Cyana crumpled next to the derelict stone wall, shivering. She imagined her brother wandering over the mountainside above, calling her name. She had only wanted to peer over the edge, but her sandals were so slippery. Now she'd never see him or their mother again. She knew what lived under this mountain. Monsters. She took deep gasps, none of which seemed like enough to fill her lungs. The room around her spun, and her heart hammered against her aching chest. Cyana dug her fingers into the forest of braids on her scalp. She heard something shuffling down the corridor to her right.
She couldn't move. Only her pounding heart and her chattering teeth made any noise. Her head turned—slowly, slowly—to the right. A giant eye peered around the corner. Cyana gasped and shrunk against the wall. It began to approach her, tilting its strange eye-body to the side so that its straight teeth and curved horns caught a glint even in the low light. Cyana watched helplessly as it waddled toward her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face into the wall—and felt her toy knife digging into her side. Her eyes popped open. She could hear the eyeball creature hobbling closer. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her overalls and grasped the hilt of the plastic knife. If she stayed perfectly still, this would work.
Cyana kept cowering until she could feel the monster's hot breath washing over her skin. It hesitated. Now! She turned with a sudden flourish, hoisting the knife above her head. Her wide eyes met the monster's one bulbous eye for a brief moment as it began to speak.
"Your hair ribbon is really—" Cyana's hand plunged the knife into the eyeball before it could finish its sentence. It made a disgusting sound; she could feel warm fluids soaking her hand and running down the length of her arm. Her heart was beating in her throat, in her ears, behind her eyes. Each stab into the increasingly gooey eyeball felt like a convulsing shudder of her body—as automatic as her chattering teeth.
When it was nothing but a mess of ooze, blood, teeth, and horns, she was able to take a long, ragged breath. Finally, her head stopped spinning. Her heart settled into a calmer, steady beat. She watched the remains of the monster crumble into dust. Cyana heard a warbling, hoarse sound echo on the old stone, and it took a moment to realize that it had been her own laugh. She had won. She wiped the sturdy plastic blade of her knife off on the leg of her overalls and stumbled to her feet. Her brother had said she was such a scaredy-cat that she'd get gobbled up on sight. She put her hand to the back of her head—the ribbon was still there, keeping her braids tied tightly behind her back. Her brother had always liked to yank her ribbon out and tickle the back of her neck with it to see her jump.
Cyana began to walk down the hall carefully, wielding her knife out in front of her. As the wash of triumph faded, she finally remembered that the monster had been saying something just before she killed it. What was it, though? The memory was hazy with the rush of adrenaline.
She edged up to a doorway, sucking in a breath before peeking around it. The long room had floors that sloped gently downward, allowing water to flow through short channels cut into the floors and walls. A flat bridge made of wooden planks crossed each of the waterways. She couldn't see any other monsters in the room, but she still crept in, her eyes darting into each corner. A sign read, simply, "Stay on the path." Cyana wondered who had written those instructions. She halted before the first bridge and eyed the water below. It was certainly deeper than a kiddy pool. The surge of the rushing stream filled her ears, becoming a roar that blocked out all thoughts. She felt her chest tighten again as a single image consumed her mind—the bridge splintering open beneath her feet to drop her into the swift current below.
She looked forward. Something glinted at the opposite end of the room, but she couldn't make it out. She would need to get closer. Cyana took a deep breath, trying to will her feet to move. She screwed her eyes shut and immediately became consumed with the feeling that something had crept up behind her. Her eyes snapped open as she spun around. Nothing. Her heartbeat was in her ears and throat once more. She backed up, and felt the floor beneath her feet change from stone to wood. She froze. It took several moments for her to realize that the bridge was not crumbling away beneath her. With a deep breath, she began to back up. When she felt solid, cold stone beneath her feet again, she laughed and spun around. Her smile melted almost immediately. Now she could see what was at the other end of the room—long, sharp spikes that blocked the next doorway. Cyana swallowed hard. Maybe—earlier, she'd had to press buttons and flip a switch to unlock a door. Was there something like that here? She glanced to her left. Vines had overgrown the wall, but she could see something brassy beneath them. Sure enough, once she had torn away the plants, Cyana found a switch beneath. She flipped it triumphantly and heard something click.
The spikes hadn't moved. Cyana frowned and kept walking forward. She tested her weight on the next bridge before charging across it. It didn't break, either. She glanced to her left again—two switches this time. Wait, one switch. The right one was just some paint and a bit of metal that only looked like a switch. Cyana flipped on the real switch and was rewarded with a clunk—the spikes had sunk harmlessly into the floor. She strode across them, grinning. Scaredy-cat? Not her. She could take on any of these stupid monsters or the dastardly puzzles they threw at her.
The next room was carpeted thickly with red leaves. She kicked them aside, squinting around for any sign of another monster. She squatted down, digging her hands through the damp, earthy-smelling layers of old leaves. Where had these even come from? She glanced upward—only vaulted ceilings above, with no apertures to the surface. She looked back at the leaves—and a shadow fell over her. It was large, and the outline looked vaguely human. She whipped her head around to see a white figure looming in a doorway. It was another monster—as tall as an adult human, with larger horns and glimmering fangs. It reminded her of a barnyard animal…or a demon. Something rustled in the bowl it held in its oversized paws. Cyana gripped the knife in her hand and began backing away. The monster in front of her spoke.
