“The more you try to turn away from darkness, the more darkness is right against your back.”

  Robert Eggers, American Filmmaker

  They travelled quickly down the mountain path – as quickly as they could while traversing narrow passages – driven on by the hope that they could save Bethany when they reached the other side.

  Emily glanced over her shoulder at Rocky and Elias, who weaved their way through scattered boulders as they carried Harmony and Brandon on their backs. The twins had pushed themselves to their limits and had collapsed in exhaustion an hour ago.

  Delorus led the way through the rough terrain, but Emily could see the toll the journey had taken on the officer as well.

  “She hasn’t received any Emporium enhancements,” Rocky said, following his lover’s gaze. “The only reason she’s still standing is her police training and sheer force of will.”

  “I guess I hadn’t realized just how much of a different the enhancements made,” Emily answered. She felt the exhaustion, but it felt like she did after a day at the ski hill. Delorus looked like she’d just finished a marathon and decided to keep going.

  “Bethany has more enhancements than any of us,” Rocky said faintly. “Do you think she…”

  Emily grabbed his hand in hers for support. “If anyone can survive this, it’s her.”

  “We’re here,” Delorus called back as they ducked under a ledge and emerged at a clearing on the other side.

  It was the end of the maze. The clearing was the size of a football field – the final destination of over a hundred different paths that wound their way through the maze.

  In its center, a twenty-foot-tall bronze statue of Omoikane towered over them, a massive, spiraled staircase hovering above it, just out of reach.

  The way home.

  As they crossed the threshold, the voice of Omoikane emanated from the statue and filled the world around them with their final test.

  A mortal – the wisest of them all – was gifted with immortality and tasked by his Creator to watch over and guide his people. At first, the man did so without fail and his people prospered. In their gratitude, they gifted him their finest luxuries, so the man might live as a king amongst them.

  At first, the man declined their gifts, believing himself to be but a simple guide. Until one day, he gazed upon his reflection in a pond and plucked a single grey hair from his head of golden curls. The man realized he had not been gifted with immortality as his Creator had promised. His life was tied to the prosperity of his people, and once his people no longer needed his guidance, he would perish.

  The man imprisoned his Creator for its deception and learned to draw upon its power to perform his own miracles. He granted immortality to other worthy mortals, though always was he first amongst them.

  Time marched on, and his people began to worship the man as a god. With each year that passed the man plucked more grey hairs from his curls, and he became consumed with how he could avoid his fate.

  Centuries later, at the end of his time, he discovered a means of prolonging his life. He comes to you, his oldest friend, with a solution and seeks your advice.

  “We must remain the guiding hand of our people,” he tells you. “If we sacrifice a few – if we absorb that which gives them live – we shall be their guides for all eternity.”

  Advise your friend.

  They ignored the riddle at first, dashing around the perimeter of the clearing to locate a passage that might lead to Bethany. Except each path – even the one through which they had traveled – was blocked by a transparent, one-way barrier.

  They could not go back.

  “If we can’t help her from this side, then let’s finish this damn Arena,” Emily said in frustration. “If we finish the Arena, it might disappear, and she might get kicked out before whatever Omoikane has planned happens to her. We can’t just leave her to… to…”

  Emily couldn’t bring herself to finish, and she leaned against Rocky for support. He put a meaty hand around her shoulder and held her close.

  “It’s a risk – we don’t know if this Arena will disappear if we win – but it’s better than just sitting here while she struggles,” Elias agreed, laying the sleeping Harmony carefully on the grass next to her brother. “I say we do it.”

  Delorus stared up at the bronze statue with exhausted contempt. She recalled the uncertainty and fear in Bethany’s eyes when they first met. An uncertainty that had transformed into confidence after only a few weeks in the God Contest. A remarkable change in a world that should have torn her apart.

  “Bethany is a fighter,” Delorus said, turning towards the group. “And so are all of you. Let’s end this.”

  They quickly debated back and forth – as they had done with the other scenarios – until they had decided on their first question.

  “Omoikane, do their people still require a guiding hand?” Elias asked. It was the obvious question – if the people no longer needed guidance, then what need was there for a guide?

  The statue of Omoikane was silent for a long while, as if it were distracted. Elias was about to ask his question again when his answer finally arrived.

