《Last Call Labyrinth》


 1. The Beginning, the Middle and the End

    ¡°So, here¡¯s to being dead!¡±


    I looked at the enthusiastic spectre next to me and decided she''d come straight from heavy psychological trauma. There was nothing good about being dead. It was cold, it was dark, and worst of all, nothing ever changed.


    Nothing except fresh spectres popping in from the living and trying to convince themselves they were happy with a bad situation.


    Right ¨C that didn¡¯t change, either.


    The bar was otherwise dead that night, pun intended. The new arrival didn''t seem to have realised, and had been chatting for the last few minutes. That wasn''t unusual in itself, but usually by now they would have mentioned their cause of death. This one had been complimenting the architecture. Until the last words out of her mouth, I''d been assuming she hadn''t noticed herself dying. The associated side effects were rather obvious, but it still happened more often than one would think.


    At least that was one tiresome conversation out of the way. I pulled my stool close enough for the spectre to lean away out of discomfort and gave her a suitably misanthropic grimace. ¡°Ho, new bones. What kind of stunt brought you here?¡±


    I knew the answer already, of course, which was ¡®nothing in particular¡¯. Good or bad, everyone recently mortal ended up at my bar ¨C no exceptions ¨C and either stayed or wandered into the labyrinth. I¡¯d made a game of guessing who would do which when, and the results could be surprising.


    The spectre surprised me with another smile. She pounded a fist against the centre of her chest. ¡°The best kind. I¡¯m the hero of Charismo! I ¨C¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s Charismo?¡±


    Her smile became slightly more fixed at the interruption. ¡°The continent. Big one."


    I stared at her blankly.


    "...Centre of civilisation ¨C oh.¡± She put down the drink she¡¯d been nursing and slapped herself lightly in the forehead. ¡°This is a multi-dimension afterlife, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Ah, one of the souls who thought they were an expert. But I''d seen probably about a million, and no one had ever gotten it right. ¡°Nope,¡± I asserted. ¡°Multiple dimensions would be too interesting. Everyone here comes from Soddit.¡±


    ¡°Soddit? I¡¯ve never heard of it.¡±


    ¡°Of course you haven¡¯t. What¡¯s the point in naming a dimension when you¡¯ve seen no others to compare against? But now you''ve come here - not that the afterlife strictly counts as a dimension - and lo, it becomes relevant.¡±


    Her smile faltered. ¡°Perhaps. Soddit doesn¡¯t sound like a real name.¡±


    ¡°Neither does Charismo. What else have you got for me? Dexteriland? Wisdomistan? Experience Pointsonia?¡±


    ¡°Wisdomistan is a very well-respected region.¡±


    I rolled the lifeless pinpricks of light in my eye sockets. ¡°I can tell you what the problem is. You come from a chaos bubble. They happen every fifty years or so when Kaedhrakthys gets bored.¡±


    ¡°Keedra¡­ Keedrakthis,¡± she enunciated slowly, emphasising the ¡®th¡¯. ¡°How do you spell it? Also, who is that and how are they related to this?¡±


    This part I was more than familiar with. Sometimes when I became exceptionally tired of explaining, I¡¯d refuse to elaborate - occasionally for years on end. But not today. Before the new visitor had arrived with the usual loud bang, I''d already been several ghost wines in and my sense of propriety had loosened.


    ¡°Kaedhrakthys is a steaming pile of excrement,¡± I slurred.


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit I was hoping for more than that,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Because that¡¯s all you need to know.¡± I wasn''t too keen on getting into that whole thing. ¡°I¡¯m sure you want more, but I¡¯ll forewarn you it won¡¯t make any difference.¡±


    The spectre frowned. ¡°Now, wait a minute,¡± she said. ¡°It''s exclusionary to bring up a name someone doesn''t know and then not answer questions. And those were strong words. If someone''s giving you problems, well, you¡¯re talking to the hero of Charismo!" Just like that, the enthusiasm returned. "I died ¨C bravely ¨C saving the world ¨C successfully ¨C from Dark Lord Aggranda. So if there¡¯s another one of those pissbutts in the afterlife, I have the relevant qualifications and experience to deal with them.¡±


    My glass was too empty to continue this conversation, but I could fix it. I slid through the bar to the other side of the counter, swung my apron off its hook to my person and poured myself a drink. Being a ghost, the liquid glugged visibly down my neck through my skin.


    My visitor widened her hollow sockets. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re the bartender? Then who¡¯s he?¡±


    She pointed to Mothrow.


    ¡°That¡¯s Mothrow,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯re not good at this whole ¡®explaining¡¯ thing, are you?¡±


    ¡°On the contrary,¡± I remarked, taking another swig, ¡°I can wax lyrical with the best of them when I want to. But so far you haven¡¯t given me a reason why I should bother.¡±


    ¡°Defeating your nemesis isn¡¯t good enough?¡±


    ¡°Sheesh, take it easy.¡± I found my stool and thumped its feet hard against the stone. ¡°You died fifteen minutes ago. This isn¡¯t Soddit; no one¡¯s having their villages destroyed by bandits.¡±


    ¡°Undead.¡±


    ¡°None of those here,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Maybe you should get that workaholism looked at. Then again,¡± I added, shrugging, ¡°your only current diagnosticians are myself and Mothrow. Drink?¡±


    Far from having the desired effect, the spectre stepped back from the counter and began pacing to and fro across the wider expanse of the room. The edges of her form dissolved into continually reconstituting trails of wispy shadow. Other than human and female, it was hard to tell how she¡¯d looked while living, since all dead were blue and translucent with features prone to shifting. I¡¯d used to think it would get easier with time, but it didn¡¯t.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°That''s a good point," the spectre muttered. "Where are all the others? People were dying all around me. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Squashed under chains the size of mountains; torsos ripped from limbs or exploding from the inside out; organs squishing everywhere with undead devouring the living hearts; whole legions of ¨C¡±


    She paused, noticing my attentive bend forward, elbows supporting my chin.


    ¡°News is slow,¡± I justified it.


    ¡°You know that¡¯s creepy.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t get a lot of viscera here,¡± I said reasonably, passing an illustrative hand through my body. ¡°No one appreciates the full breadth of the living until after they¡¯ve been dead. Do continue.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I will,¡± she said.


    ¡°Pooh.¡± Disappointing, particularly for a representative of Charismo. I sighed and dropped back to semi-inattention.


    ¡°What''s the deal, then? Do each of the dead get their own bar? Are they all bars? Or is it tailored for each individual?¡±


    I doubted it would even have been an improvement having others to share the load. ¡°Time works differently here,¡± I fell into rote, gesturing mechanically around at the tables and piano. ¡°Ghosts drop in in no particular order whenever they feel like it. Sometimes I get several hundred at a time exceeding the dimensions of the room so that they all have to stand inside each other to fit. Sometimes I get no one. Today it¡¯s you.¡±


    ¡°And Mothrow.¡± The spectre nodded towards him.


    ¡°And Mothrow.¡± Since I¡¯d already started explaining, I supposed it didn¡¯t hurt to fallacy my sunk costs further. The wine helped. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re the first arrival from your chaos bubble. Heroic sacrifices jump the queue. It''s a meaningless privilege, but you get to tell the story first.¡±


    ¡°So then, regardless of bubble status, where are the dead who were here before?¡±


    I flicked a thumb towards the door.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing it again,¡± she said.


    ¡°I am a bartender in the afterlife,¡± I recited, finishing my drink and pouring myself a second. ¡°I am, in fact, the only bartender in it. You cannot possibly understand the excruciating depths of my boredom. People arrive here, they leave, and I never see them again. Sometimes it takes them a while, mind. But they go.¡±


    ¡°A while? Are they scared to move on?¡±


    ¡°This is moving on, hero. There''s no afterdeath; what you see is what you get. This bar, and the eternal doom labyrinth.¡±


    The spectre¡¯s hollow gaze swung very slowly to where the latter was pressed up against the outside of the nearest window. ¡°Oh.¡± She glanced back at Mothrow. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I said.


    Having now captured our attention, the labyrinth began trying very hard to retain it, flashing seductive glimpses and attractive poses. Traps, spikes and glints of ambiguous treasure shimmered sultrily in its all-devouring partitions. My wine glass vibrated slightly as the labyrinth ground against the walls.


    ¡°Well, we know one thing: your nemesis is out there, and I¡¯m coming for him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s two,¡± I pointed out. ¡°I¡¯ll also advise that entering the labyrinth means certain doom, and it¡¯s not a figure of speech.¡±


    ¡°Marvellous! I wasn¡¯t sure death would be capable of offering a challenge. Besides, I¡¯m already deceased. How hard can it be?¡±


    I coughed lightly over the rim of my drink. ¡°You¡¯ve a lack of weapons, an equal lack of knowledge, and any items or magic you had in life will be gone. Also ¨C and I feel the need to stress this ¨C certain doom.¡±


    ¡°Sure, those are all valid points,¡± acknowledged the spectre. ¡°But if the alternative is ending up like you, I¡¯ll take my chances. You can¡¯t tell me ¡®oh no, bored forever¡¯, and then be surprised when I take it seriously.¡±


    I straightened up, moderately insulted. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m in this position by choice? Chaos, I would have thrown myself in a hundred times over. But you¡¯re newly dead. At least think it through.¡±


    My patron¡¯s eye sockets slanted expressively and sympathetically upwards in the centre. Amazing what they accomplished without eyebrows. It had been so long since I¡¯d seen any I could barely remember how they looked. And I might have been thinking of caterpillars.


    ¡°Awww, you¡¯ll miss me!¡± was what she took away from it.


    ¡°I might if you continue your story.¡±


    But I probably wouldn¡¯t. Too many dead passed through. After a while they all merged into a fuzzy blur, no matter how subjectively interesting.


    ¡°Alright, change of plan,¡± the visitor said. That was fast. ¡°Local dark lord deposition is now moved to priority two. Number one being getting you out of here.¡±


    ¡°Good luck with that,¡± I said. Pulling the shirt down from my collarbone, I tapped at the ominously throbbing marble-sized orb in the centre. ¡°See this? It¡¯s a curse. Walking over the threshold triggers it, and then I¡¯m right back here behind the counter.¡±


    ¡°Have you tried the windows?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t about to dignify that with an answer.


    ¡°Come on, I don¡¯t know you! I¡¯m trying to gather information here, despite trying circumstances. Although I suppose reticence is understandable; I didn¡¯t finish introducing myself.¡± She held out a blue, translucent arm. ¡°I¡¯m Fascina.¡±


    ¡°Like fascism?¡±


    ¡°No! Like fascination. It¡¯s traditional Charismid.¡±


    I debated not taking it. Positive relationships led to sentimentality, which invariably proved unpleasant. But she did command attention in a slightly-too-enthusiastic manner, and I did want the rest of her story. After a second, I held out my own semi-opaque limb and let her shake it over the counter. Our hands mostly went through each other.


    ¡°Ameri,¡± I introduced myself, then wiped my palm on my trousers. ¡°You were talking about an epic battle? As a way to get to know each other and all.¡±


    ¡°Yesterday¡¯s news,¡± Fascina brushed it off. ¡°Dark Lord Aggranda is finished and disposed of. The concerning matter of the day is now your career exit. Fortunately, I¡¯m a renowned curse-breaker.¡± She beamed at me and tried to pull up a stool. Her hands went through.


    ¡°You have to want to hold it,¡± I instructed her. ¡°Like with your glass earlier.¡±


    Her sockets got squinty before she succeeded; so much so they risked shrinking out of existence. ¡°First question: Can you walk through walls?¡±


    ¡°Some.¡±


    ¡°Sink through the floor?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but it triggers the curse and I¡¯ve seen too many patrons get lost in there.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± she said. ¡°Did the curse-giver mention any cryptic conditions, possibly in rhyme?¡±


    ¡°You know, showcasing an example in context would be more enlightening,¡± I suggested. ¡°Maybe in a viscera-filled battle against Aggranda.¡±


    She wagged a playful finger at me. ¡°Answer the question.¡±


    ¡°Fine - no conditions. And before you ask, I can tell you what was on Kaedhrakthys¡¯ mind. Unless you count excessive creative swearing, it wasn¡¯t cryptic.¡±


    ¡°That does sound dark lord-ish. Did you come into possession of any recent heirlooms or artifacts, or other notable changes soon before the curse?¡±


    ¡°Let me think. Oh, right, I died and was told I had to run this bar.¡±


    Fascina¡¯s smile widened as she leaned her palms on the counter. ¡°So you picked a fight with a dark lord.¡± Her voice rose in excitement. ¡°You know what this means: You¡¯re a fellow hero. This is excellent news; I''m off to an efficient start with my new party. Consider yourself officially recruited." She beamed at me again. "I knew I was drawn to you!¡±


    Technically, everyone was drawn to me. Or at least the bar. ¡°Were you?" I sighed, reasoning she''d soon be gone in a week or two anyway.


    Oh, joy.

 2. Been Done to Death

    We stared at each other over the counter, each waiting for the other to speak.


    ¡°How long ago did this confrontation happen?¡± Fascina finally asked. ¡°And why you? What sets you apart from the other souls in here?¡±


    I tried to remember. ¡°Several hundred years, maybe? A thousand? Two? It¡¯s hard to know when there aren¡¯t any clocks. No sun, either, though even if there was, there¡¯s no reason it would follow the living¡¯s schedule. I can¡¯t even go by passage of time on Soddit, since no one arrives in a logical order.¡±


    ¡°Sounds relaxing, to be honest.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how I wish you could take over.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, but I have a dark lord to kill. Er, actually ¨C how does doom happen in the afterlife? Is it a case of wandering lost in the maze forever?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± I laughed. ¡°Doom is much more certain. The labyrinth is infinite, though, yes. Take a look at your arms.¡±


    She stared at me a moment before doing so.


