The truth is, there was light. Dim, compared to the brightness outside, but enough once their eyes adjusted. It entered indirectly through a series of small skylights hidden in the ceiling, likely intended to provide more intense illumination. Yet over time and due to neglect, they had become covered or blocked. The hallway, with tall, smooth walls, was long and curved sharply, preventing them from seeing its end. The ceiling was arched, enhancing the notion of height.

Alaric felt Lysa close behind him. Since she’d gotten lost in the cave maze, she had taken care not to stray too far. Though the situation between them felt a bit odd, as he wasn’t entirely sure where they stood. Since that intimate moment they shared in the bath, they hadn’t had a moment alone together. Nor had they spoken about it. Had she lost interest? The whole thing made him uncomfortable. He was a man who preferred things to be clear.

Lost in these thoughts, he suddenly had to stop as he noticed Edel standing still before a bronze door blocking the path, as if it had appeared out of nowhere. The old woman was observing it, thoughtful, as if questioning how to open it. It looked heavy, but there was no visible lock or latch.

“What’s wrong?” Alaric asked.

“If I recall correctly, I believe this door leads to the second trial.”

“Shall we go through?”

“It’s not that simple. It’s trickier to open than it looks. A key is required.”

While Edel turned toward the group to discuss the situation with her daughters, Alaric moved forward to study the door. As a thief, he’d faced many, and this one didn’t seem particularly difficult to open. A key? There wasn’t even a lock or latch in sight. He gave it a push, testing it. He thought he heard something behind him—a warning shout, perhaps. He didn’t understand the words, but the door opened without resistance. He waited a moment, watching for any mechanical traps or similar hazards. However, nothing happened. There seemed to be no reason for alarm. He crossed the threshold, followed by the others.

They entered a vast circular space, encircled by columns that supported a massive dome. Light filtered from above through small arches that formed the lantern crowning it. The floor was scattered with dried leaves and bird droppings, mostly from seagulls nesting in the dome’s crevices. It smelled like the sea. In the center stood a hexagonal fountain, about half a yard deep, nearly overflowing with dark water, where leaves and other debris floated. An old, greenish bronze statue of a warrior, poised to throw a javelin, decorated the fountain’s center.

He had the feeling he’d been there before.

Ahead of them rose three bronze doors, one on each side of the room. One continued in the direction they came from, straight ahead. The other two were perpendicular, to the right and left.

Edel led them to the fountain. She stood, hands on her hips, deep in thought. Then she approached the door straight ahead, examining it carefully. It bore a bas-relief of a ram rearing up on its hind legs. She didn’t seem convinced and moved on to the next one, decorated with the image of a heron standing calmly in water, with a watchful expression. She studied it even more intently, looking uncertain. Finally, she approached the remaining door to the left, inspecting it up and down several times. The image depicted a bull, poised to charge fiercely. After this, she returned to the group.

“Do you remember which one is correct, Mother?” Zari asked.

“No. I don’t remember needing to choose between three exits. The trial was supposed to involve crossing a single door, but one that was rather hard to open.”

Alaric stepped forward to inspect them. There didn’t seem to be a lock, only a metal handle.

“What could happen if we choose the wrong one?” he asked, turning to Edel.

“Nothing good, I imagine. But I’m telling you, this shouldn’t be like this.”

“But we can’t stay here, standing around; we must choose one or go back the way we came, that’s clear…” he thought to himself.

The old woman didn’t seem able to decide on any of them. Meanwhile, he pondered over the animal motifs on the metal. Three animals. Two of them, four-legged, horned, and in aggressive stances. The other, a calm, resting bird. Perhaps it was a foolish conclusion. Perhaps not. There was only one way to know. He pushed open the door with the heron’s image.

“Alaric!”

He thought he heard Lysandra’s voice, warning him. Too late; he was already crossing.

He entered the next room. It was a large circular space, surrounded by columns supporting a massive dome. Light poured down from above through small arches forming the lantern crowning it. He immediately noticed a faint scent of fresh flowers, though he couldn’t determine where it came from. The floor was a bright mosaic of colored stones depicting a roaring lion’s head. In the center was a circular fountain, filled with clear, sparkling water. It was adorned by a delicate white marble statue of a woman holding a silver pitcher, from which flowed clean water, with a crystalline sound.

In a way, the place felt familiar.

Ahead, three silver doors rose on each side of the wall. One continued in the direction they came from, straight ahead. The other two were perpendicular, to the right and left.

Edel led them to the center of the room, crossed her arms, and started to ponder. She approached the door straight ahead and examined it closely. Its surface showed a bas-relief of a crab missing one claw. She hesitated and shook her head. Then she moved to the one on the right, decorated with the image of crossed daggers. She caressed its surface, looking uncertain. Finally, she went to the one on the left, examining it slowly. This door showed what appeared to be a simple wooden staff. Afterward, she gathered with the group in the center.

“Do you remember which is the correct one, Mother?” Lysa asked.

“No. I don’t recall having to choose between three exits. We were supposed to cross a single door. Particularly hard to open, yes.”

Alaric moved to inspect them. There didn’t seem to be a lock.

“What could happen if we choose the wrong one?” he asked, turning to the old woman.

“Nothing good, I suppose. But I’m telling you, it shouldn’t be like this.”

