Dinner was as miserable as ever. The cook slopped thin, watery stew into our bowls—mostly broth with a few unidentifiable lumps that might have once been vegetables. No bread, no seasoning, nothing extra. Just enough to keep us working. Just enough to keep us from collapsing, because the Carters couldn't afford to lose their unpaid labor.
I lifted my spoon, my hand trembling from exhaustion. The long hours, the hunger, the weight of everything—I felt it digging into me like claws. But beside me, Mat ate with single-minded determination, shoveling down every last drop. He was younger than me, barely thirteen, and hungrier too. Every time I looked at him, I was reminded of one thing: I had to get us out of here.
Mat caught my eye and grinned, a small, stubborn spark of hope in the dim light. I forced myself to nod back. I couldn't let him see how close I was to breaking.
Our escape had been months in the making. Tonight, we'd finally slip away. If we made it past the walls, past the guards, we'd head straight for the next city. I'd find work—real work. Something that paid. Something that gave us a chance at life beyond the Carters and their network of so-called "friends" who were always eager for cheap labor.
I swallowed the rest of the stew and forced my mind to stay on the plan. If we hesitated, if we made a single mistake, we'd be dragged back. And next time, they wouldn't just tighten security. They'd make sure we never got another chance.
After supper, we trudged back to the dorms, footsteps echoing through the cold, empty halls. Mat nudged me, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Tonight, right?" His eyes flickered with nervous excitement.
"Tonight," I murmured back.
His face lit up. For a second, he looked like the kid he should've been—young, carefree. Not someone forced to fight for survival.
We reached the dormitory. The other kids collapsed onto their bunks without a word, worn down by another endless day. I lay down too, staring at the cracked ceiling, my mind buzzing.
The visions I'd had earlier that day still lingered—the strange, powerful figures who spoke of impossible things.
"Choose me, and you'll have power beyond imagining."
The words echoed in my head. Power. Strength. Things I had never known, things that might actually mean survival. I didn't understand who they were or why they had come to me, but I couldn't afford to think about it now. Not when my real world—the only world that mattered—demanded my focus.
We had one shot at escape. And tonight, the orphanage would be vulnerable.
The Carters and their guards were gone for an annual inspection, leaving only a skeleton crew behind. That was our window.
Every sound was amplified as we waited. The shuffle of kids settling in, the heavy footsteps of the staff making their last rounds—it all pulsed in my ears. I met Mat's gaze across the room.
Now.
We moved like shadows, slipping from our bunks without a sound. The basement window was our way out—a tiny gap in the wall, just wide enough for us to squeeze through. We had loosened it a little each night, preparing for this moment.
Through the halls, past the kitchen. The glow of a guard's radio flickered inside. We pressed ourselves against the wall, breath held, waiting.
The footsteps faded.
Go.
We crept down the basement stairs. The emergency light cast eerie shadows, but all I could see was the sliver of moonlight beyond the window.
Mat squeezed through first, dropping silently onto the grass. I followed—but as I landed, my foot hit a rusted bucket.
Clang.
The noise shattered the silence. My stomach clenched.
Movement from above.
"Go," I hissed, grabbing Mat's arm. We bolted.
Across the field, through the wild overgrown brush. The orphanage stayed quiet behind us—until we reached the fence.
Chain-link. Rusted barbed wire at the top. The final barrier between us and freedom.
I cupped my hands. "Go first."
Mat climbed, careful but quick, swinging over and dropping down. My turn. I scrambled up—
A shout.
"Hey! Stop right there!"
The remaining guard.
"Run, Mat!" I swung over, landing hard on the other side. We sprinted down the road, boots pounding behind us but not chasing. They wouldn't. Not past the fence.
Mrs. Carter's investments only mattered inside her walls.
We ran until the orphanage was nothing but a dark blot on the horizon, our lungs burning, our bodies aching. Only then did we slow, the reality of our escape settling in.
Mat turned to me, breathless but smiling, his eyes bright with something I hadn't seen in years. Hope.
"What now?" he whispered.
I looked at the road ahead. At the city lights flickering in the distance. At the future we had stolen for ourselves.
"Now," I said, heart still racing, "we keep running."
****
Back to the present
I should have known my life was never going to be normal.
It wasn't the first time I saw things that shouldn't exist—things from myths, legends, nightmares. But before this moment, I could at least pretend they weren't real. That changed the second a Minotaur decided to hunt me down in the middle of the night.
And now, as I sprinted through the subway tunnel with Mat at my side, I was very much aware that reality had officially gone off the rails.
The Minotaur charged, its massive hooves shaking the ground with every step. I could hear the scrape of its horns against the tiled walls, feel the hot gust of air from its snorting nostrils. It wasn't just chasing us—it was playing with us. Like it knew we wouldn't get far.
Mat was gasping for breath. He wasn't fast enough. If we didn't do something now, it would be over.
I yanked him toward the nearest maintenance door and shoved hard. Locked. Of course.
The Minotaur roared, the sound bouncing off the walls, rattling my bones. I could almost feel its breath on my back.
And that's when the gods decided to step in.
"Well, this is getting boring," Zeus muttered, stepping beside me. His arms were crossed like he had all the time in the world. "Kid's about to get flattened."