    ¡°See those cracks?¡±


    ¡°The glowing lines? I thought those were part of the ghost aesthetic.¡±


    ¡°Well, right now you¡¯re coherent,¡± I said. ¡°That won¡¯t last. Over time, those cracks will widen and you¡¯ll start to shatter. Maybe in a day or two. At first it¡¯ll just be gaps. You might lose a finger or two. Then the voids will get bigger. You might lose a leg, or your head if you¡¯re unlucky.¡±


    ¡°Ah, then that explains Mothrow.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, I decapitated him,¡± I said. ¡°I put the head in a safe place for later, but then I forgot where.¡±


    She eyed me suspiciously. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you get it back?¡±


    ¡°Eh.¡±


    ¡°Wait a minute ¨C earlier you said there were ghosts who stayed here for a while.¡±


    ¡°Well, the afterlife likes to dangle hope,¡± I said. ¡°If you couldn¡¯t tell by the labyrinth.¡±


    Both of us glanced towards the window, where the edifice in question was busy distractingly licking the glass. Sliding back through the counter, I walked across and pulled the shutters closed. ¡°Personally, I¡¯d argue it¡¯s easier accepting inevitability with whatever mediocre shreds of dignity you¡¯re conceivably clinging onto. But if you choose to prolong your suffering, you could go out and hunt for death extensions. Spoilers, though: they always end.¡±


    ¡°And what happens next? Is there another afterlife after this one? Maybe with more of a moral judgement factor attached?¡±


    I shrugged.


    ¡°Unless this is the moral judgement, and I¡¯m being tested.¡±


    ¡°You really, really aren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Well, the curse is obviously keeping you intact,¡± she noted correctly. ¡°Have you tried cutting the thing out?¡±


    ¡°Extensively. Let¡¯s just say it wasn¡¯t pretty.¡±


    Fascina¡¯s lips formed a slight ¡®ah¡¯. ¡°Tried making a meaningful sacrifice?¡±


    ¡°You mean like trying to shatter my being?¡±


    ¡°Good point. Also, not a cause I endorse. Facing your greatest fear?¡±


    ¡°This is it.¡±


    ¡°Saving a li ¨C forgiving your greatest enemy?¡±


    ¡°Would you do that?¡± I asked pointedly.


    ¡°So you haven¡¯t tried it, then.¡±


    ¡°No, I have, and it was appropriately cathartic. It¡¯s just been long enough I looped back round to hatred again.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± she said, frowning. ¡°This one is tricky. What about invoking divine powers?¡±


    I latched my fingers together over the countertop. ¡°Key misconception. The living think Soddit has a bunch of incompetent deities who need heroes to fix their problems for them. None of that¡¯s true. They don¡¯t exist. All of it¡¯s Kaedhrakthys.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to strongly disagree on that one. But I¡¯ll accept he¡¯s a deity I haven¡¯t heard of. Aggranda was also attempting to raise himself to the position. If we hadn¡¯t disrupted the ritual, he would have succeeded.¡±


    Finally, we were back on the interesting topic. ¡°What kind of ritual?¡± I asked.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Well, he hunted and sacrificed the six holy beasts, one from each continent, and consumed their flesh. Then he raised six towering pillars of blackest obsidian from their corpses. At the point their leylines intersected in the ocean, he raised a dire mountain of terror. That¡¯s when the issue was brought to my attention.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure ¡®disrupted¡¯ was the correct word you chose, there?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes ¨C we caught it early. We made it to some of the six forbidden tomes before Aggranda, which proved critical in delaying his ascension. Fortunately, he inscribed the six dread sigils on their respective obelisks out in the open, so discovering them was just a matter of journeying to each one in the prophesied order and absorbing their dark forces.¡± She shuddered. ¡°I hope I never have to do that again.¡±


    ¡°What are the chances?¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Anyway, while we were battling the darkest versions of ourselves, Aggranda proceeded to destroy all remaining evidence of his mortal identity, which he did by conquering all the continents and razing their cities.¡±


    ¡°I assume this is where the undead came in.¡±


    ¡°No, this was just his regular army. The undead plague happened after he sacrificed his six loyal generals for the blood of the willing, which he couldn¡¯t do until after he¡¯d poisoned the six sacred wells to contaminate the world¡¯s mana.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see.¡±


    ¡°Right? It makes sense when you think about it.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you actually saved the world?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Absolutely. You see, Aggranda managed to collect five of the six vile artifacts, but our party member Acuitas procured the sixth by succumbing to the darkness and becoming a lich. We thought he¡¯d betrayed us, but it turned out to actually be a double bluff that was only convincing because we believed it.¡±


    ¡°Why was that the only reason?¡±


    ¡°Because this all only came out in a confrontation in front of the dark lord at the apex of his eternal coronation.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right at the dramatic end.¡±


    ¡°Well, no. You see, Aggranda had split his consciousness by that point into the obelisks, tomes, sigils and most of the undead. The whole time we¡¯d believed ourselves operating in secret, he¡¯d had eyes on us, steering us into doing his dirty work. Every minion we killed grew the festering corruption in our souls until our minds and moralities were all but consumed, leaving behind nothing but hollow shells primed to become his new generals. But there was one thing we had that he didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°The power of friendship?¡±


    ¡°Exactly! You¡¯re a natural at heroing! With the last of our combined willpower, we were able to resist his control just long enough to activate the ultimate weapon.¡±


    ¡°Wait, which weapon? You skipped that bit.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because it was within us all along. Literally comprised from the combined fragments of our corrupted souls. With the power of the activated obelisk nexus ¨C and friendship ¨C we were able to travel back in time to before all the razing and reassess our strategy.¡±


    ¡°Heading straight to the dark lord to immediately use the ultimate weapon on him again?¡±


    She sighed. ¡°Alas, it only had enough power for a single use.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound very ¡®ultimate¡¯,¡± I observed.


    ¡°Fortunately, all was not lost,¡± Fascina continued. ¡°Because Aggranda had split his own soul into phylacteries and hidden one on each of the continents, guarded by baleful dungeons. We decided to split up ¨C¡±


    ¡°Friendship no longer useful?¡±


    ¡°Listen, friendship is a tool in the toolbox. Sometimes you have to prioritise it below efficiency. Anyway, we each took on a dungeon with our Dark General powers - which was quite enjoyable, if I¡¯m honest - retrieved the phylacteries, and stabbed them.¡±


    She steadied herself, tension gathering in her frame.


    I waited.


    ¡°¡­which released his final form.¡±


    And there it was.


    ¡°As he rose into the sky, spreading chittering darkness across the lands, hundred arms sweeping great swathes of destruction and terror across the battlefield, the two great armies clashed.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure how we¡¯d gone from dungeons to armies or a single battle when the participants had been split across continents, but at this point I didn¡¯t mind. It was a brilliant, if very silly, story. I sipped on my glass and barely noticed its bell was empty. Even the labyrinth seemed to have quietened behind the shutters.


    ¡°My companions and I fought our way through the dire isle, laying waste to the evil who opposed us,¡± Fascina continued. ¡°And in the heart of its bleak citadel, drawn from the locus of the obelisks, we forged six mighty seals to banish Aggranda from the world. Activating them required only our lives.¡±


    The bar fell silent.


    ¡°And it worked?¡± I asked, beckoning frantically for the payoff.


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t actually see it,¡± she admitted. ¡°I died. But I¡¯m extremely confident.¡±


    Close enough. All the effort it had taken to get to this point had been worth it. Just for a moment, the suffocating emptiness in my head had started to fill. Countless dragging years in the same self-restoring bar I¡¯d memorised to within a millimetre ¨C momentarily, blissfully pushed to the rear. Even if only briefly, it was nice not to feel as dead as I looked.


    I put down the empty glass I¡¯d been clutching and reached for the wine for a refill. My fingers brushed air. The bottle was already back on the shelf, unopened and full. I felt sober as a cold stone, or cold ghosts in general.


    ¡°That,¡± I responded in genuine reverence while I still had time, hand suspended over my cursed thrumming orb, ¡°was extraordinary.¡±


    ¡°Well.¡± Fascina looked down at her knuckles while a smile curled around her lips. ¡°It did feel good to tell it. Thank you for teasing it out of me. You¡¯re right; I¡¯m proud of my accomplishments, and should be. So I¡¯d be happy to share any of the details in depth as you desire.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± I asked distractedly, looking away from the counter. I could feel it all rushing back out already, carving back room for everything I hated. The loss and inevitability. The tedium. The ¨C I forgot what. The reality. ¡°No need to bother. I got the gist the first time. Yesterday¡¯s news, as you were saying. And it¡¯s not like it''s relevant to us here.¡±


    She gave me a startled glance in response.


    I positioned my stool under the bar shelf and swept down the next bottle in line. It didn¡¯t really matter which; I¡¯d been through them all several thousand times. I held it up label forward. ¡°Phantom palinka, fresh from the archives of Last Call. Want some?¡±


    The spectre¡¯s chin tilted for a second. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, no.¡±


    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Pushing my finger into the neck of the bottle, I made the tip solid and popped the cork from underneath. I couldn¡¯t remember the fruit it smelt like. Pouring myself a tall glass, I took a sizeable swig. ¡°Ahhh.¡±


    Fascina had climbed off her seat again. ¡°So, about your cursed chest thingy,¡± she remarked in a suspiciously too-casual voice. ¡°Mind if I take a look at it?¡±


    ¡°Mm-hm,¡± I mumbled, mouth full of liquid.


    ¡°Great!¡± she replied, and swung the barstool at my head.

 3. Haunting the Local Haunt

    Multiple unstable scenes competed for blurry visual real estate as they swung around my skull. One of them looked like the bar interior; another, the labyrinth. A third appeared to be a vast, empty citadel I assumed I was hallucinating.


    As I sat up, they resolved into just the labyrinth.


    ¡°Urgh,¡± I groaned, rapping a test knuckle on the side of my head. ¡°Did I drink myself into oblivion again, or did you really hit that hard?¡±


    I swivelled the wounded appendage towards Fascina, who was in the process of walking into the labyrinth.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I called groggily after her. ¡°I think you dropped your charisma.¡±


    Honestly, some people. Although the fault wasn¡¯t entirely hers; spectres couldn¡¯t be hurt unless they consented on some conscious level. It wasn¡¯t hard to deduce what that said about me.


    Reaching down, my fingers touched softness, not the broad stone slabs in the bar. With a start, I snapped back into awareness as intent cleared the clouds from my mind.


    I wasn¡¯t sitting at the entrance looking out at the labyrinth. I was in it.


    The labyrinth.


    Free, somehow.


    Whipping an arm in front of my face, I stared at the fresh confirming cracks in it and checked over my shoulder to make sure it wasn¡¯t concussion.


    The entrance of the bar looked back.


    It had been so long since I¡¯d seen the exterior, only the decor peeking through the door made it recognisable. The frontal fa?ade and verandah looked old-timey; a descriptor I knew was ridiculous but had never been able to shake. Above the door, a glowing sign hung in magical silver light bearing the establishment¡¯s name: LAST CALL CANTINA. Several elegant plants framed the entrance, and I shook my head in disbelief. We had plants? Nobody had ever mentioned that.


    Jumping to my feet, I rushed to the door and passionately hugged the frame, then stepped back and kicked it as hard as I could manage. The intense pain indicated it broke several of the bones in my feet, but it did put a dent in the frame.


    ¡°Take that, you chaos-blasted, worm-ridden, pit-rotted scum of a grave! Harrh!¡± I shook my foot into restorative intangibility, reversed it, and kicked at the door again. Another small chunk broke off.


    I was still hacking at it when Fascina¡¯s hand fell on my shoulder. It didn¡¯t pass through this time.


    Aiming a final thump at the frame, I broke several more toes and reluctantly turned to face her. ¡°Profusely deserved.¡±


    ¡°Hey, if it makes you feel better.¡±


    I focused on her properly, surprised she was still there. The shock of my situation began to take a backseat to the questions. ¡°How the nether did you manage to break my curse?¡±


    ¡°I told you I was an expert,¡± she grinned. ¡°Sometimes when a curse seems unbreakable, the trick is not to remove but replace it. Dark magic isn¡¯t good at cooperation, see; it¡¯s all about toxic domination. So all you need to push it out is to offer superior competition.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡±


    ¡°A stronger curse, obviously!¡± She beamed. ¡°Everyone thinks it¡¯s complicated, but once you understand the principle, it¡¯s quite simple, really.¡±


    I narrowed my sockets at her. ¡°You cursed me?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. But don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m a good guy. It¡¯s nothing debilitating.¡±


    I didn¡¯t much care what the effects were so long as I never had to serve another drink. The recent memory of the grass under my fingers stirred, and I felt the visceral urge to throw myself down in it again.


    ¡°How you did it is what concerns me,¡± I resisted, glancing up at what passed for the sky above me. Empty darkness yawned above the labyrinth. To the freshly dead, it probably looked intimidating. I was just glad to see it.


    Somehow I managed to tear my gaze back to Fascina. ¡°Magic can¡¯t cross over from the world of the living,¡± I explained. ¡°We have our own, of course, as spirits.¡± I levitated a handspan off the ground for purposes of illustration, sockets glowing and hair whipping in ominous strands. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t include hexing.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± She seemed genuinely surprised. ¡°Guess that whole forbidden chapter on death jinxes was misinformation. Wow. You really can¡¯t trust anything.¡±


    I motioned at her impatiently for an answer.


    ¡°Oh. Well, even so, I still have an impressive compendium of dark magic proficiency floating around in here, even without access to my abilities. If some of it worked despite that, it just indicates its independence from the wielder.¡±


    ¡°But nothing you encountered from your history should be operable,¡± I protested, still hovering. ¡°You¡¯re from a chaos bubble ¨C a temporary overwrite, not the mainline shaft.¡±


    ¡°No offence, but you¡¯re incorrect,¡± Fascina contended. She folded her arms, one slightly visible through the other. ¡°The living world is rich with intricate and ancient history. At least until Aggranda destroyed it.¡±


    I dropped back onto the grass. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. A chaos bubble is a complete reality replacement. It seems real to you because it is, but it isn¡¯t the base model. The real real Soddit doesn¡¯t have attribute-powered continents and convenient divisions of six forming the basis of society. It does have weirdly prolific bandit activity and a surplus of Chosen One farm boys, but the point is, your fellow ghosts will think you¡¯ve just escaped an asylum.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Your experience is not only made up, it¡¯s absurd.¡±


    Fascina¡¯s head lowered, her lips in a thin line as she gripped her elbows. ¡°So say you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, so say I: the dead man who¡¯s heard it from thousands. Kaedhrakthys runs the world through petty, whimsical scenarios. Vanilla world, then chaos bubble. Back to vanilla, different chaos. Vanilla. Chaos. Repeat forever. Your realm is controlled by a mad god, sorry to tell you. At least here, where we are, is relatively sane.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Turning her back, she proceeded into the grassy clearing. I thought she might keep going, but instead she stopped, staring silently into the distance. The labyrinth stared back, no longer actively vying for attention. The moment the curse had broken, it already had us.