  A child is blind to the world when first born. It stumbles through life and would be doomed to an early death without the guiding hand of the parent. Yet that guiding hand can become a curse if it…

  Omoikane’s answer abruptly ended, cut off mid-sentence.

  “Is… is that it?” Rocky asked.

  Elias kicked the statue of Omoikane in frustration, as if he were trying to fix a broken printer.

  “How’s that going to fix anything?” Emily scolded as she paced back and forth anxiously.

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  “It made me feel better,” Elias answered, kicking it again. “Come on you fucking…”

  He glanced back at Harmony and Brandon, who were softly snoring on the grass.

  “… fucking statue,” he finished, whispering the final two words.

  Delorus lay a supportive hand on Elias’ shoulder. “Be patient. Bethany will survive this. For all the horrors in this world, I get the feeling that girl has survived worse. We’ll…”

  Delorus stopped as she heard faint voices drift on the breeze from a western path.

  “Is that…?” Emily began to ask, but Delorus held up her hand for silence. It wasn’t Bethany. She recognized those voices, and she didn’t know if their arrival would be helpful or dangerous.

  “Let me do the talking,” she cautioned, as Chief Benton, Sargeant Smith, and Kim Hilton rounded the corner. Officer Wallace and Max Galloway were nowhere to be seen.

  Sargeant Smith made no effort to hide his scowl when they spotted Delorus.

  “Delorus,” Captain Benton bellowed charismatically. His eyes quickly surveyed her companions. “You’ve made it through the maze and found some new friends. You simply must tell me everything.”

  * * *

  Bethany’s heart pounded as the light of her hammer carved out a small dome within the intense darkness. It felt like she was underwater as the pressure threatened to shatter her light and swallow her whole.

  The shadows from the dead wolves flowed along the earth like a river and gathered at a point just beyond her light. At the edge of the darkness she glimpsed a man, his form quickly covered by the billowing shadows, obscuring everything that made him human but for two glowing red eyes that pierced her soul.

  Bethany had seen those eyes – those terrible, molten eyes – once before, in a dream, staring out from her father’s face.

  ‘You are ugly and worthless, Bethany. Better to die quick at the beginning than to suffer until the end.’

  Surrounded by the stares of a thousand lifeless eyes, she had fought off her father’s choking grasp and smashed her grandmother’s urn into his face to escape. She had pierced his molten eyes and watched their remains burn a trail of fire through his face.

  ‘I gave you an easy way out. Now you will suffer.’

  The figure stepped into her light, and her hammer flickered in protest.

  Ah Puch’s malevolent voice emanated from the darkness behind her as the man began to slowly – tauntingly – close the distance between them.

  I’ll offer you a choice, player. I don’t offer this to many. Serve me willingly in life, and I shall grant you power to survive in these games. Or die with my Shadowman’s hands around your throat and serve in unwillingly in death in the depths of Xibalba.

  “I will be no one’s slave, in life or in death,” Bethany spat defiantly, readying herself for the inevitable attack.

  Brave, but foolish. Perhaps you’ll change your mind before the end.

  The Shadowman extended its arm and formed a dagger of pure shadow in its hand. A mouth appeared on its face and stretched into an unnatural toothy grin. From its depths poured a symphony that cascaded from the inner depths of hell itself – the screams of tortured souls that tore apart the silence.

  Come, mortal. Let’s see what you’re made of.

  The Shadowman dashed forward, lightning fast, and it took everything Bethany had to roll out of the way. Its knife struck where her heart had been, cutting through the air with deadly precision.

  Bethany struggled to her feet, her legs still burning from the battle with the wolves. Fear and exhaustion weighed heavy on her, and her breaths came in shallow gasps, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to face the monstrosity. Her hammer – once light as a feather – felt heavy in her hands as its light was drawn into the depths of the shadow and snuffed out.

  The Shadowman turned its head dramatically towards her with a cruel, piercing gaze. Its smile grew wider, and it lazily – almost playfully – swung its knife for her shoulder.

  A cat playing with a mouse before the kill.

  Bethany barely managed to deflect the blow, and her arms grew numb as her hammer struck the shadow knife. For a heart-wrenching instant, her light failed her, and she was left clutching her ball-peen hammer as darkness closed in around her.

  Light. Come on… give me some light!

  Her hammer flared into existence once more, and as darkness retreated, Bethany saw the face of the Shadowman inches away from her, its sadistic grin and molten eyes mocking her.

