Before You Read Chapter 12
Answers have a troublesome habit of creating better questions.
Chapter 12 takes us somewhere new, where ordinary rules become suggestions and apparently even books can choose violence.
There are things waiting beyond Lake Astral Maw, though whether they intend to help remains another matter entirely.
For now, follow the message.
Enter the Labyrinth.
And perhaps keep an eye on the bookshelves.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy Chapter 12.
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Master waves a hand at us, his voice calm but firm. "Settle down first. Someone brew some tea."
The scent of steeping leaves fills the air as we sink into our seats.
Samuel, Jamey and I decline, but the rest accept a cup. The earthy bitterness of Master's green tea is something I never learned to stomach.
He takes a slow sip, his gaze sweeping over us as we wait, breaths held in unspoken anticipation. "Well," he begins, setting his Celadon cup down with a quiet clink. "You were right, he was neither a demon nor a dark entity."
Another sip. Another pause.
He extends his cup for a refill, his fingers drumming lightly against the porcelain. "He could be one of two things."
His gaze drops to the floor, his expression unreadable. "A forsaken soul, trapped between realms, manipulated or cursed to serve as a vessel for cryptic messages."
No one says a word, listening like we're in school. Only now, we're grading whether a ghost boy is cursed, chosen, or just really bad at introductions.
He exhales through his nose. "The tear... could signify his final release."
A murmur of unease ripples through us, but he raises a hand, silencing it before it can grow.
"Or," he continues, "he was a Divine Messenger in disguise."
His eyes flick between us, searching for understanding. "Not all messengers come in light and warmth. Some appear in corrupted forms, testing those who seek the truth. The tear could have been his last moment of humanity breaking through."
A thick silence settles over the room. No one moves. No one speaks.
I can almost hear the weight of our thoughts pressing against the air.
Alec is the first to break it. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice steady. "I think it was the latter."
Master picks up his cup again, swirling the liquid inside. "Pray, do tell. Why do you think so?"
Alec doesn't hesitate.
He perches at the edge of his seat, eyes sharp with certainty.
"When I held him in my arms at the road, he was cold. Not just cold, vacant. Like the body had been emptied long before we found him."
He pauses, frowning.
"It felt... positioned. As if something moved him just far enough to be seen, then stepped back."
Something sharp twists in my stomach. I raise a hand instinctively, like a student seeking permission. "Yeah, but... wouldn't that fit a forsaken soul too?" My brow furrows.
Then it clicks.
I slap the heel of my palm against my forehead. "Wait... no. You're right. A forsaken soul wouldn't have known that language."
I glance around at the others, realization settling over me like a heavy cloak. "That boy wasn't just relaying a message. He was guiding us."
A moment of clarity. But even clarity comes with shadows.
I look back at Master Dan. "But... if that's true, if he was sent to help us, then who sent him?"
That question hangs heavier than the silence.
"If he was forsaken, someone used him. If he was divine... someone chose us."
No one answers. Not right away.
And that, somehow, is worse.
Samantha grimaces beside me, arms crossed as she sinks into the seat. "If we're saying he was sent to guide us with that cryptic message, and factoring in what Thania mentioned about the Sepulcher of Echoes, then we have a lot to figure out."
Master Dan rises from his chair and walks toward the cupboard without saying anything.
We watch him open it.
He reaches inside.
Then he pulls out a handheld vacuum.
Jamey blinks. "Seriously?"
Master switches it on.
The machine hums cheerfully as he begins vacuuming the black remains of our mysterious supernatural visitor from the floor.
I stare at him.
Five minutes ago, those ashes belonged to something that spoke through a child and dissolved in front of us.
Master apparently sees a cleaning problem.
Jamey watches the last dark streak disappear into the vacuum. "That feels disrespectful somehow."
Master continues cleaning. "You're welcome to pick it up by hand."
Jamey immediately leans back. "The vacuum is perfect."
Alec lowers his head, though I catch the smile.
Master switches off the machine.
"What's this about the Sepulcher of Echoes?"
The humor disappears.
After returning the vacuum to the cupboard, Master takes his chair again, and we begin filling in everything he missed.
Aleesha and the demon.
Jamey's disappearance.
Alec's power erupting beyond anything we had seen before.
The changes spreading through the rest of us.
Then we reach me.
The Living Scripture.
Master listens without interrupting, though his expression changes when we explain what Thania told us about the Sepulcher.
