Fascina regarded me for several seconds, expression unreadable, then turned and started sprinting.

I hurried after her.

“You could have said something.” Her voice came out steady only to drop in a note of realisation, a side effect of the lack of winding. Ghosts were often surprised to find they could run forever.

“You can’t seriously expect me to know every last minutia of the labyrinth,” I responded, floating alongside her.

“No, but you must have suspected.”

“I’m under no obligation of disclosure. I warned you I wasn’t a hero.”

“There were at least several hundred of those things. They might keep us going forever!”

“Or maybe you picked up the only useful one,” I countered. “Even if you didn’t, would you then camp in that hallway for the rest of time, afraid to venture out and lose it? It’s a trap like any other.”

Rounding a corner, Fascina’s shoes slipped on the wet grass as she skidded to an ungainly halt. “Speaking of.”

Ahead lay an unexpected fork in the path, branches perfectly symmetrical. Conceivably, divided at a sharp angle, it had simply been unnoticeable coming from the other direction. It felt like we were being made the butt of a joke.

“One of these might lead back to the glade,” Fascina said, but sounded uncertain. Wavering between the two options, her gaze finally landed on the left. “This should take us towards your mystery destination. I hope.” She glanced at me. “Could you check again?”

I thought about it. Exemptions were incredibly rare. Mine had probably cost the labyrinth something, and after the way it had gone, I might have also used up my good standing. The fork in the road indicated it was likely. But the labyrinth did want us – or at least me – to arrive at its point of nomination.

“I’ll try,” I said.

Sure enough, when I rose the walls never seemed to end. Further heights unfolded above me in a clever trick of perspective. I persisted longer than I had to, and as I was finally poised to retreat, I spotted the shape of an indent far above my head.

Square and bordered in carvings, it opened into a narrow alcove tunnelling through the rock, far longer than the metre I remembered. Hardly wider than my body, the passage soon faded into unnerving dark. Even my spectral light barely made a dent.

Despite the empty sky, the labyrinth was generally dimly lit. Everything in the afterlife came with a subtle internal glow, from its ground and walls to its residents. Exceptions sent a message, not always beneficial. In this case and this context, it was clear: Take the lantern and leave her.

Well, it was persistent. “No amount of sightseeing will change my decision,” I told the labyrinth. “Not that tacky citadel, not the Trials, and certainly not the galleries. All you’d be doing is prolonging the inevitable. So if you want me to see whatever you want to show me, you’ll have to take us both. Ms Hero is the greater mystery.”

Turning my back on the opening, I returned and found Fascina sitting in the damp examining the flickering lantern.

“Nothing,” I reported in.

“I see.” She rotated the lamp carefully in her lap so as not to upset the flame. “How does one activate an extension?”

“You don’t until you need it. It won’t add time above your upper limit, so you should wait until something needs repairing.”

She glanced at her fingers, turning them to peer at the growing cracks. “These seem like they’re brighter. Or wider.”

“They are.”

“And when something breaks, then what?” She did a decent job of hiding it, but I recognised the universal fear of the dead. Living souls looked forward to their various illusions of an afterlife. The deceased didn’t.

“You put your hand over the mark and take it in,” I said. “Or the nearest thing, if you’ve no hands left. I can’t tell you how to do that part. I’ve never done it. But I hear it’s like drinking.”

“And you have done a lot of that,” she responded wryly. “Sounds like dread sigil behaviour to me. Curses – I already have one of them in me.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Had,” I corrected.

“Feels current to me.” She raised her fingers and snapped them, but nothing happened. “Eh. Maybe.” Turning the engraving back towards herself, she rose back to her feet. “Time’s running away. We go left.” She hesitated as if to check for confirmation, then seemed to make up her mind and forged ahead.

The path continued to weave without a break. It was hard to tell how much time was passing and whether we should by now have reached the original glade. Eventually, however, it became clear the walls were slicker, their sheen darker and the grass wetter under Fascina’s feet. Her steps gave way to sloshing.

She hadn’t bluffed about persisting. The spillage made the path treacherous, rising to her ankles. She slipped once or twice with the lantern nearly extinguishing before handing it to me.

“Having fun there?” I asked, floating effortlessly. “You could fix this.”

She smiled back. “Never better.”

“Why,” I queried in exasperation after a while of watching her wade waist-deep, "are you so reluctant to accept your death?" Our progress had slowed immensely. By now water sluiced down the passage's fortifications in glimmering, veil-like sheets, hitting the surface of the makeshift canal in a steady babble. “Resistance won’t confer any benefits, and I think you’re proving the opposite here.”

