turned toward the path ahead, straining to see through the overpowering dark: a tunnel, just as Wembleton had described, with a stone floor, black brick ceiling, black brick walls, and nothing more—save for nineteen other men looking just as lost as him.
Silence swept the labyrinth, making the softest sounds loud and apparent—the shuffling of feet, the clearing of a throat. Echoes punctuated the stillness.
Footsteps.
An older man headed toward them, his tawny skin lined in deep wrinkles, pulling his face into a frown. His black hair was flecked with white and balding at the crown, his nose hooked like the beak of an exotic bird. Perhaps it was his grey robes or their grim surroundings that cast an ominous air around him, but once he spoke, Tobias could’ve sworn the tunnel became darker.
“Welcome to the labyrinth,” he said. “I am your Proctor.”
A tremor ran through Tobias, though he refused to let it show. Milo stood petrified at his side, and he was certain he had never seen the man so still.
“This moment marks the start of the Sovereign’s Tournament. For the next thirty days, you will be mine to command.” The Proctor’s brown, beady eyes scanned the men. “You will be under my dictation until one of you wins and the remainder are released—in this life or the next.”
His gaze halted. “Your task today is to navigate the labyrinth.”
A line of servant girls came down the tunnel, swarming the men. Two girls unbuckled Tobias’s armor, and he frantically glanced between the hands on his body and the other men being stripped of their plates.
A Lord with long blond hair looked up at the Proctor. “What are they doing?”
“The armor is for show. Props to stimulate the crowd.” The Proctor watched the girls work, unmoved by the men’s distress. “You’ll travel the labyrinth unarmed. No weapons. No protection. You must rely on your cunning and skill alone.”
The girls finished and scurried away, carrying the armor on their shoulders. Tobias gazed down at himself—pants, sandals, and nothing else—and though he was free and unburdened, the weight of his vulnerability felt heavier than that of the armor.
“This labyrinth is more than a simple trial,” the Proctor said. “It represents time and labor. Your Sovereign devoted years of his life to designing this passage. Its mechanics are beyond your familiarity. There is innovation in these walls. There is magic, willfully given by The Savior Herself.” His voice became stern. “Anything is possible. Expect the unexpected.”
His words traveled through Tobias, leaving a trail of ice in his veins.
“You will navigate this labyrinth or die trying. Your journey ends upon reaching the sanctuary, a place for rest until your next task begins.” The Proctor’s eyes narrowed. “Until then, respect the labyrinth. Obey the labyrinth. You’ll find instructions along your path. Heed them wisely. And see this labyrinth as a reminder of our Savior, for She is the one true Savior, and when you are in Her company, you will abide by Her instructions.”
His tone was biting, more of a reprimand than a warning, but his face remained its unchanging vision of apathy.
“Now, I leave you to your fates.” He took a step back, scanning the competitors. “May the best man win.”
The Proctor shuffled down the tunnel, disappearing into the darkness, while the men stood paralyzed, their feet like blocks of lead.
“What a royal cock,” the Jester scoffed.
The group laughed as one, and the slightest calm floated through the tunnel. Slowly, they sauntered off through the labyrinth, and though not a single part of Tobias wanted to join them, he followed with Milo at his side.
An hour passed, maybe more, but still there was only darkness and must. Eventually torches lined the walls, and Tobias tried to take advantage of the visibility, searching for the instructions the Proctor had described but finding none. With nothing else to do, he eyed the other men; some were uneasy like him, while others seemed bored, kicking at the floor and muttering to themselves.
Milo fidgeted at Tobias’s side, then leaned close to him, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “So, this is it? We just walk endlessly down this tunnel?”
Tobias’s shoulders went rigid. Other men glanced their way, each stare enough to pique his nerves. “Shut up, Milo.”
“Where the hell are we even going?”
“Why would you think I’d know the answer to that? I’m in the same exact position as you.”
The pair abruptly broke apart as another man zigzagged through the pack, wedging himself between them and knocking Milo in