The walls of the labyrinth became increasingly elusive, like shadows slipping away from her gaze. Each step Melania took felt heavier than the last, as if the very space itself resisted her forward motion. Avella and Archon walked beside her, but even their silhouettes began to seem blurred, as if the labyrinth was gradually trying to erase them from reality.
“Every time we get closer to the truth, it flees further away,” said Avella, gripping the crystal that had started to glow weaker, as if tired of sustaining them.
“It’s not fleeing,” Archon replied, his voice calm but cold. “It’s a test. The labyrinth isn’t just for showing us paths; it’s to make us understand who we are.”
Melania stopped and glanced back at them.
“Then why do I feel like this place is changing with me? Every time I touch the threads, they become part of me, and I become part of them.”
“Because you allow it to happen,” Archon answered. “Everything you touch, everything you accept, becomes part of your essence. Without this, you won’t be able to change even the smallest shade of the future.”
She paused, reflecting on his words, but the silence that filled the space didn’t allow her to think for long. Suddenly, through the darkness, a voice rang out—soft but so piercing that its sound seemed to tear through time and space.
“You want to change? Then let this world change you.”
The words reached her from deep within the labyrinth, from a place where shadows melded into a single dark mass. Melania looked around at her companions.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
Avella nodded, but her face froze with tension.
“This voice… it’s not from here,” she whispered.
“It’s the one who created the labyrinth, or the one who wants to destroy it,” Archon replied. “But we have no choice. We must follow it.”
They moved forward, nearing the source of the sound. The shadows thickened, and the threads forming the labyrinth began to unravel, like a web burning in the flames. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, and the space around them took on a chaotic form.
Finally, they reached a vast hall, where the space seemed endless. At its very center hung a massive sphere, its surface covered in golden and black threads that intertwined to form a complex pattern.
“This is the heart of the labyrinth,” whispered Archon, barely breathing. “The thing that preserves its existence.”
Melania approached the sphere. With each step, she felt something changing inside her. The sphere began to dim, and its threads unraveled, revealing the emptiness within.
“The choice is always yours,” the voice echoed once more. “But choice is not just action. It’s who you become by making it.”
Melania stretched out her hand towards the sphere. At the touch of her palm, images appeared in the air—future paths, possible and impossible outcomes, each with its own price. She saw how the world changed again, how some paths led to destruction, others to rebirth, but all required a part of herself.
“How will you choose?” Avella asked, her voice sounding like it was coming through a dream.
“There is no right choice,” Melania answered, her voice firm. “There is only the one I’m ready to accept.”
And she took a step forward, allowing the sphere to dissolve with her touch. The world around them erupted in light, shadows, and voices singing a new song. The labyrinth was no longer the same structure. It had become something else, just as she had.