.
But it wasn’t until he turned the next corner that he began to feel it: the presence of someone behind him.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. Nothing.
Still, the sensation lingered—and then he heard footsteps. Multiple sets. Some heavy, others light. Again, when he turned, the sounds stopped.
He was becoming unnerved.
How long had he been in the maze without encountering another competitor? Had they all made it out already?
