Page 47 of Crown of Envy

Justice’s face darkened, his body tensing beside me. But it was Damon’s reaction that caught my attention.

Damon’s jaw clenched so hard I could almost hear his molars grinding. He ran a hand roughly through his hair, a humorless laugh escaping him. “Well, isn’t that fan-friggin-tastic,” he growled. “We’ve got our very own Judas in the ranks. Because this magical mystery tour wasn’t already enough of a crapshoot.”

He paced, his movements sharp and agitated. “So, what’s the plan, huh? We waltz into this funhouse of horrors with Benedict Arnold in tow, hoping she doesn’t decide to cash in her betrayal chips at the worst possible moment?” He stopped abruptly, his eyes burning with anger and determination. “I say we confront her. Air out this dirty laundry before it suffocates us.”

He jabbed a finger for emphasis. “And if Miss Congeniality decides to go full dark side on us, well…” He patted the weapon at his side, smiling grimly. “Let’s say I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve for dealing with turncoats.”

The intensity of Damon’s reaction sent a shiver down my spine.

Justice laid a hand on his arm. “She has to come. The mirror chose her.”

Damon’s body tensed under Justice’s touch, his fists clenching and unclenching. He opened his mouth, ready to argue, then shut it with an audible click of his teeth. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply, trying to rein in his anger. “Fine,” he growled. “I’ll keep the secret, but as soon as we get the Crown, that witch is going to burn before she turns it over to Maci.”

As we headed to the SUV, my backpack felt heavier than usual. The strap of my quiver dug into my shoulder, and the familiar weight of my bow in my hand was oddly comforting. The jeweled dagger at my hip pulsed as if aware of the impending danger. I clutched the compass tightly, its cool metal surface grounding me amid the swirling anxiety in my mind.

I casually glanced at Zara’s right hand but didn’t see a silver ring. It could be on her left one.

I climbed into the SUV, my muscles protesting after the restless night, and settled between Lisa and Justice. Justice’s body beside me was a comfort, while Lisa’s proximity made me acutely aware of the secret I was keeping. I almost wanted to tell her about my suspicions, but the words caught in my throat. Lisa continued to be Zara’s champion, and I didn’t think she would believe me.

Brody drove us to the South Bridge, the compass in my hand pointing steadily in the direction we were heading. As we approached the entrance to the catacombs, a chill enveloped me that had nothing to do with the cool Scottish air. The gaping maw of darkness seemed to swallow all light. The stone archway was weathered and ancient, covered in a thin sheen of moisture that glistened ominously.

We descended the worn stone stairs, the air growing colder and damper with each step. The catacomb walls were rough-hewn rock. Our flashlights cast eerie shadows that danced and flickered, playing tricks on our eyes.

The passageways twisted and turned, a labyrinthine network designed to confuse and disorient. The air was thick with the musty scent of age and decay, making each breath feel heavy. Water dripped in the distance, the sound echoing off the stone walls in an unsettling rhythm.

As we ventured deeper, we passed numerous alcoves and chambers. Some held ancient stone coffins. Others were filled with piles of bones, silent witnesses to centuries of Edinburgh’s history. I shuddered, my mind racing with morbid curiosity. How had they died? Were they victims of the plague or perhaps accused of witchcraft? The unanswered questions gnawed at me.

The compass continued to guide us through the underground maze until we came to a sudden halt. Before us stood a massive, ornately carved door with the image of a scale, the symbol of balance and judgment. I glanced over my shoulder at my team’s weary faces. My gaze skipped over Zara, the sharpness of my suspicions making it hard to even look at her.

“This is it,” I announced. My gut tightened with dread.

With a trembling hand, I touched the door. The stone was cool beneath my fingers, but the instant I made contact, a surge of energy pulsed through me. The door swung open with an ominous creak, revealing not the expected darkness but a passageway lit by flickering torches in ornate sconces.

As we stepped over the threshold, the air shifted dramatically. It became crisp and clear, tinged with an otherworldly scent I couldn’t quite place. The labyrinth walls seemed to shimmer as if not quite solid.

“Stay close,” Brody warned. “Remember, we’ll each face our own challenges here.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the labyrinth came to life around us. The walls shifted and changed, creating new passages and dead ends. I felt a tugging sensation as if an invisible force was trying to pull me away from the group.

“It’s separating us!” Lisa cried.

I tried to grab Justice or Damon, but my hands passed through empty air. The world around me blurred and twisted, and suddenly, I was alone in a corridor that hadn’t been there a moment before.

My heart raced as I spun, trying to get my bearings. The walls here were like mirrors, but instead of my reflection, I saw distorted versions of myself, each consumed by a different shade of envy.

One reflection showed me glaring at Justice with jealousy over his strength and near-immortality. Another depicted me coveting Lisa’s magical abilities. Each image struck a chord, revealing desires and resentments I had tried to bury.

“This isn’t real,” I muttered, trying to steady my nerves. “It’s the labyrinth playing tricks.”

Yet, as I started forward, the reflections seemed to come alive, their whispers echoing in my mind. Each step became a battle against my darker impulses, the labyrinth forcing me to confront the envy lurking in the depths of my heart.

I clutched the compass tighter, its solid presence a reminder of my purpose. Somewhere in this maze of mirrors and illusions, my team was facing their own battles. Beyond that, the Scales of Balance awaited. If we could overcome our own reflections to reach it.

An image shimmered into existence before me, as tangible as a mirage in the desert. A man materialized, his hair the same shade as Damon’s, his features eerily familiar yet frustratingly out of reach in my memory. My heart clenched as I watched the scene unfold.

Damon appeared beside the man, and their laughter echoed off the mirrored walls of the labyrinth. I watched, transfixed, as they sparred together, their movements in perfect sync. The man’s eyes gleamed with pride as he clapped Damon on the back.

The image shifted, kaleidoscoping through holidays and birthdays. Warmth and joy radiated from their interactions, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness I felt. In every scene, I stood in the background, a ghostly figure barely visible. The man never once turned his gaze toward me, his attention solely fixed on Damon.

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