The air inside the Glass Labyrinth wasn't just still; it was dead. The oppressive silence swallowed the crunch of their boots on the strange, coarse sand that littered the path between the towering walls. Ren felt it immediately – a pressure against his temples, a low hum resonating in his bones rather than his ears. It was the sound of held breath, of a predator waiting in absolute stillness.
The walls themselves were a nightmare of perception. Not true glass, but some dark, obsidian-like substance polished to a mirror sheen that swallowed the weak light filtering from the canyon entrance far behind them. Yet, the reflections weren't their own. Ren caught glimpses of movement – a flicker of Kaela's scarred face twisting into a snarl she wasn't wearing, Tarek limping heavily on a leg far more mangled than his current injury, Jarek's eyes hollowed out and weeping black tears. He quickly looked away, focusing instead on the rough texture of Mirak's worn cloak ahead of him.
"Don't stare," Mirak murmured, her voice barely disturbing the thick silence. She didn't turn. "The Labyrinth shows you what you fear you are, or what you fear you'll become. Or sometimes... just what it wants you to see. Look only at the path ahead, or the back of the person in front. Ground yourselves in the now."
Lira, walking just behind Mirak, whimpered softly. Her wings, usually held with a fragile pride, were clamped tight against her back, trembling. She kept her head down, staring intently at her own shuffling feet. "It feels... hungry," she whispered, the sound unnaturally loud. "Like the cave water did. But colder."
Garrel stumbled, his hand shooting out to brace against the unnervingly smooth wall. He snatched it back instantly, hissing as if burned.
"Memories," he rasped, his milky eyes wide and unseeing, yet fixed on the wall he'd touched. "Not mine... fragments. Screaming. A desert swallowing a city... bones cracking underfoot... a song... a child's song..." His voice trailed off, trembling. Tarek, walking beside him, gripped the old scholar's arm firmly, pulling him back onto the narrow path.
"A child's song?" Tarek asked, his voice tight. His knuckles were white where he held Garrel.
Garrel shook his head violently, as if trying to dislodge something. "Nonsense. Gibberish. The Labyrinth plays tricks." But his face was pale, and he kept glancing nervously at the walls, though he couldn't see them.
Ren felt Vorath stir beneath his skin, a slow, oily uncoiling. This place reeks of power, the entity whispered, its voice a slithering presence in Ren's mind, distinct from the oppressive hum of the Labyrinth. Old power. Starving power. It tastes... familiar. Like the Devourer, yet not. A cousin, perhaps. Or a rival. A dark curiosity colored its thoughts. Let it feed. See what it hungers for.
"Shut up," Ren muttered aloud, earning a sharp glance from Kaela walking beside him.
"Talking to your hitchhiker?" she asked, her tone flat, her own gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the monstrous reflections skittering at the edge of her vision. Her hand rested lightly on her sword hilt.
"Reminding it who's in charge," Ren lied, the words tasting like ash. Control felt like a frayed rope in his hands. The mark on his chest throbbed in time with the Labyrinth's hum.
Kaela snorted softly. "Keep reminding it. We don't need another performance like back at the Maw." Her voice lowered, barely audible. "Scared the piss out of everyone, Muryong. Including me."
Ren looked at her profile. The harsh lines of her face were etched deeper in the strange, refracted light. The fear she admitted wasn't for him, he knew, but for the thing he could become. "Didn't exactly plan the encore," he said dryly.
"Plans rarely survive contact with cursed god-shards," Kaela retorted. A flicker of movement on the wall beside her showed her reflection driving a blade through the throat of a figure that looked suspiciously like Scourge. She flinched, almost imperceptibly, then hardened her jaw. "Focus. On the path. On breathing. On not becoming what this place wants you to be."
They walked in tense silence for what felt like hours, though time seemed distorted, stretched thin like the reflections. The path twisted and turned, doubling back on itself in ways that defied logic. Sometimes it narrowed to a single file squeeze between walls that seemed to lean inwards, humming with malicious energy. Other times, it opened into small, circular chambers where the reflections became a dizzying kaleidoscope of their own fragmented, monstrous selves. In these chambers, the whispers became audible – not words, but sighs, moans, fragments of sobbing or mad laughter, echoing from a thousand unseen sources.
Jarek, usually stoic, was sweating profusely. He kept wiping his palms on his trousers. "Heard my brother," he said abruptly, his voice strained. "In that last chamber. Clear as day. Called my name. Said... said he was sorry." He shook his head violently. "Bastard. Never said sorry in his life. Not even when he pushed me off the roof when we were kids."