    There wasn¡¯t normally such a clearing, just one or two starting branches at most. Today, the cantina sat unobstructed in the green; we could choose to walk around the whole building. A different route radiated out at every angle, glittering with mystery and unfulfilled promises. A gentle breeze tousled my hair from one; the edge of a shimmering mountain of treasure barely visible around the next.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It was all for my benefit; insurance for eluding the labyrinth longer than anyone else. It wanted to make sure I chose it.


    But that had never been in doubt.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like your attitude,¡± Fascina called back, breaking me from my thoughts.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can manage with it.¡±


    ¡°Really? Because it seems like it¡¯s upsetting you more than me. I don¡¯t know why you think I¡¯d have a problem with the existence of my world, regardless of how valid you think it is. It¡¯s my world. I fought to protect it for a reason.¡±


    ¡°Because it amounts to nothing,¡± I told her cruelly. ¡°All your work will be undone the moment it resets. Everyone you knew will vanish along with everything you fought to protect.¡±


    ¡°But that also happens to the original, correct? Just because it gets more stage time doesn¡¯t make it more real or make more sense.¡± She gestured around her. ¡°And if we all end up here in the end, what does it matter?¡±


    I marched up to her. ¡°It matters because a reality that exists for five seconds isn¡¯t fair. Not compared to one which lasts forever.¡±


    ¡°I know that. We¡¯ve already established Kaedhrakthys is a dark lord who needs to be dealt with. But that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t also thank him for establishing my world to begin with.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful ¨C you¡¯re as loco as he is.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m done. You can also do whatever you want with the meagre time you have left.¡± I planted my bottom on the grass, shivered a little extra in the cold, and lay back until my head hit the ground.


    Peaceful. No more acting as barkeep. No more endless repeats of the same sad tales. No more watching new arrivals¡¯ fear and disappointment, or how they cried and shattered their way to oblivion. It was about the best I could hope for. I had no eyes to close, so stared up at the empty depths and began waiting for the end.


    Fascina leaned into my vision.


    ¡°Go away,¡± I said.


    ¡°Can¡¯t do that. I¡¯m a hero; we don¡¯t leave people out to expire because of one petty disagreement. Besides, I recruited you to my party and need your help with Kaedhrakthys.¡±


    I drew out an elongated sigh. ¡°He¡¯s an unfathomably powerful eldritch being who frequently rewrites the universe. You¡¯re a ghost. I¡¯m not sure how you don¡¯t see the problem.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how you do. I¡¯ve already broken one of his curses. And good always wins eventually, provided you meet a certain set of requirements.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t true even outside the afterlife.¡± But the curse ¨C that stumped me. How could she have laid one more powerful than a god¡¯s?


    ¡°It¡¯s true in my version of the universe,¡± Fascina responded. ¡°And I only just arrived; maybe it¡¯s still dominant out there.¡±


    It felt like she was conceding even that much mainly to extend the olive branch. ¡°I¡¯m unrecruiting myself,¡± I concluded, sinking several centimetres into the ground and lodging myself in it to be sure. The labyrinth offered resistance, as I¡¯d known it would. It didn¡¯t approve of cheaters. Fortunately, it seemed to read my intent enough to allow it.


    ¡°But the cause needs you,¡± Fascina insisted, as if repeating it enough made it convincing. ¡°Rule of si ¨C er, context-relevant patterns. Heroes don¡¯t win battles alone. Maybe Acuitas could come up with a novel workaround for the afterlife, but he¡¯s not here. So I¡¯m using what I know. It¡¯s fairly obvious to me you¡¯re one of this realm¡¯s heroes ¨C¡±


    I snorted in response.


    ¡°¨C and until we confirm otherwise, I¡¯m nominating myself as a second. If you¡¯re sure we can¡¯t go by attributes, then we need to figure out what other pattern the afterlife requires. Maybe there are other bars.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t. And you don¡¯t have one.¡±


    ¡°Or other emotional states.¡± She raised a palm and traced it through the air dramatically. ¡°¡®You are Existential Ennui.¡¯ Hmm. No. Oh, I have it!¡± She snapped her fingers. ¡°The six ¨C I mean, as-yet-undiscovered number of ¨C heavenly curses.¡±


    A small, surprised part of me twinged in what might have been very reluctant recognition. Not for the claim itself, because it was ridiculous, but because I did know of at least one other curse in the afterlife. But mentioning it would only make me likelier to be enlisted.


    ¡°Nice theory,¡± I said. ¡°Let me shatter in peace.¡±


    She came closer instead, squatting and looming over me. ¡°Things may seem dire, Ameri, but I promise it gets better.¡±


    My nostril twitched as I suppressed my irritation. It had gotten better. This was better! Hadn¡¯t she done enough bettering for one day before supply outstripped demand?


    ¡°You can at least accompany me,¡± Fascina said. ¡°Assuming you¡¯re right, our bodies are going to fall apart anyway no matter what. Might as well do it in the labyrinth.¡±


    The labyrinth agreed with this, its passages subtly widening.


    ¡°You won¡¯t leave me alone until I say yes, will you?¡±


    ¡°That is correct.¡±


    I groaned and released myself, floating back up to the surface. ¡°What¡¯s a few days compared to the misery I¡¯ve already been put through?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit, spirit! Let¡¯s pack what we need from the bar and go.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need anything,¡± I informed her. ¡°We¡¯re dead. I don¡¯t even know why the afterlife has a bar, other than it being the general expectation of a place to meet people. But it¡¯s not like anything else around here runs on metaphors.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it does, and you just haven¡¯t run into it yet.¡±


    ¡°Doubtful. I¡¯ve heard a lot of stories from the dead.¡±


    ¡°Fair. What about Mothrow?¡±


    ¡°He can stay there,¡± I said firmly.


    Fascina threw me a guilty look. ¡°While you were out cold, I searched the bar for his head, but I didn¡¯t find anything. You didn¡¯t stick it in the floor or something, did you?¡±


    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°And you wouldn¡¯t happen to be lying because you¡¯re still angry?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°I am angry, but I¡¯m not lying. My memory¡¯s¡­ not the best. I think it comes with being a cursed ghost stuck in a bar for too long.¡±


    ¡°Probably. None of the forbidden tomes touched on ghostly dementia. Or a labyrinth, for that matter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that bad. And they wouldn¡¯t. No one comes back from the afterlife once they make it here. Dying, maybe. But the way time works here, you don¡¯t actually arrive until it¡¯s final. I hope you had no illusions about rejoining the living.¡±


    ¡°None whatsoever.¡± She smiled merrily. ¡°I¡¯m all about the future.¡±


    She would also be disappointed there.


    It didn¡¯t take long, either. The hero of Charismo glanced towards the bar. ¡°It feels grimy leaving him in there. Does it hurt?¡±


    ¡°Sadly, no.¡±


    ¡°I can see how you¡¯re good at making enemies.¡± She stroked the tip of her chin. ¡°It would be a hassle dragging a body with us, and it would take him further from his head. Perhaps we could leave a note for the next patron.¡±


    ¡°Nothing to write on,¡± I said. ¡°And the cantina resets. So I wouldn¡¯t bother unless you want to spell it out in slivers of your own flesh.¡±


    ¡°I had considered it,¡± she mentioned, to which I made a double-take. ¡°But I¡¯ll probably need all my flesh for the labyrinth. I guess that¡¯s settled, then. Off we go.¡±


    She didn¡¯t wait, striding towards the edge of the ring. Not even asking what the point of it all was or where to go. It was unlike the dead to treat the choice as if it didn¡¯t matter, even once they knew it shifted. Either they sought to discover a larger pattern, or applied small-scale strategies to the decisions immediately in front of them. Was that glint a lever or a trap? That hidden opening a passage to treasure, or a distracting detour?


    For my purposes, it wasn¡¯t important which path we chose. But I did hang back, electing to instead walk around the back of Last Call. I¡¯d never seen it, after all.


    It was exactly the length I¡¯d expected, rendered in large slabs of stone. That there were slabs at all had always struck me as curious, since it indicated the place had been built with tools, perhaps repurposed from parts of the labyrinth. It felt like it should be magical.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what I¡¯d been hoping for; a secret message left by a patron, perhaps. Mothrow¡¯s head, successfully pushed through the wall. Some reason; something to justify all the time spent. But no, not a scratch ¨C not even carved initials.


    An explosive crash sounded from around the front. Completing the circuit, I sprinted to a halt where Fascina stood over the flickering remains of the sign above the door.


    She glanced at me with her palms up. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it.¡± The lights in her sockets shifted towards the roof over my shoulder.


    I turned and faced it with her. Not all the letters had fallen. Parts of the second and third words remained intact and preserved. This had never happened before. Not with all the angry spectres trying to damage it. Not once in all my centuries here.


    [ALL IN,] the sign now read in steady silver letters.

 4. Paths of Least Persistence

    Unnerving me wasn¡¯t easy; one of the benefits of being dead. I was used to the afterlife¡¯s perpetual chills, but now I felt the shivers.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s a coincidence,¡± Fascina murmured next to me over the fragmented sign.


    My mind raced, turning over the possibilities. Most obvious was that my curse mightn¡¯t have fully broken ¨C or it had, and we were looking at a failsafe. I hadn¡¯t thought its execution all that well-planned, but perhaps I¡¯d been mistaken.


    ¡°I did kick the door quite hard,¡± I suggested.


    There was also Fascina¡¯s replacement curse. I still didn¡¯t know what it did. The orb in my collarbone continued to throb away, so something was still active. I tugged down my shirt to examine it, but other than the new glowing cracks surrounding it, aesthetically it hadn¡¯t changed.


    A creak sounded from inside the bar preceding a loud snap as its central support beam collapsed. The roof sagged inwards, caving in a shower of rubble and dust that clouded the glow of the lanterns. Before the first wave could settle, the rest of the cantina followed in a tumbling domino effect. Seconds later, it comprised nothing but a mound of rubble.


    Fascina¡¯s voice was low in my ears. ¡°Destruction protocol. Typical of dark lords when they¡¯re defeated. The secrets binding their structures are too powerful to fall into enemy hands.¡±


    ¡°Maybe in the chaos bubble,¡± I said. ¡°Exactly what kind of curse did you hex me with?¡±


    The spectre seemed a little wounded at the suggestion. ¡°Nothing that would do this. This has to be the work of your nemesis.¡±


    ¡°This does come across as a threat,¡± I admitted.


    And I wasn¡¯t sure about the culprit. I eyed Mothrow¡¯s shoulders through the dust, still poking upright through the debris.


    Unless¡­ the labyrinth? I glanced around the edges of the glade. It did have a sense of humour which didn¡¯t always translate.


    The dust clouds were spreading.


    ¡°As for the curse ¨C¡± Fascina gave a mildly annoyed shrug, ¡°¨C chairs you sit on will wobble. That¡¯s it.¡±


    I wondered if there was a way a bar stool¡¯s instability could be extended to a whole building, but conceded it was a long shot, especially if I wasn¡¯t actively using it. The curse itself barely registered. If I¡¯d been alive it might have been annoying, but as it was I could simply float in the air.


    The hero curled her lip at me. ¡°I know that things are different here. But these patterns? I know them. Maybe they went unnoticed so long because they needed someone from my bubble to recognise them.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± I stated. ¡°We don¡¯t have dark lords in the afterlife. We have the labyrinth.¡±


    ¡°Does or does Kaedhrakthys not reside in the afterlife?¡±


    ¡°He does.¡±


    ¡°Does he or does he not, in your words, ¡®rewrite reality¡¯?¡±


    ¡°That, too. But only for the living.¡±


    She threw out her hands, palms open in vindication. ¡°I don¡¯t know the history between you, but we¡¯re not talking about a petty dispute. He chained you to this building because he knows you¡¯re a hero. That¡¯s the kind of thing they do.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s beyond ridiculous,¡± I argued, gesticulating. ¡°I¡¯m the only ghost who hasn¡¯t fallen into extinction in this place because of it. If I were such a threat, why not let me expire with the rest of them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because of your power that he keeps you,¡± she said. ¡°First of all, assuming heroes will die when you leave them unchecked is exactly how they get you. Second of all, you¡¯re a powerful tool. It¡¯s why Aggranda sought to corrupt my group instead of killing us; in the right hands we can be devastating weapons. Thirdly, I¡¯m not sure you are the only one.¡± She swept a hand behind her. ¡°If I¡¯m right, there¡¯ll be others out there in the labyrinth.¡±


    Powerful. Maybe once. On reflex I glanced at my arms, now cracked with imminence.


    ¡°Look, you might think he¡¯s unstoppable, but there are Rules. Knowing the parameters is a power of its own, and I know them. There¡¯s your proof.¡± She pointed to the settling wreckage.


    That was the mystery, true. Against all logic, Fascina¡¯s impossible gambit had worked, and it piqued my curiosity.


    She took my silence as acquiescence. ¡°Between that and your knowledge of the labyrinth, we have what we need to get started. And there¡¯s nothing for us here. So ¨C¡± she scratched the tip of her chin, ¡°¨C stupid question time, but I have to ask ¨C do you have any idea where we might find him?¡±


    ¡°Hah! No,¡± I lied. I had no intention of leading her where she wanted. It interfered with my plans to crumble into nothing.


    ¡°Of course. That would be too easy. Any particular path you¡¯d advise?¡±


    They were all the same, really. She¡¯d had it right the first time. The labyrinth did what the labyrinth wanted, within its limitations, and couldn¡¯t be predicted. I gestured towards her original pick, a wide-open passage hung with ornamental lanterns. ¡°It¡¯s got good visibility.¡±


    ¡°That was my thinking. If it¡¯s a trap, at least we¡¯ll be able to see it.¡±


    I accompanied her to the passage, pausing briefly to look back at the bar¡¯s wreckage. I wondered if ghosts would continue to drop in without it. Or, given how afterlife time operated, if Fascina had in fact been the last. The bar had been here long before I¡¯d taken over as custodian. It was entirely possible the rest of her bubble had arrived well in advance.


    I hadn¡¯t really expected to see the world end by proxy, but all things considered, it made an ironic kind of sense.


