Then I was through.

The ice creaked as I rose to my hands and knees, the sound echoing through the small cavern. With the lantern flame as high as it would go, I scanned the darkness to ensure nothing was lying in wait before crawling deeper inside.

Though I’d been in this place only twice and never lingered, it was deeply familiar to me, the jagged rocks of the ceiling and sharp embankment leading down to the pond featured often in my dreams. It was the beginning and end of my time in Trollus – the pathway to a world I’d never imagined, a life I’d never dreamed possible.

And it was a pathway that had seen a great deal of traffic in recent days.

Muddy footprints marred the surface of the ice, and there were signs that several trolls had tarried here for some time: remnants of meals, a discarded wineskin, and the less than pleasant smell of urine. Angoulême and his followers had come this way; had others as well? How many had snuck out of Trollus before the King had locked the city down, and where had they gone? Were they inflicting their own form of destruction on the Isle or were they only trying to flee the war between three powers?

But such thoughts were only procrastination on my part. Right up until this moment, I’d felt confident that I could brave the labyrinth once again, yet looking into that yawning black tunnel, I was tempted to slide under the rocky overhang and scuttle back to camp. And maybe that was the right thing to do.

I stood frozen in place, second-guessing my decision, which, frankly, had the potential to be the latest in a series of less than wonderful choices. Except, try as I might, I couldn’t think of another way to find the answers we needed. So I started forward.

It seemed impossible for the labyrinth to become any more treacherous, but it had. The dank wet of spring and summer had made the rocks slippery enough; now there were patches of ice hidden in the shadows to contend with, and my numb fingers were reluctant allies in my attempts to keep my balance.

The only aspect that was no longer a challenge was finding the correct path. Where the traders’ markings had once been were now arrows slapped onto the stone in red paint, and even without them, there were obvious signs of traffic. Boot prints and discarded bits of food. Smells that were a different sort of rank than what the sluag left behind. It added another level of fear, because while before the labyrinth had been empty with the exception of sluag and the occasional trader, now I was at risk of coming across a troll at every turn. So I kept my lantern turned as low as I dared and stopped often to listen.

“Only a few left, and you can get back to standing in front of the gate.”