His fingers begin tapping against the armrest.
"The Sepulcher of Echoes carries a history considerably older than most people realize," he says. "People have entered looking for answers and returned carrying questions they spent the rest of their lives trying to understand."
That sounds encouraging.
Master's gaze finds mine.
"An old prophecy became associated with it centuries ago. Most accounts preserve only fragments now, and different traditions argue over what those fragments mean."
"What does yours say?" I ask.
His fingers stop moving.
"It speaks of living markings."
My skin prickles.
Master continues.
Master's gaze remains on me.
"It speaks of living markings," he says. "Though calling them scripture has always been an incomplete description."
My skin prickles.
Master's attention drops briefly toward my shoulder before returning to my eyes.
"Words are written to be read, Max. What you carry was made to do something."
A strange pressure moves beneath my ribs.
"What exactly?"
Master's expression shifts.
"That is the part the prophecy never explains."
My attention drops toward my hands.
The glyphs remain hidden beneath my skin.
Eric shifts beside me.
Master watches both of us.
"People have spent generations deciding what that prophecy means. I suggest you avoid becoming the latest."
I look at him. "That's surprisingly comforting."
"It wasn't intended to be."
Jamey gives a quiet snort.
Master leans forward.
"Thania directed you toward the Sepulcher. The child gave you another instruction. Between those two paths, I would follow the message first."
His eyes move across the group.
"Find the one who knows it all."
The words stir that strange pressure beneath my ribs again.
Master notices my expression, though he leaves it alone.
"Does that description mean anything to anyone?"
Heads move around the room.
I search every face and find the same uncertainty staring back at me.
"We need someone who might know who the message is referring to."
A soft clink comes from across the room.
Samuel places his cup on the table and reaches into his pocket.
For someone who has spent most of this conversation unusually quiet, he looks remarkably unconcerned.
He pulls out a candy.
Jamey stares at him. "Please tell me your contribution isn't sugar."
Samuel peels away the wrapper. "I think I might know where to start."
Every face turns toward him.
Samuel pauses with the candy halfway to his mouth.
"What?"
"Continue," Alec says.
Samuel pops the candy between his lips.
"Prayer warriors have a group chat. People share experiences, translations, warnings, things they've encountered."
I stare at him.
"You have a supernatural group chat?"
Samuel shrugs. "We live in modern times."
Jamey looks offended. "I've been fighting demons without access to the group chat?"
"You'd send memes."
"I'd send useful memes."
Master closes his eyes briefly.
Samuel continues before Jamey can defend his qualifications.
"There's an older man in the group. He's been around longer than anyone else I know. Everyone calls him the Scribe."
Master's attention sharpens.
Samuel rolls the candy against his cheek.
"He never uses his real name. He taught several prayer warriors how to interpret ancient glyphs."
My attention snaps fully toward him.
"Ancient glyphs?"
Samuel nods.
"He claims his teacher learned from someone who walked with God before Heaven closed its doors."
The room changes.
Even Master becomes still.
Samuel looks around at us.
Apparently, he has saved the most alarming information for the same tone people use when discussing groceries.
"How long have you known this person?" Eric asks.
"A few years."
"And you're mentioning him now?" Alec asks.
Samuel points toward himself. "Nobody asked me whether I knew a mysterious old man who studies ancient divine writing."
Jamey considers that. "Annoyingly fair."
Samuel looks toward Master.
"We could put the boy's message into the group. Someone might recognize it or know who this 'one who knows it all' is supposed to be."
Alec's expression hardens.
"Posting the entire message could expose what we know."
Eric leans forward, his hands loosely clasped.
"It could also show us who responds."
Alec looks toward him. "Including the Judicars."
The warning moves through the room.
Samuel stops chewing.
Alec's gaze shifts toward me.
"We have enemies we haven't identified yet, Max. Putting that message into a group filled with people we don't know could hand them our next move."
He's right.
I hate when that happens.
I look toward Samuel.
"Can anyone trace the post directly to us?"
Samuel thinks for a moment. "They'll know it came through me."
"Then we don't mention the boy, Halo, the Sepulcher, or anything that's happened to us. We post the words exactly as they were spoken and nothing else."
Alec watches me carefully.
"And if someone dangerous responds?"
I hold his gaze.
"Then we've learned someone dangerous is watching."
His jaw tightens.
