He didn't run.
The thought crossed his mind—sharp and urgent—but his legs refused. The shaking hadn't fully left them yet, and the echo of his own breathing felt too loud in the narrow passage.
Running made noise.
Noise brought things like the one he'd just left behind.
So he walked.
Slowly. Carefully.
Each step carried him farther from the twisted body on the stone floor, farther from the dull smell that lingered in the air. He didn't look back again. Once had been enough.
The passage narrowed as he went, bending in on itself in a way that forced him to angle his shoulders. The stone here felt older somehow. Less broken. The walls pressed close, swallowing sound until even his footsteps felt muted.
Good.
He stopped after what felt like a long time—though time itself had started to blur—and leaned his forehead lightly against the wall.
His arms trembled again.
Not fear.
Aftershock.
His grip still remembered the weight of the stone. The resistance. The way the creature had stopped moving so suddenly it hadn't felt real.
He swallowed, jaw tightening.
It didn't matter.
Thinking about it didn't help.
Staying alive did.
He slid down until he was sitting against the wall, knees pulled in. The passage was just wide enough here to let him rest without being fully exposed. One side curved inward, forming a shallow recess that broke his outline.
Not a room.
But not open either.
He stayed there, listening.
No wet dragging sounds.
No buzzing wings.
Only the faint, distant hum of the labyrinth itself—stone settling, air shifting through unseen cracks.
His breathing slowly evened out.
Once it did, the pain made itself known.
A dull throb behind his eyes. Scraped palms. His shoulder burned where he'd slammed it earlier, and his ribs protested every deep breath. Nothing felt broken, but everything felt used.
He flexed his fingers.
They responded.
Good enough.
Hunger crept in next, quiet but insistent. His stomach twisted, reminding him that he hadn't eaten—had he eaten? The question slipped away before he could grab it.
Doesn't matter.
Food wasn't an option yet.
Shelter was.
He tilted his head, studying the passage around him. The stone recess he'd slid into wasn't natural. Too smooth. Too intentional. It didn't block the path entirely, but it narrowed it just enough that anything large would have trouble forcing its way through.
Anything small would still fit.
But it would have to come close.
That was better than nothing.
He shifted deeper into the recess, adjusting his position until his back pressed firmly against stone and his legs were drawn in tight. From here, he could see the passage in both directions—limited, but enough.
Not safe.
But hidden.
He rested his head back and closed his eyes for just a moment.
Just to think.
Staying still forever wasn't an option. Sooner or later, something would pass through. Something hungry. Something curious. Something that didn't rely on sound alone.
And when that happened—
He exhaled slowly.
He needed food.
Water.
Something he could use without picking up another rock and hoping luck stayed on his side.
A plan.
Not a good one.
Just one that lasted longer than the next corner.
His eyes opened again, sharper now.
He reached down and picked up another stone from the ground nearby. Smaller this time. He turned it in his hand, testing the weight, the balance.
Not a weapon.
But a start.
He set it beside him and leaned back into the stone, listening once more as the labyrinth breathed around him.
This place wasn't done with him.
And he wasn't done surviving it.