Persephone Incarnate [Wattpad Prize 2014] | ✔️

{21} Alexander

Alexander blinked. Was that light?

He had gotten accustomed to traveling through the dark, finding his way around bends and corners, backtracking and guessing how far he had gone, a few feet or a few yards. He had figured out along the way that he was in a maze – it wasn’t very complex, since it seemed that he had arrived at the end now, after what seemed like a very short amount of time. What made it difficult though, was the fact that his vision was severely impaired. He didn’t what could do it, what could stop his eyes from even adjusting into the dark, but he had gotten past that already, he had accepted that that was just the way it was. He just had to adapt to it, by using his hearing.

He stumbled toward the dim glow in front of him; nervous yet excited to finally see some sort of light. It eyes watered at first, and he had to blink and close his eyes a few times, since a while had gone by since he’d seen any kind of illumination.

And then it was just in front of him. He reached his hand toward it tentatively, and as the very tip of his index finger brushed against it – it felt like duct tape or washi tape – the room turned white. He had to slam his eyes close immediately, overwhelmed by the sudden change. It was like staring directly at the sun, and he had learned the hard way how that was pretty much impossible. When his eyes stopped watering, and the light that filtered through his eyelids became more bearable, he opened his eyes, just a little bit, so they were slits.

He turned in the spot he was standing in, and saw walls – white, tall walls that soared up toward the ceiling. He had to crane his head all the way back, until the back of his head touched his back, just to see the ceiling, and the bright fluorescent lights that hung from it. They were like the lights found in football stadiums and on roads at night during construction work – bright, very bright, and hard to stare into with squinting. He brought his eyes back to the wall in front of him, and saw words. He could’ve sworn they weren’t there before, but then again, he had been in the dark and been blinded for the last few minutes.

Get ready for step three, Alexander.

Just go through that door, to the right.

I would tell you good luck, but you don’t need it.

Actually, you might.

Okay, you’re going to need a lot of it, if I’m going to be honest.

Good luck, then!

 

There weren’t directions (except for a crudely drawn arrow pointing toward the right) but he hadn’t been expecting any anyway. Anna had warned him previously that past dropping him off there (he hadn’t realized that they’d meant that quite literally, and in a strange place, no less), they wouldn’t be able to do anything else. He was on his own to navigate the palace.

He took a deep breath and went the way the arrow was pointing. A tall, arched door was waiting for him. It was the only color in the room beside the neon yellow tape that had been above those words on the wall.

As he opened the door, he took one more look back and couldn’t help but feel a little cheated – there’d been lights all along, but he’d had to make do with listening and shuffling along in the dark, like a bat. He didn’t even the wings! Wasn’t there some sort of godly rule against that or something?

He stepped into a wide corridor – it stretched on for what seemed like miles in front of him, in resplendent obsidian and silver-streaked glory. Dark mahogany decorated the walls at his sides, and there weren’t any windows – not that it was necessary in the Underworld. There wouldn’t be any sunlight here, he was sure.

His footsteps echoed against the tile surface, and he couldn’t help but wince. Someone was bound to hear that – servants, guards, someone – or more precisely, something. His eyes darted around nervously, and he tried to hold in his breath, afraid that even that would be too loud. And then the door he had come through slammed behind him, and he was sure that it would bring someone running, so he was better off getting away and out of this corridor as fast as possible. No need to be stealthy anymore.

He started to run, but then looked thoughtfully at his shoes. Just because he was free to dash through the hallways now, like some kind of not-so-secret agent didn’t mean he couldn’t still be quiet. He hadn’t seen any sign that was given away yet, so he wasn’t going to give himself away. He took the shoes off and laid them against the wall. Then he started to run again. The tile was hard under his socks, and whenever his feet came into contact with the ground, it was like a slap. A dulled slap, but a slap nonetheless.

He gritted his teeth and ignored it until he had become accustomed to it, and could even time the impact. He eventually figured out ways to make it hurt less, landing on the balls of his feet instead of slamming against the hard tile with the whole of his foot. When he couldn’t bear the running anymore, he was slide and push away with his foot like he was skating. It wasn’t necessarily faster or less painful (as he figured out when his socks started to rub against the sore skin that had hit the ground), but it was a break for when he couldn’t run anymore. Even his panting was especially loud in the corridor.

Then, finally, the end came in sight. But it only gave way to two smaller corridors, one stretching to the right, another going to the left. They both seemed to go on forever, and only continued on in one direction. He sighed. It would be exhausting to go through this whole palace – it was a maze within itself, and even with his sight, he could easily get lost here.

He turned around where he stood and tried to find something distinct about the hall, something he could remember so he would know if he came back this way again. His eyes fell on the arched door he had come through – it was a mere speck in the distance now, and he couldn’t believe that he had come all that way already, and it was only one part, one path in the palace, not even a few hallways.

He took in the details of the door, then spun around on his feet, wincing as the fabric of hi socks rubbed against sore skin. He went right – it seemed like the right direction.

Dimly lit lamps on the side of the corridor guided his path, and as he walked, he followed his shadow moving, dancing gracefully, along the walls. It didn’t seem tired, seemed like it could just keep on shifting from one spot to other easily, all night, all day, never stopping. He wished he had that kind of energy, but he was already starting to tire. His feet were sore and his breath came in small hitches, like hiccups. He licked his lips, noting how dry they were.  He needed some water and some food, that was all. But he hadn’t thought to bring either – he thought it was just going to be a quick going in, getting Sophie, and running out as fast as possible. But it evidently wasn’t.

Even the girls hadn’t seemed to remember to tell him – despite every other precaution they had given him – that he would be in the palace for an indefinite period of time and should bring some food. They definitely hadn’t mentioned the grand scale of the place.

Time slowly dragged on as he walked, trying to make large, quick strides. He wanted to get to Sophie – the sooner the better, for both of them. He kept his eyes focused at the end of the hallway, even though it was still so far away. He felt the need to turn around more than once, just to see how far he’d come, as some sort of encouragement. But he resisted – it didn’t matter how far he had already walked, all that mattered was that his steps were taking him closer to Sophie, closer to the end of the hallway, and into another one, no doubt. He just had to keep on walking.

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Thank you all for 3K+ reads! I'd forgotten to thank you guys earlier this week, because I trying to figure out some family stuff...and gah, it's a mess.

I'll post four more chapters of PI tonight, to make up for yesterday, tomorrow, Sunday, and possibly Monday.