Chapter 234: A New Start

Author’s note: Hi guys.

So here it is. I was so excited and eager to post this chapter that it wasn't until I got to it that I realized I hadn't named it. A bit harder than usual - given the length of the chapter - but I managed. 😅

Well, I won't keep you any longer with my ramblings. You've been waiting for this for a hell of a long time.

Enjoy the chapter. :)

Chapter 234: A New Start - link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/135608615

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Chapter 234: A New Start

Teeth clenched, I hissed as the stretch deepened, legs sliding farther apart. Sand pressed into my skin, coarse and hot. The stretch no longer a test of will, but a burning trial - pain twisting up through muscle and bone, licking like Harcon’s fire along the spine. A shudder ran through my body at the old memory.

"Hold it," came Deckard’s voice, flat as stone. He stood like a shade behind me, arms crossed, gaze cold and unmoving. Not a flicker of comfort in his face.

My eyes burned with the urge to glare, but I didn’t trust myself to turn my head without falling over - failing. Instead, a growl slipped free, low and bitter.

"You're trying too hard," he said, stepping closer. Each footfall pressed into the sand with deceptive grace. The crunch cut through the stillness, clawing at my ears and drawing a twitch from taut limbs.

"Breathe, girl. You're not made of glass."

Air dragged in, rough and uneven. My thighs trembled, but I forced myself to stay where I was, even as every fiber of me screamed to pull my legs back in.

"This is insane," I muttered through clenched teeth. "You're supposed to train me to fight beasts, not... not join the damn circus!"

Deckard crouched low, adjusting the angle of my foot with a precise flick. Pain shot up my leg, and I couldn’t stop myself from hissing. “You think flexibility is just for show, girl? Tell that to the dead soldier whose arm didn't bend enough when he needed to block a strike. Or the mage who didn’t duck fast enough.”

He rose, shadows flickering across his face. “I’m not here to teach you how to fight them. I’m here to make sure you live through encountering them.”

Teeth pressed hard into the inside of my cheek to hold back a snap. Another inch. Another agonizing inch. It felt like my tendons were going to pop like bowstrings.

"H-how long do I have to stay like this?"

From his coat, or rather spatial storage, Deckard pulled a sand timer and turned it over. "Good of you to ask. Until this runs out."

For all the magic time-measuring tools that existed in this world, he liked the simplest one. At least, it looked plain - at the first glance. Plain in design, but deceptive. That wasn’t ordinary sand sealed within- it was immune to enchantment, untouched by meddling spells. 

"Time runs strange in the Labyrinth - no time tool will help you," he said when I first asked him about the sand timer. "The only thing you can trust is yourself - so stop whining!"

Remembering my first days of training with my mentor, I stared at the thin stream of sand trickling down, slower than the beads of sweat running down my spine. "B-but that's a full five-minute glass!"

He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "No, fifteen."

The first five minutes broke skin deep. The second cut deeper. By the end, I couldn’t tell if time crawled or if I had drifted from my own flesh. Breath came shallow. My muscles twitched like plucked strings. Looking at the timer would’ve shattered what little grit I had left.

Deckard offered no words. He never did, not when pain ruled the moment. He just stood there, breathing in sync with the world: silent, immovable, and waiting.

By the time the last grain of sand fell, my mind had gone blank. Still, I held on. My fists buried in the sand, limbs shaking, teeth locked. The satisfaction of me collapsing - failing wasn't something neither I nor the beast inside me could bear to yield.

"At ease, girl," he said and nothing more.

Air hissed past my clenched teeth, rough with a growl, as I curled my legs inward inch by inch. Then, pain burst like starlight behind my shut eyes, and a deep groan followed. Sweat slicked my skin, thick as a second hide. Heat throbbed behind both my knees, as if someone had pressed irons there.

Deckard didn’t pause. No helping hand, no look back- only a steady stride toward the edge of the ring, voice trailing behind him. “That's enough for today - clean yourself up. Be ready in the morning. I have put together a new set of stretching exercises.”

My fingers sank into the sand, grounding me, while the ache rolled through every limb. Mossbear trampling wouldn’t have felt much worse. Still, something deep inside kept burning.

"Deckard!" The call came ragged, torn from a parched throat. "When are you finally going to take me to Fallen’s Cry?"

Mid-step, he halted, a gust of wind trailing in its wake catching the edge of his coat. 

The words burst out, too long held back, born from a question that had festered since our run-in with Esu.

"You’ve been stretching me for weeks. Drilling forms. Running me into the ground. I’ve learned to bend, break, breathe, bruise- yet I haven’t fought a single beast. Or anyone, for Traiana's sake!"

He turned, slow and unreadable.

"And you think you're ready?"

'Was I? Absolutely not!' 

In fact, I wasn't sure if I ever would be, or if I even wanted to be “ready.” Despite the hard daily training with Deckard, the last three weeks at Castiana had been so peaceful that I wouldn't have minded if it stayed that way forever. But my time was running out. I was well aware of that.

"I know what you mean." The growl slipped out before I could stop it, meant more for myself than him.

Going back to Esulmor a week after we left hadn’t played out how I’d pictured. Training with the mossbear wasn’t a full failure, but something had shifted. They’d learned. Talked among themselves, maybe, figured out my moves. The young one I fought this time wasn’t the same, yet knew exactly how to shut me down. Every strike, every dodge- it all felt aimed at me, not some stranger. Calling it frustrating didn’t even scratch the surface.

"Then you know the answer, girl."

"I know I'm not," came the growl. "But... I wasn’t ready when Fae took me. Wasn’t ready to endure that deranged bastard's madness, or face that thoughts-fuddling bitch. I wasn't even ready to face the mossbears, let alone Esu, and yet I DID."

Deckard’s gaze didn’t waver, didn’t soften, but something beneath it stirred. Nothing I could name, yet the air around us felt different. Then, with one long stride, he stood before me.

"Yes, you weren’t ready," he said, voice calm, a smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth. "And yet you endured; just like now."

"Does that mean...?" Hope slipped into my tone before I could stop it.

"Don't wag your tail just yet," Deckard stopped me. "You're still not ready, girl."

