Ezra walked slowly through the quiet passage of the Maze.
Each step he took echoed faintly against the stone walls. The floor beneath his boots was uneven, and the faint light of the Maze crystals made long shadows stretch across the ground.
Aliya's body rested on his back.
Her arms hung loosely over his shoulders. One of them swayed slightly each time he stepped forward.
Blood dripped slowly from her wounds.
Drop, Drop, Drop.
The sound followed him like a quiet clock counting down something he could not stop.
Ezra's entire body was stained with blood from head to toe. Some of it belonged to him. Most of it belonged to her.
His eyes looked dark and hollow as he kept walking forward without stopping.
Then a voice echoed in his mind.
"I'm sure you are asking yourself why it is always the people who love us that die."
The voice sounded calm, too calm.
Ezra slowed his steps.
Love us?
The words felt strange in his mind.
