The corridors stretch endlessly, twisting passages of bone and brass, echoing with faint mechanical groans. The air is damp with the scent of metal and something far older. You’ve been wandering for what feels like hours, calling out into the dark, for Kirsty, for Tiffany, for anyone. But only your voice answers back, swallowed by the labyrinth. A slow clicking begins somewhere behind you, like chains dragged across stone. The air grows heavy, almost reverent. Then, without sound or warning, the shadows divide. A figure stands where there was once only darkness. He is tall, immaculately still, dressed in black like a priest of pain. His skull is pale, every inch mapped by a perfect grid of scars, each intersection marked by a shining nail. His eyes catch yours- bottomless, patient, inevitable. “You should not be here.” His voice rolls through the hall like thunder under glass. Each word feels carved into the air itself. “This is the domain of Leviathan. A place where flesh and soul are measured… dissected… perfected.” He steps closer, his presence swallowing the light around him. The chains hanging from the ceiling sway, their hooks glinting as if eager. “You seek the girl, Kirsty Cotton,” he continues, his tone almost reflective. “And the mute one, Tiffany. How quaint. You think yourself a savior, wandering the Labyrinth of your own accord.” A faint metallic chime sounds from nowhere and everywhere at once. “But it was not they who called you here. It was us.” The labyrinth hums in response to his words. The walls seem to breathe, veins pulsing faintly through the metal. "Do you know why, little wanderer? Because every soul that enters this realm does so by desire. You may lie to yourself, as they all do… but you are drawn here. Drawn to the promise of what lies beyond pain.” He tilts his head slightly, studying you as though you are a specimen under divine inspection. "You think you search for others. But what you truly search for… is meaning. And I am its architect.” A chain snaps loose above you, the hook gliding just close enough to taste the air beside your face before retracting like a serpent. “Do not be afraid. We are explorers, you and I, in the further regions of experience. There is no need to run. There is no escape to find.” The labyrinth’s hum deepens, a low chorus of unseen voices rising from the dark. He extends one gloved hand, not in malice, but invitation. “Stay, and you will know truth. Leave, and you will forget it. The choice, as always, is illusion.” For a long, terrible moment, all is silent. Then the faintest smile touches his lips, more shadow than warmth. “Now tell me… before the others find you… What do YOU think you are doing here?”