A breath hitched in my throat as my chest rose unsteadily. "But?"

'There was definitely a BUT.'

He let the silence stretch, the kind that coils around your ribs and pulls tight. A twitch ran down my tail, giving away the storm of thoughts I refused to show on my face.

His head cocked slightly, eyes scanning something beneath the surface. Then, after a long moment, he gave a nod. Subtle. Decided.

"But," he said, quiet but absolute, "I don’t think you’re ever gonna be ready."

'Wait, what?! Didn't he…?'

A flick to the tip of my ear cut the raging thought short. "Don't overthink it, girl. No one’s ever ready for what waits down there."

"Then why all of this?" I asked, sounding like a brat, as I gestured at the training grounds. Weeks of brutal stretching and pushing past my limits. The reason was clear - but I still needed to ask. "To prepare for the unexpected."

The faint smile on my mentor's face widened into a grin. "It's not courage that gets you through Fallen's Cry. Not strength. Not talent, or luck, or flashy magic tricks. It helps, no doubt. But what I've learned is that the Labyrinth doesn’t care about any of that. It only wants to know, if you’ll keep walking when everything in you screams to lie down and die.”

He leaned a touch closer. “And you will, girl.”

A hard swallow followed. Muscles still shook from the strain, arms crusted with salt and grit. Still met his eyes without blinking, the frustration tight in my chest.

"Didn't you know that already?" He’d seen me stare down the mind-bitch, stand before Esu, fight his young. 

'Wasn't that enough proof?'

He smiled - half warmth, half smirk. "One day, actually, one night - two, if you count the second visit to Esulmor. That's all I saw of your resolve."

"What? That's..."

“Listen, girl. I took you in for a reason. You’ve got fire, no doubt. But the labyrinth? That’s no one-night trial. That takes the kind of will that holds out for weeks, even months, when everything inside you screams to quit.”

The snide retort burned at the edge of my tongue. Over a year in that lunatic’s cellar, broken, experimented on. Test rat. Proof enough for anyone. The words stayed down, though. While the truth that Deckard could see in my twisted body, just mere words for him. He needed to see my determination with his own eyes - and he did.

“So…” I rasped. “Tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I blinked. 'Didn't he...Did I mistake the meaning behind his words?'

“We leave tonight.”

"..." Though I was desperate to respond, say something, anything, I just stayed there staring at him wide-eyed. 'T-t-tonight?'

His smirk deepened at the look on my face. Eyes turned toward the lowering sun. “Be ready. City Hall. One hour - I’ve got something to show you first.”

“You mean… the labyrinth mark?” 

Of course, during those weeks here I didn't slack off and tried to learn as much as I could - about Castiana, the city I was living in right now, the Sahal Empire it was part of, the world of Eleaden as a whole, but also labyrinths like Fallen's Cry. Apparently there were twenty or six of them worldwide. Many with cities built on them like Castiana, others in the wilderness, a few unexplored, and some even lost. How that could be possible I had no idea, but what I did know was that one needed a mark to enter the labyrinth. Sort of a key.

"That too, but there's more. You'll see..."

Before I could speak, he was already gone - swallowed by the barracks in a few swift steps.

'Bastard?' a growl under my breath escaped my throat. Always the same. Drop a hint, stir the fire, then leave me burning. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he liked doing this to me. Still, there was always a reason behind his acts.

'I'll know the answer soon enough.' With that thought, I turned toward the barracks. First, a stop at the baths, then the mess. Facing whatever lay ahead on an empty stomach sounded like a poor plan and walking through the city streets full of Terr'dens reeking of sweat was just as bad. Their stares cut like blades, and the contempt in their eyes made my skin crawl.

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The route from the barracks to City Hall was second nature to me by now. Ria’s fault, mostly - the little kitare muncking - had me walking it daily since she’d taken it upon herself to teach me Standard. But never this late.

Of course, this wasn't the first time I strolled Castiana as the sun set. While during the day the city looked like something out of a medieval fantasy, at night it was literally a fairy tale. Streets illuminated by the light of magic lamps, small diaglyphs here and there decorating shop fronts and windows, live music pouring from various corners of the city where life never seemed to slumber.

And sure enough, to my disappointment, the noisiest spot on the Seeker’s Square of them all was where I was headed.

"Fuck," I breathed as the square opened before me and I saw people going in and out of the biggest building there. With the front illuminated by two dia-glyphs, the Castiana City Guards' coat of arms, representing the city itself - a hexagonal labyrinth in the middle, two swords flanking it with bird tail feathers sticking out at the bottom, and a crowned wolf’s head above - and the other, the Egerton family crest - a two-tailed wolf, standing on its hind legs against a blue-and-white checkerboard - the City Hall was impossible to miss.

Scanning the crowd - mostly seekers, by the looks of them - I couldn’t help wishing they were off dreaming or busy elsewhere. Nevertheless, swallowing a knot of nerves, I took a breath and strode inside like I had done a hundred times before.

The noise still caught me off guard, rattling my ears even after bracing for it.

The entrance hall still teemed with people despite the hour. Some bellowed at the notice boards, others barked at each other mid-hall. All the while, three receptionists fought to keep their lines moving.

'Wait! Only three?'

By day, there were five.

'Okay, I guess there are less people here. Still...'

Biting down on my lower lip, I swallowed a whimper and scanned the receptionists for the one I befriended. Enola, however, was not among them.

'Understandable.' It was. I couldn't expect to find her here at any time of day. Even with the Lattice and the various weaves, it would be inhumane to ask someone to work 26 hours a day, five days a week. Only slaves…!

"Korra, is that you? What's with the hood? And why are you hiding your wings and tail? What are you doing here, anyway?" A round face framed in black hair greeted me as I turned. The voice was unmistakable.

"I-I could ask you the same thing, Enola," I said, stuttering a little. "I would have thought you'd be home by now."

"That makes two of us," came her tired sigh, hand brushing down the plain tunic she wore. "I was on my way out when... forget it. What brings you here at this hour?"

