The sentinel looms over me, its red eye fixed and unblinking. Blade-like limbs extend with a soft, metallic whir, their edges gleaming with an unholy sharpness. The sound of its movement is a whisper of death, deliberate and precise.
I scramble back, my limbs weak and unresponsive, the poison in my veins slowing me down. My mind races for options, but there are none. The labyrinth has boxed me in, and the sentinel is poised for the kill.
It moves with terrifying grace, each step deliberate, its shadow casting jagged patterns on the stone walls. The hum of its power core grows louder, resonating through the chamber like a dirge.
This is it. The end.
The labyrinth shifts with a sudden grinding noise, and a wall drops between us. The sentinel's blade strikes the stone instead of me, the impact screeching like nails on glass. I do not waste the moment—I lurch to my feet, legs trembling, and stagger into the narrow passage revealed by the shifting walls.
The labyrinth moves again behind me, sealing the sentinel away—for now.
I collapse against the wall, gasping for air. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the faint grinding of stone. My arm trembles as I wipe the sweat from my brow, leaving a smear of grime behind. The green liquid churns in my veins, a sickening reminder of Binah's control. It burns hotter now, an unnatural heat that pulses with my heartbeat.
Colors bloom at the edges of my vision—bright, shimmering hues that do not belong. The dull gray of the labyrinth's walls is overlaid with vivid streaks of electric blue, neon green, and burning gold. Patterns ripple across the stone like light refracted through water, shifting in time with the pulse of the green liquid inside me.
I shake my head, trying to clear my vision, but the colors only grow brighter, more intricate. A sound joins them—soft at first, like the distant pluck of strings. The melody rises, weaving itself into the hum of the sentinel still echoing in my ears. It is beautiful, almost hypnotic, yet somehow wrong. It feels as though it is coming from everywhere at once—the walls, the sentinel, even within me.
"Am I losing my mind?" I mutter, my voice shaky. The question hangs in the air, unanswered.
I turn to find Binah standing at the passage entrance, her violet eyes watching me with the same calm intensity. She gestures toward another path, her movements slow and deliberate.
"You knew," I growl, my voice rough with anger and exhaustion. "You knew what was waiting for me back there."
She says nothing. She always says nothing.
"What is this?" I snap, my voice rising. "What kind of place is this? Why would Malkiel keep… that?" My voice cracks at the thought of the sentinel, a Nihil spawn, here in Malkiel. This place is supposed to be a haven, a temple of order. Yet here, it feels like chaos given form.
Binah tilts her head slightly, her gaze steady but unreadable. Her silence infuriates me, but the melody swells in my ears, drowning out my thoughts. I push off the wall, legs trembling, and follow her gesture into the next corridor. The vivid colors ripple ahead of me, drawing me forward like a path only I can see.
The walls shift again, the grinding noise a constant now, reshaping the labyrinth around us. The air feels heavier, oppressive. My footsteps echo unnervingly loud in the narrow corridor, while Binah's are almost soundless.
The colors intensify as I move deeper, swirling and merging into intricate patterns. They overlay the walls like an invisible map, each hue forming paths that shift with the labyrinth's movements. The melody grows sharper, clearer, as if the labyrinth itself is singing. It is beautiful, but it terrifies me.
The hum cuts through the melody, low and resonant. My breath catches. The sentinel is moving again, its mechanical whir growing louder with every second.
"It's back," I hiss, glancing over my shoulder. Binah walks without haste, her expression as calm as ever. I want to grab her, demand she take this seriously, but the hum grows sharper, closer.
The corridor opens into a larger chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow. The runes here glow brighter, their patterns twisting into complex shapes that ripple across the walls. Overlaid on them are the technicolor hues, forming a second, more intricate layer. The patterns shift and flow together, almost as if they are speaking to me.
My stomach churns as I realize what I am seeing. The patterns are a code, a guide to the labyrinth's movements. The green liquid has done something to me, attuned me to this place, this machine.
The sentinel's hum crescendos. Its shadow flickers across the far wall, impossibly large and distorted. I catch a glimpse of its gleaming red eye before I bolt, my legs moving on instinct. Binah stays close behind me, her movements unhurried, as though she already knows how this will end.
