Chapter-7

I don't flinch. I don't step back. I watch.

The swirling vortex continues its hypnotic dance, flashing images of gears, twisted pathways, and those unsettling, jerky little clockwork figures. A warning? A threat? Or just Wonderland showing off?

"And what price must I pay?" My voice is steady, cool. If there's one thing I know about Wonderland, it's that everything has a price. The trick is making sure someone else pays it.

The reedy voice chuckles, a dry, scraping sound like rusted metal grinding against bone. "The Labyrinth does not demand coin or blood, traveler. It takes… something deeper."

Vague. Unhelpful. Also very on-brand for Wonderland.

I shift my stance, casually, as if this conversation is nothing more than idle chatter. But I'm watching, sensing, calculating. The amulet against my chest is reacting, its pulse growing stronger. It's not fear. It's not warning me. It's… eager. Interesting.

The voice continues, whispering like wind through a dying clock tower. "To enter, you must surrender a piece of yourself. A memory, a truth, a sliver of what makes you… you."

Now that is interesting. Memories, truths—those aren't just currency here. They're power. And power is something I do not part with lightly.

But that doesn't mean I can't bend the rules.

I have options.

1. Bargain – Rules exist to be twisted. Maybe I can trade something else, something that seems valuable but won't cost me anything real. Wonderland loves a clever deal.

2. Deception – If the Labyrinth wants a piece of me, maybe I can give it something fake. A constructed memory, a lie so deeply woven it feels real. Can Wonderland tell the difference?

3. Force the Path Open – The amulet wants in. It's reacting for a reason. Maybe I can use it to bypass the toll entirely, to command the entrance to open on my terms. Risky? Sure. But high risk often means high reward.

The vortex pulses, waiting. The game wants a move.

And I never play fair.

What's my move?