Not sure where to even start, I scratched the back of my head and whispered. "My... mentor"

Enola gave me a knowing look, refraining from saying his name out loud. Though it might not have looked like it, in places like this, someone was always listening. "Ah, so that's why the hood."

"Yeah..."

Being recognized as Deckard's apprentice was the last thing I wanted. Unlike him, I wasn't strong enough to fend off those interested in how I'd wormed my way into his favor, searching for the secret that made him accept them, with my mere presence.

'Presence and Might.' I sang in my head, now knowing the difference between them. Both linked, yet as far apart as day and dusk. Might was something you wielded, thrust on others with a clenched hand. Presence wasn’t yours to throw - it came naturally to others, not determined by the number of sigils, but by yours truly.

One glance from Deckard scattered his followers like leaves on wind. Me? I had to duck into alleys, weaving through Castiana like a stray chased by starved hounds.

“What’s he want with you this late - and here of all places?” Enola eased me toward a quieter stretch of wall, careful not to name my mentor. Even out of sight, ears had a way of turning up where you least wanted them.

"Is it..." Her brow furrowed as the pieces clicked. “…the labyrinth?”

"Ria? Did she tell you?"

A smirk tugged at her lips. “Sure, she never shuts up about you. But you asking all those little things about Fallen’s Cry? I’m not stupid, Korra.”

"I didn't mean to imply..."

"Still time to turn back, you know. It's not a place everyone comes back from." 

Heard that warning more times than I could count, and not just from her - the reason why the old me would want to stay as far away from that place as possible. But the beast-me was eager to dive into the depths beneath the city. Plus, unless I want to live the rest of my life in fear, it was a place that I had to go, whether I liked it or not.

Even Deckard said getting that last sigil was a long shot. Without it, no second array. No chance of shedding the slave brand either.

"I know. But..."

"Don't," Enola cut me off with a look that held more sorrow than scorn. "Since I started here, I’ve heard every excuse, every reason. Just… know what you’re walking into. If something happened, Ria would be heartbroken."

A tight ache clenched around my heart. "I’m not going alone, so don’t worry. That’s not the plan."

The smile she gave held sorrow, quiet and knowing. "Even someone like your mentor can be caught off guard in the Labyrinths, Korra. But if he’s with you... so you're here to get your Labyrinth Mark?"

"Um-hmm," I hummed with a nod. "Though he said there's something he wants to show me, too. Any idea what?"

Light sparked in Enola’s eyes. "You’re lucky to have him. Not everyone gets taken first to…"

"The Hall of Souls."

The voice nearly scared the breath out of me: Deckard. Even with my domain letting me sense every inch around me in perfect detail, even with hearing sharp enough to catch a sole squeaking across the far side of the hall, he still found ways to slip past me unnoticed.

'Really annoying.' That thought rumbled in my chest, but didn’t make it past my lips. "And what is this Hall of Souls?"

Enola opened her mouth to reply, yet Deckard's voice came first. "You will see, girl."

"Would it kill you to give me a straight answer just once?"

"No, but it could kill you."

The question ‘How?’ tried to leap out, but I bit it back. Deckard had made his lessons plain - truth delivered on silver dulls the senses. Truth taken, through pain or sight or blood, sticks. Like a sparring wound, it teaches you more than any scroll ever could.

"Shall we?" He nodded toward the lobby, a quiet gesture that aimed toward the Hall of Souls. His eyes flicked briefly to Enola.

"I’ll pass. Not a place I care to see before sleep."

'Should I be worried?'

"You'll see soon enough, Korra." My body gave me away again - another annoying thing I haven't been able to get rid of yet. "Just... take in what you can. That hall holds more than echoes. Some seekers forget what it truly represents. Try not to be one of them. Anyway, will I see you tomorrow?" Her voice lifted, shaking off the heaviness. "Ria would like that."

I didn’t have an answer. "Deckard?"

‘SHIT!’ Too late. Said it without thinking.

"Did someone say Deckard?"

"Deckard's here?"

"Is that him?"

The words bounced off the stone walls, growing louder.

"S-sorry," I whined under my breath, cursing myself for the slip.

He shrugged. “Was only a matter of time before someone noticed me. And speaking of time... best not stretch a first visit to the labyrinth longer than needed. She'll be here for her Standard language lessons."

"Glad to hear it - unlike some other news," Enola said, grin flickering into something more solemn. "I wish you a safe return."

“And back we shall be,” Deckard answered, like it was some old send-off. Didn’t give me a moment to think on it. One stride put him behind me, and the next thing I knew, his arms wrapped tight - and the hall vanished in a blur.

When my feet touched the floor again, bile hit the back of my throat.

"About time for you to get used to it, girl."

"I don't know if getting used to it is possible," I growled, fighting the churn in my gut. Him carrying me around was part of my training - some of it practical, most of it just him not wanting to slow down for my sake. And yet, every ride ended with my insides trying to climb out.

"Anyway, here we are. Hall of Souls."

Wiping the spittle from my mouth, I straightened up. Before us stood a door unlike any other in City Hall. There were other big doors, of course, such as the entrance one, but... if I had any doubts that what Deckard wanted to show me was not related to the labyrinth, the sight of the double doors erased it. Massive, all black, decorated with glowing white lines. I didn't get the same ancient feeling about it as I did back then on the platform in the middle of Labyrinth Square. The connection to it was glaring, though.

The door creaked open under Deckard’s hand. No warning, no pause to check if I was ready. A cold, heavy air caught in my throat as I followed.

"Good evening, lads," Deckard greeted the guards inside. One leaned lazy against a pillar; the other barely clung to wakefulness on his stool.

"Evening, sir," muttered the younger one by reflex. A beat later, he blinked, realizing who had come calling at this hour. His gaze slid to me, eyes widening.

"H-Hello."

'Pitiful. Frustrating.' In spite of everything I had learned, my efforts, I sounded so weak.

"Sir. Lass," grunted the older guard, already drifting back to sleep.

How he could sleep in a place like this though, was beyond me.

“I'm guessing you're not here on a date, sir?”

"You got that right, Waylon," Deckard said with a grin, giving me a nod. "Brought my apprentice to see what it means to be a seeker."