“Although we must choose one, that’s clear…”

Something didn’t add up. A crab, daggers, a staff. They seemed to reference him and his companions, without a doubt. But it was impossible; the bas-reliefs looked like they’d been carved ages ago. Whoever made them couldn’t possibly know them. Or was it a coincidence?

“This must be ancient magic, like the giant statue, no other explanation,” he thought to himself. He moved toward the door displaying the wooden staff. If he had to choose one, he’d at least pick his own.

“Alaric! You must listen to me!”

He thought he heard Lysandra’s voice, warning him. However, he had already passed through.

He entered another vast circular room, ringed by columns supporting an enormous dome. Light trickled down from above through a series of small arches in the lantern at the dome's peak. He caught a faint whiff of decay, or perhaps a slaughterhouse. The floor was stone slabs stained dark and sticky.

Alaric noticed a multitude of crows resting among the ceiling’s openings. They watched him, eyes gleaming, occasionally letting out a harsh caw or shifting with a nervous flutter of wings. The room was entirely empty, and the echo of his footsteps resonated hollowly throughout the chamber. He turned, but no one crossed after him. The door had closed behind him. He was alone.

He felt a strange familiarity in the sight of this place, as if he had seen it before in dreams or vague memories. Nonetheless, there was no time to ponder. Three openings rose ahead of him, each at a different end of the chamber. One continued in the direction he had entered from; the other two lay to either side.

He observed the doors, seemingly of pure gold. The one on the left showed a bas-relief of a young man, naked save for a pendant around his neck and a sword in his hand. The one on the right, however, was carved with the image of a girl, also without any clothing. Her long, wavy hair reached down to her waist. Her arms were open, as if intending to embrace anyone who approached, and she seemed wrapped in flames.

And finally, the central opening. It lacked a door. Only darkness. Alaric felt tempted to approach it. He then realized that what lay within was not shadows, but some kind of dark, gelatinous mass that pulsed and bubbled. Small tendrils emerged from it at random, as if trying to grasp at the surrounding air. And suddenly, from within, a shapeless, trembling tentacle emerged, holding a shiny copper key.

"Go on, take it," Alaric jumped, startled by the Count’s voice. It came from the door on the left.

"Come now, dear. You mustn’t hesitate," this second call came from the door on the right. The voice of his sister. Lenna, the red-haired witch.

Alaric slowly reached out his hand towards the key. But just before he could touch it, he heard Lysandra’s voice in his mind again.

"Alaric, listen to me. The key is within you. Only you can escape your own maze. Return to us, please. I need you by my side."

The dark mass seemed to try to grasp him before he withdrew his hand and patted his pockets. He felt a strange lump and pulled out a bronze key that he was certain hadn’t been there before.

And in that moment, the thing began to scream. A horrible shriek that left him paralyzed. It started pouring out of the opening at high speed, like a wave of tar, rushing towards him, trying to engulf him. Alaric leaped back and ran toward the door he had entered through. The crows above started flapping wildly, cawing in a chaotic frenzy. He glanced back and, with horror, realized that the carvings on the doors had come to life. The image of the girl in flames seemed to move, her arms stretching out even further toward Alaric, as if wanting to enclose him in her fiery embrace. On the opposite side, the young man with the pendant also appeared to be moving, his sword pointing at him. He saw the keyhole, which he could have sworn hadn’t been there before. He inserted the key as he ran and crossed to the other side just as he felt that dark thing reaching his ankles.

And he woke up.

He sat up, helped by Lysa, who was kneeling beside him. Her face was a mixture of worry and relief. She had tears in her eyes and hugged him tightly.

"Alaric, I thought I’d lost you."

"I… don’t know… what happened?"

"You passed the test of the mind," replied Edel. She smiled, looking at him with an expression of approval, almost pride. "It was supposed to be one of us three who took it, but you went ahead and activated the test on yourself. Next time, ask before touching anything," she finished, scolding him like a child.

Zari and Verruga approached his side, unable to hide their happiness. They, too, had tears in their eyes.

"It’s incredible. As soon as you touched that bronze door, you dropped like a stone," Palillo said, fascinated. "I thought you’d cracked your head open with the fall."

"I think my head’s too hard for that..." Alaric joked. Though now that he thought about it, his head did hurt a bit.

"You have no idea what you've accomplished. Even well-trained sorcerers can fail this test," continued Zari, laughing softly. "How is this possible?"

"Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Lysa’s words, I don’t think I’d have made it out."

The sorceresses exchanged confused looks.

"But… I couldn’t have said anything to you, Alaric," Lysa said, clearly baffled. "Once you enter the mental maze, it’s impossible for anyone to reach you there. Those are the deepest parts of the mind. Not even I could do it."

Alaric looked puzzled. He didn’t know what to say. But he noticed something in his hand. The copper key. It was real.

He finished getting up and finally realized they were in the same hallway as before, near the first entrance they had encountered. He inserted the key without saying anything and opened the door. He didn’t want to wonder where it had come from, why that door now had a lock, or why he had heard Lysa’s voice. Mage stuff. Too much for his aching head.

He crossed through, making sure the others followed him. Edel took the lead again, guiding the group down the winding corridor. Lysa fell back into step behind him, though this time he noticed that she held his hand. He squeezed it gently in response. And he smiled to himself.