Annie Hayden's Arc

Chapter 23 of 27

Annie ran. The fox streaked ahead, its tail a thin line of fire in the dark. She followed the light and nothing else. Vexor's voice chased her up the stair, then faded behind stone. The passage split. It split again. Heavy walls rose on both sides, gray and wet, turning without end. She had escaped his hands. Now the castle itself held her. She cradled her burned palm against her chest. The pain came in waves now, hot and steady. She picked a turn and ran. The corridor bent left, then right, then dumped her into a passage she was sure she'd already passed. The same crack in the same stone. She had run in a circle. Somewhere far off, the stag cried again, but the sound bounced off every wall. She could not tell which way was Kaelen. "Which way," she whispered to the fox. It slowed, ears back, and turned its head both ways. Even the fox was lost. Its fire had shrunk to a dim glow. She had drawn too much from it, and now it flickered like a spent match. Annie chose the wider passage. She ran until her boots slipped on loose stone. The corridor narrowed. The ceiling dropped. Then the walls closed to a blunt end of solid rock. A dead end. She pressed both hands to the stone and pushed, stupid with panic. It did not move. She turned and put her back against the cold wall. She made herself breathe. Feel the warmth first. Feel where it wants to go. She reached for the fox's bond, not to burn, only to find the way out. But when she reached, the pain in her arm answered instead. The burn had spread past her wrist and up toward her elbow. Her sleeve stuck to it, dark and wet. She had felt it as heat before. Now she felt how much of her blood it had taken. The glow of the fox blurred. The walls tipped. Annie slid down the stone until she sat on the floor. She tried to stand and her legs would not hold. Cold crept up from the ground into her hands. "Stay," she told the fox. Her voice came out thin. "Don't let him." The fox pressed against her side. Its small warmth was the last thing she felt clearly. The dead-end walls closed to a gray smear, then to nothing. Her burned hand slid from her lap to the stone. Annie's eyes rolled back, and she folded sideways onto the cold floor of the labyrinth. The fox stood over her. It lifted its head and cried, once, into the dark passages. Far away, an answering cry came from the stag. But Annie did not hear it. She was already gone, out cold, bleeding into the seams of the black stone, waiting for whoever reached her first.