I hoped this was the final chamber. Three was a magic number.
The room before me unfurled into what seemed like an endless labyrinth, its imposing walls constructed of ornate but foreboding stonework. They stretched upwards so high that they eclipsed my view of the chamber’s limits. The air was thick with a sense of ancient dread, almost as if the walls themselves could remember each individual who’d become ensnared in this maze.
Every so often, levers sprouted from the ground at what appeared to be strategic junctions, constructed of the same dark material as the walls but embedded with mysterious symbols, perhaps a clue or a trick—only time would tell.
I felt an involuntary shiver snake down my spine, though I couldn’t say I was intimidated. Creeped out? Absolutely. But this labyrinth had nothing on the chaos of a Black Friday sale, where the stakes were high and the shoppers ruthless. If I could survive that annual bedlam, I reasoned, I could navigate through this place.
But there was one sobering difference: on Black Friday, I wasn’t locked in. The door behind me sealed the moment I stepped into the chamber, leaving me with an unsettling feeling that if I didn’t solve the riddle before me, I would be trapped here indefinitely. As if to punctuate that grim thought, my eyes caught sight of skeletal remains scattered sporadically across the ground—previous wanderers who had failed to find their way. Lovely.
My eyes scanned the levers and the walls, my mind running through potential patterns or codes, alight with a mixture of fear, determination, and adrenaline. One wrong move could trap me here forever, another skeleton in this chamber of lost souls. But I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen. Not now, not when I was so close to unveiling the mysteries that had led me here.
I took a moment to inspect the plaque fixed at the entrance.
Paths that move and walls that speak,
Only one will let you reach the peak.
The riddle sounded just cryptic enough to make me groan internally. But my past experiences had taught me that the answer was often hidden in plain sight. The key was observation.
Before making any hasty decisions, I took a closer look at the labyrinthine walls surrounding me. They seemed to tell a story—if only one knew how to read it. Some walls bore deep scratches, scrapes, and scuff marks, almost as if they were war veterans with battle scars to prove their valor. Others were pristine, their surfaces as smooth and unblemished as the day they were carved from stone. It was like staring at a conversation between experience and innocence, and suddenly, the cryptic riddle started to make sense to me.
I surmised that these “speaking” walls, the ones that bore evidence of having frequently moved, were integral to deciphering the labyrinth’s pattern. In stark contrast, the untouched, “silent” walls would remain as they were—immobile and passive. Perhaps these marked walls were the labyrinth’s mouthpiece, recounting the untold tales of people and situations they had encountered over what could be centuries.
Gingerly stepping toward the first lever that caught my eye, I studied its proximity to a particularly marked wall. This wall seemed to almost buzz with ancient energy, a mosaic of etches and scratches that painted a vivid tapestry of its long history. My hand hovered for a moment over the lever’s cold metal, a frigid touch that sent a shiver up my arm. Would this be the right move? The weight of the decision bore down on me like an anvil.
Taking a fortifying breath, I grasped the lever firmly in my hand and pulled. The immediate echo of a deep, guttural groan filled the chamber, a haunting sound that reverberated off the walls and straight into my bones. I watched, almost holding my breath, as the wall adjacent to the lever—scarred, etched, and undoubtedly wise in the ways of this mysterious place—began to rotate. The stone ground beneath it groaned in protest, but the wall itself moved fluidly, as if this was what it was meant to do all along. Finally, it settled into its new position, revealing a pathway that hadn’t been there before.
A palpable wave of excitement coursed through me as I continued my foray into the labyrinth, my senses tingling with anticipation. My eyes darted back and forth, scanning for the marked walls that had become my trusty guides in this maze of confusion. Finding a lever near another such wall, my heart raced. Had I cracked the code?
These marked walls, scarred by countless shifts and turns, always seemed to pivot in such a way as to form a coherent path ahead of me. They were the silent stewards of this labyrinth, their ancient etchings like breadcrumbs in a convoluted fairy tale. On the flip side, the pristine walls stood like sentinel figures, guarding the labyrinth’s enigmatic secrets and overseeing my progress with stony silence.
My fingers wrapped around another lever, a frisson of adrenaline surging through me. With a purposeful yank, another resonating groan filled the air as a marked wall pivoted gracefully, locking into place and revealing yet another leg of the journey. Each lever I pulled felt like a victory, each turning wall a confirmation that I was unraveling the labyrinth’s riddle, bit by bit.
But then, a change in the pattern: there were no more levers in sight. My eyes scanned the surroundings, half-expecting a trick or a trap. Instead, I found myself standing before a grand, ornate door that seemed almost out of place in this dank, dusty maze. The door was a work of art, its wooden surface meticulously carved with celestial symbols—suns, moons, stars, and planets, all intertwined in an intricate cosmic dance. The carvings seemed to shimmer, as if imbued with some form of ethereal magic, a final test or perhaps a gateway to whatever secrets lay beyond.
For a moment, I paused to appreciate the artistry, the grandeur, the sheer mystery of it all. Here, it seemed, was the culmination of my journey through the labyrinth. The marked walls had led me here, to this threshold of untold possibilities. Filled with a sense of accomplishment and an unquenchable curiosity about what lay beyond, I took a deep breath, ready to face whatever awaited me on the other side of that enigmatic door.
As the door creaked open, I was met with a chamber that felt more like a sanctuary than any other room I’d encountered so far. Bathed in a soft, almost divine light, the atmosphere was both serene and otherworldly. The walls of the chamber were not like any I had seen before; they were mirrors—floor to ceiling, framed in delicately carved, gilt wood. Each reflection seemed to capture a different facet of the room, multiplying its mystical glow infinitely.
And there, in the center of it all, was the amulet.
It floated effortlessly in mid-air, suspended by some unseen force. The gem at its core seemed to pulse with life, radiating pale blue light.
I grabbed it, feeling the pulse of it, as if it was alive with a heartbeat of its own.
Striding toward one of the many mirrors that adorned the chamber, my glamour dropped, reverting to my usual appearance. I quickly gathered my hair and tucked it into my ponytail. With one last touch of magic, I cast a glamour over the amulet, effectively concealing it from sight. It was now invisible to the world but ever-present, its pulsing energy intertwined with my own.
Now, to call Carson.