“It has been so many years since I have had a visitor.”

It was a voice that came from the inside. His skull throbbed from the unexpected speech. The boy winced, sucking in his breath.

“I’m sorry, I should have whispered. Is this better?”

He didn’t answer. He made no further movement, watching the towering walls that surrounded him with a tense gaze. They stood far, far apart from him, enough so that fifty people could have stood side by side and still not be able to touch the cold stone dressed in the dark green of clinging ivy. Their height was so great that he had to strain his eyes to the sky to see their end, and even then it was lost to the darkness that loomed over him. The whole place gave him the feeling of being indoors, even though it was situated in the middle of the forest. There was no other person around, no other living creature at all. He looked ahead, saw the walls make a turn, indicating a pathway. Everything was shadowed, mysterious. Everything was massive, and he wondered if the legends of the giants were true, and that they had built this mystifying structure.

He had made it. But now there was doubt. Did he truly want to go in?

“I don’t appreciate your silence.”

Jerking his head up, he looked all around, trying to pinpoint this speaker that could project his voice through the confines of his mind.

“Where are you?”

“Everywhere. I am the Labyrinth itself.”

He gulped. He had heard of the rumors of such a life; that the walls themselves were arms, the shadowed sky (or was it a ceiling that reached the heavens?) were the eyes, and the air itself was its voice. He thought just knowing about it beforehand would be enough, but it had not prepared him for the sensation it would bring. His heart slammed itself against his ribs, his palms were drenched with sweat. He had the uncomfortable image of being trapped within a body, ready to be digested and done away with it.

Taking a deep breath, the boy lowered his eyes and spoke in a small voice. “Y- you don’t need to whisper anymore.”

“I am glad. It is much better this way.” The lively amusement in the tone gave it an eerie human-like quality to it.

The voice was harsh and jarring, but he preferred it over the sly, hissing whisper. Other than that, he found it hard to describe the voice. It pointed to no specific gender, nor whether it was young or old. It seemed to be a mesh of both, serving the confuse and unnerve him. But there were emotions; first of excitement, then of irritation, and then to satisfaction. It was these semblances of feelings that first made him think that a person was speaking to him. Only when he focused on the texture of its voice, composing of something he had never heard before, did he realize the non-mortal quality of it. The Labyrinth was not human or any other race. It was the Labyrinth, it was its own domain.

Standing tall, he took a step forward, but the same unsettling voice stopped short his journey. He even thought the walls were closing in, that the air became thinner. There was the image of arms wrapping around him, squeezing out his breath.

“I must know your name first.”

The boy was only twelve years old, an age that deemed one was only just beginning to know the hardships of life, yet still lacked the real experience to take care of themselves. Going by age alone, he should have never traversed to this place, where so many had already been lost in the pathways of the intelligent maze. But life had forced him to learn fast. The hardness of his blue eyes revealed that tempered soul that had gone through its trials. His skin was tan, showing a life spent in the outside. He only wore a tattered cloak to shield him from the elements, covering his clothes underneath completely. His hair stood up wildly with the color of wheat, yet when the sun would hit it just right, it would then seem his head was topped off with gold.

He raised his head up, where he imagined a great being looked down at him.

“My name is Kessuran,” he spoke with pride. Difficult to do with the rapidly closing walls. He could no longer dismiss it as just the imagination.

“A fine, fine name,” spoke the Labyrinth. The voice said it all. One did not need to see the respectful nod of a head to know the Labyrinth’s pleasure. “But… a nickname I believe you have.”

The boy set his mouth in a thin line. He knew he shouldn’t hesitate in such a place, yet it was difficult nonetheless. Giving a nickname symbolized a relationship, with someone he trusted, or had needed to trust. To give it to this sentient being…

“If you need my aid in finding her, you must learn to rely on me.”

His mouth opened slightly.

“I am, of course, your last hope.”

Struggling, he let out a breath, and there traveled the name on its currents. “Kess…that’s my nickname.”

“Kess,” it dragged out the last letters, trailing shivers across his skin. “What do you hope to find in me?”

His eyes wavered, recalling a memory that was tinged with regret. Still, he held on to his pride with fearsome tenacity.

“The one that I failed to protect. I need to find her… now that I know she is alive.”

There was nothing. He felt the Labyrinth considering him, judging his worth. The silent tension nearly killed him, and he almost broke it with a yell until it spoke again.

“And when you find her, what will you do?”

He looked to the floor. The unseen eyes bore into him too much.

“I will tell her that I’m sorry, and that I will continue to protect her.”

“Even after you failed?” It tested, not yet convinced.

“Yes… It is what I’ve always done. Protecting…”

The next actions were sudden. So deep into his past, he had almost forgotten the present, and with that, the danger that lived in it. Looking up, drawn by a sound, he saw gigantic shapes fall from the darkened ceiling, where the eyes lived. Three of them, rough and uneven, ten times larger than him and fifty times heavier. They were stones- no, boulders from the mountains. They were already upon him with no time to escape. A normal man would have nothing left to do but wait for his inevitable death, crushed by the stone that would turn his bones to dust.

Kess dug his booted feet to the ground, his stance firm. With serious, hard eyes, he waited for the stones to come. To anyone’s eyes, it would seem he was meeting death with dignity. But then he shot forth his arms, just when one of the boulders was two feet above him. His tightened fists cracked its surface, burrowed deep into its interior. Thin, jagged crevices sprouted over the top of the stone before shattering completely with a fantastic array of sharp pebbles falling through the air. The second stone came down, he struck again with the same result. There was the sound of thunder in his punches, showcasing the unnatural strength. When the third and final one descended, he did not strike. Instead, he caught hold of it, fingers digging into the rock. Summoning on his reserves of power, he threw it behind him, crashing to the floor. One end of the boulder was demolished, a carpet of its remains surrounded it as its topside, the part that did not connect with the floor, held itself up with its broken side.

Kess breathed heavily, gazing above in accusation. The skin on his knuckles were slightly peeled, trickles of blood running down his fingers.

“I see that you have power to back up your vow.” The Labyrinth had a laughing tilt to its voice. It angered the boy, but he held back his words, even banished away the very thought. The Labyrinth could see into his head, perhaps why its voice chose to reside there.

“Well then, Kess, come in. I now welcome you to my home. Enter the Labyrinth, and hope to reach your goal.”

He envisioned the walls backing away, letting more room to breathe. If the whole thing had been just an illusion, it made him feel better all the same. Not daring to look back at the entrance, back to the world with the open skies and forests, he stepped in further, falling under the maze’s shadow.

“A fair warning,” said the Labyrinth. “Be careful if you make a wrong turn. Some lead to dead ends. Pray that you never reach them, for the End of the World is not something for your young mind to see."