Unnerving me wasn’t easy; one of the benefits of being dead. I was used to the afterlife’s perpetual chills, but now I felt the shivers.

“There’s no way that’s a coincidence,” Fascina murmured next to me over the fragmented sign.

My mind raced, turning over the possibilities. Most obvious was that my curse mightn’t have fully broken – or it had, and we were looking at a failsafe. I hadn’t thought its execution all that well-planned, but perhaps I’d been mistaken.

“I did kick the door quite hard,” I suggested.

There was also Fascina’s replacement curse. I still didn’t know what it did. The orb in my collarbone continued to throb away, so something was still active. I tugged down my shirt to examine it, but other than the new glowing cracks surrounding it, aesthetically it hadn’t changed.

A creak sounded from inside the bar preceding a loud snap as its central support beam collapsed. The roof sagged inwards, caving in a shower of rubble and dust that clouded the glow of the lanterns. Before the first wave could settle, the rest of the cantina followed in a tumbling domino effect. Seconds later, it comprised nothing but a mound of rubble.

Fascina’s voice was low in my ears. “Destruction protocol. Typical of dark lords when they’re defeated. The secrets binding their structures are too powerful to fall into enemy hands.”

“Maybe in the chaos bubble,” I said. “Exactly what kind of curse did you hex me with?”

The spectre seemed a little wounded at the suggestion. “Nothing that would do this. This has to be the work of your nemesis.”

“This does come across as a threat,” I admitted.

And I wasn’t sure about the culprit. I eyed Mothrow’s shoulders through the dust, still poking upright through the debris.

Unless… the labyrinth? I glanced around the edges of the glade. It did have a sense of humour which didn’t always translate.

The dust clouds were spreading.

“As for the curse –” Fascina gave a mildly annoyed shrug, “– chairs you sit on will wobble. That’s it.”

I wondered if there was a way a bar stool’s instability could be extended to a whole building, but conceded it was a long shot, especially if I wasn’t actively using it. The curse itself barely registered. If I’d been alive it might have been annoying, but as it was I could simply float in the air.

The hero curled her lip at me. “I know that things are different here. But these patterns? I know them. Maybe they went unnoticed so long because they needed someone from my bubble to recognise them.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I stated. “We don’t have dark lords in the afterlife. We have the labyrinth.”

“Does or does Kaedhrakthys not reside in the afterlife?”

“He does.”

“Does he or does he not, in your words, ‘rewrite reality’?”

“That, too. But only for the living.”

She threw out her hands, palms open in vindication. “I don’t know the history between you, but we’re not talking about a petty dispute. He chained you to this building because he knows you’re a hero. That’s the kind of thing they do.”

“That’s beyond ridiculous,” I argued, gesticulating. “I’m the only ghost who hasn’t fallen into extinction in this place because of it. If I were such a threat, why not let me expire with the rest of them?”

“It’s because of your power that he keeps you,” she said. “First of all, assuming heroes will die when you leave them unchecked is exactly how they get you. Second of all, you’re a powerful tool. It’s why Aggranda sought to corrupt my group instead of killing us; in the right hands we can be devastating weapons. Thirdly, I’m not sure you are the only one.” She swept a hand behind her. “If I’m right, there’ll be others out there in the labyrinth.”

Powerful. Maybe once. On reflex I glanced at my arms, now cracked with imminence.

“Look, you might think he’s unstoppable, but there are Rules. Knowing the parameters is a power of its own, and I know them. There’s your proof.” She pointed to the settling wreckage.

That was the mystery, true. Against all logic, Fascina’s impossible gambit had worked, and it piqued my curiosity.

She took my silence as acquiescence. “Between that and your knowledge of the labyrinth, we have what we need to get started. And there’s nothing for us here. So –” she scratched the tip of her chin, “– stupid question time, but I have to ask – do you have any idea where we might find him?”

“Hah! No,” I lied. I had no intention of leading her where she wanted. It interfered with my plans to crumble into nothing.

“Of course. That would be too easy. Any particular path you’d advise?”

