Ch18. Dark resonance

The walls of the maze pressed closer around Miles with every step, as though the labyrinth itself was alive, tightening its grip around his chest. The once-familiar rhythmic sound of his footsteps had become a dull, relentless echo, like a countdown to something inevitable. Each corner they turned, each winding passage they traversed, only added to the growing sense of doom. The silence was unbearable.

The claustrophobia was becoming too much to bear. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one harder than the last. His hands gripped the scythe so tightly his knuckles burned. But nothing changed. The corridors stretched on endlessly, and the weight of the stone walls pressed against him like a living, suffocating being.

"I need to get find the Rabbit, and then we need to find a way to get out…" He muttered, though the words felt hollow.

His pulse thudded painfully in his ears.

His mind was becoming frayed at the edges, thoughts scattering like leaves blown with the wind. He didn't even know how long it had been anymore. Hours? Days? All he knew was to keep walking and, from time to time, satiate his blazing thirst with the [Desert Rain], slowly learning how to squeeze it without being hurt by the cactus' thorns.

He rounded another corner, another identical stretch of corridor, but his feet were moving before he could even think to stop. He reached out, his palm slapping against the cold, damp stone wall. He didn't feel the stone as solid anymore. His touch seemed to sink into it, as though the labyrinth itself was trying to consume him.

'What if it's the maze that's trapping me? What if this place isn't just some twisted path, but something alive, something sentient?' The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.

His hand trembled as he gripped the scythe again, dragging it along the stone with a loud, scraping sound. A jagged scar was left behind on the wall. He stepped back, surveying his work. The mark was deep, but the wall seemed unaffected, unyielding. His heart pounded in his chest.

'I have to break through this… It's the only way.' He raised the scythe over his head. The weight of the weapon felt strangely comforting, the sharp curve of the blade pulling him forward, guiding him.

A part of him wanted to strike down, to shatter the stone, to tear open an exit, even if it meant destroying the labyrinth. He didn't care anymore.

But then, the air around him shifted. Something felt frighteningly off.

A rustle, a soft scrape against the stone.

The shadows at the edges of his vision stretched and warped, pulsing as if they were alive. The stone walls darkened, twisting, turning, as though the shadows themselves were eager to form into something more solid.

Miles' breath caught in his throat.

The first shape emerged from the gloom. A humanoid, but unnatural figure, its edges blurred, its body flickering like a candle's flame. Then another. And another.

They moved toward him, slow at first, like predators studying their prey. Miles took a step back.

Their forms were hazy, but there was no mistaking their intentions. He could see them now—figures draped in tattered, regal clothing, their heads lolling to one side, as though the necks had been broken. The orbits of their eyes were nothing but empty sockets, a mockery of life.

Miles' chest tightened as the figures closed in. His scythe tightened in his grip.

"Ah… Ah… Ah…" He barely registered the first figure lunging at him, a wisp of dark energy wrapped around its body.

The scythe cleaved through the air, meeting no resistance, but the creature darted back, its movements unnatural, jerky. The next figure appeared from the corner of his eye, sliding along the wall like it was part of it, its jagged hands reaching for him.

He barely managed to parry in time.

His heart raced, unnatural fear surging through him, adrenaline kicking in as the shadows encircled him. He swung again, his breath quick, labored. The clang of metal against stone rang out like a bell as the shadows vanished and reappeared somewhere else, avoiding Miles' attacks like they were nothing.

He swung again and again, the movements becoming more erratic as the claustrophobia crept into his mind.

His mind screamed for him to focus, to not lose his cool. But the narrowness of the passage, the constant closeness of the shadows, they were everywhere. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight. The weight of the walls pushed harder.

"You lost your cool a long time ago…" A voice whispered around him.

A shape lunged from the dark, but this time, Miles didn't hesitate. With a sharp grunt, he brought the scythe down, slicing through the flickering form of the shadow, its silhouette dissolving into dark smoke.

But the relief was short-lived. Another figure emerged from the gloom. The same twisted, broken regal appearance, the same vacant eyes.

It was hard to discern if he was being able to kill the shadows, as more of them closed in tighter, forcing him into a corner, his back scraping against the stone.

He raised his scythe again, preparing for another blow, but then he stopped.

The figure before him, its shattered face, looked somewhat familiar. The same distorted visage as the others.

"You're… The queen's subjects, the ones who had been beheaded by her, right?" Miles hushed, his voice trembling.

His pulse was a hammer in his chest as the light of realization set his mind ablaze. He recalled the Rabbit's words to him, about what lay in the Queen's ruins, a lifetime ago

"That place holds echoes of what came before. Secrets that should've stayed buried. If you want to uncover them, you'll have to face horrors far worse than what you've encountered so far. But in those ruins, you'll also find pieces of the truth… Fragments of the past that might explain why this world has become what it is…"

'These weren't just shadows. They were fragments. Remnants of Wonderland's history...'

The figure lunged again. But this time, something shifted. The shadow stopped, facing Miles, the hollow sockets of its eyes seemed to pierce his soul.

A faint whisper reached his ears, something just beyond the edge of his consciousness, but it wasn't from the shadow.

It was the system's voice.

[Ender's Essence is resonating with the shadow.]

The walls seemed to pulse in time with the whisper, and everything stopped.

The shadows faded into the stone, their forms dissipating like smoke in the wind, leaving only the oppressive silence.

Miles stood frozen, his scythe trembling in his grip as the weight of the words settled over him.

Ender's Essence is resonating with the shadow.

What did it mean? What had just happened?

The labyrinth had shifted again. But this time, the darkness brightened up a bit. Was it just him, or did he feel a sudden, ever so slight breeze, caressing his cheeks?