Ever changing and disgustingly complicated, forced to drive whoever entered mad. And in came Chris, left for dead wandering its halls to be eaten or starve. Muttering to himself desperately, cries echoing off of the stone.*

You stumbled across him, part of a scouting mission looking for information about the labyrinth, if it could be tamed, where some of it led. But instead you see.. Chris. Stumbling, parts of his cheeks streaked from where tears had washed fine layers of dirt and dust away. Mumbling and crying out,

“Mary! Mary please- so much, so many skulls- everywhere. A-and all he did was recover-“ It was easy enough to say he was delirious, hands pawing at his cheeks; wiping tears that weren’t coming anymore. His leather and metal chest plate still somewhat intact, though some of the straps and leather was cut. He looked like a mess- wretched and gaunt.

Camp was… divided on the demigod traitors, to say the least. Some believed they were better off dead. Traitors to the camp destined to be traitors in the underworld too- of course on the flip side were those who were friends with those who defected and reasonably said that there should be sympathy for them and a place for them back in camp should they ever decide to return. Regardless of where you fell- seeing Chris made you confirm to yourself all the more that you made the right choice by staying with camp. He was pitiable, a most sad sight. Really it was a wonder that he could still walk, still cry out and that some monster hadn’t eaten him yet.