    The chosen passage was long and grassy, its lanterns burning orange. The flames looked real but emitted no warmth, and there were no obvious turnings ahead. As a whole, the labyrinth¡¯s architecture was very unlike the cantina''s, which had been designed for human occupation. The labyrinth''s had not, all towering walls and pristine surfaces free of entropic degradation.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    As befitted the afterlife, it was quiet, with only a faint underlying resonance like a giant, distant bell. It amplified the sound of our feet on the grass, and after a few minutes I switched to floating above it, a silent spectre amidst the graves of countless others. The bar was the place for living conventions. The labyrinth didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Can you teach me to do that?¡± Fascina asked. ¡°The only flight I have any experience with is transforming into a swarm of locusts.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not hard,¡± I said. ¡°Give me your hand. Now remember you¡¯re dead.¡±


    ¡°That was already kind of evident.¡±


    ¡°I mean, really remember it.¡± With my free hand, I gestured around the passage. ¡°All of this, all these trappings, are lies to anchor you to the surface. You don¡¯t have a body or feet to stand on. Those are decomposing on Soddit. You¡¯re nothing but a self-aware memory of someone who once existed. And you¡¯re fading.¡±


    This was the point at which I usually got punched in the face, but Fascina just squinted at her feet. ¡°Is there a method that¡¯s less depressing?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Guess I¡¯m walking. Shame ¨C I was hoping we could fly over these walls.¡±


    ¡°The labyrinth accounts for that, anyway.¡± I let go of her hand. ¡°You might think you¡¯re cheating it, but you¡¯re the one being scammed.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that extends to walking through them?¡±


    ¡°Usually, yes.¡±


    She glanced down the corridor ahead. ¡°Is there a chance this path could go on forever?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the labyrinth. There¡¯s a chance of anything.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re turning back and trying a different one.¡±


    I was a little surprised to see the glade and its pile of rubble where we¡¯d left it, and not simply another unending tunnel. Before stepping into it, Fascina unhooked the nearest lantern from the wall and looped its hook through her sash. She scoured the ring of potential options in thought, before moving one down to the right. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The new passage was damp with trickles of water running down the walls. It twisted more than the previous hallway, erring gradually to the left until I was certain we should have intersected the previous path. Fascina met my gaze, clearly having the same thought.


    Like the first route, it didn¡¯t hold many points of interest. ¡°Maybe we should have stuck with it,¡± the hero eventually said, repositioning the lantern. ¡°I¡¯d rather not turn back again only to find out they¡¯re all like this.¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t usually,¡± I noted. ¡°But they might be today.¡±


    After the way it had acted, I¡¯d have thought the labyrinth would be eager to steer us further into its embrace. Instead, the impression I was receiving was neutral. Making itself attractive only to do¡­ what? Nothing to follow up? Neutral wasn¡¯t a bad state for it to be in, and was definitely the most likely to bring spectres back to the bar.


    I just hadn¡¯t thought it would act that way towards me.


    My sense of time was long since ruined, but we pressed on for Fascina¡¯s estimation of about another hour. She walked quickly. I recognised the signs of the newly-dead wanting to sleep; minds not having caught up with their bodies. Restlessness verging on paranoia and an urge to hurry towards a place they could rest.


    ¡°We¡¯re turning back,¡± she declared eventually, the damp making her hair lank. ¡°If there¡¯s still nothing on the next run, we¡¯ll commit. But I want to give it one more try.¡±


    ¡°First, let me check something,¡± I said. ¡°This water has to be coming from somewhere.¡±


    Taking it cautiously, I left her on the ground and drifted towards the top of the walls. I¡¯d heard stories, of course, but had never flown further than the cantina ceiling myself.


    As hoped, the labyrinth didn¡¯t stop me cheating. Its walls ended where they were supposed to, terminating in smooth, square ends about a metre deep. The water sprung from a benign hollow along the length of the centre, bubbling up gently to trickle back down. I stuck a finger in and tested some on the end of my tongue. Clean.


    From here, Fascina was a flickering light at the bottom, and I doubted her view of me would be better. I kept climbing, still cautious, but encountered no resistance. I¡¯d really been granted an exemption. To my interest, the shape of the path we were on continued to weave forwards unbroken, with no points of decision. No end was visible.


    But there was more. As I gained distance, the nearby section spreading before me resolved into recognisable letters.


    LEAVE HER, the labyrinth spelt out in twisting passages.


    Huh. I folded my arms and addressed it. ¡°I tried to; you saw her.¡± I frowned as a new suspicion occurred. ¡°Are you jealous?¡±


    The labyrinth didn¡¯t answer, but its layout somehow looked more disapproving.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t be. I¡¯m humouring her. She got rid of my curse and I¡¯m grateful, but our goals in death are hardly compatible. I meant it when I said I¡¯d shatter.¡±


    The disapproval deepened further.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m entitled to. However long it¡¯s been has been too long. I¡¯ve nothing left to give. I¡¯m done.¡± I hesitated a moment as I realised what I¡¯d just said. ¡°Wait, are you seriously arguing? You love shatterings.¡±


    Nothing about it actively changed, but the frustration in the architecture below me seemed abruptly overwhelming, uncanny angles and protrusions drawing my attention where none had before.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± I apologised. ¡°It¡¯s messy. If things had gone differently, neither of us would be where we are. But you can¡¯t fix me, just like I can¡¯t fix you. Me not leaving won¡¯t solve that. And you should give Fascina a chance. She is a hero. If she can break my curse, maybe she could help you. Of course,¡± I added slyly, ¡°you¡¯ll have to keep her around long enough.¡±


    The lights in my sockets drifted towards the distinct arrow positioned after the ¡®HER¡¯. It pointed to a second, much smaller circular glade in the labyrinth I couldn¡¯t see any direct connection to. We¡¯d come far enough in that my current vantage didn¡¯t reveal the location of the original, so instead I made a note of its direction.


    I patted my palm on the top of the wall as I descended, feeling conflicted but reassured. The bar sign hadn¡¯t been the labyrinth¡¯s doing ¨C the tones as different as two distinct voices.


    But if not the labyrinth, then who?


    Fascina looked relieved when I returned. ¡°I was beginning to worry you¡¯d abandoned me up there. Did you find anything?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Everything''s inert. I might have a potential destination, but it needs a sense of direction. How¡¯s yours?¡±


    ¡°Reasonable, but not above reproach. The good navigators come from Intelligia.¡± She grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sure being trapped in a bar was amazing for developing the skill.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m relying on you,¡± I agreed, and pointed into the wall. ¡°That way. Maybe by backtracking to the bar and finding the nearest spoke.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll do it. Strong collaboration skills are essential to any hero¡¯s success ¨C Sensibelle always said that, and she knew what she was talking about.¡±


    Even by chaos bubble standards, Fascina''s was insane. I massaged my temples as we recommenced travelling.


    Around us, the labyrinth continued to twist in silence, its towering surfaces gleaming with dribbling tears. There seemed to be more of them recently. I tried not to let it bother me.


    As was typical of the dead, Fascina¡¯s outfit blended into her form; cloak billowing with her hair and sleeves flowing into her forearms. I guessed at a long waistcoat over shirt and trousers, lightly armoured and elaborate. Not the best attire for battle, but spectres rarely appeared how they died. Often they weren¡¯t even in the same age bracket.


    This one broke the awkwardness with questions. ¡°You mentioned there were ways of extending our deaths. What should we be looking for?¡±


    ¡°Items,¡± I answered, glad for the distraction. ¡°They usually come with a test. Even in the afterlife, nothing comes for free. Except my drinks and exceptional piano playing, of course.¡±


    ¡°What kind of items?¡±


    ¡°They could be anything. Bottles, buckets¡­ I met several spectres who lasted weeks just by picking up every stone.¡±


    ¡°How would they know the difference from a regular one?¡±


    ¡°Easy,¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re marked with the labyrinth¡¯s sigil.¡±


    A strange expression crossed Fascina¡¯s face. She unhooked the lantern at her hip and turned it around to display an angular seal above the window. ¡°One like this?¡±


    I looked at the series of five concentric squares crossed with lines increasing in length at each clockwise edge, engraved in the metal like chiselled scratches.


    ¡°Exactly like this,¡± I confirmed.

 5. Give Up the Ghost

    Fascina regarded me for several seconds, expression unreadable, then turned and started sprinting.


    I hurried after her.


    ¡°You could have said something.¡± Her voice came out steady only to drop in a note of realisation, a side effect of the lack of winding. Ghosts were often surprised to find they could run forever.


    ¡°You can¡¯t seriously expect me to know every last minutia of the labyrinth,¡± I responded, floating alongside her.


    ¡°No, but you must have suspected.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m under no obligation of disclosure. I warned you I wasn¡¯t a hero.¡±


    ¡°There were at least several hundred of those things. They might keep us going forever!¡±


    ¡°Or maybe you picked up the only useful one,¡± I countered. ¡°Even if you didn¡¯t, would you then camp in that hallway for the rest of time, afraid to venture out and lose it? It¡¯s a trap like any other.¡±


    Rounding a corner, Fascina¡¯s shoes slipped on the wet grass as she skidded to an ungainly halt. ¡°Speaking of.¡±


    Ahead lay an unexpected fork in the path, branches perfectly symmetrical. Conceivably, divided at a sharp angle, it had simply been unnoticeable coming from the other direction. It felt like we were being made the butt of a joke.


    ¡°One of these might lead back to the glade,¡± Fascina said, but sounded uncertain. Wavering between the two options, her gaze finally landed on the left. ¡°This should take us towards your mystery destination. I hope.¡± She glanced at me. ¡°Could you check again?¡±


    I thought about it. Exemptions were incredibly rare. Mine had probably cost the labyrinth something, and after the way it had gone, I might have also used up my good standing. The fork in the road indicated it was likely. But the labyrinth did want us ¨C or at least me ¨C to arrive at its point of nomination.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± I said.


    Sure enough, when I rose the walls never seemed to end. Further heights unfolded above me in a clever trick of perspective. I persisted longer than I had to, and as I was finally poised to retreat, I spotted the shape of an indent far above my head.


    Square and bordered in carvings, it opened into a narrow alcove tunnelling through the rock, far longer than the metre I remembered. Hardly wider than my body, the passage soon faded into unnerving dark. Even my spectral light barely made a dent.


    Despite the empty sky, the labyrinth was generally dimly lit. Everything in the afterlife came with a subtle internal glow, from its ground and walls to its residents. Exceptions sent a message, not always beneficial. In this case and this context, it was clear: Take the lantern and leave her.


    Well, it was persistent. ¡°No amount of sightseeing will change my decision,¡± I told the labyrinth. ¡°Not that tacky citadel, not the Trials, and certainly not the galleries. All you¡¯d be doing is prolonging the inevitable. So if you want me to see whatever you want to show me, you¡¯ll have to take us both. Ms Hero is the greater mystery.¡±


    Turning my back on the opening, I returned and found Fascina sitting in the damp examining the flickering lantern.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I reported in.


    ¡°I see.¡± She rotated the lamp carefully in her lap so as not to upset the flame. ¡°How does one activate an extension?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t until you need it. It won¡¯t add time above your upper limit, so you should wait until something needs repairing.¡±


    She glanced at her fingers, turning them to peer at the growing cracks. ¡°These seem like they¡¯re brighter. Or wider.¡±


    ¡°They are.¡±


    ¡°And when something breaks, then what?¡± She did a decent job of hiding it, but I recognised the universal fear of the dead. Living souls looked forward to their various illusions of an afterlife. The deceased didn¡¯t.


    ¡°You put your hand over the mark and take it in,¡± I said. ¡°Or the nearest thing, if you¡¯ve no hands left. I can¡¯t tell you how to do that part. I¡¯ve never done it. But I hear it¡¯s like drinking.¡±


    ¡°And you have done a lot of that,¡± she responded wryly. ¡°Sounds like dread sigil behaviour to me. Curses ¨C I already have one of them in me.¡±


    ¡°Had,¡± I corrected.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Feels current to me.¡± She raised her fingers and snapped them, but nothing happened. ¡°Eh. Maybe.¡± Turning the engraving back towards herself, she rose back to her feet. ¡°Time¡¯s running away. We go left.¡± She hesitated as if to check for confirmation, then seemed to make up her mind and forged ahead.


    The path continued to weave without a break. It was hard to tell how much time was passing and whether we should by now have reached the original glade. Eventually, however, it became clear the walls were slicker, their sheen darker and the grass wetter under Fascina¡¯s feet. Her steps gave way to sloshing.


    She hadn¡¯t bluffed about persisting. The spillage made the path treacherous, rising to her ankles. She slipped once or twice with the lantern nearly extinguishing before handing it to me.


    ¡°Having fun there?¡± I asked, floating effortlessly. ¡°You could fix this.¡±


    She smiled back. ¡°Never better.¡±


    ¡°Why,¡± I queried in exasperation after a while of watching her wade waist-deep, "are you so reluctant to accept your death?" Our progress had slowed immensely. By now water sluiced down the passage''s fortifications in glimmering, veil-like sheets, hitting the surface of the makeshift canal in a steady babble. ¡°Resistance won¡¯t confer any benefits, and I think you¡¯re proving the opposite here.¡±


    ¡°Because heroes don¡¯t give up,¡± she stated. ¡°Ever. Giving up means dooming your mission to failure.¡±


    Oh, no. Not more of this. ¡°This isn¡¯t even giving up!¡± The lantern swung back and forth in my hand, sending multiple orbs dancing in the water¡¯s reflections. ¡°It¡¯s using a tool in your toolbox, like friendship.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the Rule; I didn¡¯t make it. Also, my curse requires me to maintain a positive mindset. I¡¯m the hero of Charismo. No depression for me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ¨C¡± I broke off before I could put my foot in it. She had told me, I¡¯d just failed to piece it. ¡®Six heavenly curses¡¯ ¨C with herself included. ¡°It can¡¯t carry over into death.¡±


    ¡°Then why do I still feel it?¡±


    I had no good answer for that. Hours ago, I simply would have dismissed it. But hours ago I wasn¡¯t free. ¡°Any physical symptoms?¡± I asked instead, hand rising to my collarbone.


