“Wait. My apologies, Lady Idleaf. I do realize how painful it must be to live your nightmare - just the thought of it - terrifying. B-But could you back up a little, Miss Grey,” Theodore Sandoval spoke, his voice shaking a little. “You said you met Traiana? The Traiana whose statue stands in Labyrinth Square?”

“The one and only, Mr. Sandoval.”

The old man’s heart almost stopped. No, he was sure it had. That was the patron of the Labyrinth, Fallen’s Cry, the one he’d grown up seeing as a statue in the middle of the city Miss Grey talked about, and . . . “A-and you talked to her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And she talked back to you?”

“She did.”

If he weren’t afraid of missing out on a single word, he would allow his mind to black out for a brief moment. Instead, he forced himself with sheer will through the rush of adrenaline that threatened to overwhelm his mind. Traiana. The amount of information from a time they knew almost nothing about, from the collapse of civilization, the Ancient Era. The stories, the people - Theodore Sandoval gasped for breath.

Only when a soft female hand squeezed his and a calming aura washed over him did he get air into his lungs and gain control of his racing mind.

Clearing his throat, Sandoval looked gratefully at both Hazel, who had tears in her eyes, and Captain Rayden. “Th-thank you, and I apologize for making you young ladies worry about an old man like me.”

“I am far from young, Mr. Sandoval,” Rayden objected with a smile.

It was true that at 45 years of age - according to public records - she was far from young. However, her levels had worked their magic, and unlike Lord Egerton, who was only a few years older than her and looked nearly sixty, mostly thanks to his baldness, she looked to be in her mid-thirties.

“Still, I shouldn’t have gotten so excited . . .”

“It is, isn’t it? Excited, I mean,” Hazel squeaked, pushing her glasses up her nose after wiping away the tears that welled up from the excitement of hearing about the patron of the Fallen’s Cry. “Do you have any idea what Traiana must know? Sorry, of course you do. I mean . . .”

“I don’t suppose you’re talking about that ethereal apparition we saw on the tenth floor, Little Beast?” Deckard spoke over Hazel. His assistant didn’t mind and instead, like Sandoval, perked up her ears.

Korra Grey smiled at his question. “In a sense, yes. She should be one and the same, but Stella and I could see her as we see you and talk to her as we talk to you.”

“She was still a patron of the Labyrinth, though,” the younger Palemoon added to put things into perspective. “A rune construct, if you will. She couldn’t really interfere with what was going on in the echo of the past, only to watch. She couldn’t touch us like Idleaf can, and we couldn’t touch her.”

This time, Theodore Sandoval took his time, not rushing things so as not to give himself an actual heart attack. The fact that the Traiana they had met was some kind of rune construct made sense. No human could have lived so long. A little disappointing that it wasn’t the lady herself, even so, from the way they talked about her, she seemed to be . . .

“A rune construct of a person?” Lieutenant Janina asked, her voice laced with wonder and disbelief. “That is only a theory as far as I know. The complexity of such rune lines is far beyond the abilities of current rune masters.”

That was an understatement. She, as a healer, a mage one might say, should know more about runes than him. The current rune masters could not even hold a candle to those of the era Miss Grey and Palemoon visited. The room they were in was proof of that. Maybe not the best, still close to the finest of the current era, the runes woven into the walls were nothing compared to those in Fallen’s Cry.

Sandoval wished so much that he could be there with them.

“A-and she was aware of what she was?” he asked, as he gathered his thoughts.

Miss Palemoon nodded, sadness in her eyes. “Yes, she was. Those who created her made sure she knew her purpose, even though she didn’t seem to remember anything beyond the Echo.”

“Though she didn’t call herself a rune construct. What she saw herself as was primarily a guide, then a dreamer, a watcher, a nightmare owner, a jailer, and a jailed,” Miss Grey listed with a hint of sorrow in her voice. “She called herself many things, and in truth she was many things, but not a runic construct. I never thought of her that way.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sandoval. Honestly, it might sound ridiculous coming from me, but I saw her as a friend.”

