The Labyrinth

Oliver froze. His hand instinctively went to his sword which would have been useless in his hands anyhow, but the moment he heard her voice, his fingers relaxed. The tone was calm, steady, familiar.

He turned slowly.

Mali stood in a shattered archway, framed by ever present moonlight. Dust drifted around her like mist, and her silver hair clung to her face where sweat and soot had streaked it. The faint green from the fissure below shimmered across her eyes, making them gleam in a way that felt almost alive.

Relief hit him first. Then confusion.

“You’re… you’re alright?”

She nodded once. “Mostly.”

Her voice sounded the same but something in her face looked off. Mali’s seemed stronger, more keen than it had been. It was not until now that her face had looked listless before the chronal shard detonated. She stepped forward, boots crunching on broken stone. When she reached him, she extended her hand.

“Can you walk?”

Oliver took it, her grip stronger than he expected. “I can walk,” he said, wincing as his head throbbed. “I might not be able to think straight, but I can walk.”

A faint curve touched her mouth. “Then we need to leave. The spire’s foundations are gone. It’s collapsing from the inside.”

He glanced around. The walls leaned at unnatural angles, beams twisted, stone bleeding faint green light through the cracks. He swallowed hard. “Did it work? The shard? Did it stop the channel?”

Mali’s eyes flickered toward the glowing chasm. “Not for long. The energy’s unstable. The conduit is wounded, not sealed.”

“Then we failed.”

“Not yet.” She turned, scanning the ruined stairway that spiraled upward toward the night. “Come. There’s another way down.”

Oliver followed her, careful on the uneven steps. The air trembled with distant rumbling, deep and constant. Every few moments a dull pulse passed through the stone, as if the entire spire were breathing.

They reached a broken landing that led into a side corridor. The walls here were darker, slick with condensation. Strange tendrils of moss glowed faintly emerald along the cracks. The air smelled of rust and wet clay.

Mali paused, kneeling beside a fissure in the floor. She touched the moss, then the stone beneath. “The breach energy is bleeding into the lower tunnels. We can use it to reach the outer labyrinth.”

“The labyrinth?”

“An old structure under Gloom. It connects to the conduit network. Most of the city sits on top of it. The Blood Priests would use it to provide sacrifices to the Faceless God.”

He frowned. “And we’re going there because…?”

“Because it’s the only place the shard’s energy would have gone when it broke.”

Oliver blinked. “You mean you can track it?”

“Maybe.” She rose to her feet, brushing dust from her dress. “If it didn’t disintegrate entirely.”

They moved deeper into the corridor. The path sloped downward, curling like the inside of a shell. As they went, the glow of the moss brightened until it painted their faces in ghostly putrid. The air grew thicker, warmer, filled with a low hum that vibrated in his chest.

Oliver tried to speak once or twice but found no words that seemed worth saying. His head still rang, and his thoughts came in waves. There was relief that she was alive, unease at the way she moved. There was grace in every step, but it was the kind of grace that came from something that didn’t tire, that didn’t breathe the way he did. Mali was different.

When they reached the lower levels, the tunnel opened into a vast underground space. The ceiling disappeared into shadow. Below them stretched what looked like a forest of stone pillars covered in faintly glowing vines. Pools of green light shimmered between the roots, casting reflections that moved across the walls like slow water.

Mali stopped at the edge. “We’re in the outer labyrinth.”

Oliver peered into the darkness. “How deep does this go?”

“No one knows,” she said. “The priests built these channels at the dawn of the Breach when the earth was still malleable. They carved them into the bones of the Breach to contain its power. Over time, the Breach changed them.”

He looked at her sharply. “You sound like you’ve seen it happen.”

“I read,” she said simply.

That was not reassuring.

They descended along a narrow path, the air around them filled with faint whispering, the sound of water or maybe something else. Oliver glanced behind them more than once, convinced he saw movement between the pillars.

“You feel that?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

She paused, studying the darkness. “Residual energy. When the conduit cracked, the flow became unstable. It’s leaking into this space. The labyrinth feeds on it now.”

He nodded, though he didn’t understand. The exposition felt stupid but he had never been here before but once. This visit to the Breach might just kill him.

“Stay close. The air here plays tricks.”

They moved between the pillars, following a faint path of brighter light that ran like a vein across the floor. The sound of distant rushing water grew louder, though there was no river in sight.

After a while, Oliver’s legs began to ache. The stone beneath his boots felt warm now, almost alive. His sword clinked against his thigh as he walked, a steady rhythm that kept his thoughts from spiraling.

Finally, Mali stopped at a large basin filled with shallow, luminous water. Crystals jutted from the center like teeth, each one pulsing faintly.

‘Great. More water.’ Water definitely couldn’t be trusted in this place.

“This is where the shard’s residue settled,” she said. “If we can stabilize it, we might recover what remains.”

Oliver crouched beside the basin, studying the glow. “So beautiful for being dangerous,” he said.

“Beautiful things are often dangerous,” Mali replied.

He glanced up at her. Her expression was distant again; her eyes fixed on the light as though watching something he couldn’t see. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached toward the water.

“Mali?”

She didn’t answer. Her fingertips brushed the surface, and the glow flared bright enough to blind him. He stumbled back, shielding his face.

The light subsided a moment later. Mali stood still, her expression calm, but her breathing was uneven.

“It’s done,” she said quietly. “The shard’s echo is stable again.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

She looked at him and smiled faintly. “You worry too much.”

He almost laughed. “Yeah. Duh. I’m trying to survive.”

The corner of her mouth twitched with the smallest hint of amusement. “Fair enough.”

They sat in silence for a while. Above them, the faint groan of shifting stone echoed through the labyrinth. The air smelled faintly of iron and rain.

Oliver ran a hand through his hair. “You think the Plague King knows what happened?”

“If he doesn’t now, he will soon,” she said. “The breach energy will draw him here. He won’t rest until he reclaims it.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We move before he does.” She rose and offered him her hand again. “There’s a passage deeper in. It connects to the older channels. If we’re lucky, it will take us where we need to go. The Bone Lord will need to handle the rest. Your mission is done.”

She took his hand and pulled. For a moment he thought he saw something flicker behind her eyes, a glint of green that wasn’t reflected light. But when he blinked, it was gone.

They set off again into the dark, the glow of the basin fading behind them until it was just another shadow in the endless maze.