Page 33 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)

Circe

“All my life I’ve lived for myself. Here I want to live for others. For Colin, for our child, and the people who have welcomed us.”

I haven’t let go of Colin since Helios spoke to us. I sense a peace surrounding us that’s never been there before.

We’ve met so many people on this day. Too many names to remember. All welcomed us with kind words and genuine smiles.

Isaak’s labyrinth resides along an eighty-seven-mile creek in California. Colin and I approach the entrance, and a hush settles over him. I feel the same wonder blooming in my own chest.

Colin told me of the horrors of the home he grew up in.

The world around us changes when we cross the threshold. Towering redwoods and oaks intertwine with plants that seem ancient, bearing medicinal leaves and flowers I’ve only seen in stories told by those older than me.

Isaak’s labyrinth is not merely a maze of passageways—it’s a living memory, woven with the spirit of our people and the heritage of this land.

The walls are lined with carvings, which depict scenes of ancestors and spirits. The figures are mythical and human. Some are woven into the natural rock, and others carved with a precision that must have taken lifetimes.

Each path is lit by small fires set into alcoves. The flames flicker softly, casting dancing shadows that appear as if they’re guiding us.

Wisps of sage and cedar rise in the air, blending with the earthy scent of the forest floor and the nearby creek. The sounds of the water flowing is like a rhythmic pulse that bounces through the corridors, reminding us that this place is alive and ever connected to the land beyond.

Colin’s hand tightens around mine. His gaze sweeping over each detail. His eyes sparkle with excitement. He’s no longer wary. He’s drinking in every detail, as if his soul has been waiting to come home after a long time away.

Our new community moves around us with calm reverence. Each person is touching a wall or nodding toward a flame, acknowledging the spirits here. It’s more than just a labyrinth—it’s a sanctuary .

“We are home, Circe, home.”

I chuckle. “This is just the entrance. You haven’t even seen the center where the houses are.”

“I could live in these caves and find happiness with you.”

I kiss his cheek before continuing ahead.

With our hands entwined, we move deeper into the labyrinth. I catch glimpses of the heart of our new home unfolding before us.

The narrow passage widens into a sprawling open space with a hidden village nestled within the walls of the labyrinth. Stone and clay homes are built seamlessly into the natural rock. Their walls are adorned with vibrant murals of ancestors, animals, and symbols that feel both familiar and awe-inspiring. Each house is unique—some painted in earthy reds and ochres, others woven with plant life climbing the walls, as if they’ve been here forever.

Children laugh and dart between the homes. Their bright faces lighting up as they chase each other around a small plaza dotted with trees and benches carved from stone.

An older man kneels nearby, teaching a small group of children how to weave baskets from reeds. His hands move deftly as they mimic his every gesture. My eyes take in the rhythm of this life and the way it flows to naturally. I imagine Colin is doing the same thing without the fear or restraint .

Women and men greet us as we pass, nodding or offering a friendly wave. A young couple walks by with their hands linked and smile warmly, welcoming us without words.

Here, everyone seems woven into the fabric of this place—each one a piece of the story, part of the family.

Colin turns to me. His expression a mix of amazement and quiet gratitude. “It’s… so alive, Circe. All of it.”

“This is where we can truly be ourselves,” he says, drawing me close. “Our children will only know freedom.”

He exhales a breath against me that seems to carry years of pain away. And as we step into the heart of the labyrinth, I know it’s not just a home—it’s the life given to us by our maker.