The Devouring Maze
Zyra ran. Her boots struck the ancient stone with sharp, echoing cracks, but she didn't care if the temple heard her. Let it.
Let it try to stop her.
Kieran was out there—somewhere in this twisting nightmare of shifting walls and whispering voids. The temple had stolen him, and Zyra would rip apart every illusion, every trap, every dark omen it threw in her way.
She would find him.
The air around her thickened, turning humid and cloying, like the breath of something vast and unseen. The torches along the walls flickered strangely, their flames bending in directions that defied logic.
It wasn't just a temple.
It was alive.
And it was watching her.
Zyra slowed, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
A wrong step could mean another split, another trap—she couldn't afford to let this place toy with her like it had before.
She exhaled slowly, reaching for her magic.
But before she could summon it—
Something growled.
Deep. Low. Too close.
Zyra whirled, dagger raised.
The corridor behind her had changed.
Where there had been stone and carvings just moments ago, there was now nothing. A yawning abyss stretched out before her, swallowing the path she'd come from.
And out of the darkness—they emerged.
The Shadowbound.
Figures wrapped in writhing black mist, their forms half-seen, shifting between shapes—sometimes humanoid, sometimes monstrous. Their eyes glowed like embers in the void.
One of them stepped forward.
Not walking—gliding.
A rasping voice slithered from its unseen lips.
"Lost little thing."
Zyra tensed.
Not human. Not even alive.
The temple had more than illusions in its arsenal.
It had guardians.
---
A Dance of Blades
The first one lunged.
Zyra ducked, barely avoiding the clawed hand that sliced through the air where her throat had been. She rolled, came up on her feet, and slashed with her dagger.
The blade met nothing.
It passed through the creature as if it were mist.
Zyra's mind raced. Physical attacks don't work.
Fine.
She had other ways to kill.
Drawing on her magic, she twisted her wrist, summoning a blade of crackling blue energy in her free hand.
Magic met shadow.
The creature shrieked as her strike hit true—its form convulsing, twisting as if unraveling.
The other Shadowbound reacted instantly.
They surged forward, a wave of inky black shapes, dozens of them.
Zyra cursed under her breath.
She could fight, but not against an endless swarm.
She had to move.
She turned and sprinted, her magic crackling in her palms as she wove through the labyrinth of shifting walls. The temple roared around her, the stone twisting, morphing—the corridors changing even as she ran.
It was herding her.
And then—
She saw him.
---
The Cage of Stars
Kieran stood in the center of a vast, circular chamber.
But he wasn't alone.
He was surrounded by chains of light.
Dozens of glowing threads wove through the air, curling around his wrists, his throat, his chest—binding him in place. They pulsed with an eerie silver glow, their power humming against the very fabric of reality.
Zyra skidded to a halt, her breath catching.
He wasn't moving.
His head was tilted downward, his silver eyes hidden beneath his lashes.
Zyra's chest tightened. "Kieran!"
Nothing.
Not even a flicker of recognition.
A cold dread slithered down her spine.
This wasn't just a trap.
It was a ritual.
---
Fate's Choice
A figure stepped from the shadows behind Kieran.
The Oracle.
Or rather—the thing wearing the Oracle's form.
She had seen it before, in the mirror, in the echoes of her visions. And now, it stood before her, watching with an expression that was not quite human.
"You should not be here yet," the Oracle murmured. "It is not your time."
Zyra's grip tightened around her dagger. "Let him go."
The Oracle smiled—pitying.
"Would you really free him, when you do not yet know what he is?"
Zyra's pulse pounded in her ears. What he is?
She glanced at Kieran—at the glowing chains, at the raw power trembling beneath his skin.
He wasn't struggling.
He wasn't trying to escape.
Because some part of him already knew.
This was meant to happen.
This was his fate.
"No." Zyra lifted her chin. "You don't get to decide that."
The Oracle tilted its head. "And you do?"
Zyra stepped forward.
Her heart was a war drum.
Her magic burned at her fingertips.
And her answer came with the weight of a promise.
"I'll decide my own fate."
---
The Breaking Point
The Oracle sighed, almost sad.
Then—
The chains tightened.
Kieran gasped, his body arching as the magic surged through him. The symbols along the walls ignited with white fire, the entire chamber trembling beneath the force of something ancient waking.
Zyra's world narrowed.
No.
She wouldn't let this happen.
Not to him.
Not to them.
With a snarl, she raised both hands, magic crackling like a storm—
And she struck.
The chamber exploded in light.
---