Page 98 of Quarter Labyrinth

“Remember your vow. You will free me—or you will gain one more Stone God trying to kill you.”

Then she vanished, leaving behind a cold cave and the rippling water.

When I turned, a new face appeared.

Thief grew up as boys often do—with a knack for trouble. Whatever scheme danced through his mind, he followed it.And more often than not, it was the thieving kind.When the labyrinth opened on his island, Thief saw it as a golden opportunity. A maze filled with riches, with Pearls too distracted to guard their purses? It was a thief’s paradise.

He slipped through the shadows, quick as a whisper. Before long, his pockets jingled with stolen coins. He dreamed of wealth beyond measure, a boy well on his way to becoming rich. But fate has a way of weaving threads unnoticed.

Deep within the labyrinth, Thief stumbled into Dimitri’s temple. Tokens lay scattered at the altar, offerings from desperate souls seeking the god’s favor.

And, of course, Thief took them too.

Dimitri watched the boy’s escapades with amusement, enjoying the daring of his nimble fingers.

But when the boy dared to steal from the god himself, amusement turned to wrath.

In retribution, Dimitri transformed Thief into a Stone God. He gave him the labyrinth as his playground and whatever riches he desired.

But there was a price.

No longer could Thief take what was not freely given. He could not steal from the mortals who wandered the maze.Instead, Dimitri decreed, he must trade with them—bargain for what he desired.

And so, Thief remains within the labyrinth, surrounded by treasures, yet longing for the thrill of the steal. A lesson etched in stone.

For even the cleverest hands cannot outwit the gods forever.

FORTY-FIVE

He was unmistakably Stone God. The pale color of his skin gave him away, and how he looked like he could stay there—crouched in the corner—for a hundred years if it suited him.

Then there was the mischievous smile that gave him away.

Yet, I hadn’t expected a Stone God to be so young.

His head was bowed, golden hair falling across his face like a curtain. He sat cross-legged, the hem of his cloak pooling around him in the cave, the pin at his throat catching the light from Delilah’s lingering mark. If I had to guess, I’d put him between eightand ten years old.

I hesitated. There was an unsettling stillness to him, as though he belonged here, as much a part of the cave as the walls themselves.

Cautiously, I stepped forward. At the movement, the boy lifted his head, and my breath caught. His eyes were as pale as his hair, shimmering like frost, yet there was something ancient in his gaze that made her feel small.

“You’re a child,” I said before I could stop myself.

“Technically so are you. But I’ve been around for hundreds of years, so am I really a child?”

“Have you matured in those years?” I asked, trying to get a read on him.

The boy tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not one bit.” His voice carried an unnatural clarity, like a bell ringing in the cold.

He studied me while I studied him as if he couldn’t figure me out either. I tried another question. “What’s your name?”

“They call me Thief.” And before I could decide what to make of that, the little boy stood. Despite his small frame, there was something commanding about the way he moved, as though the labyrinth shifted subtly to accommodate him. I didn’t know what stories Clark’s book told about Thief, but I guessed they were as sad as the rest of them. There was only one thing that mattered, and before I could ask it, he shook his head. “No, I’m not with Dimitri. I’m not with anybody.”

Before I could reply, he held out his hand. In his palm sat a small, shimmering object—a golden necklace in the shape of an unending knot connected by a hurricane.

My hand flew to my neck, but only Delilah’s necklace sat there now.

“How did you—”

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