The thunder of hooves echoed through the narrow, crumbling halls. Lumiel and Skye charged forward atop skeleton war-horses, the cold wind brushing past their cheeks as torches flickered eerily along the walls.
"Was that person really your mother?" Skye finally asked, his voice carried by the gallop.
"I don't know," Lumiel replied, eyes narrowed. His grip on the reins tightened. "But I need to see her… even if it's just once."
Before they had set off, Skye had already asked the question weighing on both their minds—Why is she inside this labyrinth at all? Lumiel's answer was simple yet heavy: Lylia, the woman who raised him and vanished when he was just six, was the only one who ever showed him what family could mean.
Skye frowned. "I still don't get it. Why would someone who vanished nine years ago suddenly show up here?"
But Lumiel didn't answer. His mind was too tangled, heart too loud. He just wanted to see her again. To talk. To hug her. To feel the warmth he lost—the love of a mother he once knew.
> Lumiel's mother must've been that important to his life, Skye thought, falling silent.
Eventually, they found her.
She stood beneath the dim blue light of a shattered window, wearing the same gentle smile he remembered from years past. Her hands folded before her. Her long, familiar hair flowing gently.
"Mom!" Lumiel called out, his voice breaking.
The figure turned with a surprised look. Familiar eyes met his.
A sudden ding echoed in the air.
[System Notice: Dangerous Anomaly Detected Nearby — Run or Kill the enemy.]
"Mom!" Lumiel repeated, ignoring the system's warning. He jumped from his war-horse and landed softly, rushing forward. They stopped only a meter apart—just out of reach.
"Where have you been these past few years?" Lumiel asked, grief swirling in his eyes.
"You've grown to be such a fine young man," Lylia said warmly, smiling as if nothing had changed. "I'm sorry I disappeared. I'm sorry I left you all by yourself again."
Lumiel clenched his fists. "But why?! Why didn't you come back sooner?!"
"I'm so sorry, Lumiel—"
"Saying sorry doesn't change anything!"
"I was ordered to!" she cried out suddenly.
Lumiel froze. "Ordered…?"
"Yes. I was forced to stay away. Your father… Rick… found out you were still alive. He sent men to hunt me down—to keep me from taking care of you."
"M-My father… Rick?" Lumiel's voice cracked.
"Yes. Your real mother never wanted to abandon you. That envelope with money… she left it in hopes someone would care for you. But Rick—he couldn't accept having a civilian child. I was all you had, and he took that away from you."
The figure stepped closer, voice softer now.
"I've always been with you, Lumiel. I watched you grow up. I watched you survive. Even if I couldn't come close, I never stopped caring. I'm here now. I'm here to finally see you again, without fear, without hiding."
Lumiel trembled. His heart shattered. His knees buckled as he collapsed to the floor, overwhelmed.
Skye rushed over and caught him.
"Lumiel!" he shouted, kneeling beside him. Lumiel cried freely, choking on his own emotions.
"I… I don't know what's real anymore," Lumiel whispered. "What should I feel? What's true and what's a lie?"
"I don't know anything about your family," Skye said gently, "but you don't have to hold it in anymore. Just cry it out, Lumiel. Let it go."
Lumiel buried his face in his hands, breaking.
The figure in front of them stepped forward.
"I'm here now, Lumiel," she said sweetly. "It's good to finally have you back."
She reached her hands out for a hug.
Lumiel slowly stood, eyes hazy with tears. He took one step forward.
Then another.
Her arms opened wider.
"Come here, Lumiel."
And then—he heard it.
> "Lumiel~"
A voice. Gentle. Familiar.
He stopped walking.
"What is it?" Skye asked.
> "I've watched you. We've always been together ever since that day~"
Another whisper, soft and warm—but not from the figure ahead.
> "It's me… Lylia," the voice echoed from within.
From his soul.
Lumiel blinked. His vision cleared. The warmth in front of him—too sweet. Too perfect.
He remembered her voice. Not just the tone, but the words she used when the world was cruel.
> "You've always known the difference."
The false Lylia's voice called out again, but it was too late.
Lumiel's grip tightened.
He stepped forward—not with longing, but with purpose.
And just before she could wrap her arms around him, he drew his sword and slashed—clean and fast.
The blade tore through the illusion's neck.
The form of "Lylia" screeched, her face twisting unnaturally. Her body shattered like glass, revealing the grotesque creature beneath—a monster of writhing shadow and oily tendrils, hissing in hatred.
"W-What was that?" Skye asked, wide-eyed.
Lumiel lowered his sword slowly.
"It really was just an illusion," he said, voice steady.
Then, quieter—almost to himself:
"But she's still with me."