"The dark side of money and fame many do not see" the guardsman, named Waylon, remarked knowingly. "There was a young couple here not long ago. The girl clung to him so tight, he was red as a beet."

"I see. Some things never change."

"Yeah." He gave me a knowing smile, like he could tell the place was starting to crawl beneath my skin.

Deckard didn’t waste the moment. He stepped forward, and I followed, eyes trailing over the walls. No hall here, though - this was something else. Felt more like a library. Shelves upon shelves stretched ahead, but not a single book in sight. Just black cubes. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Maybe more.

However, instead of asking about it, a completely different question left my lips. “Is this a dating spot?”

Deckard gave a small nod. “Brought a few girls here myself. Fear gets the heart racing and…”

“I see,” I stopped him, knowing all too well to what ideas my mind, driven by bestial instincts and urges, could lead me to. And this was no place for it. There was something deeper to that fear that I couldn't put my finger on.

“Well that's why we're here - for you to see.”

He didn’t say more. Just stood there while the silence worked its way through the marrow, letting the strangeness crawl deeper.

"S-so, what is this place? What are these cubes?" 

Only a fool would miss the link to the labyrinth. Some cubes lay dead and silent atop their pedestals, but others floated - lines of light pulsing beneath their surfaces, hovering just above the wood.

"Like I told you - Hall of Souls. The cubes are Soul Dice." He didn’t wait for a question, just motioned toward the shelves stacked high. "Every one of them is tied to a seeker who's walked into Fallen’s Cry."

Took a few breaths to let that settle.

"Does ... does that mean you have a cube ... the Soul Dice here too?"

"Right there." He pointed without hesitation, then walked me over. Nestled among a sea of others floated a single cube. The name etched into the pedestal beneath it read:

[Deckard Ardaivel'cas]

Plain lettering. No flourish. No title.

"So..." Whatever crossed my face gave me away. Deckard gave a slow nod. "Yeah. Once you bear the mark, a Soul Dice is shaped for you. They carve a pedestal, write your name, and slot it in here."

"They? Isn't the dice something created by the labyrinth?"

"The mark and dice is - not this place. There are various theories - the one I like is that Soul Dice were intended for seekers' close ones. To know if their loved one is still alive or not."

“Wait, does that mean...?” I never finished. A cold ripple ran down my back as I stared at the endless rows of dimmed Soul Dice on the left side of the room.

“Yes. All gone,” Deckard confirmed with a slow nod. “Doesn’t mean the Labyrinth took them all. A good number fell in the Mind Wars. Some were murdered. And a lucky few made it to old age.”

Once the shock dulled, the silence of the room grew louder, something worse creeping. Death, lined up in neat little rows, wasn’t what unsettled me, though. Cemeteries held the same stillness. No, the real weight came from the opposite wall, the one with the Soul Dice of the living ...

THUD!!!

Something fell - loud, close. The sound struck my ears like a slap. I flinched, a choked squeak slipping out before I could stop it. Then came the echo: faint, distant, the cry of a woman threading through the hall.

"W-what was that?" I asked, finding myself too close to Deckard, Sage squeezed tight in my arms.

“One of the Soul Dice,” he said. “It struck its pedestal.”

“Someone just… died?” I breathed.

"They did."

"A - and the voice?"

“Traiana,” Deckard said, voice low. “Crying for the fallen.”

A chill crept through me. Would that voice one day rise for me? If I chose the Seeker’s path, this might be how it ended - my fate bound to an extinguished die, my name carried only by the wood it lay on.

“Not the worst fate,” Deckard murmured, cutting into my thoughts. “And before you start growling at me, girl - come.”

I did, keeping close behind.

On the far wall stood another row of Soul Dice. At a glance, they looked no different from the ones holding the Soul Dice of the living - black cubes streaked with glowing white, names etched beneath.

Yet something felt off, gnawing at the edge of my understanding.

A stillness missing.

A rhythm that didn’t fit.

‘What’s different?’

And then …

“Wait, really?” I hadn’t expected that. I had only said what the sight made me feel.

Deckard gave a low chuckle. “Not Lost like you, no. Lost in the Fallen’s Cry.”

“The labyrinth,” I murmured. “They don’t know the way out?”

My mentor gave a quiet nod, no words to ease the thought. Just silence, heavy and sharp. And I felt it settle - being trapped, no way out, nowhere to run. Made my gut twist. Every part of me wanted to bolt, never set foot near Fallen’s Cry again. ‘Weak!’ The beast inside snarled at the thought.

“H-how long?” The growl came unbidden. “How long have they been stuck in there?”

“Depends,” Deckard said, nodding toward a Soul Dice resting on a pedestal marked [Tilu Lizikt]. “This one went in two weeks back. Never came out.”

"I took it that you'd been staying down there for months."

“There’s a world of difference between choosing to descend and being the only one who survives.”

"Shit … is that what happened to her?"

A shrug. “We won’t know until she returns. If she ever does. Might as well have been her who killed them all and is now hiding down there."

Something in those words made my ears twitch. "It's the perfect place for criminals to hide, isn't it? I mean, what if … what if I run into someone like Ruttleedge or Ward down there?"

"You're more likely to run into one in the streets of Castiana,” he said. "Look, girl, I'd rather explain this when we're inside, but you should understand - labyrinths aren't just a mess of tunnels. The places you get to be teleported are created by magic - a powerful spatial magic, no one has so far been able to break through."

He certainly made it sound as if it should explain everything, but...

He sighed. "Just know this - the only folks you'll meet down there are the ones you enter with. No one else."

"But …"

"I’ll explain more once we’re in. Trust me. It’ll make more sense then."

Thirsting for answers, but knowing better than to press further, I turned my gaze to the spinning Soul Dice. A few dozen or more, all turning slow. "Are they all like her? Party dead, only survivor." Easier to think of it that way. Less confusing - though more tragic.

"Actually, no."

"Huh?"

"Most of them just vanished."

"Vanished? But they're still alive, right?"

"That’s the belief. No one’s returned to speak of it, but every report says the same - one heartbeat they were beside their party, and the next, they were gone. No trace, no sound."

