(The third part of a fiction series taking place before the start of Quest for the Scorpion’s Jewel. Read Part One and Two here. Watch next week for the conclusion of the story.)

This time, Rae had no one to blame but herself.

Of course she was in the garden maze again. She had to be. It wasn’t the dagger—if the talking gargoyle wanted it, he could have it. But she had to know if he was real, to prove to herself that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing, or fallen asleep and dreamed it.

And maybe she wanted to hear him sing again.

She sat leaning against the cold marble rim of a fountain near where she had heard the voice the night before. There was no sound, no wind, even, and Rae found her eyes starting to shut. No. I can’t sleep. Then I’ll never know.

So she started to sing, not a story-song, but one of the forest calls her mother had taught her, ancient, wordless tunes. According to legend, they were the songs the stars sang when the world was born.

The song came easily, note following note in a way that made her feel safe, that reminded her of home.

“That was beautiful,” a voice said quietly. His voice. It was coming from the other side of the hedge beside her.

Rae jumped a little, then tried to pretend she had just been shifting her weight.

“Please don’t get up and try to see me,” he said. “I know this maze better than me. I could get away easily.” Rae was trying to move to her feet silently anyway, when he added, “And I’d like to talk to you. If it’s all the same to you.”

Without really knowing why, she leaned back. This time, the voice didn’t sound nearly as frightening. It wasn’t changing locations, for one. And it’s not coming out of a hideous gargoyle.

“What are you doing in my gardens?” the voice asked.

“Sleepwalking,” Rae said. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she had first come on a dare to find a ghost.

“Sleepwalking? Interesting. I’m walking because I can’t sleep.” The ghost laughed. “You’re lucky I don’t mind a trespasser in my gardens. A well-placed letter to the training captain would have been all it would take.”

“Informant,” Rae accused.

“I didn’t do it, did I?”

There was an easy, lighthearted tone to his voice that made Rae want to smile in spite of herself. She scowled instead. “Who are you?”

“A garden ghost,” he said. The bushes moved, and a hand pushed something through at her feet. Rae almost grabbed the wrist, instinctively, but then she saw what the object was. A mask, made of flaky, stiff paper painted gray, horns twisting out the top, eyes narrowed in hate, and a gaping mouth.

“I wear it just in case they ever find me. Even if they aren’t scared away, they’ll think I just wander the grounds as a joke, trying to frighten Guard members.” His voice was almost sad. “I’ve never been caught before. I guess no one really cares.”

“It’s not bad,” Rae admitted, fingering the sculpting on the mask’s face. “Close up, you can see it’s a mask, but it was good enough to scare me last night.”

“That’s the idea,” the ghost said amiably. He paused. “You can call me Theseus.”

“What kind of a name is that?”

“He was a real person, a long time ago. A hero. He liked mazes.”

“Why won’t you tell me your real name? Let me see who you are? Because you don’t trust me?”

“Because I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Me neither.”

Theseus laughed a little. “You probably don’t understand exactly how much I’m not supposed to be here.”

Now there was a longer silence, and Rae was afraid Theseus had disappeared into the dark without saying goodbye. But then he said, “I’m surprised you came. With the departure for the Festival tomorrow.”

“I’m surprised I came too, to be honest.”

“Are you afraid?”

It was a simple question, a natural one to ask a departing Youth Guard member. Everyone know of their missions, the death-defying quests given to them by the king to the land’s bravest young people. “Of course not,” Rae said, and it almost wasn’t a lie. She tried to think of the mission as little as possible. “Why should I be?”

“Because they all die. Every one of them.”

Rae shuddered a little. “You say that like it’s nothing.”

“To me, it isn’t. Ghosts can’t cry. It’s not in their nature.”

“You’re not a real ghost.”

Theseus’s voice was barely audible now. “I might as well be.”

Rae didn’t respond. She just stared into the dark, wondering who among the hundred trainees would return alive.

Ninety-nine. Aleiah’s already gone. Her death had taken much of the excitement out of the training camp. It made the missions—and the possibility of death—seem real.

“This is the third group of Youth Guard members I’ve seen pass through the camp,” Theseus went on. “None of them ever come back.”

“I will. I have to.”

“In all the great classical epics, a character has a greater chance of survival if he or she is named.”

It was a hint, and not a particularly subtle one. Rae shook her head. “Sorry. Can’t help you there.”

“You pierce me to the heart! I could find out on my own, you know.”

“Then go ahead. I’ll take that risk. Any other way to increase my chances?”

“Well, it also helps if the character is in love.” His voice became thoughtful. “Either that, or they’re more likely to die a tragic death. It all depends.”

Rae gritted her teeth. “This will not be a tragedy. I will accomplish my mission.”

“It’s odd…I almost hope you do. Although a tragic death would also make a good song. But I’d rather you be alive to hear it.”

“I won’t disagree with that one.”

There was a stirring on the other side of the hedge, as if the ghost was standing again. “Goodbye, singing maiden, finder of ghosts, and seeker of mysteries. I wish you all the best in your mission. And do come find me again if you come back.”

“When I come back.”

But there was no reply. The very softest whisper of movement told Rae that Theseus had gone.

She was alone, in the garden, at night, and suddenly the darkness was filled with hundreds of ghosts, the ghosts of the dead Youth Guard members of the past, the ones who hadn’t completed their mission, but had died trying.

They swirled around in her mind, laced into their armor, weapons out, determination in their eyes. Determination giving way to…fear. Panic. Pain. And then they fell, their eyes shut forever. That could be me.

“No,” she whispered, her hands in fists. “No, it won’t. I will come back. You’ll see. I promise you’ll see.”