Chapter Thirteen: And It Very Well May Be

It’s been a month since I last wrote anything on this novel but because of being let go from my position, yet again, I have been in a kind of funk. I needed a break for the summer and now ready to hit the writing again with a great plot twist you need to keep reading to discover!

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A cold dread settles in my stomach. The pieces of this puzzle are starting to fit together, forming a terrifying picture. This isn't just a coincidence. We're being hunted.

"We have to move!" Brock shouts, his voice cutting through the panic.

We surge forward, our group now doubled in size. The labyrinth twists and turns, each passageway a potential dead end.The smoke grows thicker, making it hard to breathe.

Suddenly, a flicker of light catches my eye. A faint glow emanates from a narrow opening in the wall. Could it be an exit? A way out?

"This way!" I yell, pointing towards the light.

We stumble towards the opening, desperation fueling our every step. The light grows brighter as we approach, revealing a tunnel carved into the rock. We squeeze through, one by one, emerging into a hidden chamber.

The air here is cooler, the smoke less dense. We collapse onto the stone floor, our bodies wracked with coughs. But we're alive. We made it. For now.

The chamber we find ourselves in is dimly lit, the only source of light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. It's a small, circular room with walls adorned with faded frescoes depicting ancient rituals. In the center, a pedestal supports a large, ornate bowl filled with water.

"Where are we?" Linda asks, her voice trembling.

"I don't know," Brock replies, "but it's safe, at least for now."

We huddle together, the silence broken only by our ragged breathing. My mind races, trying to process everything that has happened. The fire, the man in the suit, the Shadows... it's all too much.

"We can't stay here," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "We need to find a way out of these ruins."

Brock nods in agreement. "But we need to rest first. We're all exhausted."

We settle down on the cold stone floor, our bodies aching from the ordeal. The adrenaline that had fueled our escape begins to wear off, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

As I close my eyes, I can't help but think about Emily. The memory of her screams still haunts me, a constant reminder of my failure. I should have been able to save her. I should have done more. No, I should have told her not to cross the bridge. I start to weep.

And as he has done for the last 35 plus years, and knowing my anguish now, he gently touches my shoulder, and I open my eyes to see him looking at me with concern. "It's not your fault, Patrice," he says softly. "You did everything you could."

I nod, but the guilt still gnaws at me. I know Brock is right, but it doesn't make the pain any less real. I had told him about the tragedy years ago and I thought maybe I had processed it and was able to move on. Now, it’s like it happened yesterday and The Shadows are bringing it to the surface. I wonder if we’re being targeted because of that fateful night.

"We'll find a way out of this," Brock assures me, his voice filled with determination.

His words ignite a spark of hope within me. Maybe we can turn this tragedy into something positive. Maybe we can expose The Shadows and prevent them from hurting anyone else.

With renewed resolve, I stand up and look around the chamber. There must be a way out of here. We just have to find it. Lisa follows me with her eyes but stays seated.

I scan the chamber for any clues that might lead us to an exit. The frescoes on the walls, though faded and worn, depict scenes of ancient rituals and processions. Could they hold the key to our escape?

Brock, sensing my curiosity, joins me in examining the artwork. We trace the lines and symbols with our fingers, searching for any hidden meaning or pattern.

"Look," Brock says, pointing to a series of symbols etched into the base of the pedestal. "These look familiar."

I lean closer, squinting in the dim light. The symbols are arranged in a circular pattern, each one representing a different element: earth, air, fire, and water.

"They correspond to the four cardinal directions," I realize. "North, south, east, and west."

"But which way do we go?" Linda asks, her voice filled with uncertainty.

I study the symbols again, trying to decipher their meaning. Suddenly, a realization dawns on me. The symbols are not just representing directions, they're also depicting a path.

"We need to follow the path," I say, my voice filled with excitement. "The symbols show us the way."

As a group, we follow the path indicated by the symbols, moving from one fresco to the next. The path leads us through a series of interconnected chambers, each one more elaborate than the last. We encounter hidden passageways, secret doors, and intricate puzzles that test our wits and our courage.

Along the way, we discover artifacts and relics that shed light on the history of the ruins. We learn that this was once a sacred site, a place of worship and pilgrimage. But it was also a place of secrets, a place where ancient knowledge was guarded fiercely.

As we delve deeper into the labyrinth, the air grows thicker and the temperature rises. The ground beneath our feet trembles, and we hear the distant rumble of the fire raging outside.

We know we're running out of time. We have to find the exit before the flames consume us. But with each step we take, the path seems to grow more treacherous. The walls close in around us, the air becomes suffocating, and the ground threatens to crumble beneath our feet.

And before I know what has happened, Lisa pivots, a gun trained on me, and says the three words I will never forget ...

"You killed her."