Labyrinthus 2014 Novels & Stories

As they stepped into the cool, damp air of the night, the rain had transformed into a light drizzle, misting the surroundings in a haze. The world outside felt lush and alive, yet ominous with an undercurrent of uncertainty. George led the way, Elora and Maya close behind, each step bringing them closer to a sanctuary that felt both like a refuge and a line crossed. "Stay close," George advised, casting a watchful glance over his shoulder. "We don't know who might be watching."

He stood over the table, his broad shoulders tensed, his hands braced against the edge as his amber eyes locked onto the contents. A high forge master, his face streaked with black soot, reached into the compartment with leather-gloved hands and pulled out a heavy cylinder forged from pure, polished obsidian. It was etched with glowing silver geometric lines that hummed with an unsettling, synthetic magical frequency. With a careful twist, the master cracked the cylinder open, projecting a brilliant, three-dimensional light grid directly into the air above the table. It wasn't a standard topographical map of the surface world. It was a terrifyingly detailed, glowing blueprint of the labyrint

Another resonant site. The map’s second mark pulsed faintly beneath Mira’s touch, as if recognizing her blood. “This is it,” she breathed. But they had no time to search. L-20 appeared first—towering, misshapen, its fur patchy and charred. The thing wasn’t just bred, it was patched together. Its jaw hung slightly unhinged, fangs far too large for its mouth. Its eyes burned amber, hollow with madness. Grey shifted partially, claws extended. “I’ve never seen one shift like that.”

The Great Interdimensional Hide-and-Seek Tournament turned our garden from a sanctuary into a stadium. The Chaos Realm’s “Game Master,” which Lina had nicknamed “Scribble,” was a formidable, if infuriating, opponent. It played by the letter of our hastily invented rules, but its imagination was… unconstrained by things like “physics” or “good taste.” Finding the acorn-noir had taken us three hours and required Kael to build a micro-empathy scanner tuned to “gumshoe melancholy.” We’d won the first point. Scribble had taken its loss with the grace of a supernova, immediately demanding a rematch.

Finally, she relented, silently unlatching the window and motioning for Damon to come inside. Once Damon was safely in her room, Aqua couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for allowing him into her private sanctuary. But as he took in the sight of her room, his expression softened with appreciation. Her room was a reflection of her personality—simple yet inviting, with an abundance of greenery adding a touch of serenity to the space. Potted plants adorned every available surface, their leaves casting playful shadows in the moonlight. A small collection of books sat neatly arranged on a nearby shelf, their spines worn from countless readings.

The air felt cold, too cold. There were so many dark corners. “It’s… like a maze,” I murmured, still trying to figure out where the hell we were. “I don’t think this is a maze, Nicholai. I think we are in the Labyrinth.” “What?” “Yeah,” she said, scanning the entire place. “The Labyrinth of Madness. It’s… a prison for lost souls. It feeds on fear, confusion… desire and despair.” A cold shiver ran through me. “Lost souls?” I asked, confused. “Wait—you mean we’re in a place for already dead people?”

Liora yelled while monitoring the radar on the dashboard. After successfully shaking off their pursuers near the Arc de Triomphe, Mavric took them to a secret family safe house apartment, unregistered in any official records. Inside the dimly lit apartment, Liora finally opened her mother’s diary. Her hands trembled as she saw the complex chemical sketches. However, on the very last page, there was a drawing that was not a formula. It was a sketch of a Labyrinth ring, but in the center was a small hollow that appeared to be a physical key for something much larger.

The starfield above warped, constellations bending toward the crimson star, as if drawn to its power. The path opened into a vast, cavernous arena, its walls carved with glowing runes that pulsed red, forming a labyrinth of light and shadow. At its center stood a loom, its frame forged from dark metal, its threads crimson and taut, weaving a tapestry that didn’t show visions but a single, endless spiral—a vortex of choices, each leading to a different nexus, some thriving, others ash. The air was thick with heat, the pulse deafening, and Jessica’s hollowness screamed, as if the loom knew her void.

Malleteagan’s POV We are slowly but surely advancing down through ill-dimmed, sewer-like channels that separate Oribus from Damnarynth, the next circle of Wengarthria. Now I understand why they call it the way they do. It is a damn labyrinth, although I was told that it got its name from all the damned souls that are built within it. This level of Wengarthria seems like an underworld maze. It is laid out so complexly that it almost reminds of a large underworld ant heap. Ghouls of lost souls loitering around, screeching and beginning for mercy. Arachnoid warriors are protruding and attacking us left, right and centre as we advance through stinky swamp sewage of Damnarynth that reaches my wai

24 YEARS LATER. Gwenn Pov “I want to run a sword through you so badly that the feeling is visceral. After all these years together I cannot believe you still are a bigoted two timing jerk.” I yelled as I stormed into the throne room, Arius behind me. “I am Yama, I cannot be seen as the fool being controlled by the Alal. It would undermine my ruling…” Arius tried explaining but he just made me even more furious than usual. “Your ruling… I am right and the whole kingdom is aware of that, the forgotten world should not be explored.”