It was the same vision I'd had before my seizure. But there was no way they could be related. I'd never been here before. It was just weird that I was able to envision it so well.
I reached for the talisman in my pocket and gave it a pat to be sure it was still there. I'd almost forgotten that it was partially responsible for showing me the unusual snapshots. I wasn't sure whether to blame my seizure or the talisman for giving me glimpses of something I'd never actually seen before.
"I think it's this way," Shane said, pushing through a wall of thorns. "Look out for these. They're relentless." He held the branches out, giving me clearance to pass through.
As we wandered a bit farther into the thicket, a small clearing opened up ahead of us.
My heart raced as I searched for any sign of the gate or the arch.
And then my heart stopped.
Shane's face fell as we stared at the broken, fallen remains of the garden border.
The overgrown space within was nearly unrecognizable as a once-manicured spectacle. It was now overrun with random trees and weeds allowed to grow wild. The garden had been reclaimed by its surrounding environment, left with only hints of its early, extravagant life.
Shane's eyes trailed up the trunk of a tall oak.
"This wasn't here before," he said, placing his hand on the bark. "This was the archway, and now this tree is what's left of it—the marker of how much time has passed."
It was at least eighty or a hundred feet high with a trunk larger than what two people could wrap their arms around.
He stepped past the oak and surveyed the area. Kicking his feet along the moss, he exposed a stone pathway.
"Here it is," he exclaimed. "It's the path." His eyes lit up like a child, and he followed along the hidden trail using memory as his guide. "It splits up ahead, leading in two different directions. I always went right." He paused. "I have no idea why."
My curiosity rose with every passing second, and I hoped we would find more recognizable relics from his childhood play space.
"There was a bench there," he pointed to a mound of decaying leaves and rotting wood. "And a fountain over there."
He moved into the overgrowth and pulled moss and ivy away.
"Here," he said.
I rushed over and helped him move the debris. My eyes widened as I exposed the sides of a stone fountain. The edges were scalloped like a clamshell, and its enormous size was similar to a round above-ground swimming pool.
"This is amazing," I gasped.
"Wait 'til you see if the statue is still there." Shane climbed into the dry fountain and pulled more vines away.
His smile proved he'd found something exciting.
As I watched, he uncovered an eroded, crumbling figurine in the center of the fountain. It still held the shape of a nude woman holding a tray over her head.
"The water would cascade out of her plate," Shane said, likely remembering his child-like innocence.
"That's magnificent," I murmured, staring at the regal form of the woman, even in her eroded disrepair.
Then my focus shifted to the rest of the garden.
I couldn't believe Shane had as many memories of this place as he did. It was like it was all rushing back to him, and I worried that the more his mind opened to it, the more would be released. And maybe not the good stuff.
By instinct, I moved around the side of the fountain, following the path deeper into the garden.
"What's this way?" I called back to him.
Shane's attention was still focused on clearing the dense foliage off the fountain statue, but then he stopped. He stared in the direction I was moving in.
"Wait," he shot.
I stopped short from the tone in his voice.
His face grew long as he walked over to me.
"Let me go first," he said. "I have a strange feeling about what might be over there."
His words straightened my spine, because the weird thing was, I had a strange feeling too.
My vision threatened to spin as my head grew dizzy again. Taking a huge inhale of fresh air, I steadied myself and followed Shane.
As we moved along the winding path, I noticed an open area ahead of us. There were no tall trees or thick shrubbery, just clear space.
"What is that over there?" I murmured.
Reaching the edge of the expanse, I scanned the open space, wondering what its purpose might have been.
"Was it a bocce field?" I asked, trying to come up with leisure activities from that time period.
Shane stood frozen, holding his breath.
"Shane?"
His eyes slowly moved to mine as his held breath finally broke out of him. He panted in short gulps.
"What is it?" I pressed, looking all around the area.
Then my eyes moved to the ground.
The green hue of lichen on the stone had given the impression of grass at first, causing me to pay no attention. But then, as I focused on the ground, my eyes widened, pulling in the details of the stones, arranged meticulously in a winding pattern.
My eyes followed the trail the stones created until my vision crisscrossed, getting lost in the maze of the twisting path.
The maze!
My air whooshed out of me, causing increased light-headedness.
"I've seen this before," I gasped.
Shane dropped his hands to his knees for stability.
"It's the maze from my visions," I said. "What is this place?"
Shane squeezed his eyes shut as if to clear them, then he stood tall again.
Subtle whispers filled the air, carrying their unnerving angst along the breeze. My eyes darted in every direction, searching for the source of the strange sounds.
"It's not a maze," Shane said, pulling his hands back through his hair. "It's where I spent all my time. Searching for answers, seeking something larger than who I was."
"What is it then?" I murmured.
He took a deep breath. "It's a labyrinth."
I stared out across the dizzying twists and turns of the ancient labyrinth. It was impossible to see its entirety, beginning to end, and I imagined a small boy easily getting lost within its infinite path.
