After what felt like an eternity of winding corridors and, strangely enough, no further traps, Kael finally recognized the familiar structure of the central chamber.

  It took longer than I thought, he mused, breathing a little heavier. But at least I didn’t run into any more traps.

  He slowed his steps and scanned his surroundings. That’s when he saw her.

  A figure stood motionless a few meters away, bathed in the pale, misty light filtering through the labyrinth’s ceiling. At first, she looked like part of the structure, as still and silent as a carved statue.

  As he approached, her features came into focus, and he recognized her.

  “Samira . . .?” he whispered.

  She stood frozen mid-step, her expression blank, her eyes wide open yet unseeing, as if time itself had stopped for her. Kael’s heart tightened.

  He carefully circled around her and saw it: a deep wound on her chest. The injury looked severe, yet not a single drop of blood flowed from it. The edges of the wound were fixed in place, as if suspended between one heartbeat and the next.

  That's the security mechanism they mentioned, Keal thought in quiet awe. Words truly are miraculous.

  He cast one last glance at Samira. Though she stood frozen, her chest wound suspended in time, he knew she would be safe. Expelled from the trial, yes, but protected. There was nothing more he could do for her.

  Turning away, he walked toward the opposite entrance of the labyrinth and stepped through.

  The moment he crossed the threshold, the wall behind him slid shut with a dull, final sound.

  Another trap, he realized, his muscles tensing instinctively. He scanned his surroundings, expecting jets of fire, falling debris, or something else. But nothing happened. The air was still. The passage looked utterly ordinary.

  Weird... Did the trap break-

  A sudden spike of pain exploded in his head.

  It wasn't a gradual ache; it hit him like a thousand needles piercing his skull all at once. His vision blurred. A strangled, raw, primal scream tore from his throat and echoed through the stone corridor.

  "Stop...please," he gasped, though his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

  The agony deepened. It wasn’t just pain. It was invasive, as if something were crawling through every nerve, splitting thought and will apart, tearing into his very core. His hands shot to his temples, pressing hard as if he could hold himself together through sheer force.

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  His knees hit the ground. His scream dissolved into ragged breathing. His will began to fray under the relentless assault. The pain was too intense, too precise, too intentional.

  Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped.

  Kael collapsed forward, resting his forehead against the white sand and still clutching his heart. The silence that followed was deafening.

  Slowly and shakily, he pushed himself up onto his knees. His gaze was unfocused and distant as if only part of his mind had returned from wherever it had been dragged. The corridor swam in and out of focus.

  Then he saw it.

  A small, ordinary hut stood before him, almost fragile against the endless gray. Yet, the moment his eyes fell upon it, something inside him cracked. His heart ached in a way he couldn't explain.

  A sound floated through the air:

  Laughter. It was high and clear, filled with such pure joy that it pierced the haze like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He smiled instinctively, without knowing why.

  Then, the warm, familiar, impossibly comforting scent drifted out through the hut’s small window. He couldn’t name it. He couldn't even describe it. But it struck him harder than the pain he had felt moments before.

  Tears welled up without warning. He tried to hold them back, to push them away, but they spilled freely down his cheeks. His calmness shattered, replaced by an insatiable longing and a grief that seemed to stretch beyond memory itself.

  "Please..." he whispered hoarsely, struggling against the tide of emotion. "I have to stand up. I have to get going."

  But his legs wouldn’t move. His chest tightened with every breath. Why is it so hard? Why do I just want to stay here?

  His thoughts spiraled.

  Why does this tiny house feel more like home than anywhere I’ve ever been? Why does that laughter fill my heart with so much joy that I’d give anything to hear it again? Why does this smell wrap around me like a blanket, making me want to stay here forever?

  He tried to cling to the sensations: the sight of the hut, the sound of laughter, and the scent that made him feel like he belonged. His mind began looping, trapped in an endless cycle of trying to memorize everything before it slipped away. It was as if imprinting it would let him return one day.

  But somewhere deep inside, a sharp, rational thought survived.

  Kael clenched his jaw, drew his blade, and slashed his wrist, the cut shallow but deep enough to jolt his senses. Pain flared sharply, tearing through the fog of nostalgia.

  "Hah—" he gasped, his breathing ragged. Think! What did Professor Nora say?

  The present matters. Not the future. Not the past.

  He steeled himself. The ache didn’t vanish, but he forced his body to move. Step by step, he backed away from the hut. Each movement felt like tearing something precious from his chest. He cut his arm again, just enough to keep his mind anchored in the present until the symbols and the hut disappeared from view.

  His thoughts gradually cleared, though the echo of laughter lingered like a ghost in the corners of his mind. Pushing the memory aside hurt more than any physical wound would.

  I’ll think about this later, he told himself firmly. I’ll investigate it in my third year. I have a starting point now. But the present...the present is more important. I have to focus. No more underestimating.

  "This trap was hell..." Kael gasped, his voice hoarse and still not quite back to normal. "I could have been consumed by that pain and those memories until I froze like the others."

  His usual calm, distant expression had been replaced by something unfamiliar: a flicker of raw fear and, beneath it, determination.

  He leaned against the cold stone wall and took a moment to steady his breathing. When his pulse finally slowed, he pushed himself upright and scanned his surroundings. Judging from the twists and turns he’d taken, he estimated that he was now southeast of the labyrinth’s center.

  So far, so good, he exhaled. I’m still on track. I still have a chance to pass this exam.

  He set off again, this time with renewed urgency. His footsteps echoed softly through the empty corridors. His focus narrowed to the path ahead; each intersection was a choice between progress and danger.