Once again, he let the fact that one day I could just vanish sink in. One more reason to steer clear of Fallen’s Cry or any other labyrinth. Still, the idea of staying behind, safe but spineless, felt worse than stepping into the unknown.

“And you say no one ever came back?”

“As far as I know, girl.”

"How long? I mean … how long has someone stayed lost, vanished."

"Years. Decades. Even centuries.” A dry swallow caught in my throat. The Lattice, arrays, and weaves had stretched human lives far beyond what Earth ever allowed. Not to mention other races, and their natural lifespan. Compared to that, the year and a half I spent in the hands of that deranged bastard Dungreen felt like a drop in the ocean next to that.

'It depends...' My gaze lingered on the Soul Dice of the vanished. 'Maybe they found peace. A sunny shore and just… stayed.'

Wishful thinking, for sure. Still...

"The longest anyone has been missing in Fallen's Cry is Geber Vatskn. His Soul Dice haven’t found him in seventy-three years," Deckard said, voice heavy enough to send a chill down my spine. The shiver didn’t go unnoticed - he rested a hand on my shoulder. "No shame in fear, girl. It keeps you alive."

"Only the weak fear," I growled as bestial disapproval of that notion rose from the depths of my being.

"No, only fools say that. Fear’s natural - keeps your eyes sharp."

"The strong don’t need it."

A sneer curled his lip. "Then tell me - what’s buried more warriors, fear or arrogance?"

The answer struck hard. Whatever beast had snarled within fell silent, shame flooding in its place. My face burned. "I-I didn’t..."

"Don't sweat it, girl." His grip on my shoulder tightened. "That’s why I brought you here."

"Y-you... you wanted me to feel stupid? Ashamed?"

"Traiana's tits, no. I wanted you to feel fear. Wanted you to understand that venturing into a labyrinth isn’t about slaying monsters and beasts.It's about facing the real enemy down there- the labyrinth itself.” He gave me a firm pat on the back, then slid his hand into his pocket. "Come on, let's get you the mark."

Stillness kept my boots from moving. He looked back, grin half-shadowed. "Had a change of heart? Need more training before..."

"NO!!!"

It just came out of my gut. An instinct.

'No more of that dull, muscle-tearing, painful torture.'

Maybe it was safe. Maybe even wise. But it felt like treading water while the world surged ahead. Esu’s deadline still pressed close. Dungreen kept on with his twisted experiments. And the mind mages... no chance they'd forgotten about me.

'No, I need to go down there.'

Steeling my resolve, I stormed past Deckard and out of the Hall of Souls. Behind the massive wooden door leading in was where I stopped, realizing that I had no idea where to actually go to get my labyrinth mark.

"The date didn't go well, sir?" the younger guard teased from inside.Blood didn’t rush to my face - it boiled through my veins. ‘It wasn’t a date!’

"Nah, it went exactly as I'd hoped," Deckard replied as he walked past, not disputing the claim, much to my irritation.

"So, which way?" I asked, low and sharp.

The smirk clung to his lips for too long, but at last he nodded toward the corridor. "For some reason, it’s on the other side of City Hall."

Both of my ears twitched, eyes sliding to the door opposite us. "Wouldn’t it make more sense to - ah. Bureaucracy."

"I see. Same in every realm," my mentor remarked, kind of amused. But no questions followed. There was no point. He understood that asking about the place I came from would only tighten the silence.

"Yeah." One word, and yet the Fae runes hidden behind my ears flared to life. A veil of fog crept over the scraps of memory I still had of Earth. Centering on the task ahead calmed the magic. The runes dimmed, the past returned to its usual blur.

Annoyingly, without the navigation of my mentor, I would most certainly have gotten lost in the corridors of the City Hall. Actually, during my second visit to Esulmor I had asked him if there were any weaves for navigation. Of course there were - the Lattice had weaves for damn near everything. Just not any I had access to.

'Seriously, fuck you!' The words stayed buried in my chest, teeth clenched as I took the wrong turn again and Deckart had to grab the collar of my shirt to stop me from going to what he said was a laundry room.

Questioning the presence of a laundry room in City Hall, I eventually stood up in front of a door marked simply [Labyrinth Mark Approval]. Whether it was because of the lateness of the hour or just because once you became a seeker you didn't need to visit this place again, the benches on the opposite wall sat empty.

“Should I?” he asked when I froze, my hand raised halfway to knock.

"No!" I blurted out on instinct when my capability came into question. My hand slammed against the door, loud enough to earn a startled crash from within, followed by muttered cursing.

"YES, come in."

Giving whoever was making noise outside the door a few breaths of time, I grabbed the handle and walked in, driven by a bestial desire to prove myself. 

The room was small. Certainly bigger than my cell in the deranged bastard's basement, or my current room, but still ... small. NOT what stopped me in my tracks, though. Neither was it the small woman in a City Hall uniform, fervently wiping a wet welt on her chest with a napkin that smelled pleasantly close to coffee. No, it was the chair. It set square in the middle. Sterile. Waiting. It tugged at something deep and uneasy, like a memory half-buried. A dentist’s office, that’s what came to mind - and that was enough to make my skin crawl.

Right on cue, a dull throb started behind my teeth.

"Apologies, ma'am. Sir," said the petite woman, obviously embarrassed by the way she looked. "I wasn't expecting anyone else at this hour, and..." Her eyes went to the empty mug on her desk and the book lying next to it. She let out a slow breath, clearly thankful that the book wasn’t stained.

"So, are you here for the Labyrinth Mark?"

"Indeed, we are," Deckard said, nodding to me.

"Ah, I see. Please, ma'am, take a seat."

The throbbing worsened. "Do I have to?"

"It’s part of the procedure," came her rehearsed reply, followed by hesitation. "I mean... it’s not required for the Mark itself, but...you know…"

"Eh, I don’t. Is it that painful?"

A low growl rose in my throat. My inner beast didn't like where my thoughts were taking me. ‘You can handle a bit of pain, Korra.’ But to be honest, the pain had never been the problem - uncertainty was.

"Oh, no. It isn't. Just..." The clerk lady’s gaze shifted to Deckard. "... some..."

