Page 74 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

T he walls of the halls seemed to shrink as Ambrose made her way down them. Cold, unfeeling stone bore down on her from all sides.

Or maybe it was her grief crashing down on her as she pushed herself to keep moving. She did her best to keep her mind focused on the path in front of her, but the weight of it was crushing. She just wanted to escape this maze as fast as she could.

To get away from all of it.

The death.

The destruction.

The pain.

The royals.

All of it.

No matter where she went in the world, something horrible was waiting around every corner. Every step. No escaping the cruelty of the empire.

Her feet hit the ground in quiet steps and the moisture growing in the air made it harder to breathe, making her work for every breath she took.

The pain in her arm made her vision grow blurry, or maybe it was the tears she fought back.

The rotted veins were crawling past her tourniquet and up her shoulder, it felt as though the entire thing was going to fall off.

Biting back against the pain, she tucked it into her side and curled her fingers into a fist. At least she could still use it if she needed to.

It was excruciating, but still functional should she need it.

She had to find a way out. She had to find a healer. She had to find a way to get far away.

She couldn’t stop.

No matter how badly she wanted to, no matter how much her body protested, she couldn’t stop.

Hand splayed out on the rough wall to help keep her steady, she only tripped over a dead body once.

Wherever she was in the tunnel system seemed to be far away from anything else. The sounds of commotion long gone as she pressed on in silence.

There was no way of knowing how many Trial Champions were left or how much longer the tournament would last. They’d continue until someone won, or they were all dead. Whichever happened first. The latter being the more likely choice in the torture chamber they were all trapped inside.

How long had it been?

An hour? Four hours? Twelve?

This could easily go for days or weeks if the rest of them were still alive.

She hadn’t heard any new screams or voices for a while which left her alone with nothing but her thoughts for company. Thoughts she didn’t want to think, so she focused on one step at a time.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

One step, then the next, until the nightmare was over. That’s all she had to do. Or until something ended it for her.

The tunnels grew shorter, twists and turns coming sooner than they had been. She had to curl around corners and it was becoming increasingly harder to tell where she was.

Her shoulder throbbed and protested, still sore from her fall and having to use it when swinging her sword and combined with the searing pain from Eurus’ bite, it was a miracle she hadn’t collapsed yet.

Ambrose bent around a corner and was greeted by a blood-soaked fighter standing victorious over the body of a fallen one—his sword still buried deep into the chest of his now dead rival. When he heard her coming, he twisted his body around, armor glinting under the firelight .

“Lucky me.” He wiped blood from his face as he stared at her. “It makes it so much easier when they come to me.”

Ambrose wasn’t afraid.

She was pissed.

The knight pulled his sword from the dead man’s chest and squared his stance to face her.

A charge settled under her skin, nipping at her to release it.

She wasn’t in the mood to keep playing this deadly game, and she definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with a blood-thirsty Trial Champion.

“Get out of my way,” she said coldly, the charge inside her burning her skin as it filled her bones.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” he sneered. “You’re a servant.”

Was.

She’d show them all what she’d become.

The servant who just couldn’t handle her place was long gone.

Something far deadlier had replaced her.

And she was ready to embrace it.

He wasn’t much taller than her. Wearing what appeared to be every piece of armor he owned—an arrogant choice.

His movements were restricted in the stone passage.

She couldn’t help but think how much of a fool he was to come down there with such protections.

They’d only be useful when it came to hand-to-hand combat, they were pointless against more than half the monsters Ernaline had found.

Covered head to toe, though it shielded him, it only hindered his mobility.

He must’ve believed he wouldn’t need his speed as long as his protections were strong enough.

“I said—” Ambrose let the charge inside her grow, let it churn as she felt the pressure build and pointed a finger at the warrior.

Purple-white lightning exploded inside of him.

His body convulsed as the metal cage he wore carried that lightning to every part of his body.

Bloody saliva foamed from his mouth and nose as his eyes rolled back and his body slumped to the ground, skin singed and smoking. “Get out of my way.”

She refused to die.