The risk remains written across his face, and I feel it too.
Master stays quiet while his attention moves between us.
A slight lift of his brow tells me he understands the logic.
The tension around his eyes tells me something else.
He understands the danger too.
After posting the message and promising Master Dan we would keep him informed, we finally head home.
Exhaustion follows us through the door.
It shows in Alec's slower movements, in Samantha abandoning her shoes halfway across the lounge, and in Jamey disappearing toward his room after announcing that anyone who wakes him before noon will meet a version of him Heaven has yet to forgive.
Nobody argues.
By morning, the house has surrendered completely to the idea of doing absolutely nothing.
I sit at the dining table with coffee, a croissant and every intention of remaining there until life remembers how to behave itself.
Samuel destroys that plan before breakfast is finished.
He comes charging into the dining room with his phone raised above his head.
"We have feedback!"
Chairs shift around the table.
Alec looks up immediately. Eric lowers his coffee. Samantha appears from somewhere behind me while I nearly choke trying to swallow the last bite of my croissant.
"Well?" I point at Samuel. "Stop standing there like an idiot who won a prize and spit it out."
His grin widens.
"The reply came privately from someone I trust. They recognized the message."
That wipes the last trace of sleep from the room.
Samuel looks down at his phone.
"The person you seek can be found in the Labyrinth of Books."
A voice reaches us from the doorway.
"I've been there."
Jamey shuffles into the dining room with his hair pointing in several directions and his eyes barely open.
He walks straight past us.
Samuel watches him. "Good morning to you too."
Jamey reaches the coffee pot. "I'll decide after this."
He fills a mug and takes a long sip before turning toward us.
"The Labyrinth of Books is enormous. Scribes everywhere, books everywhere, corridors designed by someone who clearly hated visitors."
He drinks again.
"How the hell are we supposed to find one person in there?"
Samuel walks over and squeezes his shoulder.
"Already ahead of you, bro."
Jamey looks suspiciously at the hand on his shoulder. "I haven't had enough coffee for optimism."
Samuel ignores him and checks his phone again.
"There's another part."
Everyone quiets.
His grin fades slightly as he reads.
"He will find you. He knows you are coming."
My mug knocks against the table.
Coffee spills over the rim and spreads beneath my hand.
I stare at Samuel.
"He knows we're coming?"
"Apparently."
I push away from the table and grab a napkin.
"Of course he does."
Eric slides another napkin toward the spreading coffee.
I take it harder than necessary.
"Why would anything in our lives involve a name, an address and normal directions? Apparently, that would be unreasonable."
Jamey raises his mug. "I support normal directions."
"We get prophecies, disappearing children, mysterious messages and now a man sitting inside a labyrinth waiting for people he's never met."
Samuel opens his mouth.
I point at him.
"Please don't tell me there's another part."
His mouth closes.
"Good."
Eric watches me attack the coffee spill with considerably more aggression than the situation requires.
"Feeling better?"
"Immensely."
He glances at the mangled napkin in my hand.
"I can tell."
Alec leans forward.
"The message gives us something useful. We have a location."
"And apparently an appointment," Jamey adds.
Samuel looks toward him. "Without a time."
Jamey takes another sip. "Terrible administration."
A reluctant laugh escapes me, taking some of the frustration with it.
Eric leans back and considers the message.
"The person we're looking for knows we're coming and intends to find us. That removes one problem."
I look toward him. "Which one?"
"Finding him."
I hate how reasonable that sounds.
Alec's attention moves across the table.
"Then we prepare properly before going anywhere."
Agreement passes through the group.
We choose to leave in two days, giving ourselves enough time to prepare our gear, recover from everything already thrown at us, and decide how willingly we intend to walk into a labyrinth looking for a stranger who already knows we're coming.
Judging by the faces around the table, enthusiasm remains in short supply.
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The Labyrinth of Books exists beyond the world we know, hidden somewhere beyond the veil of ordinary time and space.
Reaching it requires crossing Lake Astral Maw.
The lake stretches beneath us like an enormous sheet of glass, swallowing the sky so completely that our boat seems suspended between two heavens. Even the air changes as we travel farther from shore, growing heavier with a quiet energy that presses against my skin.
Mist drifts across the water ahead.
Then it parts.
Nyxveil Summit rises before us.