"Oh, well look at you! I haven't seen a human in a long time!" Its voice was a bleating mockery of Cyana's own mother. She stumbled slightly and kept backing away. Her vision became blurred and watery. "Come back, honey! Here, I have some candy! Humans…still like candy, right?" The monster thrust the bowl out in front of its chest. Cyana turned and began running. She charged ahead, and the wind in her face sent streams of tears down her cheeks. Leaves churned and rustled around her feet in her rush to distance herself—until they suddenly didn't. Cyana felt her stomach fly upward as the ground gave way beneath her. A trap. These monsters were clever. She vaguely registered the crack of her head the stone floor before everything turned black.
It was warm when she woke up. She was tucked into a bed. A sweet, unidentified scent wafted through the room. Her whole body ached, and her head throbbed incessantly. She cracked her eyes open. The monster was there. It was watching her sleep.
Cyana's heart skipped up into her throat. She tried to keep breathing deeply and evenly—if the creature still thought she was asleep, maybe it would leave? She carefully felt in her pockets for her knife, trying not to show movement. It wasn't there. Her blood froze. Had she dropped it somehow? Had this monster disarmed her? What kind of sick games was it playing?
It leaned over her. She closed her eyes tightly. Its breath was hot and moist, and smelled like cinnamon and something that grew beneath a rock. Its lips brushed against Cyana's forehead. She trembled. It was tasting her. But it was only a taste. Immediately, the creature rose and sauntered out of the room, closing the door behind it. Cyana waited until she heard its footsteps fade away, then tried to crawl out of the bed. One of her ankles was clearly broken, since she couldn't put any weight on it without wanting to scream. When she stared at a piece of furniture for too long, it seemed to slide into two versions of itself. She took a deep, aching breath, but felt as though she were drawing a steely resolve into her heart. She was still alive. That meant she could still escape. She would just have to be quiet.
Cyana limped toward the door. It had been left open a crack. She peered into the hallway beyond, and was surprised by how much it was like a real house—warmly lit, with decorative plants and a couple of framed pictures. As she opened the door slowly and limped down the hall, she remembered the stories her brother had told her about serial killers that took their victims home and made their bodies into ground meat. She leaned one hand against the wall and settled into a quick rhythm in her walk—step, drag, hobble. Step, drag, hobble. A staircase that led downward. That must be the way out!
She paused at the top of the stairs, wondering how she would get down them. If this was really the way out. If she shouldn't try to rest a little more. An approaching, off-key humming from the hall, however, sent Cyana staggering down the steps. She gripped hard onto the railing with both hands. Her heartbeat was in her head again, pounding ferociously against the back of her eyes. Her vision was still sliding everything around, and she tumbled down the last few steps before the landing.
"Child! Child, where did you go?" The monster's voice echoed in the stairwell as Cyana pulled herself up on the railing, gasping for air. She was vaguely aware of the cracking sounds from her foot and the shooting pain up her leg, but kept shambling down the stairs. The monster would be down here any moment. Somehow, she managed to reach the bottom of the stairs. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stared in front of her until the hallways resolved themselves into a single, straight corridor. There must be a door at the end. She ran forward as best she could, grasping hold of the rough stone walls every time her ankle rolled beneath her. She could hear the monster calling out for her still. The voice was getting closer.
"Please, child! Come back!" That thing's voice chilled Cyana's spine. It really sounded like it was affecting the warm, round edges of her mother's voice. But she knew better. Monsters were vicious beasts. They had been locked away for a reason. She heard the stairs croaking beneath its weight. Cyana gasped for breath. The doorway was just ahead. With a final rush, she shoved into it, spilling into another dark hallway. Quickly, Cyana crawled to the door and slammed it shut. She took a moment to catch her breath, trying to take in her surroundings. Her eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness, but she could tell that another hallway stretched in front of her. She started to get to her feet, but her legs wobbled and collapsed beneath her. There was only one way to get down this hall. She pulled herself onto her knees and hands and crawled forward. Was that a cold wind? Light? She must be getting close.
She scrambled onto a snowy path. The freezing air bit into her lungs. She laughed in triumph. That horrible monster wouldn't be putting her into a pie today! Cyana packed snow around her swollen ankle, sighing at the relief it gave and collapsing onto her back. She felt her body sinking into the snow. She marveled at how cold and soft it was. It was like a new kind of bed. She closed her eyes and felt her mind begin to fracture and drift into strange places, all full of shadows and dust and the smell of compost. She didn't notice that her body began to shiver. She couldn't see the gray tinge that overcame her lips or fingers.
It was cold when she woke up. The fragments of her consciousness only came together when she had registered something moving against the snow. She looked upward, careful to move only her eyes. A chubby skeleton was standing a couple of yards away, looking down at her. She didn't wonder how a skeleton could be chubby, or why he would need a sweatshirt, or why he would then pair a sweatshirt with shorts and slippers. She just stayed nestled in the snow, forming a plan. Her heart was loud in her ears again. Each breath tightened her chest more, like slowly turning a vice grip. She sluggishly realized that her limbs were numb—she couldn't tell if she was moving them or not. The skeleton shuffled closer. She waited until he was just a foot away before trying to barrel forward, straight into his legs. She managed to raise herself a little on her arms, but collapsed against his calf-bones weakly. She heard a low chuckle above her.
"Now that's an interesting way to do things. Never saw a human who tried an ambush attack. Looks like you're not very good at it." Cyana felt thick, sharp-edged fingers grasp her around the middle and hoist her into the air. She struggled as he turned her over, holding her up like a strange new pet. His gaze darted over her wriggling body, taking in the blood-spattered overalls, dust-caked hands, and scuffed, bare feet. "Looks like your tactics have already worked on a couple of monsters, though." The glimmers of life in his eye sockets disappeared. "Well, let's not keep the king waiting. C'mon, human. I know a shortcut."