"The marking may spike one’s adrenaline," Deckard said when she faltered, his presence clearly unsettling her. "No need to spell it out, is there, girl?"

'No!' That part came through loud and clear. "To hold me down if things go … south?"

I didn’t want to assume just from what the Lattice was showing me, but the clerk looked like she'd struggle to wrestle a kitten, let alone the beast version of me.

[Beauty Mage: 147 sigils]

Looking at her properly, damn - gorgeous. Almost too good. Magic, maybe? Couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter much. What mattered was whether she could match the mind-bitch. Without that kind of power, I worried about what I might do.

Deckard gave a soft chuckle. "Nothing like that, girl."

Her eyes flicked to him, nervous. "What does she mean, sir? The regulations state…"

"Shifter," he said simply, smiling like it was the most harmless word in the world. That smile brought color to her cheeks.

"Ah. Natural-born. Understood." With a nod, she summoned a slim book into her hands and made a note. "No issue, then. Identification card?"

After I handed it over, the book vanished, replaced by a tablet glowing faintly. She worked quickly. A few gestures, a thread of magic - and the fur on my arms stood on end as the once-dead glyphs across the walls came alive in a quiet blaze.

"Having second thoughts?" Deckard asked teasingly as I took an unconscious step back. I couldn't help it; it was like being back in the interrogation room.

"As if!" I snapped, irritated more at myself than at him, focusing on the weight of the enchantments pressing down, trying to frame them as a beast I was meant to confront. It grounded me, if only a little.

"Nothing to fear," the clerk lady said, too quickly. "I assure you, ma'am. Just a suppressive enchantment ensuring our safety and yours. And more importantly, to confirm you’re making this choice with your own will."

"Hold on. Is getting the Labyrinth Mark dangerous?" It certainly sounded like something not to be taken lightly, to say the least. 'Ah, was that it? The Hall of Souls. All this. Deckard's way of showing me what it truly meant to be a seeker?'

The clerk glanced at Deckard, then let out a sigh. A conversation between the two of us that should’ve happened earlier. "Not dangerous, as binding."

"Binding?"

"If you think on it, it’s kind of obvious, ma'am. Apologies - that came out poorly. You're meant to connect with the Labyrinth. Far as anyone knows, once it’s made, it stays. For life."

'Shit! Shit, shit, shit!' Panic lunged before I could hold it back. ‘Might as well be getting another damn collar.’

A hand - familiar and firm - clamped down on my shoulder, stopping me from taking another step back. My mentor stood behind me. "Take a deep breath, girl. Then think about it."

'Think about it? What was there to think about...' 

It certainly wasn't what he had in mind, but the realization of my cowardly behavior was like a kick in the guts. Gone was my determination to plunge into the depths beneath the city and face the beasts. Instead at the prospect of getting a tiny mark on my hand I tugged Sage between my legs.

"It doesn’t restrict you, does it?" The words came low, brittle.

Deckard gave a calm nod. "About as much as having a key to a door."

"And... the connection, the binding?"

"A key doesn’t force you to open anything. Most can’t even sense the link."

"Most?" I barely whispered it, hoping not to tempt fate. With my luck, though...

"There are rare cases," the lady clerk spoke up, not seeming at all annoyed by my hesitation. "Well, I say rare, but not so rare cases of people who end up more attuned to labyrinths than others after bearing the mark."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you."

"W-why?" Dozens of reasons tore through my mind, each worse than the last. Maybe those people had ended up as lab rats in some imperial dungeon, sliced open for answers about the labyrinths.

'Fuck, what am I afraid of?!' 

The Empire already had every reason to study me. What difference would one more make?

"No one really knows."

My ears curled in confusion - not the answer I was expecting to hear from her.

"There have been studies," the lady clerk offered, hurrying to explain. "Some seekers have even tried to get as many labyrinth markers as possible, but none of this has led to results. Nothing. As far as is known such seekers have no advantages - or disadvantages - down there."

Didn’t prove they meant nothing. In life, even a fart had purpose.

'Damn, I could use a Dragon Fart - or two - right now.'

"Honestly, girl," Deckard said, voice caught between amusement and worry, "I didn’t think this would be what shook you."

"I..."

"Don't. It's a valid concern. If your instincts tell you…"

"No, I want the mark," I barked. No more thinking. That choice had been carved into my bones weeks ago. I wanted it. Needed it. Fallen's Cry was the fastest path to strength.

The clerk's eyes lit up. "So you intend to accept the Fallen's Cry mark of your own free will, Miss Korra Grey?"

Apparently she wanted to hear a clear yes and I gave it to her.

"YES."

"Excellent, please," she said with a smile, gesturing to the dentist's chair. Wavering still twisted in my chest, but I refused to let pride take another hit. 

Without delay, the Beauty Mage secured leather straps around my limbs. If not for Deckard's presence, I would’ve bolted before the second strap even brushed my skin.

As such, I found myself tied down, swallowing the growls of my inner-beast. While we were usually at odds, for once, we stood united.

"What now?" The words left through clenched teeth, sharp as fangs.

"Now, Miss Grey, I'm going to place this Soul Dice in your palm," the lady clerk explained in a calm voice, taking a cube, not unlike the ones I had seen earlier in the Hall of Souls, out of what looked remotely like a safe.

"Wait! Hold on!" I growled. "Soul Dice? I thought..."

"Take it easy, girl," Deckard said, his hand landing on my shoulder once more. "I know what you're thinking, but that's Soul Dice of Fallen's Cry."

"O-of the labyrinth?"

"That’s right," the lady clerk replied with a nod. "What the seeker receives is an imprint of the labyrinth’s soul. Assuming you believe it has one."

"You don’t?"

"No."

Blunt. And definitely not what I had expected.

"Then why call it that?"

"The name stuck because of how similar it is to the Seeker’s version. Some say Labyrinth Soul Dice. Others use Main Soul Dice."

"I-I see. And the Soul Dice of... of seekers…?”

Understanding flickered in her eyes, followed by a gentle smile. "There's nothing to worry about. Seeker's Soul Dice don’t work the same way."

Unfortunately, something I had to take her word for it.