A thousand-year-old woman, her construct, as a friend? He wanted to call it ridiculous, presumptuous or daring, but she already called the centuries-old seedling of the World Tree a friend, held who knows how old Esudein as a kind of father figure and probably not much younger Miros Zeevet as a rival.

“Me too, though I think if she heard us, she’d just smile and say something like - cherish every friend you have, little ones.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” Miss Grey nodded fondly, amused, and looked at him. “I think you two would get along splendidly, Mr. Sandoval.”

“Do you . . . ?” He was at a loss for words, delighted at the thought, proud. “Well, maybe one day.” Anyone could dream, right?

“That’s all well and good, but what the fuck did that Traiana tell you? Hey, don’t look at me like that. You all want to know,” the City Lord retorted as he drew attention to himself. And he wasn’t wrong. Even Theodore was curious about what that Traiana had told them.

“For starters, Uncle, she introduced herself to us as Traiana Harvine Jheidre Ronnu.”

Frederick Sandoval broke into a cold sweat. Miss Palemoon herself probably didn’t realize it, but the name rolled off her tongue as it was meant to be said, or close to it, with the meaning behind the name. Alas, the meaning itself was not as clear as when their inner selves spoke the world’s language. Still - Traiana Harvine Jheidre Ronnu - he repeated the name in his mind, trying to drill it into his memory.

From the earliest records, the patron of Fallen’s Cry was known only as Traiana. And while the name itself might not have told them much without knowing its exact meaning, he, Hazel, and the others in the room were the only ones who now knew more about the woman than anyone else had in thousands of years.

***

“This is something that’s been bothering me for a while, ever since you mentioned it, in fact,” Sah said, trying to wrap his head around the matter. “As good as it is to know her full name, I wonder why you speak of the place as an echo of the past. Am I right in thinking that there isn’t a real past trapped under the runes down there?”

Grey gave him a smile and nodded. “You are not wrong, Agent Sah. It is indeed only a copy of the past, an echo of it, if you will. At least that’s how Stella and I ended up thinking about it.”

“Just an echo . . .” Sah breathed a sigh of relief. He might not have known enough about the matter to understand the full implications, but he knew enough to understand that it wasn’t as dangerous as the actual past torn out of the timeline and trapped beneath their feet.

“Make no mistake, Agent Sah. As Traiana explained to us, the echo of the past may be easier to handle, but it is now separated from the present by a span of thousands of years.”

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“Shit! Right - not much of a difference, eh, Palemoon?” Sah had to admit that his brain wasn’t up to the task; if he really wanted to assess what kind of danger the heart of the labyrinth - correction, the hearts of all labyrinths - represented, a real expert was needed. Unfortunately, there were no space or time mages among those present. He had no choice but to let it go for now, and hope that it would not be an issue locked behind the Oath he took later on.

“Yes, not much of a difference. Actually, the reason for the appearance of misshapen space in the labyrinths.”

“What do you mean, Palemoon?” Captain Rayden asked, curious and concerned.

“Well, that the misshapen space is the past seeping into our present.”

“I thought you said the labyrinths had hundreds of years of life left - that sounds to me like they’re already failing,” Deckard pointed out.

“They’re not failing,” Grey argued back. “Not really. They’re nearing the end of their lifespan. There’s a difference. Look - Traiana wasn’t one of the labyrinth creators; they just gave her some basic knowledge to operate Fallen’s Cry. What she concluded is that as the echo of the past is getting further and further away from the present, it grows stronger and stronger, while the runes are wearing out with time.”

“Sounds like failing to me, Little Beast.”

“But it’s something the builders counted with. There are safeguards.”

“Controlled failure is still . . .”

“Let it go, Deckard,” Captain Rayden spoke up. “No matter how we look at it, the problem remains the same. If I understand it correctly, that misshapen space, those seepages of the past, will continue to appear and get worse. That could be a problem for future dives into Fallen’s Cry.”