The mountain towers beyond anything I expected, its jagged peaks disappearing into clouds that move slowly around its heights. A silver waterfall pours from somewhere beyond sight, cascading down the ancient stone before feeding the lake in a luminous stream.
Jamey stares upward.
"Please tell me we aren't climbing that."
Alec glances at him. "You brought climbing gear."
"That was optimism. I've reconsidered."
Our boat reaches the shore before Alec can answer.
Gravel shifts beneath our feet as we disembark, and the mountain seems to grow larger with every step toward it.
A colossal granite door waits within the rock.
Symbols cover its surface.
They move.
I stop several steps away.
The carvings slide through one another like living script, changing shape faster than my eyes can follow. Their whispers brush against my thoughts, carrying meaning that disappears whenever I try to grasp it.
The Living Scripture warms beneath my skin.
Eric notices immediately.
"You okay?"
"I think so."
The symbols brighten.
Light moves across the granite and spills over us.
Samantha reaches for Samuel's arm while Jamey becomes unusually quiet. Alec watches the door as the strange light passes across each of us, lingering for several seconds before withdrawing.
The carvings rearrange themselves.
A deep sound rolls through the mountain.
Then the granite door opens.
Jamey releases the breath he has been holding.
"I assume that means we passed."
Samuel looks toward him. "Passed what?"
Jamey starts walking. "I preferred the question before you asked it."
We follow him inside.
The Labyrinth of Books earns its name immediately.
Shelves rise farther than I can see, spiraling toward a ceiling hidden somewhere in shadow and light. Thousands of books drift between them while ladders move without hands and entire rows of shelves rearrange themselves around pathways that appear moments before we reach them.
The place feels alive.
Worse, it feels interested.
Samantha turns in a slow circle before grabbing Samuel's arm.
"Oh my word. Look at this place. The books are actually hovering."
Samuel pulls his arm free.
"Fantastic. Perhaps one of them can explain how we're supposed to identify someone when every librarian has their face covered."
A robed figure passes several meters away.
Samuel points toward him.
"Are we supposed to walk around asking everyone whether they know everything?"
Jamey considers it. "Eventually someone will become offended enough to answer."
A shadow crosses my vision.
I look up.
A massive book hurtles toward my face.
I duck with a yelp and stumble backward into Alec.
His hands catch my shoulders before gravity finishes embarrassing me.
The book continues calmly toward another shelf as though attempted murder falls within normal library etiquette.
I straighten and glare after the offending book.
"Can you imagine getting smacked in the face by a book heavier than I am? Instant death by literature."
Alec releases me. "You nearly found out."
I look around at my teammates. "If that ever happens, every single one of you is lying about how I died. Give me something heroic."
Jamey nods solemnly. "Demon attack."
"Perfect."
"Massive demon. Terrifying battle. Very emotional."
I point at him. "See? This is why I keep you around."
Jamey glances toward the disappearing book. "Then someone finds the bookmark sticking out of your forehead."
My smile disappears.
Alec turns away, shoulders shaking.
"You're fired, Jamey."
Alec's mouth curves.
Movement ahead draws my attention.
One of the veiled librarians is approaching us.
Something about him quiets the humor before I understand why.
His dark robes move softly around him as he walks, though the immense library seems strangely responsive to his presence. Books drift aside before he reaches them. A moving shelf slows. Even the whispers surrounding us seem to recede.
He stops several steps away.
Then his hands rise toward his hood.
The fabric falls back.
Something inside me goes completely still.
My breath catches.
The man standing before us is beautiful enough to make the thought irritatingly unavoidable, though beauty isn't what keeps me staring.
His face carries a strange familiarity.
The feeling arrives without a memory attached to it.
I know that curve of his mouth.
The thought strikes hard enough to tighten my chest.
Yet when I reach for the memory, I find nothing.
His eyes lift.
Ocean blue meets mine, and his breath hitches.
The reaction is tiny, barely more than a fracture in the calm surrounding him, but I catch it. His gaze holds mine as though looking away has suddenly become impossible.
For a heartbeat, something unguarded moves across his face.
Relief reaches me first.
Then something deeper follows, something that looks painfully close to grief before he draws it back beneath that impossible calm.
A strange pull tightens beneath my ribs as I hold his gaze. The voices around me fade beneath the sudden pounding of my heart, while a familiarity I cannot place presses against the edges of my memory.
He looks at me as though he knows me, and somehow, finding me seems to mean everything.
