The floor creaks.
No. It breathes.
Each tile in the labyrinth pants like a hungry mouth, exhaling a warm, rancid breath—almost alive. A black vapor rises—a nightmare mist—that gnaws at the edges of reality and snuffs out all perspective. The labyrinth never fully reveals itself. It hints. It insinuates. It waits.
And at the heart of that suspended void: two figures.
Rays, bandaged from head to toe, as fragile as a survivor on the brink of relapse, clinging to the leash of a dog that never lets go.
And Rex—nose raised, ears perked, chest firm, paws alert.
A guide dog.
A companion.
A stubborn star in the night.
The labyrinth opens without warning. A muffled screech, stones breaking apart like shattered ribs. A long corridor stretches out, its walls lined with dead eyes and tongues frozen in terror. Rex moves forward, Rays follows. The silence is total—except for sharp barks, precise and brief, and the dog's panting as he sniffs the air, searching for the memory of a lost world.
A trap.
A click.
Rex growls. Pulls on the leash.
Rays doesn't hesitate. He follows.
A tile sinks beneath their feet. Arrows shoot from the walls—hissing, lethal. Rex leaps, dragging Rays to the ground. Metal slashes the air just above them. Silence returns, slicing the moment clean.
— What... was that? Rays whispers.
But Rex doesn't answer. He moves on, confident. Unshakable. He has seen his master's pain—felt it, breathed it, swallowed it. He won't let these walls steal him again.
Second corridor. Two paths.
To the right: a whisper.
To the left: a smell.
The whisper speaks of light. Of healing. Of restored colors. A woman's voice—soft, warm—the voice of a mother never known. "Come this way, my child... You'll see the world."
And for a moment, Rays trembles. The desire to believe gnaws at him.
But Rex doesn't look. He listens. He senses.
He pulls to the left.
The smell is vile. Rotting flesh. Acid. And yet... real.
A rope hangs from the ceiling, ending in a knot of blue wool.
Rex jumps. Grabs it. Pulls.
The right wall collapses, revealing a pit bristling with bone spikes. A lie. A dream-trap.
Rays freezes. He feels the void at his heels.
— You knew?
Rex barks. Twice. Sharp. Not proud. Not seeking praise. He doesn't need recognition. He doesn't act for glory. He acts because he is here. Because he must.
They continue on.
Third segment. The floor is a checkerboard of black and red. A riddle ignites on the ceiling—letters of living embers:
"I am blind but I see more than you.
I am mute but bark in your night.
I was born to obey, yet I am your savior.
Who am I?"
Rays furrows his brow. His breath shortens. He hesitates.
Then he understands.
He says nothing. He turns his face toward Rex.
— It's you.
Rex barks. Once. The floor trembles. Pulls back. A stone bridge rises slowly, opening the way to the next chamber.
But with each step, the labyrinth darkens. It changes.
It whispers.
Faces emerge from the stone. Children without eyelids. Fathers with split skulls. Dogs hanged from branches of ebony.
Rays clenches his teeth. Horror wants to consume him. But Rex pulls. Harder. He smells fear in the air. He smells the end.
Tiles crumble beneath their feet.
A final trap.
Spikes shoot from the floor, the ceiling, the walls. Blades whistle. Dance. Maim.
Rex pushes Rays forward. Rays falls, crashes, screams.
— REX!!!
But Rex throws himself into the spikes. His side is slashed open. His back leg is severed. He whimpers. He sinks.
But he crawls.
He bites into Rays' sleeve. He pulls.
One step.
He falls.
A whimper.
He rises again.
They cross the trap. Together.
Then, silence. Dense. Sacred.
A pale, unreal light washes over them.
One last corridor. One final step.
In front of them... the exit.
A white circle. Like a full moon suspended in shadow.
Rex pushes the door.
It opens.
They're back.
⸻
Rays falls to his knees. His trembling hands search blindly—then find warm fur, sticky with blood. He feels broken ribs, torn muscles, open wounds. The dog's breath is faint. Harsh. Too slow.
— Rex... why...?
There is no answer.
Just presence.
Just a loyalty that never faltered.
And suddenly, a voice descends from the ceiling. Deep. Slow. Solemn as a celestial epitaph.
"The stage of acceptance is complete."
"Not through strength. But through loyalty."
"The master was blind. But his guide saw clearer than anyone."
A pause. Almost reverent.
"Congratulations, Rex."
A bark.
Weak. Almost a sigh.
But happy.
Like a light in the throat of night.