I supposed that was the purpose.
Getting lost in it.
Because once you let go of your need for time and place, your mind could open to new possibilities—finding answers and gaining understanding. It was the true purpose of a labyrinth.
But this one was different.
This one sent out a vibration of its presence like it had its own consciousness.
The labyrinth was aware.
And our presence seemed to have awakened it.
I shuddered from the crazy notion, but as I looked at Shane, I saw the same idea in his eyes.
He'd felt it too.
"It's like it knows us," I murmured.
"Because it does," he stated, taking a step onto its first stone.
I pulled back from his advance.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah," he said without hesitation. "And I plan to find out what it knows."
I hissed through clenched teeth, just as my foot made its first move to the stone path.
I couldn't believe I was about to do this.
Every part of me screamed not to.
This was what we were afraid of. I was sure of it.
It wasn't just the discovery of the crypt and the visions of Shane's parents. There was more. And something told me this labyrinth held the secret.
Stepping onto the first rectangular stone, I allowed Shane to get several paces ahead of me. I didn't want to be right behind him. I wanted to have full visibility of the expanse of the labyrinth as I traveled along it.
My understanding of labyrinths assured me I wouldn't get lost. I would follow the path set in front of me, and it would lead me to the center, only to spiral back along its twisting maze-like trail to exit where I'd begun.
Without a word, I walked the path at a steady pace, allowing ea
ch step to synchronize with my heart’s beat and the rhythm of my breath.
As I started to reach a serene level of quiet meditation, I jolted with a flash of sensations that shivered through my body. At first, it felt like nervous anxiety while waiting for your rollercoaster car to plummet down the steepest drop, but then it twisted deeper in my gut. The nervous energy turned to hollow fear that left me winded.
I narrowed my focus ahead of me to find Shane and found him frozen in place, several paces ahead of me.
He'd felt it too.
"Shane...." My voice was lost in my throat.
I took a deep inhale and tried again.
"Shane...."
Nothing.
It was as if my voice had been stolen from me.
Then, as I tried to run to him, my feet stuck beneath me, feeling like dead weight.
Just as he began to turn toward me, I lost sight of him.
Everything blurred into streaks of color, and my head spun from the swirling chaos.
Without being able to see even two feet in front of me, I attempted to force my feet into action. And they finally moved.
One step at a time, I walked along the spiraling path, hoping to catch up to Shane.
The farther I stepped along the path, the more distant from Shane I felt.
We just had to make it to the center. It was the only option—the only hope.
Each step found more energy and speed until I was at a steady jog. Running along the twisting path, I slowed at every hard bend to be sure not to stumble off the predetermined route.
As if it went on forever, I panted from exhaustion, wondering how it could go on for so long.
And then, as I started to think I was lost forever in its winding oblivion, a rush of energy hit me. It was like smashing into a forcefield, preventing me from reaching the center.
I pressed my hands into its whirling, iridescent orb, and lost sight of my fingers. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the rest of my body into the strange glow, and with a burst that popped my ears, I fell into the center of the labyrinth.
Scrambling up to standing, I instinctually brushed myself off as my eyes darted around the glowing area. A strange vibration shivered all around, distracting my sight, but then my focus landed on Shane.
He stood at the far side of the trembling orb with an expression of bewilderment. His wide eyes and dropped jaw matched mine as we both stared into the center of the labyrinth.
The circular rock formation drew our eyes into its middle. An exquisitely carved metal handle stuck up from the center stone.
The edges of the center stone were covered in weeds and moss, but the lines could still be seen. If the handle was jiggled firmly enough, the stone could likely be removed.
Something hid beneath it.
For a very long time.
And judging by his wide eyes, Shane knew what it was.
I stepped back from the hatch by instinct. Something about it felt off, like it held something that could hurt me.
"What is it?" I whispered.
Shane rubbed the back of his neck without taking his eyes off the handle.
"It was like my secret hiding place for my special things," he said. "Things that needed to be hidden from other people." He squinted his eyes, trying to remember. "I was trying to protect them, always."
His burden drained the brightness from his eyes.
It was a funny thing how children always tried to protect their parents. It was a natural response, and they were unusually good at it.
Shane was no different.
As a child, he knew his role and did what he could.
But, sadly, it wasn't enough.
And he had to carry that with him now, every day.
"You were young," I said.
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I failed them."
"I don't think they would see it that way," I added. "You got away. You survived to carry on their legacy. That's what they would have wanted."
He huffed. "Survived? You call this surviving? I have no soul, Brynn. I'm an empty shell, wandering aimlessly to find my purpose."
"And we will find it. That's why we're here," I pressed. "We need to open it."
His eyebrows pulled in. "I don't want to open it. I have no idea what will be released."
"Well, we can't just walk away now." I glanced at the shimmering orb around us, knowing the magic here was real. "You need to do this, Shane."
