The labyrinth was carved into a cul-de-sac, one road removed from the thoroughfare. Iris looked up at it, glaring.

The gesture was beneath her, but it had been a long journey without a wink of sleep. She deserved to give this bloody place a glare. And maybe if she glared hard enough she’d see past those walls and the whole thing would just melt away. Naturally that didn’t work.

“Alright. Plan B it is.” She was a warrior, in the manner of her time and place, and this wouldn’t be the first time she’d pushed herself. She was off to a bad start though, she’d taken too long staring. You should never stare too long at something like the labyrinth, or it starts to feel like it’s staring back.

“Just a simple job.” She told herself. “In and out before anyone even knows I’m here.” 

There was a problem with the plumbing or something. Something lodged in the works, making that terrible racket that woke her up halfway across the country. She found a foothold and bent her focus on the gritty feel of the bricks.

The walls of the labyrinth were tall - scaling them demanded courage and resilience present only in great mountaineers and small insects. It wasn’t long before she felt the bite in her arms and legs. Her nails gave out first. Once they split, latching onto the smaller handholds was agony. Her arms felt like they’d be next. Still she went on climbing. She was spitting blood by then - and every inch she won made her head spin. When she finally found the edge of the balcony she could have wept. 

But this last step was the hardest and though she tried to force herself over she found she was far too tired, and yet she found herself hating the balcony for being so low. If only it just kept getting higher and higher forever. She could handle that, she was a good climber, and who needed limbs anyway? Now though if she pulled herself over she would be inside, and things would be different in there.

She hung there and let herself look back over the town - wondering if this was how great heroes felt. A cloud floated under her feet.

The town was quite red under the sunset, and beautiful in the way familiar places are. Soon there would be stars - so many stars that they would fill the sky and she could sway there in the wind gazing up at them. Maybe some would fall and maybe she would too. If they did she would ask for wings - large strong wings to carry her far away from this place.

She knew that was stupid. Stars didn’t grant wishes any more than people did - and anyway growing wings that large that quickly would use up so much energy that she would probably starve to death.

Screw it. There was no sense waiting here till she starved to death for real. With a groan that used up the last of her strength she levered herself over the railing and into the room beyond where she lay panting.

The room looked safe, comfortable even. There was a plush carpet, desk lamp, ensuite bathroom - but they were all far too small for her. Still the room was big, and the little furniture was packed into the corner. You could never trust rooms like that - never knew what might be hiding in the shadows.

Iris did her checks and set up her tripwires, then she collapsed - listless with exhaustion - onto the floor. She woke at dawn to force her own cooking down her throat, realising too late that it was probably a bad idea to eat meat that had been out in the open all night. She glared at her roiling stomach, daring it to complain. 

It became clear quickly that the room was a dead end, the only exit was a locked door sized for a young child and the corridors beyond were of that size as well. At that point the nausea kicked in, and she stumbled back to bed.

Her body knew better than to defy her, so she kept her breakfast, but her aching stomach made her dream. It was the same wretched nightmare that had plagued her for months. She saw pits and choking tunnels that closing in around you, bridges like tightrope spanning chasms at mad angles - the rivers beneath churning like fire. Every so often in the depths of sleep she would hear a knock-knock-knock, as if on a wooden door, and the labyrinth in her dreams would echo and shake.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

When she woke up the next morning her door was open, just widely enough for a head to fit through.

Which was how she must have left it last night right? Silly her. She locked it tight this time.

The days passed. When the sun shone she tried to clamber about the walls in search of another entrance, but it rained more often than not, and when it rained all she could do was stare at the grey blanket of clouds below, letting the memories fester. It had been some time since she’d been here, and that visit had ended sooner than planned. 

The rain became a daily pain. When she couldn’t take it anymore she covered the window with a bolt of cloth. That left her in the dark with just her torches.

Where to go from here? After a few days like this she was willing to try anything, and amongst her equipment was a diary she’d filed out last time. Surely there must be a nugget of useful information there somewhere.

“Past me was such a crybaby,” She said to herself. “Always whining about ghosts and feeling watched.” So far it was all just meaningless garbage like that. She was about to give up when she found a line crammed into a footnote.

“PS: Don’t forget to leave out milk for Asterion!”

Past-her had thought this dreadfully important, which just irritated the Iris of the present. She didn’t have much milk and wasn’t in the mood for charity. Besides, if this Asterion couldn’t get his own milk then what was the point of him anyway?

Still, out of lack of other options, she filled a small bowl and put it near her bedside. It was still there the next morning.

That confirmed it, didn’t it? This was just one of her old self’s idle fancies.

But then again, perhaps Asterion was intimidated by the tripwires around her bed? Feeling silly, she tried again - and the bowl by the door was licked clean by morning.

“I didn’t expect that to work.”

It meant things could get through the locked door. Asterion was a friend apparently, and her only hope. but the thought was unnerving all the same. She resolved to stay awake tonight just in case.

God the noises this place made at night. It turned in its sleep and snored and stretched with the sounds of grinding stone and timbers snapping into place. She keenly felt the absence of a blanket, even a cloth shield would be something. Still she never dreamed of taking the cloth that covered the window - for who knew what strange moons were glaring down right now, and with what fell colours of light.

Her past self had been a coward, but hearing this she understood. This place had teeth - and she wondered how on earth she was to fight a beast when she was already in its belly.

It was then that she noticed the creature feeding by the door.

Was this Asterion? He barely came up to her knee. 

He had a man half that was round with stubby arms and legs, while the bull half was black with silver horns. The little thing was well dressed - wearing a cow onesie, a backpack full of half put-together scrap and even some horn-ribbons, though his clothes were stained with ink. Iris was astounded that such a little thing could drink so much. He was so small, he had to hold the bowl with both hands and yet the contents were almost gone.

Asterion squeaked when he saw her looking, and tried for a quick getaway by yanking a cord on his backpack - but it just spewed out a cloud of smoke and sparks before the straps tore and it flew out without him. Iris found herself laughing, at which Asterion turned to face her, and gave her the old stink eye.

“So fierce,” she said. “Don’t be that way - it was terribly rude of me to laugh I'm sorry. Come have some dinner with me, you can’t live off milk alone can you?”

He didn’t agree that night, but the next night he tried a nibble. She kept working at it and within a few nights they were fast friends. By the end he spent most of the day with her and even brought her clockwork gifts - they would always fall apart, but that was part of the fun.

But she still had a job to do, so one day while she was petting his horns she told him, “You’re small enough to get outside this room aren’t you Asterion? You mind helping me out?”

The little minotaur pondered on this while she scratched between the horns. She was sure he had an answer, and was taking his time so she would keep scratching. Finally he got up and hobbled away out of sight.

That night a bang shook Iris from sleep. Her bed was strewn with bits of wall and door and Asterion stood where the door had been, giving her a thumbs up. The plaster was still smoking.

The exit to the room was wide enough to fit through now, so through it she went.