"It preys on guilt," Garrel murmured, leaning heavily on Tarek. "On regret. On loss. It finds the cracks in your armor and pours poison into them." He flinched again. "The song... it's louder here."
Tarek's face was grim. "What song, Garrel? What are you hearing?"
The scholar hesitated, his blind eyes darting nervously. "It sounds... like a child humming. A nonsense tune. But it feels... wrong. Cold. Like ice in the marrow."
Lira gasped, stumbling to a halt. She was staring at her own reflection in a section of wall that curved around the path. Her reflection wasn't crying; it was laughing, a silent, manic laugh, while black veins crawled up its neck and its moth wings shriveled and turned to dust. "Stop it!" she whispered fiercely to the wall, tears welling in her real eyes. "Stop showing me that!"
Mirak turned, her expression unreadable behind her veil, but her eyes were sharp. "It is showing you a fear, little one. Only a fear. But your tears... they are the key it wants. Hold them back. Do not feed it yet."
Lira scrubbed furiously at her eyes. "I'm trying!"
Ren felt a surge of anger, hot and sudden, cutting through the oppressive dread. He stepped towards the section of wall showing Lira's corrupted reflection. "Leave her alone," he growled, not sure who or what he was addressing. The reflection didn't change. He slammed his fist against the dark glass. It didn't shatter; it absorbed the blow with a soft thrum, sending a jolt of cold numbness up his arm. The reflection of him that appeared beside Lira's monstrous twin was horrifying – skin peeling back to reveal blackened muscle and bone beneath, eyes empty voids, a rictus grin splitting its face. Vorath within him pulsed with dark amusement.
Such fragile things, these shells, it purred. This place understands the inevitable decay. Embrace it.
"Ren! Stop!" Kaela grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "You can't fight stone! Ignore it!"
He wrenched his arm away, breathing hard, the image of his own monstrous potential burning in his mind. The numbness in his fist was spreading. "Easy for you to say," he spat, gesturing vaguely at the walls. "What does it show you, Kaela? Your failures? The people you couldn't save? Your precious brother rotting in the mines?" It was a low blow, and he knew it the moment the words left his lips.
Kaela's face went utterly still, colder than the Labyrinth walls. Her one amber eye fixed on him with an intensity that felt like a physical blow. The milky white one seemed to gleam. For a terrifying second, Ren thought she might actually draw her sword on him. Then, the tension bled out of her shoulders, replaced by a profound weariness that seemed older than the ruins around them.
"You think I don't see him?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "Every damn day. In my dreams. In the faces of the people I fail now. The Labyrinth just holds up a mirror, Muryong. It shows me what I already know." She turned away, her back rigid. "Keep moving. Or break down. Your choice. But don't drag her," she jerked her chin towards Lira, "or anyone else down with you."
Shame washed over Ren, cold and bitter. He looked at Lira, her eyes wide with fear – fear of the Labyrinth, fear of him. He saw Tarek's protective grip on Garrel tighten, Jarek's wary glance. He was becoming the liability, the unstable element Kaela had always feared. He took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the image of the decaying reflection out of his mind, pushing Vorath's insidious whispers down.
"You're right," he said, the words thick. He looked at Mirak. "How much further?"
The sand-driver tilted her head, listening to the silence. "The Labyrinth has no fixed distance. It unfolds as it wills. We walk until we reach the heart, or until we break. The tears will shorten the journey when the time is right." Her kohl-rimmed eyes fixed on Lira. "Can you hold on, child?"
Lira sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, her small frame trembling but resolute. "I have to," she repeated, her voice small but firm. "For Lysa. For everyone."
They pressed on. The whispers grew more insistent. Ren heard fragments now, cutting through the general murmur: "...useless... failure..." (his father's voice, he thought, or perhaps Vorath's?) "...should have died with the sect..." "...the Emperor laughs at you..." He gritted his teeth, focusing on the worn leather of Mirak's boot heels ahead of him. One step. Then another.
Tarek spoke, his voice a low rumble trying to anchor them all. "Remember the Frostfair? Back when the rivers froze solid enough to hold the stalls? My Elara... she loved those sugared plums. Ate so many one year she was sick for a week." He chuckled, a strained but genuine sound. "Her mother was furious. Told her she'd turn into a plum herself."
