Silence returned to the chamber, heavy as a stone slab. Kael remained on his knees, eyes locked on the cracked crystal, which pulsed like a living heart. The shadows had vanished, but the air still felt dense, charged with a suffocating tension, as though the labyrinth was waiting for his next move.
Leaning on his spear, Kael pushed himself to his feet, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I can't stay here," he muttered, glancing at the darkened crystal.
Around him, the reflections on the walls began to shift again. This time, they didn't display fragments of his past but rather images of the labyrinth itself, as though he were watching a living map in flux. Each reflection showed a different path—some leading to what seemed like similar chambers, others fading into impenetrable darkness.
"The labyrinth changes with you, Kael."
The crystal's voice echoed once more. Kael turned toward it, his expression hardened.
"What do you mean?"
"Every decision you make alters its structure. Each step you take rewrites its paths. This place isn't static—it's a mirror of yourself."
Kael narrowed his eyes. The idea of the labyrinth being tied to his mind was unsettling, but it began to make sense. The shadows, the memories, the illusions—everything seemed designed to challenge him, not physically, but emotionally.
"If it reflects me," he said, "then there must be a way out."
The figure within the crystal remained still for a moment, as if hesitating before responding.
"There is, but finding it depends on your will—and the price you're willing to pay."
"Always with the damn price..." Kael muttered through clenched teeth, frustration rising.
Before he could press further, a sharp sound interrupted him. Across the room, a door materialized out of nowhere. It was made of ancient wood, carved with intertwining serpents, and bore a faintly glowing symbol at its center: a circle divided into two halves, one black and one white.
"The labyrinth offers you a challenge, Kael."
The figure in the crystal spoke again, its tone colder this time.
"A game. Succeed, and you'll move closer to the exit. Fail... and the labyrinth will claim you as its own."
Kael stepped toward the door, his eyes fixed on the intricate carvings. There was something familiar about them, though he couldn't pinpoint why.
"What kind of game?" he asked, his voice low, his grip tightening on the spear.
"One that will test your deepest fears."
Kael took a deep breath. He had no other choice. Clutching his spear tightly, he pushed the door open.
Crossing the threshold, Kael found himself in an entirely different place. Gone were the crystalline walls and their reflections. In their stead stretched an immense desert of black sand, beneath a sky that resembled a glass dome, its stars flickering in impossible colors.
At the desert's center stood a long table, its surface made of a translucent material that resembled crystal but pulsed faintly with an inner light. Around the table sat several hooded figures, each wearing a distinct mask: a wolf, a raven, a stag, and a serpent.
Kael approached cautiously. The figures remained motionless, though their heads seemed to follow his movements as he drew nearer.
"Welcome to the game, Kael," said the wolf-masked figure, its voice deep and resonant.
Kael stopped before the table, his gaze darting between the masks with suspicion.
"What kind of game is this?" he demanded.
The raven-masked figure raised a hand, gesturing to the table. Upon it rested a board—similar to a chessboard, but the pieces were unfamiliar. Each one was a small crystal, reflecting images from his life: some clear, others distorted.
"Every move you make will have consequences," said the raven, its voice soft and mocking.
"If you play wisely, you will advance," continued the stag, tilting its head. "If you fail, the labyrinth will take something from you."
Kael's brow furrowed as he studied the board. The pieces shifted slightly, as though alive. Their subtle movements were unnerving, as if they were trying to guide him toward certain positions.
"And if I refuse to play?"
The serpent-masked figure leaned toward him, its mask glinting in the board's light.
"If you refuse, Kael, the labyrinth will decide for you."
Kael swallowed hard. He had no choice. He sat down before the board, his hands trembling slightly as he picked up one of the pieces. It was a figure that reflected his brother—his smiling face frozen in a moment of joy Kael could barely remember.
"Choose carefully, Kael," the wolf warned.
Taking a steadying breath, Kael placed the piece on the board. Immediately, the hooded figures leaned forward in unison, their attention sharpening. The stars in the sky seemed to dim slightly, and the board began to vibrate.
A scene materialized before him: the battlefield where he had lost his brother. A younger version of himself stood frozen, gripping his spear, as chaos erupted around him. But something was wrong. In this version of the memory, he wasn't moving. He was paralyzed, unable to help as his brother fell under enemy attack.
"No... this isn't what happened," Kael whispered, but the scene played on, mercilessly.
"The game doesn't show what was," said the serpent, its voice a hiss. "It shows what could have been."
Kael shut his eyes, trying to steady his racing mind. He knew the labyrinth was toying with him, trying to manipulate him.
"You must make a decision, Kael," said the raven, its tone taunting. "Will you save your brother... or yourself?"
Kael looked back at the board, where two new pieces had appeared: one representing his brother and another showing himself, standing but with guilt etched into his face.
The air grew heavy as Kael contemplated his next move, aware that the price of his choice would be something he was unprepared to pay.