Cupid’s Match

As I walk I sense Cupid starting to descend the uneven steps behind me. I glance over my shoulder.

“Something amusing you?”

He lets out a light chuckle. “I’ve never seen someone so eager to descend a dark staircase into a mysterious labyrinth full of unknown peril before.”

The high walls on either side of the stairway are sending thick shadows across our path. As we continue, they seem to be closing in.

“Have you ever seen anyone descend a dark staircase into a mysterious labyrinth before?” I ask.

There’s a pause behind me.

“I suppose not. But it is dangerous, you know?”

I don’t reply for a moment, concentrating on a particularly deep step. I look up at him once I have lowered myself down, my palms still flat on the stone stair above.

“I know that,” I say, “but I assume we’re on a deadline here—what with our actual selves awaiting trial back in the Matchmaking Service.”

The corner of Cupid’s mouth quirks upward. “Time in the Sim passes differently. Hardly any time will have passed in the real world . . . which is a good thing, too, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this labyrinth is pretty huge.”

He trails off and I resume my journey downward, suppressing a smile despite the grim circumstances. There must be a thousand steps or more, some so thin and steep that I stumble on a number of occasions.

When I finally stagger onto flat ground I feel a small wave of relief. The muscles in my legs are aching and I feel slightly breathless, even though rationally I know that this is all just a simulation. I remind myself that it’s not real, but then I remember Cupid’s warning: if we die in here, we die in real life.

Cupid startles me by jumping down from the last step, his face half hidden by shadow. I look around, wondering if the path to the center will be obvious. We’re at a corner point in the maze, with two wide paths extending in different directions. The ivy-covered stone walls are so high that I can’t see their tops. The air is stagnant, lightly scented with must and damp.

“Which way do we go?”

Cupid frowns as he moves beside me. “The Sims of the different Myths won’t have been merged seamlessly—there’ll be discrepancies, clues. We need to look for anything that seems out of place.”

“How will we know if it’s out of place? I’ve not exactly seen the labyrinth blueprints.”

Cupid laughs and looks around. “Hmm. I guess anything that isn’t gray or . . . wall-y. I’ll go left, you go right. But make sure I’m always in your vision. If you stray from my sight I may never find you again.”

I nod, swallowing my alarm, and head along the path to the right. I scan my eyes over the gray walls and the cracked concrete. I wish I knew what I was looking for. As I walk onward, I don’t think I have ever experienced such an overwhelming lack of sound. It’s dark, too, and I keep glancing over my shoulder to make sure Cupid is still there. When he starts to look small in the distance I stop.

There’s nothing here.

I decide to head back. As I do, something catches my eye—a shape carved into the ground. I crouch down, brushing aside some rubble.

“Cupid?”

The silence of the maze swallows my voice and he doesn’t look up from the stretch of wall he’s studying.

“Cupid!” I shout. “Does this mean anything to you?”

This time he hears me. As he jogs toward me I turn my attention back to the carving. It’s so small I almost missed it—a cube carved into the stone.

“Looks like . . .” I begin.

“A box.”

There’s a triumphant note in his voice. He steps over the carving and heads down the shadowed path behind it. I push myself to my feet and fall into step beside him.

“I found a clue?”

“Yup, you found a clue. This path will lead to the Sim of one of the Myths, and if I’m right, I’m guessing it’s Pandora.”

“Pandora as in Pandora’s box? The Myth who opened a box that let out all the evil in the world?”

Cupid laughs. “According to you humans. Come on—we must be close now.”

A few minutes later we reach a large black door covered with carvings that curl around the frame. Some are cubes like the one that marked the entrance to our path, others depict monsters and beasts.

“The Sim of each Myth has been created to torture them,” he says. “They’re designed to turn their own power against them.” He caresses one of the arrows in the quiver over his shoulder, and I wonder if he knows he’s doing it. “Pandora is very powerful. She found a way to control the sins her box was said to contain.” A dark look passes across his face. “She’s been in here a long time,” he says, “and whatever her power has conjured up for her, I don’t think it will be pleasant.”

He looks at me and all of the lightness and amusement I’m used to seeing in his expression is gone.

“Stay close and don’t lose sight of me. And do as I tell you, whatever that may be. I’m a trained cupid, and though you showed promise in the training Sim, you are not. Do you understand?”

There’s a new ferocity in his eyes, so I nod. Then he pushes open the door. It screeches against the stone floor—if there is anything there, I’m now sure it’s heard us.

We enter a long tunnel, dark except for a small square of light far at the other end. Where there was sky above us before, there is now a ceiling low enough that the top of Cupid’s hair brushes against it as we walk. The walls are closer together here, and if I stretch my arms I can touch both at once. The walls are damp and cold.

As we get close to the middle of the tunnel, Cupid suddenly stops and shushes me.

“Listen,” he whispers, carefully pulling one of the black arrows from its case.

For a moment I hear nothing. Then my body tenses as a faint scream sounds from faraway. I’m about to ask Cupid about it when I hear something worse; something that sends a chill down my spine.

Coming from the end of the tunnel is a low rasping noise, followed by a grotesque squelching. It sounds inhuman. Whatever lays at the end of this path, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to encounter it.

“What is that?”

Before Cupid can reply I notice another noise, this time coming from all around us. It’s a loud screeching—like the tunnel door scraping against the stone, but worse. Cupid’s gaze flicks up over my shoulder, his face confused. Then his eyes widen.

“The walls,” he whispers in horror.

Tentatively, I reach out to touch them again, finding I don’t have to stretch my arms so far. Then I feel the vibrations emanating from inside and the full force of our situation hits me.

The walls are moving.

Slowly, the walls on either side of the tunnel are closing in on us. I zero in on the small space of light where the horrible, rasping noise came from—it must be about two hundred feet away. A cold panic fills my body.

Get crushed to death or face whatever lays at the end of this passageway?

“What are you waiting for?” Cupid bellows, grabbing my arm. “Run!”