The tunnels stretched on, cold and endless, until Alpha could no longer tell how far he had come. His boots dragged through grit and old dust, each step carrying him further into the silent black. The glow of the Dreamstones he carried gave only a faint circle of light, and the shadows beyond seemed to lean closer with every breath.
The Knight's presence lingered behind him, wordless. Silent as stone. Alpha did not look back.
The chamber that opened before him was smaller than the cathedral-like hall of before. Here, the ceiling pressed lower, jagged stalactites dripping with black water. The walls were etched with faint carvings—faces, hundreds of them, their features stretched in terror, mouths open as though frozen in a scream.
Alpha's chest tightened. He knew these faces.
Not the individuals, but the expression. He had seen it countless times in the yard. The moment before the lash fell. The moment before the overseer's whip dug into flesh.
Chains rattled faintly in the dark.
His breath caught. That sound—too real, too close. He spun, sword ready.
From the shadows crawled three figures, bodies warped and thin, their limbs bound in rusted shackles. Their skulls gleamed pale in the faint light, jaws clacking as though laughing at him. Each dragged chains that rattled against the stone floor.
Slaves.
No—not slaves. Monsters. Their movements were jerky, wrong, too fast. Their hollow eyes fixed on him with hunger.
Alpha stumbled back a step. His scar burned again, crawling across his back like fire beneath the skin.
"Read them," the Knight's voice came from behind, a low growl that carried through the chamber. "See their patterns. Do not let memory blind you."
But it was memory that clawed at Alpha's throat. The way they hunched, the way they dragged their chains, it was all too familiar. The overseer's whip cracked in his head, though none was here.
One lunged. Alpha barely raised his blade in time. The chain snapped around his sword, pulling it wide. Another clawed at his side, scraping across his ribs.
He gasped, twisting away, boot lashing out. The creature stumbled, but the chain wrapped around his arm, cold and biting. The third came from behind, its jaw snapping shut near his neck.
Alpha roared, wrenching himself free. His sword arced, cleaving bone. One fell apart, its skull bouncing across the floor.
The others shrieked, a sound not of throats but of grinding metal. They pressed in again, chains lashing like whips. Alpha dodged, blocked, staggered.
"Patterns… see the patterns…"
One always swung from the right. The other always dragged its chain wide before striking. The rhythm was there, hidden beneath the chaos.
Alpha bared his teeth, fury rising. He feinted left, then dove forward, driving his sword into the ribs of the first. Bone shattered. The chain clattered loose.
The last shrieked, rushing at him. Alpha caught its chain mid-swing, yanked hard, and drove his blade through its skull.
Silence.
The corpses crumbled, chains dissolving into dust. And in their place, faint glimmers—two Dreamstones—rolled across the floor, glowing faintly.
Alpha stood panting, chest heaving. His hands trembled, not from exhaustion but from memory. The echoes of the slave yard had been too real.
Slowly, he bent and picked up the stones. Their light seeped into his skin, warmth against the cold.
Behind him, the Knight finally moved. His heavy steps echoed as he entered the chamber, his flame eyes fixed on the carvings of screaming faces.
"You begin to see," the Knight rumbled. "But the Labyrinth knows you. It shapes itself from your scars. That is why it is alive. Why it endures."
Alpha looked at him sharply. "Alive?"
The Knight did not answer. He only turned his helm toward Alpha, the fire in his sockets flickering. "You fight not only the dead, but yourself. Remember that. For many who entered, it was not monsters that killed them. It was the past."
Alpha swallowed hard, the Dreamstones warm in his grip. His scar still crawled on his back, restless, shifting faintly with each heartbeat.
The carvings seemed to leer at him from the walls, frozen faces whispering in silence. He turned away, forcing himself forward.
One step deeper. One step closer.
The Labyrinth waited, and he would not break.