The Maze The Lost Labyrinth - By Jason Brannon Page 0,2

Yet, in this case, the transgressions were far more plentiful.

The cobblestone steps lay covered in thick tangles of thorny vines. The air stank of decay and decadence; the hallways were encrusted with black ice and sin. Angels roamed the hallways with hammers and chisels, feverishly writing on the walls. Some carved instructions for the tortured soul who would soon find himself trapped inside. Others planted clues for his escape. Demons skulked in the darker places and searched for hiding places to deploy traps. Others sharpened weapons.

Only two outcomes awaited the man who would soon be imprisoned within the walls of the maze. The angels hoped for redemption. The demons hoped for death.

Men had stumbled in the darkness of the maze before and given up their souls willingly in order to escape. Others solved the puzzles within, realized the true potential of this place, and became new creatures. Transformation was the key to freedom from this particular prison. However, some never figured that out and stumbled in darkness forever.

Asterion had a special role to play. Inside these twisting, turning passageways, he was the law. Neither angel nor demon had a stronghold here. The decision to escape the maze or wander in darkness belonged entirely to the lost soul. The choice couldn't be forced. The demons, however, always looked for an advantage. Often times they cheated, going outside the maze to find a way to gain the upper hand. The moment the minotaur heard flute song, he knew what they had done.

They had called for reinforcements, and The Piper had finally arrived.

Asterion watched as imps hefted pickaxes, pushed carts filled with rock, raised new walls, set snares, and consulted the blueprint for the labyrinth to make sure all of the appropriate sins would be included in the architecture. Conviction or destruction of the heart depended on that more than anything else. As they worked, Asterion heard them snickering to themselves. The demons thought they were clever calling in The Piper. What the demons didn't realize was that the angels snickered too. Prayers were being offered up by the faithful, and their prayers were being heard.

The war had begun.

Chapter 4

The air was filled with mournful strains of malevolent music. The Piper had spent many long years honing his craft, perfecting his dark tunes, devising just the right sounds to lead the pure-hearted astray. He’d had nothing but time since The Fall to play his pipes and to plot the demise of humanity.

He roamed like a nomad from town to town, wreaking havoc with the noises he manufactured. Suicides and murders followed in his wake. Families fell apart, torn to shreds by the disruptive power of his flute. Entire towns went bankrupt. Churches sat empty.

He delighted in symphonies of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Operas of agony were his music of choice. Nothing sounded any sweeter to The Piper than the hopeless weeping of the lost.

As he looked down on the town of Fairpointe, he stretched his wings and took a deep breath of cool, crisp air. He felt the juices of creation flowing through his veins. The music thrummed in his muscles, vibrated in every fiber of his being as it waited to be released into an unsuspecting world. He saw the tremendous potential for agony and delighted in it. He heard the delicate beating of each heart and knew which strings could be plucked to make dismal music. As he peered down at each and every house in Fairpointe, two stood out immediately.

One contained a family that deserved nothing less than destruction. The other contained a man who could potentially be trained to rain down that destruction without the first bit of remorse.

Of course, The Piper knew he wasn’t the only principality lurking nearby. There were other forces that had their sights set on these two.

The Piper had gotten here first, and that should have been enough to give him claim on the sleepy town of Fairpointe. That was little reassurance, however, when he heard the clang and clamor of hammers nearby. From the sound of it, a maze was being constructed, and he knew what that meant: someone stood at a moral crossroads, about to make a life-changing decision. The Piper had to act quickly.

He took to the air and swooped down to perch on the roof of Adam's Ribs. The Piper smiled a black-toothed grin as he saw the lust that smoldered there, hotter than anything in the barbecue pit. Two lovers from long ago had found each other after