They were all the same, really. She’d had it right the first time. The labyrinth did what the labyrinth wanted, within its limitations, and couldn’t be predicted. I gestured towards her original pick, a wide-open passage hung with ornamental lanterns. “It’s got good visibility.”

“That was my thinking. If it’s a trap, at least we’ll be able to see it.”

I accompanied her to the passage, pausing briefly to look back at the bar’s wreckage. I wondered if ghosts would continue to drop in without it. Or, given how afterlife time operated, if Fascina had in fact been the last. The bar had been here long before I’d taken over as custodian. It was entirely possible the rest of her bubble had arrived well in advance.

I hadn’t really expected to see the world end by proxy, but all things considered, it made an ironic kind of sense.

The chosen passage was long and grassy, its lanterns burning orange. The flames looked real but emitted no warmth, and there were no obvious turnings ahead. As a whole, the labyrinth’s architecture was very unlike the cantina's, which had been designed for human occupation. The labyrinth's had not, all towering walls and pristine surfaces free of entropic degradation.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

As befitted the afterlife, it was quiet, with only a faint underlying resonance like a giant, distant bell. It amplified the sound of our feet on the grass, and after a few minutes I switched to floating above it, a silent spectre amidst the graves of countless others. The bar was the place for living conventions. The labyrinth didn’t care.

“Can you teach me to do that?” Fascina asked. “The only flight I have any experience with is transforming into a swarm of locusts.”

“It’s not hard,” I said. “Give me your hand. Now remember you’re dead.”

“That was already kind of evident.”

“I mean, really remember it.” With my free hand, I gestured around the passage. “All of this, all these trappings, are lies to anchor you to the surface. You don’t have a body or feet to stand on. Those are decomposing on Soddit. You’re nothing but a self-aware memory of someone who once existed. And you’re fading.”

This was the point at which I usually got punched in the face, but Fascina just squinted at her feet. “Is there a method that’s less depressing?”

“Not really.”

“Guess I’m walking. Shame – I was hoping we could fly over these walls.”

“The labyrinth accounts for that, anyway.” I let go of her hand. “You might think you’re cheating it, but you’re the one being scammed.”

“I suppose that extends to walking through them?”

“Usually, yes.”

She glanced down the corridor ahead. “Is there a chance this path could go on forever?”

“It’s the labyrinth. There’s a chance of anything.”

“Then we’re turning back and trying a different one.”

I was a little surprised to see the glade and its pile of rubble where we’d left it, and not simply another unending tunnel. Before stepping into it, Fascina unhooked the nearest lantern from the wall and looped its hook through her sash. She scoured the ring of potential options in thought, before moving one down to the right. “Let’s go.”

The new passage was damp with trickles of water running down the walls. It twisted more than the previous hallway, erring gradually to the left until I was certain we should have intersected the previous path. Fascina met my gaze, clearly having the same thought.

Like the first route, it didn’t hold many points of interest. “Maybe we should have stuck with it,” the hero eventually said, repositioning the lantern. “I’d rather not turn back again only to find out they’re all like this.”

“They aren’t usually,” I noted. “But they might be today.”

After the way it had acted, I’d have thought the labyrinth would be eager to steer us further into its embrace. Instead, the impression I was receiving was neutral. Making itself attractive only to do… what? Nothing to follow up? Neutral wasn’t a bad state for it to be in, and was definitely the most likely to bring spectres back to the bar.

I just hadn’t thought it would act that way towards me.

My sense of time was long since ruined, but we pressed on for Fascina’s estimation of about another hour. She walked quickly. I recognised the signs of the newly-dead wanting to sleep; minds not having caught up with their bodies. Restlessness verging on paranoia and an urge to hurry towards a place they could rest.

“We’re turning back,” she declared eventually, the damp making her hair lank. “If there’s still nothing on the next run, we’ll commit. But I want to give it one more try.”

“First, let me check something,” I said. “This water has to be coming from somewhere.”

Taking it cautiously, I left her on the ground and drifted towards the top of the walls. I’d heard stories, of course, but had never flown further than the cantina ceiling myself.