    ¡°Aggranda wanted us pristine. I¡¯m sure if you could visualise my magic, it would be rotten and covered in maggots. But he was one of those dark lords who wanted us pretty for his collection.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± I uttered thoughtfully. ¡°Is there a history?¡±


    ¡°Surprisingly. It rarely goes well for them. You''d think they''d learn better. Whatever the reason, half the time they develop the urge to start hoarding their enemies.¡±


    ¡°What about the other half?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t, obviously. I thought you weren¡¯t interested in the details.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s become relevant. What did your curse do?¡±


    ¡°The inverse of my attribute, of course.¡± Her feet chose to slip on the grass underwater and plunged her beneath the surface, where she splashed to the top a moment later. ¡°Inducing repulsion.¡± Wiping a hand across her forehead achieved nothing, since she wasn¡¯t wet. The liquid weighed down her hair for a second or two before sliding off and bouncing the strands back into their regular position. Fascina lifted one in her fingers for a moment to examine it. Then ducked her head under again and stayed there.


    I joined her after a moment, keeping a hand above the surface for the lantern.


    ¡°Of course. I can breathe,¡± Fascina said, voice heavy with distortion.


    ¡°No you can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean.¡± She broke the surface again. ¡°Does nothing in the labyrinth pose any real danger other than us running out of time?¡±


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s danger,¡± I assured her. ¡°Currently it¡¯s playing nice.¡± Because I was here. No doubt that allowance would come back to bite it. It made me feel a little guilty.


    ¡°Good. Our hero¡¯s journey requires a challenge.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a hero,¡± I growled. ¡°I¡¯m dead. Give it a rest. In peace.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Then what did you do?¡± she persisted. ¡°You¡¯ve heard all about my story while giving me almost nothing.¡± She thrust a fissuring palm at my face. ¡°I¡¯d love to be patient, truly, but our friendship needs to burgeon on an accelerated timeline.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t regained my freedom just to waste it being pestered. Rising above the waterline, I folded my arms well out of Fascina¡¯s reach, letting the lantern dangle from a finger. ¡°I don¡¯t need to know that badly,¡± I threatened. ¡°I can fly away, leave you and drop this lamp.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she backslid instantly. ¡°I apologise. You can tell me on your own time.¡±


    ¡°I tell most people,¡± I explained. ¡°It¡¯s not a secret, I¡¯m just tired of the repetition. And if I wasn''t clear, I''m not looking for friendship. When I make friends, they shatter. I don¡¯t want to do it anymore, it¡¯s that simple. I¡¯m not from your chaos bubble. Not part of your story. I should thank you for ending mine. But it needs to end.¡±


    I shook my head, trying to clear it. I didn¡¯t feel good about this. Any of it.


    ¡°And Kaedhrakthys? You¡¯re just going to let him win?¡±


    ¡°Yes, if that¡¯s what it takes.¡± The lies rolled off my tongue smoothly. ¡°I don¡¯t care about being a hero. I never did.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re lying,¡± Fascina said. She stared at me uncomfortably for several seconds too many. ¡°May I at least have the lantern?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d be using it. I tossed it to her, flame guttering.


    In one smooth motion, she captured it in her hands and spun it rapidly on its axis, one finger of each hand holding the centre in place. The others arrested it mid-motion as its sigil turned to face me.


    To my surprise, the emblem was glowing. I¡¯d never heard of one doing that, and I¡¯d seen them being imbibed by patrons. It brightened further as Fascina¡¯s lips opened, deathly white flames dancing around the edges.


    DRAIN, the hero spoke.


    Fatigue overcame my body, tearing into my phantom state. I fought it, but the spell ¨C whatever strange, eldritch thing it was ¨C was too powerful. My weightless limbs grew heavy, and somehow I¡¯d forgotten how to hold them up.


    The sigil¡¯s fire was already faltering, grooves crumbling inwards as the metal pushed them out. The remnants of its glow funnelled towards me, spiralling into the orb under my collar.


    Vaguely, I noticed the water coming up to meet me, light dying from my sockets as I fell.

 6. Dampening Spirits

    I roused beneath the water to distorted visuals of the lantern discarded on its side. It was distant and growing smaller, and I realised I was being dragged.


    My limbs were still too heavy. Fumbling at my neck with difficulty, I found an object attached to my collar, which turned out to be Fascina¡¯s hand.


    Upon feeling the movement, she stopped to pull my head out of the water and turned my chin towards her. ¡°Are you going to be reasonable now?¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡± I gagged, bits of canal streaming from my nose and mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯ve explained it already,¡± the ghost answered calmly. ¡°Once again, I replaced your curse with a different one. It¡¯s hardly a one-time-only procedure. Especially not with that vortex in your chest. On the plus side, now all your chairs will be steady again.¡± Because there were so many of those in the labyrinth.


    Speaking took effort. ¡°That was your death extension.¡±


    ¡°And thanks to you, I had to waste it.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I mentioned that, too,¡± she responded, jiggling my chin to approximate a much cheerier nod than the situation warranted. ¡°I told you it was dread sigil behaviour. They can be absorbed inwards, or,¡± she paused briefly, ¡°projected. That¡¯s why they¡¯re called ''dread'', after all. Of course,¡± she added, ¡°you have to know the grim commands.¡±


    A multitude of protests swam through my head I didn¡¯t have the energy to voice. ¡°Reverse it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love nothing more! But I do need your solemn vow you¡¯ll stick with me till one of us shatters.¡±


    ¡°What is this, a marriage proposal?¡±


    ¡°You know what it¡¯s for. And believe me, I can do better.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I muttered. ¡°You have my vow.¡±


    Fascina grinned. ¡°There we go! Now, you do understand if you break your word, it goes right back on, capiche? I was the caster, so I¡¯m in control.¡± Her lips moved again, but this time it wasn''t a voice that came out:


    RESTORE.


    There it was again. That magic. It was a different word to the first, and in no language I knew ¨C which was odd, because the dead spoke them all. Vigour returned to my frame in a flood. Shifting to my feet, I stood on the grass and frowned.


    What the nether had just happened? ¡°Dread sigils are a fiction,¡± I declared, trying not to dwell on the blow to my ego as I steadied myself against the wall.


    ¡°Sorry to dispel your illusions,¡± Fascina said, ¡°but I¡¯m not sure why you¡¯re surprised when you haven¡¯t been out in a thousand years. That¡¯s a lot of time for things to change. If the labyrinth is truly infinite, it must house all kinds of interesting secrets.¡±


    ¡°But the chaos bubble ¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m from a bubble,¡± she interjected. ¡°If I could make it here, why not also one of its sigils?¡±


    ¡°Because a sigil isn¡¯t a person,¡± I stated definitively.


    ¡°It was, though. You need to improve your active listening. I told you Aggranda split his consciousness among them.¡±


    ¡°But you went back in time to when that only included the phylacteries.¡±


    ¡°Okay, maybe you were listening.¡±


    ¡°I always do,¡± I said. ¡°But we¡¯ve had liches arrive before. Their soul fragments cluster together before making it into the afterlife. They don¡¯t always come back together correctly ¨C¡± judging by some of the patchwork horrors I¡¯d served drinks to, ¡°¨C but come back together they do.¡±


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right,¡± said Fascina. She started swimming into the deeper water. ¡°I¡¯ve had just about enough of Aggranda. Although I really should have predicted I¡¯d run into him when we were dead. Has that happened before, incidentally? Hero-slash-dark-lord reunions?¡±


    I tried my best to remember. ¡°Maybe once or twice. I think they had a fistfight.¡±


    ¡°Hah. We all just assumed it would be over when we died. Nobody mentioned a labyrinth. Divine tenets were clear on separate heavens and hells, and that all that moral worth business would be decided well ahead.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, it isn¡¯t decided here, either. But that sigil,¡± I pulled us back on target, ¡°is the mark of the labyrinth. It existed before I came here. How could you possibly know how to activate it with a spell? How could it possibly work?¡±


    ¡°That sigil,¡± Fascina echoed, ¡°is from my world. Or my version of it,¡± she corrected herself before I could intercept. ¡°It¡¯s the dread sigil of Constitusse. The first time I laid eyes on it, it was inscribed on an obsidian pillar at the centre of a nascent apocalypse. The curse I used on you just now is the same that laid waste to a continent. On a smaller, less contagious scale.¡±


    Of all the potential excuses, this I hadn¡¯t predicted. Devices from Soddit couldn¡¯t appear in the afterlife. More likely it had travelled the other way around, shadows cast as reflections in a window. But as far as I knew, there was only one way that could happen, and it still didn¡¯t explain how the magic had worked. Fascina¡¯s knowledge was real, and had somehow transferred.


    Strangest of all, it had actually affected my constitution.


    Two impossible deeds had now occurred in the space of hours, and my companion was the common factor. I struggled to remember if there was something I should know; a trend to do with heroes or a different chaos iteration.


    Nothing.


    The labyrinth hadn¡¯t liked me being near Fascina ¨C perhaps it hadn¡¯t been jealous. It could have been a warning.


    But it was also the labyrinth¡¯s sigil. What secrets did it know?


    ¡°You have me rather upended,¡± I confessed, running my fingers along the wall so that the shower diverted around them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s here, either. I hoped you¡¯d know the answer. Dread sigils in the wrong hands are bad news. And in the right ones, to be honest. But this does explain how it works as a death extension ¨C absorbing one has a similar effect on the living. Though, again, much more powerful.¡±


    ¡°Immortality?¡± I guessed.


    ¡°Bingo. Dark lords always pick it first, which is why it¡¯s so well-guarded. That and Constitusse being first in the prophesied order.¡±


    I pulled a face. Prophecies didn¡¯t make for interesting stories.


    ¡°Don¡¯t besmirch it,¡± Fascina challenged, noticing. ¡°Prophecies are how we know we¡¯re on track. They¡¯re useful guides to follow once you¡¯ve figured out the cryptic bits. And you just fulfilled one, hero.¡±


    ¡°You just made that up.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t believe me, the next one is Intelligia¡¯s.¡±


    Sighing, I examined the corner ahead as it bent in a curving bulge. Unlike all the previous turns, the twist was smooth and convex, edging slightly in from the left before moving on. Abandoning the conversation, I flew on ahead to see more.


    Not all of the landmark was visible from a single angle ¨C it could have been part of a circle. One into which there was no door. Probably because it had been the one I¡¯d earlier refused.


    ¡°This is it,¡± I announced as Fascina drew level. ¡°This is what I saw.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Chaos, no.¡±


    Fascina tilted her chin back to examine the walls above, then ducked beneath the surface to repeat it below. When she didn¡¯t find a hint in either location, she re-emerged and placed her hands flat against the pouring water in two small splashes. They smoothed themselves out through her arms again as she reached intangibly inwards.


    Of the stories spectres brought back, this was the most common. I¡¯d seen it in action myself many times from the bar''s door. Fascina¡¯s hands sunk into the stone like mud, slowing as resistance grew. She pressed her weight against it, earning perhaps another inch of progress, but the labyrinth wouldn¡¯t admit her.


    Then the kicker ¨C it refused to let go. Her sockets widened in realisation. Placing a foot on the wall for purchase, she strained backwards, but the action made no difference.


    ¡°A little help?¡± she tossed at me over the boot.


    ¡°Nothing I can do,¡± I said truthfully. ¡°You¡¯re the one with the magic around here.¡±


    She grunted and redoubled her efforts, tugging at her wrists in increasing panic. Her limbs phased in and out of tangibility, neither state having any impact. I let her try for several more minutes before leaning casually against the wall beside her.


    ¡°There¡¯s only one, maybe two ways out of there,¡± I informed her.


    ¡°You¡¯re enjoying this.¡±


    ¡°I did warn you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re telling me anything at all,¡± she said, slumping backwards. ¡°Seeing as how even if I reactivate the sigil now, we¡¯re both stuck here. That¡¯s what you want, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I definitely considered it.¡± I held up a finger. ¡°The first method is to wait until your wrists shatter. If you¡¯re lucky, it could be early. More likely it won¡¯t be for a while. You¡¯ll get out, but there might not be a whole lot of you left to enjoy it.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope the second way¡¯s better.¡±


    ¡°The second one might not exist,¡± I said, watching her face fall. ¡°I mentioned tests. If there¡¯s one nearby, completing it will release you as a reward.¡± I placed a palm against the curve of the wall, examining the resulting spray of water. ¡°The fact this wall is distinct means we might be lucky. It''d be subtle rather than obvious, and easy to miss. But they come in all forms.¡±


    ¡°By that logic, we probably are. It¡¯s far too early for our journey to end.¡± Her face paled to a lighter blue. ¡°That said, I am your senior mentor figure.¡±


    ¡°Hold on, I¡¯m far older than you, you runt.¡± The audacity! ¡°Plus I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s relevant.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quality, not quantity. And mentors have a habit of¡­ not making it to the end. Or even much past the beginning.¡±


    ¡°Well, by the time they arrive here, it all looks much the same,¡± I commented. Now that she mentioned it, however, I could identify the trend. It annoyed me. Another bone to pick with Kaedhrakthys. ¡°In any case, it doesn¡¯t apply to the afterlife, so you don¡¯t need to worry.¡±


    ¡°You keep saying that,¡± she noted.


    I shook my head and looked for tests. Backtracking to the darkened tunnel wouldn¡¯t help; I doubted Fascina would allow me out of hearing range, and chances were it wouldn¡¯t be where I¡¯d left it. I could see if there was another tunnel above us, but the first had felt like a sanctioned cheat. After its earlier infractions, the labyrinth couldn¡¯t have many of those cards left to play. It, too, was a prisoner.


    To Rules, as Fascina might say.

 7. Shadow of a Doubt

    Feedback at the cantina, along with certain other sources of information, had let me piece together some of the labyrinth¡¯s restrictions. Tests, for instance, came with clues. They were intended to be found and resolved. Just not easily.


    Right now, all I could see was the curved segment of wall. Fascina had already checked for obvious physical aberrations.


    I started with reflections.


    Rippling copies of our faces wavered within the running water. It had been a long time since I¡¯d seen mine properly, and that wasn¡¯t changing today. There were no mirrors in Last Call, and glass provided only muddled distortions.


    According to patrons, I was arguably handsome with a divisive sense of fashion. Soddit had gone through a layered era, so I eternally wore a chiton over shirt and trousers with belts, buckles and shawl. At one point they¡¯d been shades other than blue, but I¡¯d long forgotten what. Along with the colour of every part of my body. Now they were pale and my hair never grew, floating around my head in a cloud.


    It was all I got from my current efforts. No hoped-for secrets revealed themselves in the water¡¯s hazy duplicates; no shadows that weren¡¯t also real. I looked for irregularities in the pouring flow; none jumped out.


