Page 45 of Hallowed Games

When I refocused my attention again, I was staring at what might be a way out. “There’s a door! Percival, do you see it?”

Percival’s light beamed over carvings in the wheel, which was divided into five sections: a woman in a long dress, a white hound, a key made of bones, a yew tree, and a crescent moon.

I grimaced, reaching up to try to touch the wheel. Pain lanced up my right thigh as I rose, putting my weight on one knee. My head pounded. Wincing, I tried turning the wheel, but the thing wouldn’t budge an inch. It was rooted in place on the door.

“What’s that on the other side?” Percival asked.

“Give me a minute.” Oh, Archon. Could I even get to the other side?

I gritted my teeth and turned to look behind me. There, shapes had been carved into the stone wall. The design was about three feet above the floor, directly opposite the wheel in the door.

The golden light bobbed overhead, illuminating my way. I rolled onto my right side, putting the pain on my good leg. Sharp pain shot through me, and I dragged myself closer to the other side, my body scraping over the ground. I pulled myself closer over the stone, arm over arm. When I was just in front of the carvings, I found four stone pieces laying on the ground, just beneath the carvings.

These were different than the symbols on the door: a bird, a star, an hourglass, and an apple. These pieces matched the carvings in the wall, like a puzzle for children. Except that unlike a puzzle for children, I was pretty sure this one might have deadly consequences. Because nestled between those carvings were slits for blades, just like the ones in the labyrinth.

I struggled to think clearly through the haze of pain. A cold sweat beaded on my forehead.

This couldn’t be as simple as matching the shapes, could it?

“I think it’s a puzzle!” I called out. One that I very much did not want to get wrong.

Above the carvings, someone had etched words in a language I couldn’t even recognize. Something older than Tyrenian. If those were the instructions, I had no idea what they said. My skull throbbed, and I was again repressing the urge to vomit.

I glanced back at the door, taking in the images on the wheel. Was the wheel related to the puzzle?

The images on the wheel were ancient symbols, half-forgotten symbols of the old gods. They lived on in a children’s nursery rhyme, one forbidden by the Order.

Maiden, mother, crone,

A yew tree and a bone.

The white hounds glower.

A crescent moon,

Gone too soon,

A hunger that devours.

Pain splintered my leg, making my body shake. My mouth had gone dry.

Think, Elowen. It wasn’t just a rhyme, though, was it? It was almost like a riddle. Unlike nursery rhymes, this one had an answer. What was the hunger that devoured?

In Merthyn, yew trees meant death. The white hounds, symbols of the old forgotten death god…the maiden transforming into an old crone. Death seemed like the first answer. I, of all people, understood its ravenousness.

But that didn’t seem to be an option among these stone pieces. Unless it was a symbol I didn’t recognize, I didn’t see something that clearly meant death.

Dizziness whirled in my thoughts. With the stabbing pain in my thigh, it was hard to think clearly.

My hand was shaking as I picked up the hourglass. But time…time devoured, didn’t it? It withered plants and people. It turned bones into dust, which was very much how one of my bones felt right now.

If I messed this up, I could unleash a volley of arrows or blades. I had to choose something, though, didn’t I? At this point, the two most likely options were either a slow death or a fast one.

Swallowing hard, I slotted the hourglass into place. Immediately, a clicking sound echoed behind me, and I turned to see the wheel shifting slightly on the door. My heart raced faster, and I held the hourglass in its place.

No blades. My chest unclenched.

On the other side of the oubliette, the door groaned open. But the moment I stopped pushing on the hourglass, the door started closing once more.

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