Markings

Syras walked in the dark.

The world around him was thick with silence, save for the subtle crunch of grass and dirt beneath his torn boots. 

The tall walls of the labyrinth faded somewhere far above, and thick grass brushed against his legs with every slow, pained step. 

His fingers clutched a makeshift spear, just a creature's leg, snapped clean from a dead thing, jagged and sharp like bone-carved metal. It had already saved his life twice.

But now it was just weight.

So was everything else.

Blood soaked his side, his shirt clinging wet and warm to his ribs. The gash along his thigh had gone numb, which he figured was worse than pain. 

He could barely breathe, each inhale more of a gasp, each exhale a struggle not to fall apart.

This is it huh…?

His vision blurred for a moment, and he stopped beneath a crooked tree, sinking slowly into the grass until he was sitting with his back to its trunk. 

The air was thick and warm, filled with the scent of rot and Neba and soil. In the distance, he could hear insect-like things skittering through the grass, hundreds of legs clicking against stone. 

But he was too tired to be afraid.

His fingers curled around the broken leg-spear tighter.

I always thought I'd go out in some big fight. Something meaningful. Not like this. Not bleeding out under a damn tree.

He stared ahead, unblinking. Eyes heavy. Limbs cold.

I was never anything special… not really. Never smart like my brother, never gifted like my sister. They both hit Yellow Neba one year ago. I'm still crawling in Green. A Whisper who couldn't even speak up for himself in class.

His mouth twitched, a bitter shadow of a laugh passing his lips.

Bloodrose Academy. Even when I got into S-Class, I was just… the guy standing next to people who mattered. 

Dune is the type they write about in history books. Azrael, Amellias, Neviles, Ceresey's and others always were going to be important because of their bloodlines. 

Me? I'm the guy who dies next to them, off-page. Quiet and unnoticed.

He coughed, and blood rose in his throat. He spat it into the grass beside him and leaned his head back against the bark.

I trained harder than anyone. Every day. Every night. No breaks. I pushed until my body gave out, and still… still, I never caught up. 

No matter how far I ran, someone was always ahead.

His grip loosened around the spear, but he didn't let go.

But I wanted to do something. Just once. Something that mattered. Something that made them stop and say, 'Syras was here.' Not my sister. Not my brother. Not some ranked genius. Me. Just Syras.

His chest heaved, breath catching in his throat.

The crawling sounds got louder. They were closing in. Many legs. Many eyes.

He raised the spear slowly, placing the sharp tip just over his heart.

I guess this is it.

The final moment.

One last breath.

He didn't even lift his head. He knew. He could barely stand. His Neba was drained. His vision was starting to blur at the edges again.

There was no fight left.

Only silence.

And the shape in the dark, walking straight for him.

His fingers trembled around the jagged leg of a dead insect, angled toward his heart. 

Darkness pressed in from all sides, both around him and within. The silence was unbearable, until a voice broke through, sharp and familiar.

"You look pathetic."

Syras froze. That voice… it couldn't be.

He turned his head slowly, eyes widening.

"Edward? Edward Ederyus?"

A low chuckle came in reply. "Of course. Who else would it be?"

From the shadows, Edward stepped forward. His dark brown hair was tied back in a loose knot, streaked with dirt and dried blood. His Bloodrose Academy uniform hung in tatters, ripped at the sleeves, stained with old wounds across his face.

Syras blinked, then let out a weak laugh. "You look awful."

Edward laughed with him, shaking his head. "Look who's talking. At least I'm not on the ground trying to stab myself with a bug's leg."

Syras couldn't help but grin, even as Edward reached down and pulled him to his feet, throwing Syras' arm over his shoulder for support.

"Edward… what are you doing here?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I'm on vacation."

Then, more seriously, he sighed. "Idiot. What do you think I'm doing here? Same as you, trapped. But I'm not alone. There are others too… even people from other continents."

Syras blinked. "Others? Wait, many of you survived this long?"

Edward nodded. "It's not that hard once you get used to it. But surviving isn't the hardest part. That comes later."

Syras exhaled slowly. "It's good to be around other Whispers again… The only one I met was Dune. I lost him when we were crossing this damn labyrinth."

Edward glanced at him, steadying his steps. "Dune? You mean the guy who kicked your ass back at the Bloodrose Arena?"

Syras looked away, embarrassed. "You're acting like you wouldn't have lost too."

Edward chuckled. "No, I wouldn't."

Syras smirked. "Alright, when we're out of here, let's ask him for a one-on-one. See who really wins."

"Whatever makes you happy loser." Edward smiled.

As they walked, Syras began to notice markings etched into the walls, simple lines, arrows, strange symbols that repeated at intervals.

Edward caught the look. "Noticed those?" he said, without breaking stride. "We left them to mark the safest route toward the center. If we keep pace, we'll be there in about two hours. So… hang on. And heal yourself."

Syras gave a faint nod and tried to steady his breathing. His legs still ached, and his side throbbed with every step. But he focused, letting his Neba slowly patch the deeper wounds. 

They kept moving. For a while, the silence between them was comfortable.

But as they turned corner after corner, Syras realized something strange, not a single Hollow had appeared. No skittering sounds. No growls. Just empty stone and flickering green light.

He couldn't hold back the question. "Where are the monsters?"

Edward smirked. "Gone. Or hiding. As i told you i learned how to move through here without drawing them out."

"Learned? But how? You said you've only been here a few days."

Edward's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Not all of us. When we got here, we met people who've been trapped inside this labyrinth for years. They've studied it, mapped it, even built a whole village in the center. Carved right into the walls and the ground. But…" He trailed off.

Syras looked at him, curious. "But what?"

Edward gave a dry laugh. "They haven't found a way out."

Syras frowned. "Why don't they just climb out? The walls aren't infinite."

Edward let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah. That was my first idea too. Tried it myself. Don't even bother. The labyrinth… it doesn't let you. The higher you climb, the more the walls twist. Gravity shifts. You'll end up right where you started, or worse."

Syras exhaled sharply and looked up at the towering walls above. The ceiling was lost in darkness.

"This place is a curse."

"Yeah," Edward muttered. "But at least we're not cursed alone."

Syras lowered his head, focusing again. The green glow of his Neba flickered faintly across his skin as he worked on healing his battered body.

And together, they kept walking, guided by old symbols, toward a village carved in stone, and whatever truth waited at the center.