Underground

VIII

What have you done?

There was nowhere left to run. Everywhere you turned, every corridor that you rushed through, all of them somehow wound back to the throne room. You were exasperated, your mind spinning in a frightening haze as the consequences of your actions finally dawned on you.

Your freedom now lay in the hands of your ex. Your furious ex fiancé.

If only you had thought through the terms of what you were wishing for. Why hadn't you noticed that loophole? It was painfully obvious now that you had realised, but at the time it sounded utterly perfect. You were ashamed that you had fallen into the Goblin Kings trap like this. You really were naive, just like he had said.

After attempting to escape the throne room for the tenth time, you gave up. Every time you whirled down another hall, it only directed you straight back again. You were wasting precious energy. You slinked into the throne room, ignoring the handful of goblins that lazed around, all in drunken stupor and too occupied to notice your presence.

One of them burped, then cackled straight after. You scowled at the boisterous behaviour, and it quickly reminded you of the times Harry would get drunk with his friends and unleash that alpha-male personality that you despised so much. You wanted to slap yourself for even thinking of Harry. You blamed yourself entirely for this mess you had caused—you'd doomed yourself from the very beginning.

Out the corner of your eye, a small goblin approached. The way he was dressed reminded you of Dobby from Harry Potter. You looked down at him, raising a brow in question. Then, he lifted a shaky hand and presented a crystal ball for you to take.

You scoffed. The Goblin King was taunting you, surely. You stuck your nose in the air and faced away from the small goblin, making it painfully obvious that you were rejecting the Goblin Kings gift. The small goblin realised this, a series of grunts and snorts leaving his mouth as he circled round to stand in front of you, pushing the crystal ball into your line of sight again. You frowned, turning away again. The goblin followed.

You did this a few times before giving in. You took the crystal ball from the goblin with a deep grumble of complaints, and focused your eyes into the reflective centre. Through the mist, you squinted, watching as a scenery came to life. It was like watching a video on your phone—only you could not call for the help you desired from this crystal ball.

Harry appeared. You sucked in a deep breath, suddenly finding your knees shake with anticipation. You slowly sank to the floor, back positioned against the wall for support, your legs sprawled in front of you. What is he doing?

Harry spun around in a circle, his hair ragged and sticking up in various directions, a clear sign that he was frustrated and running his fingers through his hair. He was mumbling something under his breath—probably cursing you out—while searching for something to aid him. Harry touched unsuspecting boulders and jagged lines in the walls, treating everything with great caution.

He was still in the beginning of the labyrinth, from what you could tell. And it appeared as though he was having a hard time figuring out where to go and what to do.

You chewed your lip, thinking hard and hoping you could somehow communicate with him telepathically. But your mind and the world didn't work like that—not that the Goblin King would allow you to cheat anyway. He wouldn't allow you to interfere with Harry in the labyrinth. He probably gave you this crystal ball to keep you occupied, to assure you'd stay in one place. Or maybe it was to add to your distress; if you could see Harry's struggle to complete the labyrinth, that would deflate your hopes even further.

Nothing is ever as it seems, you thought, anxious that Harry wouldn't realise this quick enough. If he couldn't understand that the labyrinth played tricks as though it were fully conscious, then Harry could navigate the labyrinth easier than he was. But Harry was always so incredibly pessimistic—a realist. He'd take one look at the straight path with no visible turnings, and he'd decide that it's how the labyrinth was deliberately created. He wouldn't stare at a wall and imagine a gap to be there; he'd stare at a wall and he'd only picture the wall there.