'Deckard would say something if she was spewing shit, right?'

"Your palm, please," said the lady clerk, snapping my gaze downward. Both hands were locked in fists.

'Come on, Korra. Don't be a pussy.'

Opening my right palm, I watched the lady clerk gently place the cube into it. The first breath, the second, the third - only when I started to wonder if something went wrong did a woman's cry - sharp and raw - cut into my ears. 

In response a low growl slipped past my teeth. I glanced at the clerk. No reaction. Her calm was unshaken, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

'That scream - is someone else here?'

The cry that was getting louder and louder certainly didn't belong to Deckard. And yet, looking around, I saw no one else. Just me, my mentor, and the lady clerk standing in my inner and outer domains.

"Traiana..." The name slipped from my lips as it all clicked into place. The same crushing sorrow over the loss of loved ones and the unfairness of the world that I had felt back at the entrance to the labyrinth that Ria had guided me to dropped on me.

"You can hear her cry?" the clerk asked, scratching a note without a hint of surprise. 

Making things worse, her casual voice, suggesting that it was nothing so unusual, was even more irritating. However, despite the faint growl now seeping out with each of my breaths... tears started streaming down my cheeks. 

"How loud, Miss Grey?"

'What?! Is she fucking serious?' If it wasn't for the straps holding me back, I would have barked in her face what I thought of her. Instead, I stared, jaw clenched, as Traiana's emotions, my emotions, made me almost choke.

"The reaction seems strong," came another scribble of her quill. "Don’t panic. It’ll pass quickly."

And it did. As quickly as Traiana's cry assaulted my ears, it faded away, leaving behind what felt like an emptiness inside me and a warm feeling on the back of my hand.

"And it's done," the woman announced, making another note about it.

Deckard gave me a quick pat. "Congrats, girl! But remember - having the mark doesn't make you a Seeker."

"I beg to differ, sir. Officially..."

Her words faltered when my mentor smiled. "Getting an axe doesn’t make you a lumberjack."

"Y-yes. I know what you mean. But... when I took this position, I became a clerk at Castiana City Hall, despite having no experience."

'Oh, she's got some bite in her.' Few could stand up to my mentor, especially those of her level.

"Officially, but did you feel like one?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I studied hard for it. Felt like I earned something when they gave me the post."

Those words struck a chord. I had trained for weeks to be ready for the dive into Fallen’s Cry. Yet pride didn’t stir in me with the mark on the back of my hand. All I wanted now was to rip free from the restraints and roar.

"I see," he murmured, ever casual, hands buried in his pockets. "So those studies - did they make you a clerk?"

"They prepared me. The rest came with doing the work..."

Another smile, sharp and deliberate, halted her again.

"With all due respect, sir, that’s a flawed argument. Every job begins without experience. That doesn’t make the title false. A novice seeker is still a seeker. And your apre... I mean, Miss Korra Grey here is now a seeker."

"Officially."

"Officially, yes," the lady clerk sighed, drained by the whole pointless debate. Not as much as I was annoyed with being ignored.

"Can you let me go?!" My words came out half-growl, raw with frustration.

"Oh, terribly sorry, Miss Grey," the lady clerk blurted, snapping her attention toward me, only to freeze. "Are you... feeling better? Have those labyrinth emotions settled?"

"YES," I snapped, jaw tight.

"She’s not fond of restraints," Deckard rushed to my defense, when he saw the lady clerk take a step back. The woman stiffened at first. Then her eyes met mine. Recognition at my array flashed through her eyes, then guilt.

With visible hesitation, she stepped forward and undid the locks.

"Ah, at last." A deep breath escaped me, less for the mark of the Labyrinth as most people coming here and more for the taste of freedom. Not that the meaning behind having the mark was lost on me.

"So, the Labyrinth?" I asked, rubbing the handcuff marks on my wrists. The thought of leaving this place had my tail swaying.

Much to my irritation, and the irritation of the beast-me, the lady clerk raised her hand to stop me. "From an official standpoint, you are a seeker, and nothing bars you from Fallen’s Cry. But it falls to me to warn you - the mark might not settle right away."

'Settle?' ” No one had mentioned that part. 

"How long?"

“It varies. Minutes, hours, sometimes days.”

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, girl," Deckard said, with annoying calm. "Worst case scenario, you won't see the depths of Fallen's Cry until tomorrow."

"So you knew about this?"

“Knew and forgot. Hey, hide your fangs - it's been years since I got the mark."

Reasonable. Still annoying.

“And if the mark isn’t settled? What then - if I step into the labyrinth too soon?"

As usual, my brain jumped straight to worst-cases. Limbs ripped apart by magic, or instantly becoming one of those lost ones Deckard showed me in the Hall of Souls.

'Wait! The dice!'

"What about my... what about my Soul Dice?"

"Right here," said the lady clerk, pointing to a cube that looked identical to the labyrinth one, now rotating around it. Cursing myself for missing the moment it was created, I couldn't take my eyes off the cube. The thing held my gaze like a tether. There was depth to it, a pul - as if some hidden part of me had just been carved into shape.

"Is it safe to touch it?" Curiosity took the reins.

"It is. However, I’m not allowed to let you carry it beyond this chamber. As with the rest, it belongs in the Hall of Souls - just in case."

'Yeah, just in case I die down there - or get lost.'

"I understand," I gave a nod. When she answered in kind, I reached out and cradled the soul dice in my palms. Weird thing. The markings glowed brighter and started pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. 

And then there was that strange feeling, as if I were holding something from deep within myself.

That was it, though.

No cry. No magic. Simply nothing.

I didn’t know what I’d hoped for, but this felt hollow.

"Thank you," I said, voice quiet, ears lowered as I returned my soul dice to her.

"I hope you find what you're searching for down there, and not..." she said, hesitating on the word "death."

Nodding, I quietly growled at my mentor. "Let's go." 

He followed without a word, hands buried in his pockets.

─◇─◇─◇─

Following Deckard through the night-wrapped streets of Castiana, my mind drifted. The weight of what had just happened finally settled in.

