Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“I’ll be watching, too,” Aisha chimed in.
Aisha’s confirmation added a layer of solidarity that I found comforting. It wasn’t just about alliances—it was about the people I trusted most having my back. I squeezed Hael’s hand, flashing Aisha a grateful smile. “And the other part?” I nudged Hael, curious about his take on the personal assurances between us amidst all this chaos.
He responded with a tender gesture, his thumb caressing the back of my hand. “I meant what I said. You’re mine, exactly as you are, and I’m yours.” He leaned closer, his voice a low rumble. “And since I’ll always be the favorite, I have nothing to worry about.”
“All valid points,” I conceded with a grin.
The boat approached the other side of the lake, and we turned our attention forward.
“You and Draven? And the Syndicate’s Golden Boy?” Liam questioned jokingly as the boat slowed and angled toward a docking station. “How’s that going for you?”
His teasing tone earned him a genuine smile from me.
“Oh, it’s blooming like a poisonous nightshade,” I quipped back, appreciating the brief levity.
As the boat glided to a gentle stop, I glanced up the hill, catching sight of what awaited us—a carnival, but not the kind you’d want to visit on a sunny Sunday. No, this one looked like it had been ripped straight from a horror film, complete with dim, flickering lights and an eerie silence that promised anything but fun.
“Looks like we’ve arrived at hell’s fairground.”
Hael stood and gently pulled me up with him. “It’s festive in a ‘welcome to your nightmare’ kind of way.”
Maya, still wiping the last traces of tears from her eyes, gave a shaky laugh. “At least it’s not subtle. I’ll give them that. Creepy carnivals are classic.”
“Think they’ll have cotton candy that tastes like regret and existential dread?” Aisha joked.
“Only if we’re lucky,” I replied, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. “But I’m betting on something a bit more interactive.”
We carefully disembarked our paddle boat and collectively stared for a moment. “I suppose we need to get up there.”
As we reached the top of the embankment, the eerie stillness of the carnival settled around us like a cold mist. The rest of the group caught up, and we all paused at the entrance, facing a tall, menacing fence with its gates thrown wide open, almost invitingly so. To the right, a ticket booth housed a silent clown who waved mechanically at us before pointing ominously toward the interior of the carnival. Inside, the entire place was meticulously set up, yet disturbingly deserted. No attendants manned the games or rides, adding to the ghostly atmosphere. A large sign stood out, directing us with unmistakable clarity: “Continue to The Maze of Misery for Judicium.”
“Sounds fun,” Juno commented, her voice betraying her nerves as she sidled up to the rest of us.
One of the girls from the back, who had kept mostly silent until now, started to freak.
“I know damn well they don’t seriously want us to go in there,” she muttered under her breath.
I followed her gaze, and my eyes landed on the large, garish sign looming above the entrance to what was our next challenge.
Chapter Twelve
Standing before the garishly decorated entrance to what was actually a fun house, I couldn’t help but feel a tingle of anticipation.
“Well, isn’t this just inviting?” I quipped, my gaze tracing the eerie, exaggerated features of the clown painted on the entrance. The mouth, a gaping maw framed by a row of sharp, carnivorous teeth, seemed to mock us with a sinister welcome.
“We’re really doing this, huh?” Aisha murmured.
“Yep, straight into the belly of the beast,” I replied with a smirk, leading the way up the ramp. The tunnel beyond the clown’s mouth was short and led us into a cramped vestibule, another ominous door waiting to challenge our resolve.
Without hesitation, we pushed through and found ourselves facing rubber flaps that slapped quietly against each other as we passed through them, adding a touch of surrealism to the already bizarre setting. Beyond lay a door marked “Costume Room.”
I pushed it open, and we stepped into a room that felt like a twisted tailor’s dream.
Mannequins were dressed in freakish carnival attire, each ensemble more disturbing than the last, accompanied by an array of weaponry that could belong in a slasher film. “Looks like they’re expecting us to play dress-up.”
I approached a mannequin clad in what looked like a ringmaster’s outfit gone horribly wrong.
“Or arm up,” Aisha added, eyeing a wicked-looking scythe propped against a nearby stand.
“Either way, it’s showtime,” I concluded, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump through my veins as we contemplated our next move in this bizarre game of survival and spectacle. As we were sizing up the room, the sudden swoosh of a round door at the other end creaked open, and two clowns pranced in. One waved maniacally while the other, with a more sinister demeanor, welcomed us to the Maze of Misery.