The silence after the echo faded was almost worse than the sound itself. Kael stood frozen in the gloom, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The woman—still without a name—gripped his arm so tightly her nails bit into his skin. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes fixed on the black mouth of the passage ahead.
Nothing moved.
No sound came.
And yet… the air felt thicker. Like the Labyrinth itself had leaned closer to listen.
"Move," she whispered, her voice a strained breath, as though speaking too loudly might summon something.
They crept forward, Kael's lantern casting a wavering circle of pale light. The ground here was uneven, stone slabs cracked and tilted, with narrow seams through which cold air seeped. Kael's boot brushed against a loose fragment of rock, and the scrape was deafening in the silence.
The passage opened abruptly into a small chamber. Its ceiling was low, the walls uneven. At first, Kael thought it was empty—but then his light fell on a cluster of strange markings carved into the far wall. They weren't letters, at least not any Kael recognized. They curved and twisted like the paths of an insect, but the longer he stared, the more deliberate they appeared—lines that almost seemed to shift when the lantern flame flickered.
The woman knelt in front of them without hesitation. Her fingers hovered just above the carvings, as though afraid to touch. "This isn't the first time I've seen these," she murmured.
Kael crouched beside her. "Where?"
"On a doorway. Far from here. But that place… it was sealed. And everyone who tried to open it—" She stopped herself, glancing sideways at him. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me," Kael said softly.
She didn't answer. Instead, she leaned closer to the carvings, her brow furrowed. "These aren't just symbols. They're… instructions."
Kael blinked. "Instructions for what?"
She exhaled slowly. "For entering."
He glanced back toward the passage they had come from, unease prickling the back of his neck. "Entering where?"
Before she could respond, the air shifted again. Not with sound, but with… pressure. A subtle change, like the stillness before a storm. Kael turned, raising the lantern higher.
A shadow stretched across the threshold they had just crossed. Not a person—not exactly. It was too thin, too distorted, as though cast by something that did not exist in the lantern's reach. It slid along the floor with unnatural grace, inching closer.
The woman stood abruptly, pulling him toward the opposite side of the chamber. "There's another way out," she said. Her voice was tight, urgent.
Kael's mind wanted to question her, to demand how she knew—but her tone left no room for hesitation. He followed, his lantern swinging wildly, throwing jagged light across the walls.
At the far end of the chamber, half-hidden behind a curtain of hanging roots, was a narrow fissure. The woman ducked inside, forcing herself through sideways. Kael hesitated, glancing back just once. The shadow had stopped at the carvings, its edges trembling like ripples on water.
Then—impossibly—it leaned closer to the wall.
And the carvings began to glow.
Kael's breath caught in his throat. He tore his gaze away and squeezed through the fissure after her.
On the other side, they emerged into a vertical shaft. A narrow ledge spiraled downward into darkness, the air damp and smelling faintly of rust. The woman started descending without pause, one hand on the wall for balance.
Kael followed, each step slow and careful. His boots sent pebbles skittering into the depths. The sound seemed to go on far too long before fading.
After what felt like minutes, the ledge widened into another passage. This one was different—its walls smoother, lined with evenly spaced stone pillars. Strange metal fittings jutted from the base of each pillar, tarnished but unmistakably crafted.
It looked… intentional. Maintained, once.
The woman stopped beside one of the fittings and crouched to inspect it. "Old. Older than the upper passages. Maybe older than the city itself."
Kael frowned. "Then what is it doing here?"
She ran a finger over the corroded metal, almost reverent. "Holding it together."
"Holding what together?"
She met his gaze, her eyes unreadable. "The Labyrinth."
Something about the way she said it—like the word was not just a place but an idea, a force—made Kael's stomach knot. "You know more than you're telling me."
Her lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "You're still alive. That's more than most."
Before he could respond, a faint noise drifted from deeper in the passage. Not a scrape. Not a footstep. A whisper.
It was impossible to tell if it came from one voice or many, the syllables slipping past the ear before they could be understood. Kael's skin prickled.
The woman straightened. "We keep moving."
Kael hesitated. "What if it follows?"
She glanced over her shoulder. "It always follows."
The weight of her words settled heavily between them. And as they moved forward, Kael found himself wondering—not for the first time—if the real danger of the Labyrinth wasn't what hunted them, but what waited patiently ahead.