Why... just why,... am I stupid?!

The Silver Chalice

I stagger into the next room, my vision swimming from the blood loss and the poison frm the hydra which was still in my system. The stone walls, cold and unwelcoming, close in around me as the door seals shut behind me with a heavy thud. The adrenaline that kept me going during the fight drains away, leaving me dizzy and weak.

I need to get out of here. 

I need to keep moving.

But my legs give out, and I collapse against the wall, clutching my bleeding side... she got my shoulder..... The pain is sharp, radiating through my body with every breath. I don't know how much more I can take.

The room is eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos I just left behind. It's small and square, with no apparent exits, just four plain walls and a single pedestal in the center. On the pedestal sits a silver wine glass, gleaming in the faint light.

Well, that's new.

I force myself to stand, wincing as my wounds protest. Every step feels like a monumental effort, but I make my way to the pedestal, curiosity outweighing my caution.

The glass is beautiful, ornately designed with intricate patterns that swirl around the stem. It's filled with a golden liquid that catches the light, shimmering softly. I recognize the scent immediately—ambrosia.

Ambrosia? 

What's the catch?

I hesitate, staring at the glass. Ambrosia heals wounds, but this is the Labyrinth. Nothing here is given freely. There's always a price.

But then I remember the blood seeping through my clothes, the deep gashes that refuse to stop bleeding. I'm not in any shape to keep going, not without help.

It's not like I have many options.

With a grimace, I reach out and grab the glass. The silver feels cool against my skin, the liquid inside warm and inviting. I take a deep breath, and then, throwing caution to the wind, I drink.

The ambrosia slides down my throat like liquid sunlight, warm and comforting. Almost immediately, I feel the effects—my wounds begin to close, the pain dulling to a manageable throb. Strength flows back into my limbs, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Okay, that was definitely the right call.

I set the glass back on the pedestal, feeling a bit more like myself. But as I look around the room, I notice something I missed before—carvings on the walls, similar to the ones in the previous rooms. They're more scribbled and less detailed, but they tell a story.

What's this?

I step closer, studying the carvings. They're rough, as if someone etched them in haste or desperation. The images depict an island, lush and prosperous, filled with life. There are scenes of people—demigods, by the look of them—going about their lives, thriving in a place that seems almost idyllic.

But the story isn't complete. The final panel is missing, cut off by the edge of the wall. The last image I can make out is of the island, still thriving, but with something ominous looming on the horizon. Something dark and foreboding, a shadow that hangs over the island like a storm cloud.

An island that once prospered... but now it's deserted. 

What happened here?

The room offers no answers. The carvings end abruptly, leaving the story unfinished, just like the others I've seen. There's no hint of what came next, no explanation for why the island fell into ruin, or who created the Labyrinth that's now tearing us apart.

I press my hand against the wall, tracing the edge of the final carving. The stone is cool under my fingers, unyielding and silent.

Who did this? 

Why did they create this place?

There's no response, just the quiet hum of the room. The Labyrinth isn't going to give up its secrets easily. But I know one thing—this place wasn't always like this. Something happened here, something that twisted this island from a place of prosperity into the nightmare it is now.

But whatever it was, the Labyrinth is determined to keep it hidden.

Well, I'm not leaving until I get some answers. 

Whoever—or whatever—is behind this, I'll find out. 

I'll survive.... I have to..... I am not ready to die here.

With a final glance at the unfinished carvings, I turn back to the pedestal. The silver glass is empty now, its purpose served. I feel a pang of unease, knowing that the Labyrinth provided the ambrosia for a reason. It wants me alive—for now.

But I'm not going to give it the satisfaction of breaking me. I've come this far, and I'm not giving up now.

Time to move. 

The sooner I get out of this room, the better.