His eyes move across my face as though confirming something he has waited a very long time to see. My fingers curl against my palm, yet the Living Scripture remains strangely quiet beneath my skin.
That silence unsettles me more than fire would have.
His attention shifts toward Alec beside me, then Eric and the others. He studies each of them briefly, and something about the way his gaze moves between my teammates leaves me with the ridiculous impression that he is assessing the people standing around me.
Then those ocean-blue eyes return to mine.
The familiarity strikes harder this time. I search desperately through memories that refuse to answer, reaching for a name, a face, anything that might explain why this stranger looks at me as though my presence matters to him.
Nothing comes.
Yet every instinct inside me insists upon one impossible certainty.
He knows me.
I just have absolutely no idea who he is.
I only realize how long I have been staring when Eric clears his throat beside me.
The sound carries enough emphasis to drag my attention away from Seth.
I glance at Eric and find his eyes already on me. His jaw tightens slightly before his gaze shifts toward Seth, lingering there long enough to make the silence between them feel strangely crowded.
"Something wrong?" I ask.
"Apparently not."
His answer sounds casual. His expression doesn't quite manage it.
Jamey's eyes move between the three of us before amusement begins creeping across his face.
"Oh, this feels healthy."
Eric turns toward him. "Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
Jamey considers that before nodding. "Fair."
Seth watches the exchange without comment, completely unfazed by whatever has just passed between us. Then he turns toward the group and extends his hand to Jamey.
"I am Seth," he says, his voice smooth and low, like something a cello dreams of becoming. "The person you're looking for."
Jamey accepts his hand with considerably less confidence than usual.
"Jamey." He jerks a thumb toward me. "That's Max. She's the boss."
"Apparently," Alec murmurs.
I shoot him a look.
Seth catches the exchange, and the faintest amusement touches his mouth before those ocean-blue eyes return to me.
There it is again.
That impossible familiarity presses against the edges of my memory, close enough to feel and somehow still beyond my reach.
I force a polite smile because everyone else appears to have remembered how introductions work.
"Hi. Max. Local apocalypse deterrent. Occasionally caffeinated."
Seth's lips twitch.
The almost-smile disappears quickly, yet warmth remains in his eyes as though the joke has awakened something older than this meeting.
Then the Living Scripture moves beneath my skin.
My smile fades.
Heat usually follows its awakening. Power follows the heat, and chaos generally develops an enthusiastic interest in my day shortly afterward.
This time, the fire becomes still.
Every marking beneath my skin quiets at once.
I lower my eyes toward my hands as unease crawls through me. The Living Scripture has burned, warned, fought and reacted to threats before I understood they existed.
I have never felt it become this quiet for another person.
When I look up, Seth is already watching me.
Eric shifts beside me.
The movement is small, little more than a change in stance, but he places himself half a step closer. His attention remains fixed on Seth now, the earlier irritation replaced by something sharper.
Seth notices.
Neither man says anything.
Wonderful.
Apparently, the supernatural mystery has developed a second mystery standing directly beside me.
Seth finally turns and gestures toward a narrow archway hidden between two shifting shelves.
"Come with me."
We follow.
Given everything this place has shown us so far, I prepare myself for ancient stone, flickering candles and enough whispered Gregorian drama to make Jamey complain for several hours.
Instead, we walk into what appears to be a luxury retreat.
Plush chairs surround a low table. Soft light fills the room while cool air moves gently from somewhere overhead. After the lake, the mountain, the homicidal literature and the living shelves, the room looks designed specifically for exhausted people with supernatural problems.
I stare around.
"Right. Holy archives, my foot."
Jamey drops into the nearest chair and immediately sinks deeper into it.
"I have decided to trust Seth."
Alec looks at him. "Because of the chairs?"
"Comfort reveals character."
Seth actually smiles this time.
The sight catches me strangely enough that I look away first.
Unfortunately, Eric notices that too.
He lowers himself into the chair beside mine with considerably more force than the furniture deserves.
I glance at him.
"What did the chair do?"
"Nothing."
"You're being weird."
"I'm sitting."
"Very aggressively."
Jamey points toward him. "I noticed it too."
Eric gives him a look.
Jamey immediately becomes fascinated by the armrest.
We give Seth a brief account of everything that brought us here. The child Alec rescued. The message repeated three times. The black ash left behind in Master Dan's training room and the trail that eventually led us across Lake Astral Maw.
