Page 7 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)
Ioannis
“If that crow doesn’t quit cawing, I’ll have Phylis kill it. I know it’s following me. Taunting me.”
Phylis, Ambrose, and I stumbled across the trails in the Yonah Mountains last month that led to an abandoned labyrinth.
Without Phylis, we’d still be squatting in roadside motels, suffocating under the smell of stale tobacco and human regret.
My prayers to Helios for deliverance went unanswered. The god who shaped me—who gave me strength and purpose—now turned his back as if I were a stranger. First Persephone abandoned me and now my maker.
It is no wonder the father of shadows was the only one left to hear my call. Phylis petitioned him with blood and whispers, and he offered the labyrinth in return. The price? The remnants of my soul. A small loss. Persephone had no use for it, and neither did I.
A man’s home is his castle. Or at least, it should be. This place, however, was no castle.
When we first entered the labyrinth, the air was thick and stale and filled with the stench of decay that was like a physical blow. Crumbling stone walls lined narrow corridors, and runes that I didn’t recognize etched their surfaces. Roots from the trees above had broken through the ceiling in places, twisting and clawing their way down like skeletal fingers.
It needed work and looked like it had been over a century since a herd abandoned it.
It was not just a structure that we found. It was an ancient wound in the mountains, yawning open to swallow those foolish enough to enter. All sense left me when my mate severed our destiny.
Rust-covered chains hung from the walls in one chamber, suggesting this labyrinth had once served as more than a refuge. Dust coated every surface, and bones—scattered and broken—peeked from the dirt like pale warnings. The remnants of torches, now cold and useless, were embedded in the walls, hinting at the herd that had long since abandoned this place. Only a distant drip broke the suffocating silence.
Ambrose claimed he heard whispers—faint voices murmuring in a language even Phylis couldn’t decipher. However, she seemed at ease, running her hands along the rough stone and murmuring incantations to bind the shadows here to our will.
“This will do,” I said, my voice lost in the emptiness. But it was a lie. The labyrinth was a pitiful husk. A forgotten fortress. Yet it was all we had.
It would take work. Time. Sacrifices.
A man’s home is his castle. Mine would be built on the bones of those who came before—and those who dared to defy me.
It gave me deep pleasure leading Ciara through the forest. She’ll serve as a surrogate for my need for revenge. When I’m through with her, she’ll never interfere with the Fates again.