Morning crept into the ruins of Alpha's sleep. The dirt was cold beneath him, and the wall he had leaned against had crumbled further in the night. He rose without a word, his eyes drawn eastward.
Beyond the broken alleys of the slave outskirts lay a larger city, one whose crooked skyline hinted at a thousand stories stacked atop one another. Wooden towers sagged, tiled roofs split, and smoke twisted lazily from chimneys. The city had a name whispered among the freed: Talesvold's Edge.
It was the empire's gutter. Where soldiers dumped prisoners, where nobles sent debts they wished forgotten, where the freed slaves stumbled when their chains were cut.
Alpha entered it as one enters a storm.
---
The streets were narrow veins, choked with people. Merchants cried out from behind rough stalls, their hands heavy with rings, their eyes sharp as knives. Children darted between legs, swift as rats, their fingers hungry for purses. Hounds fought over scraps, while drunk men slumped in gutters, mouths foaming with sour ale.
No one looked twice at Alpha. He was just another scarred body spat out from the slave gates. His bare shoulders, the rough scars of lashings, the faded tattoo burned into his back—common sights here. Talesvold's Edge was full of names like his, names carried not from birth but from the brands of masters.
He moved slowly, silently. His eyes lingered. He watched a butcher haggle over pig flesh, watched mercenaries in rusted armor spit curses at one another, watched a girl with hollow eyes sell trinkets of bone to passing men. Every detail carved itself into him.
The world was louder here than in the slave yard, but no kinder.
---
By midday, the heat pressed against him. Hunger gnawed. He passed a market stall where golden loaves of bread steamed fresh, their crusts glistening with butter. His stomach twisted, but when he reached for one, the stall keeper slammed a cleaver down onto the wood.
"Back, gutter rat."
Alpha said nothing. His hand withdrew. The keeper's glare followed him until he disappeared into the crowd.
He turned down a crooked side street. There, the noise was thinner, shadows deeper. In the dark corners, people whispered. He paused, leaning against the wall, listening.
"…the Labyrinths again…"
"…madness, I tell you. You step in, and you don't step out…"
"…but if you return… riches, power, a name of your own."
Alpha's eyes narrowed. Labyrinths. The word echoed in his head.
---
Later, he found himself near a tavern, its sign cracked, its windows blackened with grime. The smell of stale ale and sweat seeped into the street. Inside, voices rose and fell. He lingered near the doorway.
"…did you hear? A caravan tried Viren last month."
"Viren?" another man scoffed. "The Undead Pit? No one returns from there."
"They say the walls shift. They say it sees you—twists itself around what you are. Killed them all, one by one."
"Bah. Rumors. Only fools and desperate men chase the Labyrinths."
"And yet…" the first man lowered his voice, "…the ones who return don't come back as beggars. They come back changed. As if fate itself crowns them."
The table erupted in arguments, some laughing, others swearing oaths.
Alpha turned away.
---
As night fell, he found himself at the city's edge again, staring out beyond the smoke-stained horizon. His body ached, but his mind was restless. The whispers he had caught were more than gossip. They carried weight, a strange current tugging at him.
The Labyrinths.
Places where the empire's poor threw themselves to either die or awaken.
And one name burned brighter than the rest: 'Viren.'
The Undead Labyrinth.
Alpha's breath was steady, but his eyes carried a strange light. He did not smile. He did not hope. He only listened to the silence around him, and in it, he heard the faintest echo—like the heartbeat of something vast and waiting.
---
He slept poorly again, curled against stone. But when dawn rose, and Talesvold's Edge stirred awake with shouts and smoke, Alpha already knew his next step.
He would not linger in emptiness.
If the world had places that shifted to meet the soul, then perhaps in their depths he would see himself for the first time.