✓ | 𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ꜰɪꜰᴛʏ-ᴏɴᴇ

Light in the Darkness.

🌎

    They pushed forward through the narrow corridors, the air growing colder with each step. Every turn led to yet another narrow passage, each twist and angle identical to the last, making it nearly impossible to know if they were moving forward or simply going in circles. Yet, despite the suffocating uncertainty, they pressed on, Rory's gaze focused and unyielding. She had survived this long; she would not let this place break her. Not now.

    Neither Chris nor Mary uttered a word now. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, hanging in the air like the ghosts of those they had left behind. Rory could feel their eyes on her—she wondered what they must think of her now. Did they blame her? Did they see her as the heartless leader who sacrificed those beneath her for the sake of survival? She felt a pang of guilt in her chest, sharp and bitter. She knew she’d been harsh. But what choice did she have? Most of their group was dead now, reduced to nothing more than a fine golden dust that clung to the damp stone floor and seemed to drift aimlessly through the air, like the remnants of some long-forgotten dream. Rory was covered in it—the golden dust of the fallen monsters. It clung to her clothes, her skin, a constant reminder of those who had payed for her choices. She could feel it on her fingertips, gritty and insubstantial, as if she could brush it away, but it would never truly be gone.

    The bodies were gone, but the memories lingered, haunting them with every step. They had trusted her, followed her, and now their forms were scattered across the labyrinth, slowly reforming, perhaps destined to float through these halls as mere particles of themselves for who knew how long. Were they watching her now, the specks of dust drifting alongside her, judging her, blaming her?

    They wouldn’t be getting to Camp Half-Blood. That, Rory knew they were all aware of, though none of them dared to say it out loud. Between the three of them, there was little hope left. They had been stripped of their protection, exposed and vulnerable, with every step a gamble, every breath a reminder of how fragile they truly were. Without the monsters to act as a buffer, they were now the labyrinth’s sole focus, each trap and challenge aimed squarely at them. The labyrinth was hungry.

    They had to get out before they, too, became part of this place, lost and forgotten, their bones mingling with the dust. Rory clenched her jaw, pushing the fear aside as best she could. She had made the choices that led them here, and she would make the choices that would get them out—or die trying.

    But wandering aimlessly wasn’t going to save them. There had to be a more efficient way of navigating the maze, a way that wasn’t just aimless wandering until they somehow stumbled onto the path they needed. They knew enough about the labyrinth’s creation to understand that it wasn’t purely random. Daedalus had been brilliant but not without patterns, without rules—even if those rules were twisted and cruel.

    The chamber they had stumbled into was slightly more spacious, with enough room for them to rest without feeling as though the walls were pressing down on them. Rory glanced at Chris and Mary. Exhaustion was etched into every line of their faces, the toll of the labyrinth visible in the slump of their shoulders, the dullness in their eyes. They were barely holding on.

    "You two get some rest," Rory said, her voice firm yet gentle. She tried to inject some semblance of strength into her tone, something for them to hold onto. "I'll keep watch." Despite her own exhaustion, it was a promise she intended to keep. She could feel the weight of fatigue in her bones, the ache of muscles that had been pushed too far, but it didn’t matter. Right now, they needed her to be strong, and so she would be.

    Chris and Mary exchanged weary glances but nodded without protest. They were too drained to argue, and the promise of rest, even in this unforgiving place, was too tempting to resist. Chris slid down against the cold stone wall, his back pressed against it as he closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and within moments, his breathing slowed, the steady rhythm of his quiet snores filling the chamber—a strangely comforting sound amid the silence. Mary followed suit, pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. Her eyes remained open, though, staring blankly at the ground as if trapped in some dark memory.