  She scrambled backwards, trying to think through the cloud of fear that threatened to paralyze her. The Shadowman was strong – magnitudes stronger than the wolves – and it could kill her any time it wished. She frantically searched for an exit – a place to run or hide – but the only escape was the way she came, where she knew there was no shelter to be found.

  There must be something… anything… I… shit!

  The Shadowman swung again, not bothering to mask its intentions. She barely deflected the blow aimed for her neck. Her light flickered as their weapons collided, and her light dimmed from that of a beacon to a flickering candle at the end of its wick.

  The Shadowman grew stronger as darkness flowed in, as it systematically shredded what fragments of bravery Bethany had managed to preserve.

  Your light fades, mortal. You shall soon be in Xibalba, tied to the rack as a devil’s plaything. But you can avoid such a cruel fate. Become my servant, and I shall grant you power to defeat far greater foes than this weak Shadowman.

  The Shadowman struck again, harder this time, as if angered by Ah Puch’s taunts. The sleeve of Bethany’s blouse tore as its knife slid across her shoulder. She screamed as her flesh was carved like a roast. Her arm grew numb, and she gritted her teeth against the pain.

  Bethany desperately scrambled backwards, her dying hammer held aloft with her uninjured hand.

  The Shadowman’s grin grew impossibly wide, and the tortured screams of the dead became louder. Bethany’s felt her sanity begin to crack at the edges and focused on the pain to ground herself in the moment.

  Ignore the screams. Focus on this monster. Fight back. Come on, Bethany, fight back.

  Bethany darted forward, swinging wildly in a single-handed blow.

  The Shadowman deflected her strike with little effort, and Bethany was thrown off balance. The creature closed the distance between them in an instant and, with its open palm, struck Bethany square in the chest.

  She felt her ribs crack as she was hurled across the clearing and landed hard fifteen feet away at the edge of the thorns. She coughed, blood spilling from her mouth and onto the dirt below.

  Final chance, girl. I can feel my Shadowman’s desire to kill, and I grow bored with your impertinence.

  “Fuck… fuck you,” Bethany cursed, spitting the blood out of her mouth.

  Ah Puch’s malicious laugh echoed in the darkness as the Shadowman slowly closed the distance.

  Then join the others, mortal. Become fuel for our fire.

  I won’t die like this. I won’t… I can’t… Get up, Bethany.

  Bethany rose, knees shaking and vision blurred.

  The Shadowman drew back its hand and aimed a killing blow at Bethany’s heart.

  She braced, her hand tight around the ball-peen hammer that had been her safety blanket for so many years. The hammer that now formed the core of her light.

  As the Shadowman struck, Bethany thought of Rocky and Emily – the friends she had found, and the happiness they had given her – and poured every ounce of bravery and strength remaining into her own blow.

  She kicked off the ground, lending her weight to her final, desperate strike, and screamed in wordless defiance as their weapons collided.

  Sparks erupted at the intersection of shadow and light and, for the briefest of moments, the Shadowman’s molten eyes grew wide with surprise at her strength.

  Bethany’s ball-peen hammer vibrated as the battle between light and dark raged, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. She could see the shadow knife’s edge begin to pierce her light – drinking up its radiance. Cracks began to spread down her hammer, like fractures in a plane of glass about to break.

  She gave a final scream as the monster’s knife finished carving through the light and struck her ball-peen hammer beneath. The instant the two weapons collided, her hammer shattered into a thousand pieces. Metal shrapnel struck Bethany full in the chest like a flurry of bullets and she collapsed.

  Bethany felt her blood seeping into her blouse as the final strand of light faded away. The darkness closed in around her.

  Her Oracle Eye pulsed, its light all that resisted the darkness around her.

  My Gift of Insight… why… why didn’t it activate?

  She tried to trigger it – to give herself a second chance against the creature, as it had when the Spartan’s arrow had pierced her chest. Yet the eye remained dormant as death came to claim her.

  Her thoughts grew fuzzy and disjointed, and she felt herself getting sleepy.

  The Shadowman stood over Bethany, its molten eyes filled with vicious glee as it watched her bleed.

  Her eyes grew heavy in the darkness, and she felt her consciousness slip away.

  Into the dream.

  The Witch of the Castle of Glass. This weekend - after 102 chapters and a year of posting - it hit the Rising Stars list for romance!! I could use all the new readers I can get to make the most of the opportunity.