Page 47 of Hallowed Games

Coughing, I hoisted myself out and dragged myself onto the cobbles. I gasped for breath, and the night air seemed to sting my lungs. My cold, wet clothes clung to my body. As I huddled against a wall, my teeth chattered so loudly, I was sure the wolves would hear.

Up here, the air smelled of burned wood and flesh, and the moonlight beamed over me. Dizziness clouded my thoughts. When I looked down, I found that blood was still spilling from my thigh. I was losing too much, too fast. In another twenty minutes, I’d be dead.

In the distance, a wolf howled, turning my stomach into knots of fear.

Now I was well and truly alone. The isolation carved through me like a knife.

CHAPTER 22

I leaned back against the stone wall. I didn’t feel like I could stand, so I had little chance of fighting a wolf.

I rolled over into the corner of the passage, and the howls rent the night air. Shivering, I hugged my one good knee against my chest. The other stuck straight out onto the stone path, broken and bleeding.

Nearby, a woman screamed. “Help me! Help me!” I shut my eyes tightly, trying to block out the sound of her terror. I was in no position to help anyone right now. Her words blended into wild, agonized shrieks, like the senseless keening of a dying animal. The horror of the sound slid down to my marrow. Was I next?

The pain in my leg had started to numb a little, but I wouldn’t be able to stand.

Water glistened on the cobbles around me. I glanced at the giant hole in the ground, and its liquid surface reflected the shimmering light of the stars. That flooded dungeon was the one way I knew out of here, and there was no going back there now.

The screams had turned guttural.

Had that tattooed bastard made it out of here alive? He’d broken the rules and used magic on me, but I wasn’t sure anyone had noticed under the cover of smoke.

Finally, the woman’s cries cut out sharply. A dreadful silence settled over the labyrinth.

Should I risk trying to climb out of here? Maybe the archers had left by now.

Except when I glanced at the shadows moving above, I realized they still patrolled the labyrinth. The Luminari moved so silently, it was almost as if spirits were haunting the place. They were going to make sure every last one of us died in here.

The sound of whispering flitted through the air, a ghostly noise that sent shivers up my spine.

A movement caught my eye at the other end of the passage. As the figure moved closer, I realized it was a woman dressed in a black cloak. Her eyes looked wild, and she cradled her arm. But her unhurried pace confused me. Didn’t she realize the wolves would tear us to pieces?

When she was only about ten feet from me, I could see there was something off about her—the way her skin glowed with white light, the dazed look on her face. I shuddered at the unnatural sight. When she stood just before me, she stopped, staring at me. Her mouth hung open in a daze, and she held her arm more tightly.

“What am I doing here?” she whispered.

I could hardly breathe. “The Order brought us here. We’re on trial.”

Grief shone in her eyes. “But my son is waiting for me.”

My chest splintered at her words. I knew the feeling, and that she wasn’t going home to him. I simply nodded. I didn’t think I was going home, either.

She wavered on her feet. “There’s something wrong with my arm. And my throat.”

When she lifted her chin, I glimpsed the jagged red scar severing her head from her body.

She lowered her head again to look at me. Her eyes glistened. “Am I dead?” Her voice cracked.

Fear rang in my skull. I nodded again. “I think so.”

Her expression crumpled, and she turned, slinking off into the darkness. Her black cloak trailed behind her until her figure blended into the night itself.

My throat tightened. In Merthyn, people say that when someone suffers a horrific death, their soul can linger on. With such a sudden, brutal death, she never had time to realize she was dying. She’d wander the same spot, trying to make her way back to her son, night after night. She might never leave.

Fatigue muddled my thoughts, and I slumped against the wall.

I looked down at my hands for a moment, ghostly white and shaking. Could I be dead already, and I just hadn’t realized it? Drowned in the dungeon, under the black water…

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