Stepping over the bodies, she sent a silent prayer for the man who had fallen before she’d gotten there. She hoped he wasn’t in pain anymore, wherever he was. Soon enough, they’d all be free from the pain.

She would be free.

The halls grew narrower as she continued on and a charge floated through the air that told her a mage was near. A very powerful one.

Somewhere close or not, she couldn’t really tell in the tightness of the corridor. So she pressed on.

She walked until she was so deep into the tunnel system, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever find the end or a way out. Winding and turning as they carried her forward.

Maybe there was no way out.

No end.

Maybe it was all a cruel trick set up by Casimir to have them aimlessly wandering until they were killed or went completely insane in the process.

She only assumed the tunnels connected to the ones in the palace… But—what if she was wrong?

She just had to keep going regardless.

Walking for what felt like hours, she had no way of knowing as her feet carried her forward. Where in the gods’ names was she?

Finally, she came to what she thought was just another dead end, but when she looked close enough, the wall shimmered and warped as though made of mist.

Illusion Magick.

Maybe it was a hidden exit?

It was the first false wall she’d come across and there had to be a reason for it.

Was it a way out?

Had she finally gone deep enough to find it?

Could she trust it?

Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself, and walked through the wall.

She had no way of knowing the awful scene that was waiting for her on the other side. She could’ve guessed for a hundred lifetimes and it never would’ve been— this .

As she stepped through the archway, the opening closed behind it, sealing her inside. She stood inside another chamber but this one had ceilings that rose three stories into the air—impossible if they were still underground. The palace should be right on top of her. Shouldn’t it?

How far did she go?

There were no other tunnels lining the walls or any way out.

Instead, along the wall were dozens of torture devices, some even still decorated with the blood of the last being they were used on.

She stood, hand over her mouth as her eyes fell over the room and settled on what was in the center of it.

Slumped over in a chair, bleeding from too many places to count… was Akadian.

“No,” she gasped as she dropped her sword and ran to his side. She lifted his chin and his eyelids fluttered. Thank the gods. “Akadian,” she pleaded, tears choking at the back of her throat. “Akadian, wake up. It’s me.”

His face scrunched at the sound of her voice as though it caused him physical pain to hear it. She undid the ice shackles that bound his hands—so terrified—she failed to notice they were already unlocked as she let the blood-coated ice shatter to the ground.

Her hands and eyes roamed his body, desperate to see if any of the wounds looked life-threatening. Gods, there was so much blood.

She searched for anything along the walls that could possibly help him but only found murderous devices that would only cause more pain and damage.

“Akadian,” she huffed as she pulled his arm over her head and tried to lift him from the chair. She barely managed to lift him a few inches before his body slammed back into the chair. “ Please, wake up.”

His head rolled to the side and he looked up at her with uncertainty.

Happiness swelled in her chest.

He was alive.

“Thank the gods,” she choked out. “Are you okay?”

The confusion lasted for only a moment on his face before it turned to a look of rage and hatred, his expression as hard as the stone that trapped them.

“ Casimir ,” he growled as his fingers wrapped around her already bruised throat. But the pain in his grasp was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. His eyes had glossed over and though he was looking at her, he wasn’t looking at her.

“Akadian…” Worry clutched her as she tried to pry his fingers open. “It’s me.”

“Casimir.” The word came from deep in his chest as he slowly lifted her off her feet.

“No, it’s me, Ambrose,” she pleaded with the little breath she could manage. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.” Akadian’s eyes flared.

She kicked as her feet left the ground, pulled by his grip like a snake around her throat. Gripped so tight it was impossible to pry apart. She fought for the air that wouldn’t come and scratched at his hand but it was no use. He wasn’t letting go.

Looking in his eyes, she pleaded with her own. Begged him to recognize her. To release her. His eyes glazed over in a way she’d never seen.

He wasn’t there.

She planted her feet on his chest and pushed with all her weight but it only made him squeeze harder, crushing her windpipe as her vision danced.

“Ak…a…di…an…” She fought between sharp painful breaths. The room spun and splotches played across her eyes. “Pl…ea…se…”