The initial shock of the Chrono-Labyrinth's sensory assault gradually gave way to a grinding, pervasive disorientation. Andrew had followed his silent shadow Specters deeper into the twisting maze, their ethereal forms serving as the only consistent anchors in a reality that refused to hold still. Every minute felt like an hour, every hour a blur.
"This is ridiculous," Andrew muttered, rubbing his temples. His head throbbed with a dull ache, a constant battle against the Labyrinth's temporal distortions. One moment, he'd be walking down a dimly lit corridor, the next, the light would intensify, the stone walls morphing into what looked like an overgrown garden, only for it to snap back to the corridor, leaving an unsettling afterimage in his mind.