    I fancied the walls the likeliest target, since I already knew they were hollow. Their fountains rose through the middle, spilling out at the top before making their way down. Clear and close to the stone, they didn¡¯t leave much behind to the imagination. But the movement might be just enough to conceal something subtle.


    Backtracking to the start of the architectural tangent, I floated two Fascina-lengths above said hero¡¯s head and pressed my hands to the wall like a shield. Water showered outwards, making the background patter louder. Checking downwards through the loop of my arms, I found only what I expected.


    Uncertain for what I searched, I moved right and kept feeling it out. Perhaps some slightly recessed button or minor, elusive carving. Fascina stared up at my progress along the curve. It seemed a hopeless, lost cause ¨C the labyrinth itself melancholic. That made two of us. But in the midst of it, I felt oddly peaceful. Endings came for everyone, after all, and the labyrinth was the precursor.


    Soon.


    I¡¯d recently passed Fascina when her voice called out. ¡°Go back.¡±


    I paused, keeping my hands where they were. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°To the left, about half a metre.¡±


    I reversed. ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°Shh.¡± The lights in her sockets dwindled, almost as if they¡¯d closed. Her chin tilted up and sideways as she held herself still. ¡°Move right again. Now back. Do you hear it?¡±


    Accompanying us, the rushing water murmured. Its chorus had built gradually over hours, blending into the background until our meddlings interrupted it.


    But she was right ¨C it had a tone. Moving my hands detuned it. I pulled them out and listened, detecting multiple layers by default. When I moved them back where Fascina had indicated¡­ I heard only one.


    Something below me was changing the note. But I couldn¡¯t see it.


    I ran my fingers down the length of the wall, exclaiming when they ran out of grip. I moved them up again and shielded the flow, but still only encountered stone. When I moved down, they disappeared into it.


    Illusion.


    Feeling out the edges, I found the corners of a tunnel. It carried on below the water, terminating at the grassy floor. More grass lay past the threshold.


    Fascina glanced over her shoulder as I broke the surface, hands still trapped in the wall. ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°You were right next to it,¡± I said. ¡°Two more metres and we¡¯d have saved ourselves the trouble.¡±


    The hero hung her head. ¡°Next time, my hand doesn¡¯t leave the wall.¡±


    ¡°Technically, you¡¯ve met that objective,¡± I commented with a smirk. ¡°No, you made the right call. I¡¯ve heard stories about touching the wrong things. You solved this how it was meant to be solved.¡±


    For what little that was worth.


    Her expression brightened. ¡°We did. See? We make an effective team.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not free yet.¡±


    And I had to enter the door. Alone, as the labyrinth wanted. I stared at it, willing it to intuit my thoughts. No funny business.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯d better complete the test,¡± Fascina urged me with a nod towards the illusory wall. ¡°I wonder what will be in there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always a death extension.¡± Though in this case, I did expect something more.


    I¡¯d hoped to avoid all this, like the patrons who never left the bar. As far as I was concerned, they had the right of it. Running the labyrinth was for people with desires and hope. It had been ages since I¡¯d possessed either.


    It was pitch black inside the wall. I met it by turning up my glow. Behind me rushed the fountain barrier, a thin veneer of resonance magnified and echoing. Another lay just ahead almost within arm¡¯s reach in a cascading hum. It was notably louder in here than outside, but felt detached.


    To the sides, I could barely make out the cavity hollow. From this vantage, it seemed much wider. Water pulsed upwards through it, rippling on its way past with eerie shapes moving within. I couldn¡¯t clearly perceive them, and they scattered when I plunged in a hand.


    For a second, I felt the wrench of a universal snag descending right on top of me, a violation of the very fabric of the realm.


    It tore me out of the labyrinth into somewhere else neither afterlife nor living realm; a complex, layered palimpsest with a manifold of surfaces. Each fold sat atop the others, channelled through with currents. They flowed through the intricate crevices of the structure, connecting its totality via corridors and aisles; water passing through water in contradictory streams.


    Far from disappearing, the pattering had only intensified into great, pounding reverberations I recognised as the drums of aeons, those beats extending through all reality. It was the sound of the Gears That Weren¡¯t affixing the shape of the universe. Thundering like pistons, fused with the water, they emerged from everywhere and nowhere, resounding in the void where my heart had been.


    And the beat ¨C


    My foot came down on the grass underwater, shoulders just above the surface back in the liminal annex. The second liquid barrier pelted just in front of my face.


    I stepped deliberately back, but the glitch did not repeat.


    Briefly, I¡¯d wandered somewhere impermissible. Hazardous for the dead, anathema to the living. It meant I was on a seam or puncture, with no way of knowing which. The labyrinth would hold together, at least, because the labyrinth was eternal.


    But even eternal fixtures could be sick.


    In itself, it didn¡¯t change anything. I knew there were flaws, but not how to fix them. The water had been unexpected, but ¨C judging by the intricacy of its flow ¨C probably operating as intended.


    I pushed through the echoing wall, drowning myself again.


    More pooled water lay on the other side. The submerged grass, just generous enough to walk on, ringed a large cylindrical cistern perhaps fifty metres wide. Beyond the ledge, a central cavity plunged into oblivion, too dark to make out whatever might be hidden.


    ¡°Ameri!¡± Fascina¡¯s distant voice hollered in the kind of tone spectres stuck in a wall applied.


    ¡°Found it!¡± Whatever ¡®it¡¯ might be. Hopefully not another test. Two at a time seemed petty.


    ¡°Why are my hands still trapped, then?¡±


    ¡°Because I haven¡¯t located the extension yet!¡±


    The cistern walls pulled at me powerfully enough it showed tenuously in the wisps trailing from my body. They trailed towards the culprits: small apertures ringing the cylinder at neat, regular intervals. Placing a hand across the closest exposed a distinct tug inwards. I assumed these pumps were how the water ascended. On the face of it, the system seemed rather pointless. Send something up so it could fall back down. Genius.


    Except that the bulk went into the palimpsest between realms. I¡¯d seen it: that huge, tortuous mechanism consuming more than its visible supply. Part of the labyrinth¡¯s underlying workings.


    As I circled the cistern¡¯s rim, I could feel the heaviness rising from its depths: continual reinforcement to feed the consuming emptiness. It was only water, yet its existence made me nervous.


    No immediate sigils, dread or otherwise, emerged around the ring. I made another circuit to be certain, even reaching my hands into the pumps.


    I could block them up if I wanted. Dig down into the grass and pack the openings full of dirt. I might even be able to finish before I shattered.


    Part of me was tempted. Conducting revenge correctly meant not being subjected to the consequences, and I had that angle covered. But wrecking the afterlife further was not how I wanted to go about it.


    I glanced into the shadowy gloom. I didn¡¯t want to go down there, either.


    ¡°Ameri!¡±


    ¡°Working on it!¡±


    My skin was starting to brighten, luminescence filling its fractures. That was always how it went. We¡¯d been running around for about half a day if you measured by fractions on Soddit, and my body would be the next to be divided.


    ¡°This is clearly important,¡± I muttered under my breath. ¡°Why else would you lead me here? But this is where you¡¯ve lost me. Are you asking me to take you with me?¡±


    If nothing else, I couldn¡¯t, even if Project Pumps succeeded.


    The pool of water shivered, drawing my focus towards the centre.


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving. Stop trying to save me. It won¡¯t make me any less dead, and I¡¯d rather be dead in here.¡±


    The water shivered more violently.


    ¡°So you¡¯d send me off to spend eternity alone?¡± My voice rose a little in angered volume. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you feel abandoned, but I¡¯m only human. I can¡¯t do this.¡±


    ¡°Ameri!¡± Fascina called a third time.


    ¡°It¡¯s not obvious!¡±


    ¡°Have you listened to the droplets?¡±


    Since the drums had revealed themselves, I hadn¡¯t stopped, intensely aware of their echoes. Eldritch revelations did tend to have that effect, though their critical reception was inflated. All they really did was highlight the relative importance of different factors in relation to each other, but with the prices tithed in attention.


    Attention I¡¯d been downplaying, since I somehow hadn¡¯t registered the word they¡¯d been repeating for some time:


    LEVER.


    Now that they mentioned it, I hadn¡¯t yet tried the conspicuous one in the centre of the cistern. Or indeed noticed it until now.


    It floated on a platform in the middle of the cistern, made of serrated dark metal like the gnomon of a sundial twice the length of my figure. Looking at it hurt and threatened to raise things I didn¡¯t prefer to remember.


    Oh. Better to get it done quickly. I drifted over to the handle, avoiding the gaze of the water, and threw intent behind my fingers.


    The lever moved slowly; far, far heavier than it looked, yet somehow able to be shifted.


    The labyrinth separated with it.

 8. Spirit Level

    Most of the stories making it to Last Call had to be taken on faith. Shatterings I did see plenty of before patrons even exited the door, despite the disgruntled feedback they provoked. My policy was to offer one last haven for anyone who sought it, no matter how discomforting the company. If others had a problem with it, they were welcome to leave.


    Besides, it wasn¡¯t as if I could force anyone to go.


    Death extension tests occurred offstage for the most part, though occasionally a gauntlet appeared immediately outside my door. Usually when I was out of my mind with boredom and the labyrinth felt sorry for me.


    Infrequently, the dead would find a way to make a larger obvious impact. There¡¯d once been a cold pillar of light shooting above the fortifications, and a different instance involving a collapsing stack of towers. Over the years, I¡¯d refined an accurate estimation of distance from the volume of people¡¯s screams. And there had been spectres who¡¯d flown so high out of desperation, the labyrinth had inverted to redirect them. Those were my favourites, especially the ones who came looping out of abysses.


    When it was quiet, the labyrinth sometimes took me sightseeing, presenting various points of interest on my doorstep. Bridges spanning glittering voids. Passages lined with narrow, overlapping stairs. Tops of walls. Bottoms of pits. Some of them quite impressive.


    But I¡¯d never seen this.


    The labyrinth twinned.


    Prior to pulling the unexpected lever, the cistern had consisted of one set of walls and a deep, ominous pool. Post- lever, it became two sets superimposed. The duplicate moved at a trajectory relative to my fingers, and at first I believed it an optical trick within the water¡¯s blur.


    But the gradient rapidly altered, peeling away from the base at an angle. Paring and passing through it, characteristic of ¨C well, a ghost. Thrown by the sudden double vision, I stopped pushing. The second labyrinth paused with it, frozen at a hanging slope.


    ¡°What the odium are you doing?¡± Fascina yelled from the other side of the double wall.


    ¡°I have no idea!¡± I shouted back. Other than pushing the lever controlling the spirit world. In the distance, I heard rushing water. A subtle current passed me in the direction of the tunnel.


    ¡°Noted! Keep doing it!¡±


    I recommenced the manoeuvre, but only because the labyrinth had asked. Colossal fortifications lifted and reared as the landscape split in twain, floor running through walls and vice-versa. Pushing faster, cataclysmic vertigo attacked my brain as whatever had hidden the lever grew to encompass everything else.


    Holding fast, I floated in the spectral water of the secondary cistern, also duplicated, its depths rising through me. Apparently I would get to see the bottom. But when it arrived, it was simply a surface of water, a mirror of the one below. It contained its own lever, still in the lowered position, with no attached copy of myself.


    I watched it tilt into the sky, accompanied by a labyrinthine underside the reverse of the one we had wandered. The scale was unimaginable: an infinite plane pivoted on a second, infinite angle ¨C where both variants now met in a single, finite edge.


    It connected with a decisive tremor and toll that splintered the heavens. Under my fingers, the end of the lever locked in a final clicking mechanism and refused to budge an atom; still as a corpse in stasis while the rest of the afterlife shuddered.


    Cold white light flared below my digits, and the handle¡¯s grip came away with it. I found myself holding a flaming metal cylinder newly emblazoned with a sigil.


    Relieved and somewhat shaken, I let out a minor chuckle. All that, only for the reward to still be the same.


    A frantic series of splashes alerted me to Fascina hastening through the gate. I turned as she burst through the fountain, sending sluices of water flinging. In my fingers, the cylinder¡¯s flames dwindled.


    The hero halted at the edge of the grassy ring and glanced at me wordlessly before her head turned up towards the new megalith. Only a fraction was visible from the cistern, but it adequately conveyed the message.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I tossed her the flaming cylinder. She caught it, barely, before it could sink over the edge. The water level was steadily, but definitely, lowering.


    ¡°There you go,¡± I said.


    Her gaze wavered between the item and the pit. ¡°Ameri, I ¨C do you have any idea what this is?¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± I replied. ¡°It¡¯s a death extension. Or curse, if you¡¯re still working that agenda out of your system. I don¡¯t know why the rest of it happened, but it¡¯s now all the way over in that direction ¨C¡± I pointed at the duplicate, ¡°¨C so rather less immediate.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean the sigil. I mean this.¡± She swept her arms around the cistern.


    ¡°Obviously, a big watery hole containing a labyrinth-cloning lever.¡± The latter posed no trouble to look at anymore, content to lie embedded in its plinth.


    For the victim of a realm-shaking incident, the labyrinth didn¡¯t seem bothered, come to think of it. Quiet, but I supposed it needed recovery from the process of being twinned.


    ¡°This is a well,¡± Fascina said.


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°A sacred well, like the ones Aggranda poisoned. Although this one is pristine. There must be equivalents in the afterlife, maybe linked ¨C¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± I said, crossing back to join her on the ring. The water reached lower on my chest than it had when I¡¯d entered. ¡°Just stop. There¡¯s no connection between Soddit and here beyond the one-way commute of their populations. You¡¯re dead and you¡¯re new, identifying patterns where you expect to see them. But your reality¡¯s rules don¡¯t apply here.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡± She shoved the cylinder engraving-up in front of me. ¡°Then why am I holding the dread sigil of Intelligia?¡±


    ¡°Because you aren¡¯t. It¡¯s not even a different ¨C¡±


    I broke off before finalising my error. It was distinct from the version I was accustomed to. The pair were very similar, but the one in Fascina¡¯s hand displayed four squares instead of five, and the line through one of the sides was missing.


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ actually never seen that before,¡± I amended.


