His Broken Fairy

Chapter 4: Shadows of Escape

The tremors in the prison intensified as Lysandra and Zareth moved deeper into the labyrinth of dark corridors. Each step felt heavier, as if the prison itself was resisting their escape, tightening its grip around them. The walls seemed to pulse with dark energy, and strange, disembodied whispers filled the air, voices of the forgotten and damned.

Lysandra's breath came in short gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. She was grateful for Zareth's steady presence beside her, his hand still gripping her arm, guiding her through the oppressive darkness. She had never felt so small, so vulnerable, and yet something about Zareth's unwavering confidence kept her moving.

"Is it always like this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as they rounded another corner, her senses alert for any sign of the wardens.

"No," Zareth said, his voice low and dangerous. "It's never been this restless before. The prison knows we're trying to escape. It's fighting back."

Lysandra swallowed hard, her throat dry. She had never considered the prison as a living thing, but the more they moved, the more she could feel its malevolent intent, as if the very stones were watching them, waiting for a moment of weakness.

Zareth's pace quickened, and Lysandra struggled to keep up with him, her legs aching from the tension and fear. "Where are we going?" she asked, her voice strained.

"There's a way out," Zareth replied. "But it won't be easy. The wardens won't let us reach it without a fight."

Lysandra shivered at the thought of encountering more wardens. The image of the hulking creature Zareth had effortlessly dispatched still lingered in her mind. She had felt its overwhelming presence, its raw power, and she wasn't sure she could survive another encounter like that.

Zareth glanced down at her, sensing her unease. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said, his voice softening. "Not while you're with me."

His words were meant to comfort, but Lysandra couldn't shake the fear that clung to her like a second skin. She was grateful for his protection, but she knew that even Zareth couldn't be everywhere at once. There was no guarantee they would make it out alive.

As they pressed on, the air around them grew colder, and the shadows seemed to thicken, closing in like a suffocating blanket. Lysandra could feel the weight of the prison's malevolence bearing down on her, pressing into her chest, making it harder to breathe.

"We're getting close," Zareth muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the corridor ahead.

Lysandra opened her mouth to ask how he knew, but the words died in her throat as they rounded another corner and found themselves standing at the entrance to a vast chamber. The walls were lined with ancient, crumbling statues, their faces twisted in agony, and in the center of the room stood a towering, black gate, pulsing with dark energy.

"This is it," Zareth said, his voice tense. "The Gate of Shadows."

Lysandra stared at the gate, her stomach churning with a mixture of fear and awe. The gate was unlike anything she had ever seen. It seemed to be made of living shadow, constantly shifting and twisting, as if it were trying to break free from its own form. The air around it was thick with a dark, oppressive energy that made her skin crawl.

"How do we get through?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Zareth's jaw tightened. "We'll need to weaken it first. The gate is bound by ancient magic, and it draws its strength from the prison itself. If we can disrupt that connection, we might be able to force it open."

Lysandra's eyes widened. "How do we disrupt it?"

Zareth turned to her, his expression grim. "By confronting the heart of the prison—the source of its power."