The labyrinth groaned like a dying beast.
Kerris fled, her movements jerky and mechanical. Her pace was a frantic stumble, clawing on all fours to regain her balance. She dared not look back to see who was following. She was trapped in a loop, a nightmare that laid itself over reality where the faces of her fallen friends were plastered over the darkness.
Right. Left. Down another shifting corridor. Listen for the dragging sounds or Death Blossoms and the undead.
She was trembling violently, her eyes wide and unblinking in the pitch black. She was the guide, but she wasn't leading them; she was a wounded animal running for its life with single-minded focus. Trauma haunted these halls for her, in the face of yet another defeat, another loss of her companions.
"Kerris, keep it together!" Amon's voice was a low rumble behind her, tight with suppressed grief.
He was the vanguard now. He moved with a heavy, unstoppable momentum, carrying the physical weight of Regalia at his hip and the crushing, invisible weight of leadership on his shoulders. One arm was wrapped firmly around Heka's waist, half-carrying his exhausted queen as she stumbled.
The pathway forked. To the left, a soft, blue luminescence beckoned.
Kerris flinched away from it as if burned. "Don't…" she whispered, her voice a hollow rasp. "Don't look at the light. It's killed so many before."
"What," Amon queried, "it's just a lantern, we can—"
"It's a lure," She breathed.
The blue light swayed slightly, followed by a sickening squelch before re-settling into position.
Amon paused, the urge to summon a flame dancing at his fingertips. The darkness was suffocating, burying him under the memory of Zeek's final moments. He wanted to burn it away. He wanted to scream. But he looked at Heka's pale face, at the shivering form of Kerris ahead.
He crushed the flame in his palm. He pushed the grief down, locking it away in the same iron vault where he kept the history of his ancestors. He could be neither friend or companion now. He had to lead.
"We follow her," Amon commanded softly to Heka. "Stay close to me."
They plunged into the path on the right, sliding down a steep slope that tore at their clothes. They splashed into waist-deep ichor that was terrifyingly warm. Kerris waded through it, her arms wrapped around herself, muttering under her breath.
"If you hear crying… run toward the silence… it's not them… it's never them…"
Amon marched behind her, a tower against the collapsing dark. He focused on the rhythm of his breathing. Inhale. Step. Exhale. Step. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to fight, to die with honor beside his comrade. But the weight of Regalia against his leg was a constant reminder of the promise he had made.
Live.
The structure around them shuddered violently. Dust rained down, coating them in gray ash. The booming sound of the labyrinth expanding echoed through the vents, a heartbeat of pure malice.
Then, a shift in the air. The smell of rotten blood faded, replaced by the stinging scent of salt and ozone.
Kerris scrambled up a final embankment of loose rocks, her fingers bleeding as she clawed for purchase. She tumbled out of a fissure and onto the cold, hard ground of the surface.
She didn't stand up. She curled into a ball in the dirt, rocking back and forth, her eyes staring at nothing.
"I left them," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I did it again. I ran for my life… and I left them in the dark."
Amon emerged a second later, dragging Heka with him. They collapsed onto the ridge, gasping for air that didn't taste like rot.
They were out. They were free.
But as Amon raised his head, looking out from the rocky outcrop over the valley where they had started their journey, his royal mask cracked.
"Ancestors, help up," Heka breathed, clutching Amon's arm.
The world had broken.
The sky was filled with a bruised purple haze, streaked with veins of silent, sickly green lightning. The ocean below, once a churning gray, was now a sheet of black glass. But the land… the land was bleeding from blackened veins.
From the massive stone ruins that marked the labyrinth's entrance, great arteries of black ichor were pulsing outward. They pumped endlessly, spreading across the valley floor. Where the ichor touched, the earth died. Trees of the forest turned to stone in seconds. Grass dissolved into ash. The corruption wasn't just seeping; it was rushing toward the horizon, terraforming the world into a new Black Garden.
Amon stood up. He felt heavy. His gaze shifted to Kerris, shattered by survivor's guilt, and Heka, weeping silently for the loss of their companions.
He could not weep. Not yet.
He walked over to Kerris. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He reached down and gripped her shoulder, his hand large and warm, grounding her in the present.
"You led us out," Amon said, his voice clear and determined. "You did what you could Kerris. We're here because of you."
Kerris looked up at him, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her face. She saw the pain in his eyes, deep and raw, but she also saw the steel wall he had built around it.
"They're gone," she choked out.
"They are," Amon agreed. He unclipped Regalia from his belt, holding the heavy mace in both hands. The ruby eye was dull, sleeping. "And we are here. Verris and Zeek cleared the path. We are the ones left to walk it. We will be back to put Zeek to rest, and to find the source of this before it reaches Kemet."
He looked toward the distant fishing village. The lights there were flickering, weak stars against the encroaching dark. The black veins of corruption were already halfway there.
"The boy," Amon said. "Elias. He is waiting."
Heka wiped her eyes, drawing strength from her husband's resolve. "He's waiting for a father who isn't coming."
"Then he will have us," Amon declared. "We will bring him his father's legacy." He looked at the mace, then at the spreading darkness. "And we will tell him that the war has only just begun."
Kerris forced herself to her feet. She tightened the straps on her father's armor, the leather creaking. She looked back at the ruins one last time. Somewhere deep in those walls, Zeek had been left behind. Lilliana was lost. There was only the Queen of the Labyrinth now.
The terror was still there, a cold knot in her stomach. But as she looked at Amon, standing tall against the apocalypse, she found a sliver of the rage that Mersk had tried to steal from her.
"To the village then," Kerris whispered.
Amon nodded. He followed his guide as Heka melted into his robes, stepping off the ridge and into the dying forest; two broken silhouettes walked into a night that promised no dawn.