“Be quiet,” Sophie said suddenly, and the entire party froze. She cocked her head to the side, making a shushing motion with her finger to the others.

“There’s someone up ahead,” she said. “I’m going to go check it out.”

“I’ll come with you,” her mother said, and the two took off down the passageway at a steady clip.

The party waited quietly for a moment, then Elaine returned.

“It’s a boy and a man,” she whispered. “The boy is playing with a set of toy wings. Like he’s dressing up to play an angel in a play or something. They’re both talking to each other, I left Sophie to see if they said anything interesting, but they seemed to be self absorbed. The boy with his wings, and the man watching the boy play.”

“Do you think they’re hostile?” Eli asked.

“The man is pretty old,” she said. “And the kid doesn’t look older than five.”

“Daedalus and Icarus,” Erik suggested. “Daedalus was said to be the architect who built the labyrinth, and Icarus his son. It sort of makes sense they’d be here.”

“Do we make contact?” Eli asked.

Erik shrugged. “Your call. I think we should, we might learn something.”

“I agree.” Eli looked around and saw no detractors, so the party continued down the path until they came to a clearing where a five year old boy was zooming around in a circle while trying to flap his toy wings.

Daedalus looked over at them when they arrived, then promptly ignored them.

“Go away,” he said. “This memory isn’t for you and your kind.”

“Father who are these people?” Icarus asked.

“Nobody, precious one. Focus on learning to fly. Once you learn to fly, we’ll be able to escape this place. You’ll love the sky, little one. It’s such a beautiful shade of blue.”

“But the sky is black!”

“Only at night, and when it is black it’s filled with stars!” the man said. He turned back to the party. “Please, go away. Let me be happy for a few days. Let me have this memory of the only child of mine who did not see his end coming.”

Eli hesitated, then stepped forward. “We’ll leave,” he promised, “If you will only tell us the way out.”

“You know the way out. Killing. Always killing and getting stronger and stronger until there is nothing left to kill. We are just like the Antithesis in that way. But there is nothing here for you to kill. Nothing but an old man and a helpless child. Neither of us is worth the experience, unless you have the heart of a blackguard it’s not worth the nightmares it will give you.”

Eli stepped forward, and that’s when he noticed something. In the steady light of the torches they carried, the man’s eyes glinted. They were actual eyes, not empty whites.

He looked at the boy, but quickly saw that the child’s eyes were a solid white. The man sighed.

“Yes, it’s true. The boy’s not real,” Daedalus admitted. He sighed and waved his hand, the boy freezing in place mid leap. “What do you want from me? Why can’t you just leave me to my reflection of happiness? Why am I once more called to serve?”

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“I’m sorry,” Eli said. “I didn’t know—the system only just arrived on our world, but you’ve been living with it for a long time haven’t you.”

“I wouldn’t call it living,” the man said, chuckling wryly. “But yes. I’ve been a part of this dungeon for so long that I’ve lost track. Damn Erandius for re-instigating this scenario. But now that I see you I understand. We’ve come full circle, have we? Well, very well. You’ve woken Daedalus, but I don’t know what good it will do you, young Titan. I’m not a mighty warrior. Just an old man who mourns his child.”

“You can help by telling us what the Antithesis is,” Eli suggested.

The old man chuckled.

“The name isn’t enough?” he asked. “It’s the opposite.”

“The opposite of what?” Eli pressed.

“Life? Happiness? Everything?” the old man said, shrugging. “The Titans witnessed the creation of the Antithesis, but we do not truly understand it as we do the dungeon you walk through and the system which is designed to give you a chance of survival. You know that it is a chance and a chance only, yes? You will most likely die, as your ancestors did the last time it visited earth. Perhaps you would not be happier to let others do the fighting as you stand aside and enter the final rest? Oblivion isn’t as frightening. It’s better than the alternative, in fact.”

Eli frowned. “So you don’t really know what the Antithesis is? Then how do we fight it?”

“With great difficulty,” Daedalus answered. “Erandius will explain eventually. He is the general. I have been sleeping for … ten thousand years? That number feels right. I have been sleeping for ten thousand years and do not remember as well as I once did. To me, that child died yesterday,” the man said, motioning to Icarus who was still frozen mid jump. “But with the others I fought for millennia to make certain that others might have a chance to raise their children in peace. I do not remember that. My grief is like an open wound, a searing brand. A pain that only the father of a murdered child can understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Eli said. “It’s selfish to ask more of you than you’ve given.”

“Thank you for understanding—” Daedalus began.

“I’m a selfish child,” Eli continued. “Please, I beg you. Tell me what you can about the system.”

Daedalus looked at him, anger flashing on his old countenance for a moment, then it softened. He sighed and waved a hand. A holographic representation of the stone that Eli had seen land in the forest near his house appeared.

“It’s powered by Core Stones like this,” Daedalus said. “They’re one of the few things that survive a purge by the Antithesis, which makes them one of the few records left over of the final hours. They’re titan technology, developed almost a hundred thousand years ago for unrelated purposes. We were seeking to advance ourselves, our society. These were meant to preserve life, they were not a weapon. Not at first.”

“Okay,” Eli said, nodding his head. “What changed that?”

“The Antithesis, of course,” Daedalus said. He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. I will say no more on the matter for now. Begone from my sight, selfish child. You’ve already taken more than I’m willing to give.”

Eli frowned, but tried once more. “How do I clear this floor? What’s the puzzle? Do I have to kill the Minotaur?”

“Why would you kill that kind soul?” Daedalus asked, cocking his head to the side. “You already possess everything you need to solve the mystery of this floor, but perhaps you lack the context. Why did you choose the path of the Titans when you set out?”

“I chose the path of men, not Titans,” Eli argued.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Daedalus said, a sad smile on his face. “Well then, you chose the wrong direction. Mortals die, Elias Mathews. If you want to find the exit for men, then you must choose the path that reflects that fact. Now my patience is at an end. Goodbye.”

The man waved his hand, and he dissolved into blocks of white mana. His child followed suit a moment later.

“Well that was a waste of time,” Peter commented once they were alone once more.

“No, it wasn’t,” Eli said. “He told us exactly how to proceed.”

“What do you mean?” the younger boy asked. “All he did was not say anything useful and talk about his dead kid.”

“Show some respect,” Erik said, smacking the boy. Considering that he did this without actually moving his hands, the thirteen year old didn’t see the blow coming and didn’t dodge in time. “Daedalus and Icarus are considered one of the classical tragedies after thousands of years. We’re not certain how old the story really is, but if the truth is anything like the myth, then the man has a reason to be upset.”

“Sorry,” Peter muttered. “But seriously, what did we learn?”

“We learned where the exit is,” Eli said. “It’s time to go back to the entrance.”