“Wait, Rayden. I don’t like what you’re implying. I’m not going to close the Labyrinth.”

“Hmm . . .” Deckard hummed, pondering. “Actually, that would be a solution.”

Hearing that from Deckard gave Sah a pause. The man was the strongest solo seeker in the city, having spent almost every day down there for the last eight months. Then again, he was doing it more or less for the sake of his apprentice, whom he now had back. ‘Better to keep it that way, meaning her here, even at the cost of closing Fallen’s Cry.’ At least that was how Sah judged Deckard’s thinking.

A worthy thought, yet the Imperial agent knew better. “I’m afraid that won’t go over well with the Emperor. Closing one labyrinth would mean closing all three in the Empire. People are disappearing in both Hangman’s Bliss and Hero’s Sorrow.”

“And it’s been that way for hundreds of years,” Sandoval, the old librarian, pointed out, to which Sah could only nod. The man was right.

“The oldest record of a disappearance in a labyrinth we could find was from six hundred years ago,” Hazel Mooney chimed in, and a thick old leather-bound book appeared on the table in front of her. “It was from Dead Man’s Rhyme. That’s up north in the former Terran Federation territory.”

“Thank you, Miss Mooney. I think everyone knows where Dead Man’s Rhyme is,” Captain Rayden stopped her from flipping through the book.

However, regardless of the respect the woman had earned with him, she wasn’t quite correct this time. From what Sah saw, at least Grey didn’t have a clue, and Breadbaker and Welkes didn’t seem to be sure either. Not really surprising. While the two of them had been ordinary civilians until recently, not really interested in the affairs outside of Sahal, Grey was by all accounts completely cut off from the outside world in her captivity.

***

Dead Man’s Rhyme? Honestly, it didn’t ring a bell. “What’s so special about this labyrinth?”

“Not much, Grey,” Captain Rayden said. “It’s in a part of the territory that fell under the control of whoever it is up north.”

“There was some concern about what would happen to the labyrinth, but that was overshadowed by the collapse of the Federation a few weeks later.”

“Oh, then maybe it’s fulfilling the function it was built for,” I said thoughtlessly to Blaine’s explanation, only to regret it immediately.

“And you know what that function was, Miss Grey?”

“Was it to train warriors?” Hazel Mooney blurted out as soon as Mr. Sandoval asked his question. “That would be in line with the general belief and conclusions of many experts. However, some speculate that they were some sort of defensive fortresses, and if I’m not mistaken, you said that the beasts called them the dens of humans, correct?”

“I don’t remember . . .”

“Oh, not to me. Mr. Sandoval mentioned it to me.”

Damn! And she remembered such a trivial thing? Come to think of it, she was a librarian and much better than the old man. Her intelligence and wisdom must have been on a completely different level than mine.

“Well, neither is wrong.” Once again, it was not easy to find the right words. I could just blurt out what I know, but then things would get really messy. Already, with every bit of information we shared, Stella and I were bombarded with a barrage of questions. Understandable, but exhausting - even frustrating. I - we - had so much to tell them.

“Labyrinths were indeed meant to serve as fortresses for humans and other races to survive,” Stella went on to explain, for which I was grateful. “But also to prepare them for - for . . .”

“. . . for the battle with the enemy they faced at the time.”

“Reluctant to tell us who they were fighting? Why is that, Grey?” asked Captain Rayden, no accusation or insistence in her voice, if anything, curiosity and perhaps a hint of concern.

“I-it’s not that we don’t want to; it’s just not that simple.” It wasn’t. How to tell someone that the planet they’d walked on all their lives wanted to kill them?

“Then say it as it is. The people here are not stupid; they will understand.” I don’t think anyone missed her fleeting glance at Lord Egerton, a man I didn’t miss a bit. His view of me hadn’t changed at all - in fact, he seemed to hate me even more.

