The mask and hood were tight over Aurelia's head, a stifling second skin that made the world a blur of woven darkness and muffled sound.
It pressed against her nose and mouth, a constant, suffocating reminder of her anonymity, her vulnerability. She was unrecognizable, a ghost in the emerald gloom of the Hedge of Whispers.
They had been led in silence, separated, placed in different directions—each a solitary, green-walled prison within the same sprawling, suffocating maze. The air here was thick, humid, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.
The serpent—the Ash-veiler—was somewhere in this maze with them. The knowledge was a cold stone in her stomach, sinking deeper with every silent minute, an icy weight that threatened to pull her under.
Aurelia had to move slowly, each step a conscious act of will, her entire being focused on listening—not just for footsteps, but for the subtle shift in the air, the warning whisper of the leaves themselves. Her soft boots scuffed softly on the gravel path, each sound magnified in the profound silence.
All she could hear was the frantic drum of her own heart, a sound so loud it seemed to echo off the ivy-clad walls, a deafening counterpoint to the lethal stillness.
Her own breath rasped, audible even through the mask, a desperate search for air that seemed to elude her.
Aurelia walked, lost, adrift in the disorienting green.
Each step was slow and deliberate, a tightrope walk between caution and blind panic. Her senses were on high alert, straining to decipher the slightest anomaly in the symphony of the natural world.
She could hear the distant, rhythmic chirp of a grasshopper, a sound so achingly normal it felt like a cruel joke. A tiny creature living its life, oblivious to the predator stalking its vicinity.
The chase hadn't started.
She reminded herself, clinging to that fragile thread of logic.
They were told it would begin with a whistle. No whistle had blown. She was still waiting.
Then Aurelia heard it.
Siiiiiiiiiiiii…
A swift, dry hiss-thump, like a rope being thrown against a wall, a sound of sudden, violent displacement.
It came from the dense grass and vine wall to her immediate left, a sound so sharp it felt like it tore through the very fabric of the air.
The sound hit the green barrier fast, followed instantly by the rapid, slithering whisper-rush of scales moving through dry foliage.
The movement was not cautious; it was a directed, speeding line cutting through the hedge with terrifying purpose, a sinuous arrow parallel to her path.
The rustling wasn't the gentle breeze; it was the sound of something large and lethal moving with unnatural speed.
A bolt of pure, electric terror shot from her spine to her limbs. Her legs began to move of their own accord, no longer walking but striding, then hurrying, her soft boots scuffing the gravel with an urgent, frantic rhythm.
Ash-veiler was in the maze. And its path was on a perfect intercept course with hers. The chilling certainty settled in her gut like the first stone.
She broke into a run, the hood flapping against her cheeks, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps behind the mask. The graceful maze became a terrifying labyrinth of identical green corridors, each turn a gamble, each shadow a potential hiding place.
Aurelia took a frantic left, then a right. The slithering sound faded, only to resurge from the path ahead—it was flowing through the very arteries of the hedge.
What kind of game is this?
The snake wasn't just chasing her; it was herding her. An unseen, unstoppable force, moving with impossible speed, anticipating her every desperate evasion.
She was being herded by the king's venomous prize. And in her blind panic, she was running deeper into the maze's heart, utterly alone, with the one thing everyone was supposed to capture now clearly in pursuit of her, its predatory intent undeniable.
The whispers of the leaves seemed to turn to mocking laughter, rustling with a sibilance that sounded far too much like cruel amusement.
Siuuuuuu!
She heard it.
The loud, piercing
WHISTLE.
It shrieked through the maze, a sharp, metallic sound that echoed and reverberated, cutting through the illusion of secrecy.
The princes were being released, the game truly begun,Tenebrarum mind was just on finding her.
But the rules, the strategies, the desperate hope for escape—they all vanished in the face of that sound.
Aurelia didn't care about the others; her survival instinct had narrowed to a single, terrifying focus. Running like never before, she pumped her legs, lungs burning, sheer terror fueling her flight.
Then she was trapped. The maze, so fluid moments before, seemed to fold in on itself, corralling her.
She slammed back against a cold, ivy-clad wall, the rough texture scraping against her thin garment. The slithering sound, no longer distant, was directly in front of her, an immediate, terrifying presence.
The Ash-veiler was coming closer, its massive form eclipsing the dim light filtering through the leaves.
Aurelia pressed her back hard against the wall, trying to melt into the grass, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
Her violet eyes, wide with primal fear, locked straight into its gaze.
Its eyes were black, impossibly so, like pools of obsidian that reflected no light, only absolute darkness. It was incredibly huge, its serpentine body thicker than her waist, scales shimmering with an unnatural, oily sheen.
Its canines, long and wicked, dripped with a thick, viscous liquid—venom, potent and deadly.
A wave of horror washed over her. Yet as she stared into the abyss of its form, an alien thought pulsed through her: It is beautiful.
A terrifying,magnetic beauty that held her captive even as every instinct screamed to flee.
The snake didn't just lunge—it uncoiled through the air, a living spear aimed not at her, but for the fragile column of her throat.
She had a splintered moment to see the glint of its obsidian hood, the yawning darkness of its mouth.
Aurelia squeezed her eyes shut against the end. Inside, she was screaming—not with her voice, but with her very spirit—pushing against the silent, stubborn dam within her chest where her powers lay dormant.
Now. Come on, NOW!
It was less a prayer and more a command, a raw, primal summoning that tore through her will.
But nothing came.
And in that vacuum of hopelessness, as the lethal chill of its approach brushed her skin, her mind did not conjure light or strength or escape.
It conjured a name.
Where's Tenebrarum?
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To be continued...