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ga1n · 3 years

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At the break of dawn, a chilly, silence fills the air as you step into the daunting threshold of the mysterious maze.

From the outside, it looks like a dark overgrown cave entrance in the side of a jagged mountain, but in the villages local legend it is said that a warlock had made the maze out of boredom to tempt the oblivious adventurers with promise of treasure. But his true aim is just to amuse himself across the perpetual cycle of immortality with the artificial heroic battle of those who unknowingly stepped into his playing field.

No one knows if the legend is true. But it is a fact that no one has made it out alive. If the forgotten ancient language is anything to go by, then the maze has been here even before the village in the east and is likely to predate the current kingdoms of this vast continent.

A chill ran down your spine as you spot a decrepit statue of an old man staring out at an unknown area. The material used to make the statue is weathered, cracking and covered with moss and ivy, much like the walls of this place. “Perhaps this is the warlock” you think “or maybe not”. You start to wonder but you doubt you’d ever know for it is just a simple statue from a bygone era. Your curiosity the one that drove you to leave your quaint little village and seek out adventures drives you deeper into the ancient structure unbeknownst of the danger it possesses.

You turn the first corner in the maze and the light and noise you once had in the entrance disappear. Instead you feel an immense darkness consume you. The air once filled with vim and vigour become still and you feel that the maze is waiting in anticipation for your next move. You feel uneasy as if you’re being watched by the maze with ill-intent.

In front there are three corridors each heading in different directions. You ponder your decision as you know that only one of these corridors is the right one, and choosing poorly may lead to your demise, but which one?

You reach into your bag to grab a torch, which you light. It casts a smouldering, flickering flame around you. As the sparks and ashes are emitted by the torch you check your equipment: a greatsword strapped at your side and a dagger slipped into your boots. Your greatsword “Chiyou” named after the war god and “Ideal” your dagger named by the best blacksmith in the west, fantastic names given to spectacular weapons as every adventurer name their weapons. It gives the bards something to sing about much later, but all of that is far from your mind right now.

The odour being emitted by one corridor smells like rot and something much, much horrid. The air from the other two smells rancid, but bearable. As you walk forward, though, you notice that one of these two tunnels have deep scratch marks on some of its stone wall and you sense imminent danger waiting for you. Your body shrugs back at the immense killing intent you feel signalling you, that death awaits at the end.

You choose the remaining corridor to follow and begin to walk carefully down it, all the while watching for traps and things far worse. Suddenly you’re surrounded by a thousand, dark-eyed beings. A torch flickering in their one hand with the other above the hilt of their blades.

Your cheeks perk up as you smile. You notice that these are illusions. They are all you walking down the corridor. You carefully look at each one. They are all the same. They are all reflections created by the magic in this inky place.

You raise the torch. They all raise their torches. You jump and examine the corridor. They all jump and examine the room.

Then you smile as your sword flashes out. Chiyou shatters the illusions and a dreadful howl pierces the dense darkness of the maze. You noticed one reflection was different it was sluggish compared to the others. The reflection did not have the same wound caused by a demon’s warped claw. The reflection falls to your feet, reverting into a hairless beast with teeth and claws like a dire bear.

All the magic mirrors on the wall shatter as the pieces turn into a flurry of foul-smelling dust. The darkness that once surrounded you seemingly withdraw for an instant like it was wounded, before rushing back to surround you. Your torch flickers and once again you are standing alone in the same tunnels, but with a beast at your feet.

You wipe the beast’s blood off Chiyou and sheath it again. You feel Ideal’s weight on your boot, you feel the daggers yearn to be used in combat. As you smile grimly and step over the beast, continuing your journey into the depth of the maze.

“Old man that obstacle is not enough to trick me!” as you say while being engrossed in the maze’s potential.

You reach the end of the maze; you start to feel merry as you celebrate reaching the end, but it is short lived. You notice an ancient old man standing with his skin nestled over his bones making his skeletal figure look fitting in the darkness that surrounds him. His long and dishevelled hair flowing through the breeze seemingly out of nowhere.

The old man smiles and gazes over at the person lying on the altar before him. The person lying on the altar is you, but with your eyes closed, clenched fists and you jerk in your spellbound sleep. Chiyou lies worthless shattered irregularly and Ideal your dagger is nowhere to be seen. Your nose starts to bleed, the blood sliding down your cheek and drips onto the altar sizzling and evaporating when it comes in contact.

With the warlock’s decrepit voice “He’s defeated the basilisk”, a wicked smile dances across his lips, “Will he be able to pass the Hall of Demons? Or will he perish again? He has chosen the right corridor this time, but how far will he get until his body gives out and dies?”

Laughter that could only be described as detestable; echoes through the lifeless corridors in that chamber, but you are unaware as you walk through what you think is the maze.

But what you do not know and what you will never find out, is that you have already walked that maze and you have already come up against the warlock there. And, trapped in his illusion, you will now walk that maze for eternity until he discards you and find another victim to torture.

And that is the maze of illusions, my beloved adventurer: You are trapped in something that does not exist, but you feel the cycle of life and death again and again.

As you struggle to fight off hordes of demons, the detestable laughter grows louder amused at the sight of your endeavour…

#flashfiction #psychological #mystery

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