    ¡°Maybe it isn¡¯t a death extension,¡± Fascina suggested. ¡°But I suppose you don¡¯t care what it is.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s interesting, I¡¯ll give it. I just don¡¯t think it will make any difference.¡±


    ¡°Let me tell you about sacred wells,¡± Fascina started, and held up a hand when I opened my mouth. ¡°Humour me. In the living world, wells feed mana to the continents. Without one, magic would dry up in the region. Altering them also impacts the nature of the distributed mana, which is why it¡¯s critically important to keep them hidden. Like this. In fact, it¡¯s how we obtained our attributes.¡±


    ¡°You obtained them from a chaos bubble,¡± I repeated tiredly.


    The hero ignored me. ¡°Back in ancient times, only one ambient source existed. Our ancestors were constantly at war over how to use it. Unable to reach agreement, they eventually divided the land into six, one for each of their leaders, and built a well in each segment. Then they could do whatever they wanted with it. Only then ¨C and thanks to accessible immigration policies ¨C did the world know peace. Of course, it didn¡¯t stop plenty of dark lords mounting attacks against them. My point is, even a single well can shape the world, and I think,¡± she added, swishing a hand at the water now level with her hips, ¡°you may have just emptied it.¡±


    Emphasising her words, the last of the sluices landed around us in erratically breaking sheets. My eyes drifted towards the pumps now resting mostly above the surface. All of a sudden, the chamber seemed far quieter than the water crashing in the distance, its connection to the drums of aeons severed.


    The labyrinth had always been quiet, but there had always been something going on underneath. I could no longer hear it.


    Worse, the labyrinth wasn¡¯t communicating.


    I glanced at Fascina and half-waded, half-floated past her into the tunnel. The earlier darkness had lifted, and what I¡¯d taken for endless fissure turned out to be nothing more than a very logical gap between two heavily dripping walls.


    It didn¡¯t fool me.


    Currents pulled my feet towards the exit. They ended in a spout of pressure dumping its contents into a pool barely reaching my shins and rapidly becoming shallower.


    The labyrinth had reconfigured. That wasn¡¯t especially noteworthy, but the manner in which it had done so felt wrong. I paused in front of the exit, only moving when Fascina pushed me.


    ¡°Mother of innuendo,¡± she whispered, manoeuvring to my side.


    We stared at it in unison as the last of the water washed away to the margins.


    ¡°Do your wells do this?¡± I challenged once I¡¯d managed to reclaim my voice.


    ¡°Not this, exactly, no.¡±


    The second labyrinth towered ahead in the distance, infinitely filling the sky. Perfectly perpendicular to the original, its mapping sat clearly exposed from the side. I¡¯d never seen close to a tenth of this much at a time, and the sheer enormity of the sight was such that I worried it might break my mind. Spectres had been driven insane for less. Just to be safe, I kept my focus narrow.


    Even accounting for infinity, the view was far better than it should have been for the simple reason there were hardly any walls on our level left. We stood on an open plain on which monoliths reared in bizarre, shorn-off steeples. A few intact walls remained, but distant. Snippets of stairs, rises and falls wove in and out of the grass. I could see where the vegetation ended, and thickened in other patches. To my right, no longer interrupted by architecture, I could make out the tiny form of Fascina¡¯s discarded lantern. And ahead, barely visible beyond a field of ruins, rested the wreckage of Last Call.


    The labyrinth in the sky seemed fine.


    Ours had been dismantled.

 9. Well and Truly Dead

    I hadn¡¯t taken the labyrinth for suicidal. In fairness, I hadn¡¯t believed it was actually dead, unlike the scroungers who skittered around inside it.


    Now, however, the notion took hold we might be standing on a corpse. A gruesomely butchered one. Afterlife residency had shaped a certain concept of ¡®deceased¡¯ in my mind ¨C primarily blue and spectral ¨C and the unexpected appearance of an alternative teased my gut into contortions.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Fascina asked, and I realised she¡¯d been watching me.


    ¡°I, uh¡­¡±


    Had it known this would happen? Was it surviving on the other side? The lights in my sockets drifted to its absurdly hovering counterpart, seeking out an indication. The maze of walls looked appropriately normal, but it was all so far away.


    I¡¯d had one job. Which I¡¯d failed. At the very least, I should have been able to carry out the backup plan. If I¡¯d done absolutely nothing but waited to shatter, events at least wouldn¡¯t have gotten any worse. Circumstances could have gone any other way than this, and things would have been fine.


    I wouldn¡¯t believe the labyrinth had asked me to kill it. It would have warned me. We would have discussed it. The pit in my stomach worsened. What if I¡¯d disrupted a delicate balance bringing Fascina to the cistern? She clearly had some kind of universe-breaking power. The labyrinth had warned me about her, and it knew many things I didn¡¯t. I should have listened.


    Or maybe this had all been meant to happen. I didn¡¯t know, and that terrified me.


    ¡°Ameri?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not alright,¡± I snapped, returning to reality. ¡°We might have just destroyed the afterlife. If you can¡¯t decipher what¡¯s wrong with that picture, then I doubt we have much more to say to each other.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we did,¡± the spectre replied.


    ¡°Why?¡± I bulldozed in. ¡°Why would this ¨C¡± I gestured furiously at the labyrinth¡¯s severed limbs, ¡°¨C fill you with any amount of confidence?¡±


    Fascina opened her mouth, but held it for several seconds before speaking. ¡°I don¡¯t think,¡± she repeated cautiously, ¡°that the person who made the labyrinth would employ a self-destruct mechanism easily abusable by an ignorant stranger wandering in.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I argued facetiously. ¡°Dark lords do it.¡±


    ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t a believer.¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t exclusive to your bubble,¡± I argued. ¡°Mainline Soddit has plenty. So do other bubbles. It¡¯s repetitive and annoying.¡±


    ¡°Kaedhrakthys must really love them.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Well, a dark lord would never leave a kill switch unguarded,¡± Fascina declared. ¡°A paltry invisible wall doesn¡¯t count. And while we as heroes have the qualifications to successfully abuse it, I can tell you we wouldn¡¯t get close without first fighting through a legion of minions, infiltrating the stronghold by stealth, or being captured and held prisoner in the inner sanctum. When we push that switch, it¡¯s intentional. It¡¯s a ¨C¡±


    ¡°¨C Rule.¡± I should have known better than to provoke her madness. At this point I had to consider she might be somehow making it real, or parts of it. The absurd levels of malevolent magic poured into her in life could have combined into some form of death-transcending, reality-warping concoction, for all I knew.


    Or she¡¯d been lying. No one forced the dead to tell the truth.


    Fascina nodded. ¡°But it¡¯s not only that. Look up.¡±


    I followed the length of her arm to a point on the titanic maze. It took me a while to see it, far above our heads: a tiny ring.


    ¡°It¡¯s the other well,¡± she stated. ¡°The one that split off from here. We have our next destination.¡±


    ¡°And why would we go there, if we even can?¡±


    ¡°For information. We¡¯ve learnt something just now, even if it raises more questions. That¡¯s a good start, and maybe there¡¯s a lever in it that can put the whole thing back. Though I suspect it will open another one. Rule of Six and all that. Something¡¯s going to be behind the last, I guarantee you that, and I¡¯d put money on it being your dark lord¡¯s citadel. Or his doomsday device.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t the device; mainly because we were standing in it. Or had been. The torture wheel of a mad god¡¯s entertainment.


    But this answered my earlier question about the tunnel glitch being puncture or seam. It was a puncture ¨C a hole through the breadth of reality. The seam would be along the new lower corner where the two sides connected. By definition, they existed on edges. They just didn¡¯t usually appear in three dimensions.


    Either were worth visiting.


    As for the citadel, I knew how to find it: Run the labyrinth as intended. Run it well. At the end, if you hadn¡¯t shattered, you¡¯d arrive at a prize no one wanted: more doom, in a flavour less preferable. There was a reason I didn¡¯t share the information.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    There was also a back door, not that it was accessible. If a third route existed, it was one I hadn¡¯t heard of.


    ¡°Anyway, look at this,¡± Fascina said, holding the cylinder out in front of us again. ¡°I always wondered why the ancients chose these markings for the sigils. Now I think I know. It¡¯s a reference to the afterlife. They must have been here.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no chance they could have returned,¡± I said. Not to mention the fact they¡¯d never existed. Extended history on any version of Soddit, even somewhat recent, was pure fabrication.


    ¡°But look. You remember the previous emblem, right? And how Intelligia¡¯s has one less square. The others keep going like that, and I always thought it was a reference to the prophesied order. Which it is, by the way. But it¡¯s more than that.¡± She traced a translucent finger around the inner square. The cracks in the former had expanded; she wasn¡¯t far off starting to break. ¡°It¡¯s an artistic stylisation, but imagine I lifted this central square up and unfolded it along its line.¡± She mimed the action to illustrate, then gestured in a sweep towards the labyrinth¡¯s looming twin. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t we end up with something like this? The labyrinth isn¡¯t destroyed, I don¡¯t think. It¡¯s unfolding.¡±


    I thought of the overlapping layers of the palimpsest from the tunnel.


    She had it the wrong way round; however. It was condensing, not unfolding: layers of fourth-dimensional substance being flattened and abstracted into three-dimensional space. If you cut off the sides of a cube and flattened them onto paper, the resulting geometry would be much larger than a square. This was the same, just enacted one level higher.


    But it had taken Fascina¡¯s input to make me realise it. A piece I¡¯d been missing fell into place. Claiming to be from Charismo should have tipped me off ¨C she was a good actress.


    ¡°I see. Now who are you, really?¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°Give up the roleplay. You¡¯re not Fascina. There¡¯s no possibility someone recently arrived from the living could know more about this place than me.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± With an incredulous stare, she lifted her palms towards me.  ¡°I¡¯m exactly who I claim to be.¡±


    ¡°Please. You¡¯re not convincing,¡± I scoffed. ¡°First the curse and the magic, then the business with the sigil. Fool me twice, that¡¯s on me. But the third time¡¯s one too many.¡±


    She took a step backwards. ¡°Wow. Okay. I didn¡¯t realise your ego was that fragile. I honestly don¡¯t know what to say; I haven¡¯t lied to you once. I try not to do it in general in order to combat stereotypes about Charismo. But I thought you weren¡¯t familiar with those.¡± Her tone turned accusatory.


    I refused to play defensive. ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± I snapped. The labyrinth had warned me. I narrowed my sockets at her sideways. ¡°You want me for something, and thought you could entice me with a pretty story. What¡¯s your real agenda?¡±


    Her mouth dropped slightly open. ¡°Not shattering? Making things better? I¡¯m a hero, Ameri, I¡¯m not that complicated. I¡¯m not even the one with the plans; I just learn the Rules and follow them. And you!¡± Finally, a crack in the fa?ade. ¡°I mean, the hypocrisy! Do you think I can¡¯t tell you¡¯ve been lying? That in itself I can understand, but not everyone operates under the cynical, dystopian framework you seem to believe is default. That you do only convinces me more that my work is needed.¡±


    ¡°And what is your work, exactly?¡± I pushed. ¡°You know, that thing ghosts are generally freed of when they arrive here. Do tell, while we¡¯re both still dead to hear it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m. Not. Lying.¡± She rested a hand on her forehead while the other curled into a ball. When her voice came out again, it was measured. ¡°I can¡¯t make you believe me. But for whatever reason the gods have deigned, the heroic method works. It just does. So your options are sinking into the ground and worrying about what terrible secrets I¡¯m hiding for the rest of your sorry existence, or getting over yourself and helping me fix things.¡± Dropping the hand on her forehead, she extended it towards me. ¡°Your choice.¡±


    ¡°Do you even know what it is we¡¯re fixing, other than a general fixation on Kaedhrakthys?¡±


    ¡°I will if you tell me.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like letting her win, but it was no longer just about me. Though I wasn¡¯t stooping to accepting her hand. Grumbling, I set off in the direction of the second labyrinth fold.


    ¡°The labyrinth ¨C was ¨C ailing,¡± I emphasised when she joined me. ¡°Unlike what they tell you about gods on Soddit, Kaedhrakthys doesn¡¯t care about humanity. Or anything but his own entertainment. The afterlife is bad for anyone who sets foot in it, and shattering is a mercy.¡±


    ¡°Noted. We¡¯ll add it to the obliteration list.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I took a second to calm down. ¡°The labyrinth is the only thing that might be capable of changing this. But currently it isn¡¯t operating properly. Kaedhrakthys deliberately sabotaged it when he made it.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°To make sure he didn¡¯t lose control. I told you he was a pile of excrement.¡±


    For now, I left it there. Spectres had very little trouble believing the labyrinth was self-aware, and equally little trouble hating it. Given the opportunity to destroy it, I had no doubt many would pull the trigger. Explaining it didn¡¯t do much to change opinions, either, since the labyrinth was, admittedly, actively torturing the complainers.


    Fascina, or whoever she really was, had been a vortex of actual impact since her arrival. More than anyone else, she might have a chance of pulling off the slaughter.


    Crumbs of labyrinth dotted the landscape around us. Even knowing what it was, I still found it painful to look at. Condensing out of a whole dimension couldn¡¯t be good for it.


    ¡°Do you know what happens if we lose the afterlife?¡± I continued grimly.


    ¡°People die and that¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°The souls just sort of collect. Enough of them together eventually form a new elder being. Trust me, we don¡¯t want another Kaedhrakthys. Even if they never reached the afterlife, the same thing would happen on Soddit. So the purpose of the living world is to create souls, and the afterlife¡¯s to dispose of them. Both of which were poorly executed, because what we really need is a dispersal mechanism.¡±


    ¡°Why bother to create them in the first place, then?¡± She saw my face. ¡°Oh. Boredom.¡±


    ¡°Believe me, I can relate. Now, you may have noticed the labyrinth is infinite. That¡¯s a step in the right direction. Working properly, it could house all the souls and solve the problem. Assuming we haven¡¯t just done more damage than its original saboteur did.¡±


    A wave of uncertainty flickered over her features, gone a moment later. ¡°I firmly believe that isn¡¯t the case. Thank you for the explanation.¡±


    Dodging a monolith, I crossed back into view with Last Call. It hadn¡¯t been far away at all. The labyrinth often did that as a joke, hiding the treasures people were desperate for behind the flimsiest of veneers. Sometimes the hiding spot had been my bar, extensions being deposited on my doorstep the moment seekers had left.


    I spared the wreckage a glance as we passed, and stopped short enough that Fascina walked straight through my back.


    ¡°What the ¨C¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Mothrow?¡± I asked, tone hard.