He paced, dragging his hands through his hair.
"I know," he muttered. "Just give me a second."
He moved around the hatch, examining it from all sides. His lips moved with murmured phrases. "What would I have put in there? What would be so important? I was just a dumb kid, full of mischief. I believed in magic and legends, not real stuff."
He reached for the metal handle.
"I'd come here to hide. Whenever I was afraid," he continued to mumble. "No one could ever see me when I came into the labyrinth."
I wondered if that was how he escaped the executions. The authorities probably searched for him. They wouldn't have hesitated to hang a child if they believed he was a part of the offense against their governance. They ruled by fear and tyranny in that time; age held no sanctuary.
Maybe the iridescent orb had shielded him from their view, protecting him from their advance.
I swallowed hard as his fingers clamped around the handle.
He lifted his gaze to mine as he positioned himself to pull.
I held his eyes while holding my breath.
And then he pulled.
The sound of stone grating on stone hit my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but then it changed to an empty vibration as the cover lifted.
Shane braced his legs and back as he shimmied the heavy stone slab to the side, exposing a dark hole beneath it.
As he placed the cover at the edge of the opening, we hovered over the black hollow and peered in.
Without hesitation, Shane reached into the darkness and felt around. His hands hit an object, and his eyes grew wide. Lifting it out of the secret coffer, he moved back, holding a wooden box.
He nearly dropped the box from his shaking hands as he waved me closer.
We sat by the open hatch and studied the details of its secret container in silence. It's carved edges and hammered hinges gave it the rustic appearance of a fancy cigar box, around the size that might hold a large pair of shoes.
"Does it look familiar?" I whispered.
He shook his head. "No, not really."
I bit my bottom lip as he jiggled the latch.
With a crack, it released its seal, and the cover waited in its new freedom to be lifted.
Shane rubbed his chin and exhaled loudly. Then he pressed the lid open.
As he reached in, his eyes blinked in surprise like he'd found something. Slowly, he pulled his hand out, and I stared at his tight fingers. They wrapped around something small and opening one finger at a time, he revealed an old key. It was a skeleton key that would likely match one of the million doors in his house.
"What do you think it's for?" I asked.
"I have no idea," he murmured. "I don't remember ever using a key."
I stared at it in his palm, attempting to read its energy or have it send me an idea or a clue of any kind. But it was no use, and I shook my head at the absurdity of finding a hidden key in a treasure box.
"It's so cliché," I snarked.
"It really is," Shane chuckled.
Shaking my head in annoyance, I crossed my legs to get more comfortable and fidgeted from a jab pressing into my hip. Fumbling at my pocket, my fingers wrapped around the pouch that caused me discomfort, and I remembered the talisman.
I pulled it out of my pocket, removing it from its protective bag, and held the crystal center up to my eye.
"Let me look at it through this," I said.
Shane gazed up, and his jaw dropped. Without hesitation, he held the key out in his palm for me to inspect.
As I peered through the talisman at the ancient key’s details, I gasped from the sight of black and white images that surrounded it.
The children's room and the balcony.
The wardrobe and bookcases, and the fancy headboards at the beds.
"It's showing me your bedroom inside the house," I gasped.
Shane exhaled for miles as his fingers wrapped tight around the key. With a nod, he placed it in his pocket.
"Well, I guess we know where we're headed next," he smirked.
He lifted the box and prepared to close the cover, but something else rattled within. Shane paused and looked up at me, then he examined the empty container. He shook it again, and the rattling continued.
Shane searched the box for any access to another compartment within it, and with a shake, he loosed the wooden bottom of the container. Pressing into one corner, I grabbed the opposite corner as it lifted.
"Pull it off," Shane instructed.
As I removed the false bottom of the box, our eyes locked onto a glass vial. It had a dry cork at the top and a hazy appearance to the glass, but was clearly empty.
Shane took hold of it and held it up close to his eyes. He studied the vial as if there was more to it than an empty glass container. His pause heightened my curiosity.
As I examined the small bottle more closely, it began to shake. I followed Shane's trembling fingers all the way up his arm and to his twitching face. His jaw clenched like a vice, and he stared at me with a murderous look in his eye.
"Shane?"
Without a word, he pulled at the cork, opening the vial.
And in a whoosh of energy, a storm was released, bursting a rush of wailing voices.
I covered my ears against the haunting screeches, and my first instinct was to run.
Whatever had just been released from the vial sent terror into my soul, but it was the sinister look in Shane's eye that scared me the most. Something had shifted within him, creating something unrecognizable.
My breath caught in my throat as my flight response took over.
And then I ran.
With a burst of energy, I turned and threw myself beyond the barrier of the glowing orb. Turning back, I'd lost sight of Shane, and so I continued my escape effort.
Urban Mystic Academy: Graduation (A Supernatural Academy Series Book 6) Page 5