Tristan let loose a blistering string of oaths, slamming his spear against the rocks with no regard for the debris and dust that rained down upon us. Then he knelt next to the corpse, staring at the skull as though it might reveal its identity. “How many?” he muttered. “How many have been sent here over the years for no fault of their own other than a bad month of luck in the mines?”

I didn’t answer. One of the duties I’d inherit from my father was opening the labyrinth gates for the sacrifices to missed mining quotas, for aristocrats wishing to rid themselves of old or undesirable servants, for the King, when he wished to make a point. I’d have to stand there and do nothing while they were sent to their deaths. Some might last days, even weeks, but there was no escape from the labyrinth. It was the cruelest form of execution.

“I will end this practice,” Tristan snarled, the weight of the promise in his words making my head buzz. “I don’t care what I have to do or what it costs me, I will–”

Whatever he was about to say was drowned out by a piercing scream.

He was after it in a shot.

“Damn it, Tristan!” I reached for his arm, trying to drag him back so that Anaïs could go first, but he was too quick.

He chased the screams through the tunnels, and we chased him, the labyrinth shuddering as he carved through tight spots, rock and dust raining down on the magic we cast above our heads.

“Tristan,” Anaïs shouted. “Let me go ahead. You need to let me go ahead.”

He ignored her.

The light above his head winked out.

I swore as my own globe of light vanished, my magic present, but numb and unusable like a deadened limb. Reaching blindly in the dark toward the sound of my cousin’s breathing, I jerked him back, stepping between him and the sluag that could see us perfectly well in the blackness.

“Help me. Please help me.”

The voice was more sobs than words, but on its heels came the squish of something large and soft shifting its bulk. I hefted my spear, but it was impossible to tell precisely the direction it had come from.

Light from the twins blossomed brilliant bright a dozen paces behind me, but they were around a bend, and if they came closer the sluag’s magic would put the light out entirely. It was enough, however, for me to tell that we stood at the edge of a large cavern that some strange twist of physics and luck had left open when the mountain had fallen.

“Fire,” Anaïs whispered, and moments later, the smell of smoke filled the air as Victoria came forward with a torch flickering with natural flame. Bypassing Tristan and me, she held the fire out, illuminating the cavern.

It dipped down, the base filled with water, and at its center sat one of the largest sluag I’d ever seen. It hissed at the fire, twisting its bulk so that the water sloshed violently, splattering me with its stagnant smell. But it didn’t retreat.