Seth listens without interrupting.
Questions occasionally surface in his expression, but he keeps them to himself until we finish. Then he closes his eyes and straightens slightly in his chair.
His breathing changes.
Each inhale deepens while the room gradually quiets around him. The air responds with a faint pressure that brushes across my skin, carrying something cool through the warmth resting beneath my markings.
Then Seth repeats the message.
"Find the one who knows it all... to show the one that needs it. Guide him to his place of birth... to uncover the Holy secret."
His eyes open.
Silver threads move through the ocean blue.
They spread through his irises like living currents, luminous strands weaving through the colour while the air around him trembles.
The Living Scripture erupts.
Gold races across my skin.
Ancient markings ignite over my arms, shoulders and throat as living fire surges through every line. Heat floods the room, and my chair scrapes backward beneath me.
"Max!"
Alec moves first.
Eric is already reaching for me.
"Wait."
Seth's voice stops them.
Eric's hand remains inches from my arm.
His eyes snap toward Seth.
"You don't get to tell me to wait."
The temperature in the room seems to change.
Seth remains calm.
"If you touch her now, you'll interfere with what is happening."
Eric's jaw tightens.
"How do you know what's happening to her?"
Seth looks at me.
The answer takes a fraction too long.
"I know enough."
Eric clearly hates that response.
"Eric." I struggle to keep my voice steady as another wave of heat races through me. "Give me a second."
His attention returns to me, and whatever argument he intended to make disappears. He lowers his hand, although he remains close enough to reach me immediately.
The golden script continues spreading.
Fire surges through every marking until my pulse pounds against my throat and control begins slipping through my hands.
Seth raises one hand.
He doesn't touch me, and he doesn't speak.
His palm simply lifts toward the living gold.
The Living Scripture stops.
Every marking freezes across my skin.
I stare at my arms while the room falls silent around me.
Nobody has ever done that.
Nobody has ever reached the fire inside me without being burned by it.
Yet Seth stands several steps away with his raised hand perfectly steady while silver continues moving through those impossible blue eyes.
Eric stares at him.
This time, jealousy disappears beneath something more serious.
Suspicion.
Then the gold changes.
The markings begin lifting from my skin.
Alec moves forward again, but my hand rises before he can reach me.
"Wait."
Golden symbols separate from my body one after another, trailing living fire as they gather above us. They turn slowly at first, then faster, arranging themselves with a purpose I cannot understand.
Lines connect while symbols align, and fire stretches between them until a shape begins emerging above our heads.
A map.
The completed image burns in suspended gold while a deep pulse moves through the room, powerful enough to make every hovering symbol tremble.
Everyone looks up at the map, but my attention shifts toward Seth.
He isn't watching it.
He's watching me.
The temptation to poke around inside his mind rises immediately. One quick glimpse might tell me why this complete stranger keeps looking at me like we share a secret nobody bothered to tell me about.
My curiosity reaches toward him before good manners can catch up.
Something stops me.
I narrow my eyes at him, while Seth continues watching me with that infuriating calm.
Well, now I definitely want inside his head.
Silver gathers around him as he draws a slow breath. When Seth exhales, a luminous silver current leaves him and moves through the space between us.
It reaches the golden map.
The Living Scripture responds.
Gold curves toward silver.
My heart stutters.
The two currents meet without violence. Living gold winds through the silver Breath while the map brightens above us, each symbol blazing as though something ancient has finally encountered what it was waiting for.
Seth's expression changes.
For one fleeting moment, the calm disappears from his face, leaving something so intimate behind that I feel as though I have stepped into a memory belonging to someone else.
His ocean-blue eyes find mine.
"She has returned," he says quietly as silver Breath moves through the living gold above us. "And the Breath remembers her."
My chest tightens.
The Living Scripture answers him with a brilliant pulse.
Seth remembers me, while the fire inside me remembers him.
Standing between them, I remember nothing.
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Well, that happened.
We followed the clues, crossed the lake, survived an aggressive encounter with literature and finally found the person we were looking for.
Naturally, everything makes perfect sense now.
I will give you a moment to appreciate that lie.
There is plenty I could say about this chapter, but doing so would spoil the fun of what comes next. The questions can remain exactly where they are for now.
Thank you, as always, for reading and continuing this journey with me.
Chapter 13 is waiting.
Something tells me the Labyrinth is not finished with us yet.