A faint, shaky smile touched Lira's lips. "I... I never saw a Frostfair."
"Bright colors," Tarek continued, his voice gaining a little strength. "Lanterns everywhere, reflecting on the ice. Skating. Music... real music, not this cursed whispering. The smell of roasting chestnuts and spiced wine." He described the scene, detail by detail, painting a picture of warmth and light against the oppressive darkness. Garrel leaned into him, listening intently, his expression softening slightly from its terrified grimace. Even Jarek seemed to relax a fraction, the haunted look in his eyes momentarily receding.
Ren found himself clinging to the words, building the image in his mind – the cold, clean air, the laughter, the simple joy. It was a shield, flimsy but vital, against the Labyrinth's assault. He glanced at Kaela. Her shoulders were still tense, but she was listening, her gaze fixed on the path ahead, a faint, almost imperceptible softening around her eyes.
Mirak watched them, her veiled face unreadable. "Memories of light are potent wards in dark places," she murmured, almost to herself. "But even the brightest flame attracts moths... and worse things drawn to its warmth."
The path dipped suddenly, descending into a wider, circular chamber. The air grew colder, the silence even deeper. The walls here were smoother, darker, and the reflections were no longer fleeting glimpses, but stark, horrifying tableaus.
Ren saw himself kneeling before the Emperor, the Vorath mark pulsing like a diseased heart, while Scourge drove a blade through Kaela's back. Lira was curled on the ground nearby, her wings torn off, weeping black blood. Tarek lay broken, Jarek stood over Garrel with a raised knife, his eyes vacant. It was a vision of utter betrayal and annihilation.
Kaela saw Velispire's Maw burning, not by Ascendancy hands, but by hers. She stood amidst the flames, her sword dripping with the blood of the people she now protected – Lira, Garrel, Tarek, Jarek... Ren. Her brother watched from the shadows, his expression one of profound disappointment.
Lira saw herself transformed, not into the decaying figure from before, but into something beautiful and terrible – a creature of pure shadow and starlight, cold and distant, looking down on the broken bodies of her friends with detached curiosity.
Garrel cried out, clapping his hands over his ears, though the visions were silent. "The song! It's screaming! The child is screaming!"
Tarek roared, a wordless sound of denial and rage, stepping towards the wall showing Kaela's betrayal. "Lies! Filthy lies!"
Jarek had his dagger out, backing away from the wall showing his brother's corpse at his feet, his own hands bloody. "No... I didn't... I wouldn't..."
The chamber pulsed. The whispers coalesced into a single, chilling voice that seemed to come from the walls themselves, the floor, the air they breathed: "Truth. Potential. Inevitability."
Lira broke. A choked sob escaped her, and then the tears came, not the angry, frightened tears from before, but a silent, despairing flood. They traced clean paths through the grime on her cheeks, catching the faint, distorted light. As the first tear hit the sand-covered floor, it sizzled softly, vanishing instantly. But the effect was immediate.
The oppressive pressure lessened. The horrifying visions on the walls flickered, faded, and dissolved like smoke. The chilling voice fell silent, replaced once more by the low, ambient hum. The path ahead, previously obscured by a shimmering haze, seemed to solidify, leading out of the chamber towards a faint, reddish glow in the distance.
Mirak let out a slow breath. "It is fed. For now. The way is open. Quickly. Before it hungers again."
Lira slumped, trembling, her tears still flowing silently. Tarek was instantly at her side, pulling her into a rough, protective hug. "Shh, little moth. You did it. You were brave. So brave."
Ren felt drained, hollowed out by the visions and the effort of resisting them. He looked at Kaela. She met his gaze, her face pale but composed. The vision of her betrayal was gone, but the echo of its horror lingered in her eyes. She gave him a curt nod. No words were needed. The Labyrinth had shown them their deepest fears, and they were still standing. For now.
"Move," Kaela ordered, her voice hoarse but steady. "Before this place decides it wants dessert."
They hurried out of the chamber of horrors, following the newly revealed path towards the distant red glow, the weight of the Glass Labyrinth still pressing in around them, but the path forward, at least, was clear. The heart of Lorathis awaited. And Ren knew, with a cold certainty that settled deep in his bones, that whatever waited for them there would make the Labyrinth seem like a gentle prelude. Vorath stirred again, not with amusement this time, but with a predatory anticipation that mirrored his own dread.
Soon, the entity echoed in his mind. Soon we feast.