“Because heroes don’t give up,” she stated. “Ever. Giving up means dooming your mission to failure.”

Oh, no. Not more of this. “This isn’t even giving up!” The lantern swung back and forth in my hand, sending multiple orbs dancing in the water’s reflections. “It’s using a tool in your toolbox, like friendship.”

“It’s the Rule; I didn’t make it. Also, my curse requires me to maintain a positive mindset. I’m the hero of Charismo. No depression for me.”

“You’re –” I broke off before I could put my foot in it. She had told me, I’d just failed to piece it. ‘Six heavenly curses’ – with herself included. “It can’t carry over into death.”

“Then why do I still feel it?”

I had no good answer for that. Hours ago, I simply would have dismissed it. But hours ago I wasn’t free. “Any physical symptoms?” I asked instead, hand rising to my collarbone.

“Aggranda wanted us pristine. I’m sure if you could visualise my magic, it would be rotten and covered in maggots. But he was one of those dark lords who wanted us pretty for his collection.”

“Hmm,” I uttered thoughtfully. “Is there a history?”

“Surprisingly. It rarely goes well for them. You'd think they'd learn better. Whatever the reason, half the time they develop the urge to start hoarding their enemies.”

“What about the other half?”

“They don’t, obviously. I thought you weren’t interested in the details.”

“It’s become relevant. What did your curse do?”

“The inverse of my attribute, of course.” Her feet chose to slip on the grass underwater and plunged her beneath the surface, where she splashed to the top a moment later. “Inducing repulsion.” Wiping a hand across her forehead achieved nothing, since she wasn’t wet. The liquid weighed down her hair for a second or two before sliding off and bouncing the strands back into their regular position. Fascina lifted one in her fingers for a moment to examine it. Then ducked her head under again and stayed there.

I joined her after a moment, keeping a hand above the surface for the lantern.

“Of course. I can breathe.” Her voice was heavy with distortion.

“No, you can’t.”

“You know what I mean.” She broke the surface again. “Does nothing in the labyrinth pose any real danger other than us running out of time?”

“Oh, there’s danger,” I assured her. “Currently it’s playing nice.” Because I was here. No doubt that allowance would come back to bite it. It made me feel a little guilty.

“Good. Our hero’s journey requires a challenge.”

“I’m not a hero,” I growled. “I’m dead. Give it a rest. In peace.”

“Oh? Then what did you do?” she persisted. “You’ve heard all about my story while giving me almost nothing.” She thrust a fissuring palm at my face. “I’d love to be patient, truly, but our friendship needs to burgeon on an accelerated timeline.”

I hadn’t regained my freedom just to waste it being pestered. Rising above the waterline, I folded my arms well out of Fascina’s reach, letting the lantern dangle from a finger. “I don’t need to know that badly,” I threatened. “I can fly away, leave you and drop this lamp.”

“Don’t,” she backslid instantly. “I apologise. You can tell me on your own time.”

“I tell most people,” I explained. “It’s not a secret, I’m just tired of the repetition. And if I wasn't clear, I'm not looking for friendship. When I make friends, they shatter. I don’t want to do it anymore, it’s that simple. I’m not from your chaos bubble. Not part of your story. I should thank you for ending mine. But it needs to end.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. I didn’t feel good about this. Any of it.

“And Kaedhrakthys? You’re just going to let him win?”

“Yes, if that’s what it takes.” The lies rolled off my tongue smoothly. “I don’t care about being a hero. I never did.”

“I think you’re lying,” Fascina said. She stared at me uncomfortably for several seconds too many. “May I at least have the lantern?”

It wasn’t like I’d be using it. I tossed it to her, flame guttering.

In one smooth motion, she captured it in her hands and spun it rapidly on its axis, one finger of each hand holding the centre in place. The others arrested it mid-motion as its sigil turned to face me.

To my surprise, the emblem was glowing. I’d never heard of one doing that, and I’d seen them being imbibed by patrons. It brightened further as Fascina’s lips opened, deathly white flames dancing around the edges.

DRAIN, the hero spoke.

Fatigue overcame my body, tearing into my phantom state. I fought it, but the spell – whatever strange, eldritch thing it was – was too powerful. My weightless limbs grew heavy, and somehow I’d forgotten how to hold them up.

The sigil’s fire was already faltering, grooves crumbling inwards as the metal pushed them out. The remnants of its glow funnelled towards me, spiralling into the orb under my collar.

Vaguely, I noticed the water coming up to meet me, light dying from my sockets as I fell.