Page 37 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)

Michail

“Sometimes, the path to your destiny isn’t about breaking through—it’s about waiting for the way to reveal itself.”

Tick tock, tick tock. I hear my mate’s call. It isn’t a voice in the wind or a whisper in my dreams; it’s her clock—steady, relentless, pulling me toward her. The sound vibrates through my bones like the chime of destiny.

I hop on my bike, expecting to find her somewhere close. Maybe Colombia or Brazil, at the farthest. It’s rare for us to have to cross oceans or borders to find our mate. Yet the ticking persists, pulling me north.

I continue my journey, leaving the dense green Orinoco Delta of Venezuela fading behind me. Weaving between towering trees and dirt paths, my mind races with the unknown and humid air clings to my skin.

The Darien Gap is my first true test—a labyrinth of jungle and swamp. It’s no place for anyone, much less someone carrying secrets. The call of her clock grows louder now, pushing me forward even when my legs beg for rest. I join a group of travelers—desperate humans, mostly—each carrying their own hopes and fears.

There are moments in the jungle when I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. When the rains pour so hard that the path turns to rivers and the howls of distant predators reverberate through the trees, I question if I’m chasing an illusion. But her clock never wavers. It ticks like a beacon, guiding me through the chaos.

Reaching Central America feels like a victory, but the journey doesn’t stop. Mexico sprawls before me, a patchwork of deserts, mountains, and cities. I trade my bike for a rickety bus that wheezes its way north. The other passengers are kind, offering me food and stories to pass the time. I stay quiet, watching the landscape blur past. The ticking in my chest is constant now, a metronome that keeps my focus sharp.

Crossing into the United States is the most dangerous part. With my senses sharp for patrols or dangers lurking in the shadows, I slip through fences under the cover of night. I’m not afraid for myself—I know I can defend myself if it comes to that—but I fear delays. Anything that might keep me from reaching her.

When I finally cross into Georgia, her call changes. The ticking grows softer, slower, like the final stretch of a marathon. I feel her presence now, as if the air itself hums with her essence. The Yonah Mountains rise in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist. I know she’s there, waiting for me.

Only one obstacle stands in my way—a barrier I can’t cross. I’m one of the last to arrive, finding other Minotaurs waiting here too, tense and frustrated like me.

The barrier shimmers faintly, like heat rising off sun-scorched stone but cool to the touch. Every time I press through, it pushes me back with a force both gentle and absolute. Some of the others have given up trying entirely, sitting in small groups or pacing in silence. No one speaks much, but the air between us is full of questions.

“How long have you been here?” I ask the one named Charis.

He shrugs, staring at the barrier. “Days? Weeks? I don’t know anymore. Time feels strange here.”

“And none of you have gotten in?”

He shakes his head. “No. We all hear the call, but none of us can cross. It’s like the labyrinth chooses when or who can enter. Or maybe we’re missing something.”

I glance around. There are no signs of aggression or rivalry here—just weary resignation. Some pace, while others sit cross-legged on the ground with their eyes fixed on the shimmering wall. Their silence unnerves me.

The ticking in my chest is relentless. Steady. Calling. Urging. I press my hand against the barrier again, willing it to part, but it holds firm. Frustration burns in my chest.

One of the older Minotaurs, Isaak, speaks from a shaded corner. “It’s not strength that will break it, lad,” he says sadly. “It’s not brute force or even patience. Something else must be at play here. Until then, we wait.”

“Wait for what?” I snap. The ticking in my ears constantly reminding me of how close she is. “I’ve traveled across continents for this. She’s calling me, and I’m supposed to just sit here?”

The old one shrugs. “You think you’re the only one who feels that? Every one of us has followed the call, and we’ve all ended up here. None of us can force our way through. Not until the barrier decides.”

I turn away from him, staring at the labyrinth beyond. Its towering stone walls twist into the mist, endless and impossible to navigate from this side. Somewhere within those walls, she’s waiting for me. I feel it in every beat of my heart.

Just then, a strange sound cuts through the tension—a high, melodic hum that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The others stiffen, their ears twitching toward the sound.

“Do you hear that?” Charis whispers .

I nod, my hand instinctively pressing against the barrier again. The hum grows louder, richer, like a song being woven into the air. It doesn’t come from the labyrinth, but from the forest behind us.

Something—or someone—is coming.

The others scan the dense trees. For the first time since I’ve arrived, the stillness of the group breaks into murmurs.

“What is it?”

“Help,” Isaak says, his voice barely audible. “If we can’t cross, then something must be coming to get us through.”

I want to believe him, except the tension in the air makes it hard to hope. The humming grows louder, closer, and the forest seems to ripple with the sound.

I step toward the trees. My pulse quickening. Whatever is coming, I have the unshakable feeling it’s here for us—for me.