A head poked into his line of vision—the Regal, Tobias’s reluctant tentmate. He looked down at Tobias, his wispy blond hair hanging in his face, and let out a hearty laugh. “You look like hell, brother.”
Tobias grumbled, certain the man was right. It was morning, or he assumed as much, as the other men had chosen to start the day. Get up, but he was rooted to the blanket beneath him like a boulder on the ocean floor resistant to the current. Something within him was different. Missing. His body had survived the day, but his mind felt ruined, his resolve shattered, and the knot in his chest was tight enough to snap.
With a grunt, Tobias hoisted himself to his feet and ducked out of the tent. The other men talked amongst one another; friendships had been forged already, and it seemed that to many, Tobias was invisible. He didn’t mind; rather, he welcomed the seclusion. Fuck all of them. His eyes landed on Kaleo, and he shook with rage. Especially him.
A man with grey robes and a tired face trudged through the labyrinth. The Proctor. The sanctuary silenced upon his arrival, and his critical gaze passed over each competitor.
“Good afternoon.”
Afternoon. At least Tobias now had a vague idea of the time.
“Today is day two of the tournament,” the Proctor said. “Only seventeen of you remain. I hear yesterday was rather…eventful.”
Heads turned, some toward Antaeus, most toward Kaleo—who smiled.
“If you think your time with us has been taxing, remember this is just the beginning. The labyrinth is daunting. It is cruel. But one day you will face your first challenge, and when that day comes, you might find you prefer the labyrinth in comparison.” The look in the Proctor’s eyes became searing. “You will continue your journey. The rules remain the same. Heed the instructions. Obey all commands. Stop only once you’ve reached your next sanctuary.”
A clunk sounded at the back of the room, and Tobias and the others spun toward the noise. A heavy black door unlocked and swung open, revealing a long stretch of tunnel—the next phase of the labyrinth.
The Adonis’s eyes flitted between the Proctor and the door. “Did he do that…with his mind?”
“You idiot, the labyrinth is magic,” the Noble said.
“Your task begins now.” The Proctor nodded at the opened door. “Enter.”
The men filed into the tunnel and took root near its entrance, not daring to venture farther. This tunnel was the same stone and brick as the one before, except the walls were lined in glass orbs holding sapphire flames—the strangest lanterns Tobias had ever seen, lighting the space with a blue glow.
The Proctor grabbed the door handle. “Navigate the labyrinth. Try to stay alive. And may the best man win.”
He slammed and locked the door, sealing the men into the tunnel.
Silence. The men studied the walls, the blue lanterns, and the floor, where not too far ahead was a familiar sight.
Red paint.
The competitors huddled around the writing, reading the text.
TO THE FRONT
“To the front?” The Adonis glanced at the others. “The front of what?”
The Regal laughed. “The tunnel, clearly.”
The Adonis stared into the distance. “But there’s a door…”
He was right; far away stood a heavy black door much like the one locked behind them.
Tobias flinched. A droplet splattered on the top of his head. Another.
“What the bloody hell?” the Regal muttered.
Water dripped down onto the painted instructions, turning the words into a swirled mess.
A torrent burst from the ceiling and roared over the competitors, while the men scattered, gaping.
“Good God,” the Regal spat.
Another hole opened from the ceiling, and a second surge gushed into the tunnel. A third hole appeared, then a fourth, and soon the entire tunnel was filled to the men’s ankles.
“What is this?” the Poet asked. “What’s going on?”
A fifth torrent exploded from the ceiling, leaving the men with chaos, confusion, and the rapidly rising water. Tobias glanced between the downpours, the locked door behind him, and the door ahead.
They were trapped.
“They’re flooding us,” Tobias said.
The Physician squealed, “Oh God, I can’t swim!”
“What the hell do we do?” the Adonis asked.
“To the front!” The Regal pushed past the other men. “To the fucking front!”
The competitors fought their way through the tunnel, but Tobias stayed behind, pressing his back to the wall, avoiding the madness. Men flopped face-first into the water while others scrambled right over them, but soon they were of little importance, as the water climbed up Tobias’s waist, his chest. His heart