Anyway, “That’s not what . . .”

“I’m not so sure about that, Captain,” Stella cut me off. “When I found out - and it took us months to find out because Traiana herself was unwilling to tell us for fear that we might not be able to bear the truth - I, I must admit, broke down.”

That gave Rayden pause, and she grew more grave. Mrs. Palemoon, on the other hand, gasped in horror. “And - are you all right now, sweety?”

“I am, Mom. Korra, Traiana and Rairok helped me get through it.”

“That’s - I’m so relieved, but - if you - you know . . .” Mrs. Palemoon whispered, as if that would prevent anyone in the room from hearing her. “Don’t be afraid to come to me. I’m here for you and your dad.”

“I know, Mom,” Stella said, a little embarrassed. She had nothing to be ashamed of, though. In fact, I envied her. From what she told me, her father was out of the city on a business trip, and as soon as he got the message from her mother - sending messages was something I had to look into; on the one hand, fast messaging seemed possible, on the other, not so common - he packed up his work and headed back to Castiana.

“Did you say Rairok?” Mooney asked, thinking, trying to remember. “The name sounds familiar.”

“Is it that bad?” Captain Rayden asked with concern, ignoring Mooney’s mutterings.

“I don’t know,” Stella shrugged, not really sure what to say. “I mean, having it as an enemy is, but - maybe I just overreacted. Korra took it a lot better than I did.”

“There were reasons for that,” I hinted at my Earth origins, which helped me accept the truth better. In fact, when I thought about it, this was an opportunity to tell everyone I cared about where I came from. Yet there were a few I’d rather keep the truth from - er, City Lord - even though it should remain secret under the Oath.

“It? So it’s a single entity?”

“Yes and no, it’s more complicated than that - look, first let’s tell you more about where we found ourselves.” I saw it better to give things some context first.

Not so much Deckard. “Before you start, Little Beast, you said the purpose of the labyrinths was to train warriors. What I mean is that there must be a point at which they would be considered trained. Is there a bottom to the labyrinths, then?”

“Yes,” I said, slightly amused as I saw where this was going.

He smiled back, knowing I knew. “How far? How deep are the labyrinths?”

“As they need to be.”

“Now you are just messing with me. How many levels down do I have to go? Come on.”

“The deepest known labyrinth has 255 levels. In Fallen’s Cry, the deepest floor reached was the 162nd,” Mooney remarked excitedly, obviously making mental notes when she couldn’t write them down.

I grinned even more. “And what if the labyrinth only had 165 levels? Would you try harder if you knew you had three more floors to go? Or if you knew you had a hundred more to traverse, would you give up?”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Lord Egerton frowned when he didn’t get a straight answer.

“What Traiana told us when we asked her.”

“So she didn’t tell you?”

“Actually, no, she didn’t,” I said to Deckard, wondering to myself. It was one of the few things Traiana didn’t reveal until the very end. “She told us that there IS a bottom, and that the will to get there, no matter how distant that goal may be, is part of the strength the labyrinths were designed to seek in warriors.”

To my surprise, Deckard took it without further complaint and pondered it. And he wasn’t the only one. Captain Rayden, her lieutenants, Sergeant Pinescar and Sah. They all seemed to nod in some kind of assent.

“That actually makes sense. If you want to prepare someone for battle, they need to be strong-willed and not shit their pants at the sight of the enemy.”

“Not the way I would put it,” Rayden said. “Still, Deckard is right. No matter how strong a warrior is, they’re useless if they don’t have the will to stand up to the odds. Speaking of will - come to think of it, there are a heck of a lot of beasts and creatures capable of mind attacks in Fallen’s Cry, and not just in it. Makes me wonder why?”

I simply smiled and said nothing. Captain Rayden was starting to get a picture of what they had faced there in the past, and she wasn’t the only one - good. Because of what I was sure of was that they all would need the will to swallow the truth.