Page 108 of Quarter Labyrinth

Desperate times.

I swept my gaze over the mighty Quarter Labyrinth, the sprawling maze of twists and turns that had tested me in ways I never could have imagined. Somewhere, Clark was out there. I hoped he’d fare well. I hoped when this was all over, we found each other again.

And Leif. I didn’t know what I hoped for him. Because no matter how traitorous he was, a part of me would forever be in that cottage with his lips against mine.

Thief stood beside me, his bright eyes glinting with something unreadable. Perhaps amusement, or maybe just the satisfaction of having played his part in this endless game. “Are you ready for your time in the labyrinth to be done?” he asked.

The question lingered in the air, and for a moment, I couldn’t answer.

It had been a miserable, wonderful, terrifying, beautiful time. Every step within those walls had shaped me, broken me, and somehow put me back together again. But as I looked at the labyrinth now, the weight of what I’d endured settled in my chest like a stone of its own.

“I hope to never come back,” I murmured, my voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside.

“And yet.”

I’d already summoned the last of my strength to flick the white stone into the air. The last thing I saw clearly was Thief’s pleased smile plastered upon his boyish cheeks.

Then my eyes were on the stone. It spun as it rose, catching the faint light of the sky in flashes of silver and white. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the stone suspended at the apex of its arc. Then it fell, disappearing from sight, and with it came a jolt of energy that shot through my entire body.

It was as if the ground had been yanked out from under me. My vision blurred, the world around me dissolving into a whirl of green and white. The familiar, chaotic patterns of the labyrinth melted away, colors bleeding into one another like a painting swept with water.

When I blinked, everything turned to blue.

FIFTY

I could smell salt again.

The seas rested at the brink of twilight, and they’d never looked so glorious. I only got one moment to enjoy it. Then, as if the universe had grown impatient, I felt my body drop.

I plunged into the icy grip of the sea.

The shock was immediate, the cold stealing the air from my lungs. Water rushed into my nose. I thrashed, instincts kicking in despite the numbness creeping through my limbs. My muscles strained as I fought to regain control of my body.

Once I did, I kicked, fighting for the surface. My head broke above water, and Ifrantically took stock.

I’d lost my axe in the labyrinth. I believed my dagger was sheathed at its side. My pack was gone. The heartbeat tattoo wasnot. It thumped merrily as I struggled to tread water, as if it didn’t realize we could drown.

Leif would be in for a surprise when his tattoo stopped beating in a moment.

Salt stung my eyes as I squinted against the dying light, turning in a slow circle to take in the world around me.

What I saw stole the breath I’d just regained.

Thiswas the Shallows.

Small islands, each too close to allow many ships through, all bursting with life. The villages built upon them seemed to rise organically from the sea, their structures made of weathered stone and timber that spoke of years spent battling salt and storms.

On each island, narrow, cobblestone streets wove through clusters of multi-storied houses with peaked roofs of red clay tiles. Wooden beams crisscrossed the facades, and vines crept up the sides. Smoke curled from chimneys. Lanterns, glowing with a soft golden light, hung from iron hooks along the streets and bridges, already lit in preparation for nightfall. Behind the homes, towers pierced the sky, their banners snapping in the wind. The banners bore sigils I didn’t recognize, some emblazoned with lions, others with suns, waves, or intricate knots that seemed to ripple even when still.

The islands were connected by a web of arched bridges, their stone surfaces slick with moss from the constant spray of the sea. Small boats drifted beneath them, their green sails painted with the symbol of a silver serpent.

Merchants called out to one another as they loaded goods onto their vessels—crates of various sizes.

Once I spotted the ships, I couldn’t look away. The Silver Wings.

The only vessels permitted to travel these narrow canals.

My father’s legacy.

---