As hoped, the labyrinth didn’t stop me cheating. Its walls ended where they were supposed to, terminating in smooth, square ends about a metre deep. The water sprung from a benign hollow along the length of the centre, bubbling up gently to trickle back down. I stuck a finger in and tested some on the end of my tongue. Clean.

From here, Fascina was a flickering light at the bottom, and I doubted her view of me would be better. I kept climbing, still cautious, but encountered no resistance. I’d really been granted an exemption. To my interest, the shape of the path we were on continued to weave forwards unbroken, with no points of decision. No end was visible.

But there was more. As I gained distance, the nearby section spreading before me resolved into recognisable letters.

LEAVE HER, the labyrinth spelt out in twisting passages.

Huh. I folded my arms and addressed it. “I tried to; you saw her.” I frowned as a new suspicion occurred. “Are you jealous?”

The labyrinth didn’t answer, but its layout somehow looked more disapproving.

“Well, don’t be. I’m humouring her. She got rid of my curse and I’m grateful, but our goals in death are hardly compatible. I meant it when I said I’d shatter.”

The disapproval deepened further.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m entitled to. However long it’s been has been too long. I’ve nothing left to give. I’m done.” I hesitated a moment as I realised what I’d just said. “Wait, are you seriously arguing? You love shatterings.”

Nothing about it actively changed, but the frustration in the architecture below me seemed abruptly overwhelming, uncanny angles and protrusions drawing my attention where none had before.

“I know, I know,” I apologised. “It’s messy. If things had gone differently, neither of us would be where we are. But you can’t fix me, just like I can’t fix you. Me not leaving won’t solve that. And you should give Fascina a chance. She is a hero. If she can break my curse, maybe she could help you. Of course,” I added slyly, “you’ll have to keep her around long enough.”

The lights in my sockets drifted towards the distinct arrow positioned after the ‘HER’. It pointed to a second, much smaller circular glade in the labyrinth I couldn’t see any direct connection to. We’d come far enough in that my current vantage didn’t reveal the location of the original, so instead I made a note of its direction.

I patted my palm on the top of the wall as I descended, feeling conflicted but reassured. The bar sign hadn’t been the labyrinth’s doing – the tones as different as two distinct voices.

But if not the labyrinth, then who?

Fascina looked relieved when I returned. “I was beginning to worry you’d abandoned me up there. Did you find anything?”

“Maybe. Everything's inert. I might have a potential destination, but it needs a sense of direction. How’s yours?”

“Reasonable, but not above reproach. The good navigators come from Intelligia.” She grinned. “I’m sure being trapped in a bar was amazing for developing the skill.”

“I’m relying on you,” I agreed, and pointed into the wall. “That way. Maybe by backtracking to the bar and finding the nearest spoke.”

“Then we’ll do it. Strong collaboration skills are essential to any hero’s success – Sensibelle always said that, and she knew what she was talking about.”

Even by chaos bubble standards, Fascina's was insane. I massaged my temples as we recommenced travelling.

Around us, the labyrinth continued to twist in silence, its towering surfaces gleaming with dribbling tears. There seemed to be more of them recently. I tried not to let it bother me.

As was typical of the dead, Fascina’s outfit blended into her form; cloak billowing with her hair and sleeves flowing into her forearms. I guessed at a long waistcoat over shirt and trousers, lightly armoured and elaborate. Not the best attire for battle, but spectres rarely appeared how they died. Often they weren’t even in the same age bracket.

This one broke the awkwardness with questions. “You mentioned there were ways of extending our deaths. What should we be looking for?”

“Items,” I answered, glad for the distraction. “They usually come with a test. Even in the afterlife, nothing comes for free. Except my drinks and exceptional piano playing, of course.”

“What kind of items?”

“They could be anything. Bottles, buckets… I met several spectres who lasted weeks just by picking up every stone.”

“How would they know the difference from a regular one?”

“Easy,” I said. “They’re marked with the labyrinth’s sigil.”

A strange expression crossed Fascina’s face. She unhooked the lantern at her hip and turned it around to display an angular seal above the window. “One like this?”

I looked at the series of five concentric squares crossed with lines increasing in length at each clockwise edge, engraved in the metal like chiselled scratches.

“Exactly like this,” I confirmed.