Listen, I like mushrooms as much as the next guy, which is to say on a steak and sauteed. But when I said we needed more food, Sadie picked up a twisted, dirty, bulbous albino chunk of fungus.

  “Let’s try the bats,” I say, heading to the hall to get the remains. “We need some real protein with whatever that fungus is. I don’t know if it’s morning at all, but I got a few hours sleep and I need breakfast. If there was a nearby waffle place, I’d head there for a plate and to level up some fighting skills, but the labyrinth doesn’t seem to allow chain restaurants.

  “I’ve never tried butchering a bat,” Sadie says, tugging at one of the huge wings. “Seems a bit scrawny.”

  I check out one of the bodies. She’s right. It’s furry ribs, wings, ugly snout and not much more. In an emergency, it might make a rescue meal, but it won’t do well to feed three hungry travelers. We need something else.

  “What do you satyrs usually eat?”

  “Fruits, nuts, cheese, honey,” she says, wiping her hands on her toga after determining the bat won’t do for hearty food. “None of which is in a labyrinth. I didn’t grow up here, you know.”

  “Well, technically you did,” I say. “I remember when you were a wee satyr, only yay tall.” I hold my hand above my waist.

  She crosses her arms.

  I sniffle my best sniffle. “They grow up so fast.”

  “Are you funny where you come from?” she asks. “Because maybe you are funny someplace else.”

  Tough crowd.

  Crawlers are disgusting, and who knows what toxins are in those bodies that numb you. Boar aren’t a great choice, but if we find any, we have to do what we have to do. I’m not eating satyr, siren or lamia – nothing with a face. The mushrooms are not completely out of the question, but they’re tiny.

  We take a few minutes to check our gear and shake off the naps and head up the corridor, continuing away from where we were into whatever new areas we find. Torches still light the way here, which makes some creepy flickering shadows, but our first half hour of walking reveals nothing new to eat and generally nothing new at all. Labyrinths are not hotbeds of excitement.

  I mark each corner with a triangle of dots. At every intersection, we go whichever way seems a little darker, a little more dangerous. Baco snorts and farts his way along, slurping the occasional worm or mushroom. My standards are only slightly higher and lowering rapidly.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  We get to another change in the way the labyrinth is built. Rather than caverns, roughly excavated tunnels or the nicely built halls and arenas, there’s a sudden warm dampness. The cut stone walls stop, overtaken by soft dirt. The walls slope and the floor is uneven. The passage smells of vegetation, and rather than ceilings mottled with crystal moss, there are clusters of pale, growing mushrooms and brain looking clusters of some other fungus.

  The basketball-sized brain fungus is pale orange, glows a warm tone, and smells vaguely of pancakes. I will admit, the smell might be nothing at all like pancakes, but I really need breakfast.

  “Don’t eat it,” Sadie says, watching me examine one I ripped off the floor.

  “Poison?” I ask.

  “Slug,” she says, pointing.

  I turn the fungi blob over. An albino slug, fat and glistening, clings to the side. I put the fungi back down. Baco devours the slug.

  “Smells like fertile soil,” Sadie says. “Like good winery soil.”

  “You’re old enough to drink wine?”

  “I’m a satyr, Dom. We drink wine from the moment we can walk, and we walk right away.”

  The ceiling looks covered in scraggly hair. My perception goes up a level when I determine that they are roots. I know nothing of grapes, but maybe Sadie is right and we’re under a winery. If there are roots, maybe we’ve been heading upwards and we’re now near the surface and an exit. Is trying to tunnel up through the ceiling a bad idea?

  I consider it for a moment. The only problem is, this place doesn’t follow rules like California. I might dig up only to find trees growing in a labyrinth slightly higher up. We keep walking.

  Some thicker roots wind their way on the ceiling. Cracks in their outer layers reveal glowing material underneath. I may have been right about being near the surface, as we appear to be going along an incline. The tunnel branches off at an angle, almost like we’re in an ant farm.

  In an ant farm. What if this is all some weird experiment, and some alien kid wanted to play Greeks and Monsters and the toy he chose was me? I might be a specimen, with some bulbous headed, googly eyed thing taking notes about my every action. Funny thing is, that may have been true even back in Cali. Might all be some game or experiment. If I find Keanu Reeves, I’ll have to ask him.

  My sneakers sink in the soft ground. If this area was commonly travelled, the path would be beaten down. This feels like tilled land, warm and moist. Worms turn the soil as we approach. The roots grow thicker, and I swear I smell something closer to vinegar, or spoiled wine. It’s hard to move with my feet starting to get swallowed by the flooring.

  “Hold on,” I say, stopping and leaning one hand to the wall. “This is too much work, and a bad condition to be attacked in.”

  “You said we should go the most difficult path because the system is trying to stop us.”

  Dammit, she’s right. Trudging through the passage is like walking on a beach. Each step has the terrain swallow the tops of my feet.

  “You’re right,” I say. “Back to the workout.”

  With my next step, I plunge completely into the soft, warm soil like stepping onto cotton. When I get my senses back, I can make out I’m sliding down a chute of some sort and –

  Slamming to a floor in some lower level of the labyrinth, having been puked out by the chute. Sadie and Baco are not with me.

  “Sadie? Sadie, I fell through the floor. Don’t move. I’m going to try and climb back up.”

  I reach to the roots on the wall and tug one that seems strong enough for me to use as a handhold on a ladder.

  It hisses angrily.