The labyrinth twists again, the grinding sound merging with the sentinel's hum. I stumble into another passage, this one narrower and lined with glowing runes. The green liquid pulses through me, its rhythm matching the melody in my ears. The patterns shift faster now, guiding me forward, showing me where the labyrinth will move next.
The passage opens into a vast chamber, its walls high and unyielding. At the far end, mounted on the wall, is the pressure plate. Its glow matches the sickly hue of the green liquid coursing through me, and I feel its pull as though it is calling to me.
But the sentinel is already in the chamber, its black form moving with lethal precision. It blocks the path to the plate, its red eye fixed on me. The hum of its core vibrates through the air, blending with the melody inside me. The sound is both beautiful and horrifying.
Binah steps forward, her gaze fixed on the sentinel. She raises her hand, and the walls shudder. A section of the floor tilts upward, forming a makeshift ramp that leads to the plate. Her intervention feels deliberate, calculated, as though she is still pulling the strings.
I hesitate. Every part of me screams not to trust her. She has controlled me before, forced me to act against my will. And now she expects me to follow her lead?
The sentinel takes a step forward, its limbs unfolding with a hiss of metal. Its red eye narrows, locking onto me.
I run.
The ramp is uneven, shifting under my feet as I climb. The sentinel moves with terrifying speed, its limbs skittering across the stone as it closes the distance. The technicolor patterns bloom brighter around the plate, their shapes forming a clear path. I follow them blindly, the melody swelling in my ears.
The plate is just ahead. My legs burn, my lungs scream for air, but I push forward. The sentinel's blade grazes my arm, and I cry out, the pain sharp and immediate. I stumble, my vision blurring, but I lunge for the plate with everything I have left.
My hand slams down on the surface. The runes explode with light, flooding the chamber in a blinding green glow.
The sentinel freezes mid-strike, its limbs jerking violently. The hum of its core shifts to a high-pitched whine, and then it collapses, folding in on itself with a sound like grinding metal. The green light from the runes pulses one final time before fading into darkness.
I collapse to the ground, gasping for air. My arm throbs where the sentinel's blade grazed me, and my vision swims with the lingering colors. The pressure plate beneath my hand is cool, unyielding, its glow dimming as its purpose is fulfilled.
For a moment, there is silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that presses against me like the weight of the labyrinth itself. My chest heaves with each ragged breath, and the nausea from the green liquid twists deeper into my gut. The melody that had filled my mind fades to nothing, leaving an eerie absence that feels louder than the noise.
I lift my head to find Binah standing at the base of the ramp. Her violet eyes meet mine, her expression calm and unreadable. She tilts her head slightly, as though evaluating me, but says nothing.
"Why?" I whisper, my voice barely audible. My throat feels raw, every word scraping against the silence. "Why do you keep doing this?"
She does not respond. Instead, she turns her back to me, walking toward a shadowy passage that the labyrinth's shifting walls have revealed. Her form disappears into the darkness, her footsteps fading into nothing.
I am left alone. The silence presses harder, but relief begins to creep in. I survived. Somehow, I survived.
The floor shifts beneath me.
It is not the grinding of stone that has become so familiar but something sharper, more mechanical. Before I can react, the pressure plate beneath my hand drops, and the floor falls away in a single, jarring motion. I plummet into darkness, the air rushing past me in a howl that drowns out my scream.
The fall is not long, but it ends abruptly. I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring every bone in my body. Pain explodes in my chest and limbs, and I lie there, gasping, unable to move. The green liquid pulses through me, making my vision swim with colors that feel both comforting and maddening.
When I finally manage to lift my head, I realize where I am—or at least, where I think I am.
The chamber is cube-shaped, its walls damp and unyielding, faint cracks glowing with dim light. Tiny puddles gather in the grooves between stones, their surfaces rippling faintly. The air is damp, heavy with the scent of decay and despair.
It is the same chamber. The same chamber I woke up in before this nightmare began.
"No," I whisper, the word trembling on my lips. My mind reels, the crushing weight of realization settling over me. "I was… I was making progress. I got out."
But it is no use.
The chamber offers no reply.
And I am back where I began.