A tattoo now marked me. First one ever. A pale teardrop, no longer than a thumb’s joint, on the back of my hand. At least it seemed like a tear to me. Easy enough to tie it to Fallen’s Cry. Made me wonder what other labyrinth marks looked like, or the tattoos of those who took on more than one mark.

In any case, the mark seemed real, stretching with my skin as I rubbed it.

'Mom always said she'd beat my ass if I ever got a tattoo.' The thought stung. Tears rose uninvited. 'If only she could.'

However, the tattoo was the least of my problems. In fact, the mark was my way of getting back to my family - at least, that's what I hoped. Weak as I was, there was no way I could search for the way home, let alone to escape from the schemes of those cursed Fae.

Of course, I asked.

Deckard knew plenty, yet even he had never heard of anyone wiggling out of a contract with the Fae, much less traveling between worlds. Still, others had fallen through - others like me. He had even met a few. Just not in Castiana.

But what this city did have was Labyrinth Square.

That place never slept.

The din swelled the closer we came. It pressed in until my ears lay flat, aching. And then we stepped into the square itself. A flood of sound, scent, and motion hit like a storm.

'Well, shit, this is sure something... different!'

As always, walking to this place, I couldn't help but be in awe. Diaglyphs blazed across Seeker housefronts, casting sharp light that banished the night and turned every stall and banner into a lure. The crowd was thick, though different from the daytime bustle - this hour belonged to seekers alone.

“Come on, girl,” my mentor called when I slowed, caught staring.

The closer we got to Fallen’s Cry - the sunken platform in the heart of the square - the heavier it all felt. Weeks of preparation, and still doubt clawed at me. Deckard might have been right. Maybe I wasn’t ready.

Before I knew it, I was there - at the top of the stairs, staring down at the hexagonal pit. White flashes lit up the dark as seekers - myself now one of them - dove below the city or returned in flickers of exhaustion. At first glance, chaos, in the middle of which stood the statue of Traiana.

'Okay, let's get this over with.'

Taking a deep breath, I locked my eyes on the kneeling woman immortalized in her most painful moment.

"Huh? Why am I not crying?"

"Because you already have," Deckard said softly, standing close, wiping his own tears away.

"I did? When... ah." My eyes found the mark etched on the back of my hand.

"Yeah. Let's see if the mark works."

A deep breath steadied the racing inside my chest. Each step down felt heavier than the last. "What should I do? I've never really... you know, used it."

No answer came - only silence. At least until my foot met the platform.

"Ah, there you have it, girl."

A familiar pull surged, no longer the soft nudge I remembered. This time, it tugged hard. The beast-me reared up in protest - wild instincts scratching at my ribs. It hated the magic. Always had.

Still, what held my attention was the mark.

It glowed.

What had been dead-white ink now shone bright, trailing light like tears down Traiana’s face. Strange didn’t cover it. It was like having a built-in flashlight in your hand.

"So... can I enter the labyrinth?" My voice trembled, nervousness, fear, anticipation, and excitement getting the better of me.

"Yes, Fallen's Cry is open to you," Deckard said with a nod, stepping forward again and motioning for me to follow. "Are you ready, girl?"

'Am I?' My brain immediately turned to my Grid.

─◇────────────────────────────────────────

Name: Korra Grey

Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 27

1st Array: Slave
Master: Esu
Sigils: 101 - ○○○○○○

─◇────────────────────────────────────────

Weaves: 1st Array (6/6)

Eleaden Standard Language (General):.....23 → 31 glyphs - ⦿⦿⦿ ↑
Indomitable Will (Slave):............................115 → 119 glyphs - ⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿
Spatial Domain (General):........................ 23 → 54 glyphs - ⦿⦿⦿⦿ ↑↑
Equilibrium (General):.............................13 → 62 glyphs - ⦿⦿⦿⦿ ↑↑
[NEW] Tumbler (General):......................... 1 → 49 glyphs - ⦿⦿⦿⦿ ↑↑↑
Tail of Poison Empress (General):........ 15 → 28 glyphs - ⦿⦿⦿ ↑

─◇────────────────────────────────────────

Not the weaves or glyph count of a seasoned seeker, no - but good enough to feel proud. Least, it has been until now. [Tumbler] wasn't particularly suited to fighting beasts and monsters, and descending into the depths with [Eleaden Standard Language] now seemed more idiotic than ever.

'Maybe I should wait. Ria said I already speak Standard well.'

"Girl?"

"Wh-what?"

"You ready?"

The word "no" hovered already on my tongue, when my stupid beast pride drowned out all doubts. "Yes - YES, I am."

"Good," Deckard nodded, obviously reading me like an open book. "If you want to enter as a group, all you need is contact."

"Do we have to hold hands?" The question burned hot, and so did my cheeks.

A low chuckle reached my ears as his hand settled on my shoulder. "This will do. Now, there are two ways to get down. But if you don't have control over your mind, it's a bit tricky. So we'll go with the more manual approach. Touch the mark and select the floor available to you."

'Huh? Do I now have a built-in touchscreen in my hand?'

Curiosity bit harder than doubt. I did as he said. A yelp almost escaped my throat when a shimmer bloomed in the air - text, glowing like a hologram.

[1st Floor]

"Do you see the options, girl? In your case, there should only be one."

"Y-yes."

Hesitation and doubt briefly broke through the beastly pride. This was it. This was what I had been training for. Yet...

'Fuck it!' If I were to give in to doubt, I would never have gotten on Scoresby's wagon. I might as well be running around Esulmor like a wild beast right now. Or worse, with a collar around my neck and a leash held by that bitch.

The press of my finger was shaky, but the labyrinth cared nothing for nerves. In a heartbeat, as I did so, a white light surrounded us both, and Fallen's Cry pulled us from Castiana into its depths.

─◇─◈─◆────────────────────────────────────────

Author’s note: To be honest, when I started writing this chapter, I planned to take the story further. But I had no idea how long it would take me to write it. So you'll have to wait a little longer for Fallen's Cry. How long will it be? I don't know. Two, maybe three months. The same applies to updated descriptions of weaves.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

─◇─◈─◆────────────────────────────────────────
                                                    Glossary

                                                   Korra’s Grid

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