    Because the other ghost was gone.

 10. Spectres of the Past

    ¡°Maybe he found his head and left,¡± Fascina suggested, dodging the rubble I tossed over my shoulders.


    I¡¯d been diving through the wreckage for minutes, and so far all I¡¯d found was the piano. The ruins of the cantina hadn¡¯t fragmented like the rest of the labyrinth, probably indicative of its grounding in three dimensions. I picked up a length of timber and hurled it behind me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you have any personal experience with decapitation,¡± I said, tossing another to the side, ¡°but craniums don¡¯t generally come with homing devices.¡± I was hoping to find Mothrow crouching under the ruins, but in the cold, dead absence of my heart, I knew the search would be futile.


    ¡°I do, actually,¡± Fascina said. ¡°Remember how I told you I became a hollow shell for a while? That was literal. But you are right about the homing.¡± She frowned. ¡°He didn¡¯t seem primed to shatter. Maybe he was taken up there with the rest of it?¡± Avoiding looking at her own, shatter-ready finger, she pointed to the labyrinth above.


    I dug around a bit further, but shortly conceded defeat. Whether Mothrow was now up there or not, the fact he was missing was bad. If the labyrinth had secretly been all that had kept him in check, then everyone had bigger problems. ¡°Chaos,¡± I spat.


    ¡°What did he do to make you hate him so badly?¡±


    ¡°All of it.¡±


    ¡°Enough you won¡¯t let him shatter?¡±


    That was a point, actually. I didn¡¯t know all the rules ¨C I cursed myself for mentally applying Fascina¡¯s terminology ¨C of the labyrinth. We trod in uncharted territory. For all I knew, the second fold had affected Mothrow differently. He didn¡¯t have my curse, after all, or whatever was going on with my temporary companion. Maybe he had shattered.


    Then again, there was still the unanswered matter of [ALL IN].


    My problems were cascading. I made myself solid and shot out of the rubble, sending detritus flying in all directions before dropping in front of Fascina.


    ¡°You need to learn how to fly,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a long walk to that border. We¡¯ll disintegrate before we make it.¡±


    ¡°I already told you my stance on that matter.¡±


    ¡°I can stomach you being any level of repulsive,¡± I responded.


    ¡°Whew. I was worried you¡¯d say you didn¡¯t see a difference.¡±


    ¡°Learn,¡± I ordered sharply. ¡°Or I¡¯ll leave you behind.¡±


    With a deft flip, Fascina held out the cistern lever cylinder and pointed its engraving towards me. I regretted my decision to give it to her. ¡°If you do, I¡¯ll be forced to use this. Want to guess what Intelligia¡¯s dread sigil does?¡±


    ¡°If you keep wasting your extensions, you definitely won¡¯t make it,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re about to crack; it¡¯s written in the splitting seams all over you.¡±


    If I could feel it, she would, too: warmth bubbling up from the inside. My whole tenure in the afterlife had been spent wishing it wasn¡¯t so cold. Experiencing the alternative made me renege on it in an instant. It felt like something warm was trying to crawl out from the crevices under my skin and wriggle its way out into the wider realm. Which was a little surprising, because it didn¡¯t match the usual descriptions. It probably had something to do with my curse.


    A curse I didn¡¯t want anywhere near my intelligence. I didn¡¯t move.


    Fascina held my gaze, expression serious. ¡°If I could fix my disability, I would. It¡¯s stronger than yours. And yours was hardly a pushover. Even time travel didn¡¯t break mine.¡± She shrugged and waved the cylinder. ¡°I tried this on myself while you were rummaging through the ruins. You¡¯d think a dread sigil from a well that turned the afterlife on end would be enough.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked again.


    ¡°Just a ghost with a lot of dark magic pumped in. I know what it did to the living world. I¡¯d rather not repeat it here.¡±


    Despite myself, I was definitely curious. ¡°What do you think you could do to the dead?¡±


    Her face turned towards the second labyrinth. ¡°Worse than that, for one thing. So it¡¯s very important I focus on being a hero.¡± She grinned and turned her back on me, waving the cylinder one-handed in the air. ¡°Are you coming?¡±


    Groaning, I floated after her.


    The labyrinth stretched out ahead of us, now a wasteland dotted with looming, fractured debris. The more I saw, the more I noticed signs it wasn¡¯t completely helpless, even in this collapsed state. If it was listening to our conversations, it might come up with a solution to save us yet. I found myself scouring the second fold in case it was already a step ahead. The copy of the cistern drew my scrutiny like a beacon, and I traced the nearby paths. It didn¡¯t resemble the passages I remembered; no water streaming through the tops, or canals running underneath.


    Progress was achingly slow, made worse by Fascina¡¯s regular pauses to turn over stones. The warmth under my skin verged on intolerable, but I didn¡¯t bother scratching. Scratching never helped.


    I noted other landmarks in the second fold. Most were more obvious than the cistern. A sector of towers and criss-crossing bridges; a green patch overrun with vines. A section glowing brighter than the others in a field of pulsing lights. Everything laid out for us to commit to memory, if only it would stay that way. I squinted at a clearing larger than the cistern characterised by radial spokes. Was that the equivalent of where the cantina fell?


    From here, it looked like a wheel.


    A cry jolted me out of my reverie to where Fascina balanced precariously. My gaze darted to the prominent hole in her thigh. Light oozed out of the hollow in trickles, fading into wisps that lingered longer than the rest.


    ¡°I¡¯m alright.¡± She took a step forward on the leg. The movement left light trails behind her.


    The fear was always the worst. Spectres realising their time was limited, and at best they could only eke it out a little. The ones who succeeded worked hardest, but at the cost of spending their final moments working to the bone. Shatterings shouldn¡¯t be drawn out like this. They shouldn¡¯t have to happen at all.


    About fifteen minutes later I joined her, a section of my skull breaking off above an ear. Much to my great relief, the pressure hammering outwards at me blissfully abated. I doubted it would last forever.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I caught Fascina staring at it as we travelled.


    ¡°It¡¯s only light in there,¡± she commented. ¡°How are we still able to function? I drank that wine at the bar. I can see. I can feel.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Memories. Plus Kaedhrakthys prefers us this way, I guess. What would you find more interesting ¨C someone capable of acting and holding a conversation, or a ball of light that just bobbed there? As you already know, we can adjust some things when we want to. None of it helps with the cold, though.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been getting to me,¡± Fascina admitted. ¡°At least I¡¯m not shivering.¡±


    ¡°But you could,¡± I replied, and shivered to make a point.


    ¡°So much for the forbidden tome on death. I¡¯m beginning to wonder if all of them were useless. Do you know how much they were sought after? Continental treasures.¡± She shook her head. ¡°It seems the only content of value in them was the sigils.¡±


    ¡°That appear in the labyrinth,¡± I murmured. Of course. ¡°What did the tomes say about them, specifically?¡±


    ¡°I only read Charismo¡¯s in full,¡± Fascina answered. ¡°As potential targets for Aggranda, dividing our knowledge made us less expendable. Charismo kept the volume on curses, which is why I¡¯m now the expert.¡±


    Curses and sigils: both magicks operable in the afterlife had been written in the pages of those tomes. Maybe I¡¯d been unfair to Fascina, and the real culprits were the books. ¡°Where did they come from?¡± I asked her urgently. ¡°Who wrote them?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, exactly. They¡¯ve been passed down and guarded since the ancients. They might predate the forming of the continents, but I couldn¡¯t tell you for certain.¡±


    That didn¡¯t tell me much. I already knew time travel was a possibility in her chaos bubble. ¡°No mention of the author?¡±


    ¡°Usually authors of forbidden texts don¡¯t leave an easy trail for their pursuers.¡± Fascina¡¯s tone was wry.


    ¡°Then what came before the continents?¡±


    The spectre grimaced uncomfortably. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a history buff. That was Acuitas. He was constantly babbling about various pieces of ancient trivia, and I was busy prioritising what was currently relevant. All I know is that we had the Border Ocean and the System.¡±


    I glanced at her sharply. ¡°The System?¡±


    ¡°The progenitor deity who gave birth to the gods. Wait. Do you think it could have been Kaedhrakthys?¡±


    I shook my head. That was one factor I was certain of. What surprised me more was the apparent level of historical detail. Chaos bubbles were typically based around concepts, usually poorly thought out. When it came to history, they were prone to descending into vagueness beyond the previous couple of centuries, or else became copies of mainline Soddit¡¯s with the identifiers filed off.


    ¡°If it¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking of, the System is a¡­ different concept,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t have computers in your bubble, do you?¡±


    ¡°People who compute?¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t have anything like floating screens or visions that display your attributes for you?¡±


    ¡°I think you mean attribute, singular,¡± Fascina responded. ¡°There are illusion spells that could do it, but I don¡¯t know why anyone would want to. It¡¯s fairly obvious where we¡¯re from already.¡± Her sockets widened. ¡°Do people have multiple attributes on Vanilla?¡±


    It took me a second to realise where she¡¯d gotten the name from, and disguised a laugh. ¡°Not in the way you¡¯re thinking. You can lift things and move. That¡¯s what other realities refer to by strength and dexterity, for instance. A System is a ¨C I suppose it¡¯s not dissimilar to a god ¨C an artificial construct that regulates the distribution of those and other abilities. They¡¯re not very equitable and tend to lead to the strong becoming disproportionately stronger. And no, Vanilla doesn¡¯t have one. It¡¯s a feature of another chaos bubble.¡±


    And it showing up in Fascina¡¯s, even in the distant past, was¡­ odd. Maybe I was reading too much into it. ¡°Overlap is possible,¡± I wrote it off for now. ¡°Ideas can be reused.¡± Too often, in fact, as evidenced by the bandit problem. Even if it wasn¡¯t bandits specifically, there was always a rash of raids. There was always a dark lord or villain. Soddit was always in danger. And there were always heroes.


    ¡°Which bubble are you from?¡± Fascina asked, looking at me oddly.


    ¡°What makes you think it isn¡¯t Vanilla?¡±


    ¡°You talk about it like an outsider. Like I would.¡±


    ¡°I am one. The labyrinth is all I¡¯ve known for a long time. My original home may as well be just another story at this point. And stories aren¡¯t the same as living and breathing it. But,¡± I conceded, ¡°it was¡­ different. I don¡¯t remember many of the specifics, or they get muddled with recountings others have told me. Hear a pattern repeat long enough, it eventually replaces your original baseline. It¡¯s more subtle than you¡¯d think, and the details I held onto were what I prioritised as relevant.¡± I pointed at the hole in my head. ¡°There¡¯s only so much room up here, and the old information gets pushed out with the new.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear,¡± Fascina said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I remember the important parts. As for my bubble, it ¨C¡± I paused. If I¡¯d be playing out the rest of my time with the hero, there were better ways to spend it than dancing indecisively around the issue. Better to pick a narrative and stick to it. I was already halfway there, anyway. ¡°¨C was the one with the System.¡±


    ¡°Ah, hence your interest.¡±


    I returned to the important topic. ¡°And there was nothing at all in Charismo¡¯s tome about the sigil?¡±


    Fascina¡¯s face snapped from sympathy back to focused practicality. ¡°It covered what it does, how it works, and the grim commands to use it. Knowledge alone isn¡¯t enough. You can¡¯t just etch the sigil anywhere and expect it to work; inscribing one takes vast amounts of power. It¡¯s why Aggranda had to consume the holy beasts before he could continue. Each of those beasts were highly attuned to their continent¡¯s mana, acting like a reservoir.¡±


    ¡°Question,¡± I interrupted. ¡°If there¡¯s only one holy beast per continent, and they have to be killed to operate the sigils, why did your bubble have an ongoing spate of dark lords? Wouldn¡¯t the critical resource be used up after the first one?¡±


    ¡°Well, they keep coming back, resurrected by the gods in a mighty celebration.¡± Her voice lowered unnecessarily. ¡°Controversial opinion, but I wish they wouldn¡¯t. Their absence might not shut down the dark lord problem, but it would make their jobs a whole lot harder. As you say, repetitive and frustrating. The beasts must be very beloved in heaven, because otherwise I don¡¯t understand why the gods won¡¯t learn.¡±


    ¡°Because Kaedhrakthys doesn¡¯t,¡± I sighed in response. ¡°And there was nothing about sigils interacting with other realms?¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all.¡± She stopped to turn over a rock. ¡°Ah!¡± A piece of her arm splintered away, and she stared at it in dismay.


    We were never going to make it to the second fold.


    ¡°Drop that,¡± I said, motioning to the rock. ¡°Come here and grab onto my waist.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to fly me over?¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡±


    When she was in position, I reached a hand into my chest and curled my fingers around the cursed orb. Touching it never felt pleasant, verging on painful. The thrumming reminded me of the drums in the cistern ¨C because it was connected, I recalled with a start; another minor detail I¡¯d forgotten ¨C and strongly resisted being handled at all. I had to make the flesh and bones around it tangible, which hurt like no one¡¯s business and made me tremble.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Fascina asked, horrified. She grabbed at my wrist, but her fingers went through it.


    ¡°Hopefully getting us out of here.¡± I dug my other hand in for purchase. The disruption screamed with pain while I tried to keep my Schrodinger¡¯s organs from bursting. It had taken me quite a few attempts and many descents into unconsciousness to master the intricacies of specific intangibility; my strong point had never been attention to detail.


    ¡°Ameri, stop.¡± Dropping an arm from my waist, she grasped for the sigiled cylinder.


    ¡°This will help!¡± I grimaced. ¡°You want trust? Trust me. Just make sure you hold on.¡±


    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, she did, and I yanked at the orb.


    The pain never lessened, though I¡¯d done it a thousand times before. At first as experiments to see if various methods made a difference; then to test if overuse would erode it. Later, just for something, anything, to break up the boredom.


    The curse tore. I tore with it.


    I didn¡¯t think it was much like shattering, since I was still very much present and conscious, just in many, many pieces. All of them in overriding agony.


    Consumed with blinding pain, the world stopped making sense for a while. Until it suddenly did. Fascina let go of me like a hot coal and stumbled backwards into a heap, making a series of incoherent noises.


    I floated, not sure which way up I was, until my mind once again started making sense of my vision. The brown stuff in front of me seemed to be timber, and the lines across them cross-beams of a ceiling. Vaguely rectangular lumps could have been tables, and in the corner, a piano.


    All in all, it looked awfully like the inside of a bar.