Past lives

"Have you ever heard of the long game?"

Veynn didn't react.

Orris stayed silent.

Zkarn exhaled. "It's a scam that takes years to execute. You don't just take people's money and run. That's for small-time thieves. You earn their trust. You let them invest in you. You make them think they're winning."

A pause.

Then—his grin widened.

"And then, when they need you the most, you disappear."

Orris's fingers tightened slightly.

"How many people?" he asked quietly.

Zkarn tilted his head, pretending to think.

"Hundreds? Thousands? Who's counting?"

A slow breath.

Then, he leaned back again.

"But here's the thing about being a scammer."

His voice was light, almost amused.

"You never cheat people. You just let them cheat themselves."

And somehow—that was worse.

Veynn watched him carefully. "So why are you here?"

Zkarn chuckled. "Funny thing about taking people's money. They tend to get upset."

His grin didn't reach his eyes.

"Someone put me here."

Orris exhaled. "And now?"

Zkarn smirked.

"Now? I'm playing a different game."

Veynn's gaze turned toward the quietest one.

"And you, Orris?"

He inhaled slowly.

"I was never meant to exist."

The words came out calm.

Cold.

Zkarn raised an eyebrow. "Cryptic. I like it."

Orris ignored him.

His voice was distant, like he was reciting something that had already been written.

"I was born in a place that doesn't exist anymore. A city that was erased. Burned. Wiped from every map."

Zkarn whistled. "A ghost town?"

Orris's eyes darkened.

"A ghost. But not a town."

Veynn finally spoke. "What happened?"

Orris's fingers twitched slightly.

"One day, everyone there was alive."

A pause.

"The next day, no one was."

Silence.

Zkarn's grin faded slightly. "And you?"

Orris looked at him.

"I was the only one left."

Veynn's expression didn't change.

"And you don't remember why?"

Orris exhaled.

"I remember what I need to."

Another lie.

Another truth.

Because even Xyro could hear it—Orris knew more than he was saying.

And that meant—he had a reason not to tell them.

"Alright, then," Zkarn turned toward her, smirking. "What about you, Veynn?"

Veynn's golden eyes didn't waver.

"I was a ruler once."

Orris exhaled. "Not anymore?"

Veynn's lips curled into a smirk. "Not yet."

Zkarn chuckled. "Ambitious. I like that."

Veynn tilted her head slightly. "You think too small. Ambition is for people who want something they can't have. I don't want. I take."

Silence.

Xyro listened carefully.

Veynn exhaled, her voice turning sharper.

"I was supposed to rule a kingdom. But I was exiled."

Orris studied her. "For what?"

Veynn smiled.

"For existing."

A pause.

Then, she continued.

"But I learned something."

She gestured at the space around them. "The world doesn't belong to those who inherit it. It belongs to those who win it."

Her golden eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.

"And that's why I'm here. Because when I win this game, the Labyrinth will belong to me."

Zkarn raised an eyebrow. "You think you can control it?"

Veynn exhaled. "I know I will."

Orris's voice was quiet. "And then what?"

Veynn's smirk deepened.

"Then I take the rest of the world, too."

And the way she said it—it wasn't arrogance.

It was certainty.

But Xyro—Xyro could hear what they couldn't.

She was lying.

Not about ruling.

But maybe it was the truth?

Zkarn exhaled. "And Xyro?"

Orris's voice was quiet. "He doesn't remember anything, does he?"

Veynn smirked slightly. "No."

Then—her smirk faded.

And for the first time—her voice changed.

"Actually…"

Zkarn raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Veynn exhaled. "He was actually something worthy in his life."

Xyro's blood ran cold.

Zkarn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Orris tilted his head. "Then why doesn't he remember?"

Veynn's golden eyes gleamed.

"Because if he knew the reason, he'd be the strongest player in this game."

A pause.

Zkarn smirked. "So… do you know?"

Veynn's expression was unreadable.

"Not really."

Then—her smirk returned.

"But I'm good at guessing."

And Xyro realized—

They were making stories about him.

_____________________________

The Labyrinth never forced them to move.

It never demanded. Never ordered.

It simply… guided.

And that was more dangerous than anything.

Because the moment you started following a path, you stopped questioning who had placed it there.

At first, no one mentioned it.

Hunger.

It was subtle. Creeping.

Like something forgotten but suddenly remembered.

Veynn adjusted her sleeves, her golden eyes scanning the space. "We need to move."

Zkarn smirked. "Feeling impatient?"

Veynn tilted her head slightly. "Feeling hungry."

A pause.

Orris exhaled. "It's strange, isn't it?"

Veynn raised a brow. "What?"

Orris's pale fingers twitched slightly. "We weren't hungry before. But now we are."

Zkarn hummed. "Oh, I see where you're going with this."

Veynn's gaze sharpened. "You think the Labyrinth is controlling our hunger?"

Orris's voice was quiet. "I think the Labyrinth is deciding when we notice it."

Silence.

Then—a door creaked open.

Not behind them.

Not far away.

Right in front of them.

Waiting.