When I left Elder Rinia's, my mind swayed, and my body ached with the anticipation of pain. But my heart stayed still, beating hard—convicted and true—not to its own path, but mine. A path to never lose again.
My bond wasn't with me, still locked in the mysterious transition to whatever he was becoming. I was scared, yes, but a part of me couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement. What would he become? A gift from Windsom himself—a mana-beast from Epheotus—he carried secrets even I couldn't fathom.
"These corridors are disgusting," I muttered, the words slipping through clenched teeth. The long hallways reeked of rot, the kind that feels like it sticks to your skin. Rats, bigger than wolves, had claimed these depths and marked their territory with nothing else but their own excrement. The walls dripped with grime, forcing me to the center, where the filth only clung to the air instead of my boots.
It got worse the deeper I went. Left, right, another right—each turn etched into my mind until the count blurred and faded. Twenty-seven turns, or was it thirty? My thoughts begged me to stop, to reflect on the madness of my progress. But I didn't, couldn't. I never question my path. Not now. Not ever.
As I continued on it felt as if time abandoned me down here. Hours? Days? When my resources dwindled—the last fish from supper and the drops of water in my canteen—I stumbled into something different. A room.
Not another suffocating corridor of brutalist stone and eerie shadows. This place was vast, gleaming, and immaculate—a shocking contrast to the filth behind me. The sheer size of it stopped me cold.
I should have felt relief. Instead, unease crept into my chest. A room like this, hidden in a labyrinth designed to drown wanderers in despair? It wasn't a sanctuary. It was a trap. Any other regular mage would fall for it, but I'm not any other mage.
I stayed back, circling the entrance, scanning for another way inside. After countless twists and turns, I found no other way in. The labyrinth mocked me, its twists and dead ends driving me back to the floodgates of death, back to that doorway.
I knew the first steps would be heard by anyone living inside, this room, it was designed this way. The first step was like a surrender to the unknown. My senses sharpened, and every sound magnified. Whoever made this place wouldn't leave the one and only single entrance unguarded.
Then, it all went wrong but weirdly so in the opposite direction of this eerie room.
A high-pitched, raw, and heart-shattering cry. It came from behind me from a child it seems. No invisible chain needed to drag me to those cries, I was already on my way. My instincts roared to life, drowning out every plan and precaution. A child is a child—innocent, fragile, undeserving of the cruelties of this world.
I raced toward the sound, my mana orb I conjured earlier for light bobbing beside me, casting frantic shadows on the stone. The crying twisted and faded, echoing like a cruel trick after each turn this evil labyrinth gave me. "No!" I shouted, my voice slamming against the cold walls. And then, silence.
I found it—her, or was it him? The infant was impossibly small and sat almost perfectly in the direct middle of the longest corridor I've seen yet, its body trembling even in unconsciousness. Cold. Alone. There's no way this baby could've gotten here alone, better yet survived more than 30 minutes if I never got here. My fingers trembled as I lifted the tiny figure, cradling it in my arms but also at the threat of another in this maze of despair.
"Who… who would do this to you?" I whispered, though the baby couldn't answer. Its breaths were shallow but steady, its fragile frame lighter than I imagined. I held it close and turned back.
Determined by my original mission and this newfound discovery, the weight of my task multiplied. Protecting a child in this cursed place felt impossible, but that's just what I want. Defeating the impossible is the only way to get stronger.
The infant stirred as I sprinted through the corridors, its cries cutting through the oppressive silence. The sound was sharp, piercing, like needles driving into my mind. I pushed forward, refusing to falter. One second of hesitation could cost everything.
I caught the faint glow of the furnished room again. My focus narrowed. Light meant safety—or at least a chance at it. But then, the crying stopped.
I glanced down, expecting exhaustion to have claimed the child again. Instead, it was laughing.
Not the gurgling, innocent laughter of a baby, but something… deliberate. Intelligent. A shiver crawled down my spine, but I forced the unease away. It didn't matter. I had to keep moving.
Bursting into the room, I stopped dead. The pristine space stretched endlessly, its golden light dancing across walls that seemed to hum with power.
"Uh oh, HEY! We got ourselves a visitor!"
The voice slithered, raspy but gruff and amused, filling the air with an oppressive weight. My instincts screamed, as I quickly holstered the baby against my chest, strapping it tightly with my torn shirt. Unholstering my bow from my back, a bolt of pure mana was already loaded.
"Well—"
The word barely left his lips before my arrow flew towards the intimidating voice. Without a visual I didn't expect to hit him, but I did expect it to cover my next move. My legs coiled and launched me back toward the wall, scaling it with precision. Two seconds to conjure the next bolt. That was all I needed.
But I didn't even make it halfway up.
A crushing force slammed into me mid-air. My limbs locked, gravity multiplied, and I plummeted back to the ground. The impact cracked something—my ribs, maybe—but the pain was drowned out by the sheer, suffocating pressure.
...
...
...
"THE BABY"
I looked down, expecting the worst, especially with that crack instilled into my mind and I was met with an odd stare. The baby strapped to my chest looked at me, giggling, its eyes alight with something far too knowing.
The figure finally appeared, stepping out of the empty air. I studied him with as much resolve as I could muster. He was old, his face lined with age, but his presence radiated power that made my bones scream and go numb.
"Thank you for bringing me my child, young one," he said, his tone as warm as a father's. "But you were never meant to see this."
My vision blurred as the pressure doubled, then tripled, my mind clawing at the edges of consciousness. In my last moments, I saw the horns crowning his head and the baby, still laughing, mocking me, cradled in his arms.
Then, nothing.