Villain's Last Chance

The walls groaned as we ran. The labyrinth was shifting again, its stone corridors contorting and twisting like a living thing. I could feel the weight of it pressing in from all sides, as if it was watching, waiting.

We had overstayed our welcome.

Cairon led the way, his sword drawn, his movements sharp and precise. Marek was right behind him, cursing under his breath as the path twisted ahead of us.

And me? I was running, but my mind was still in that chamber, still hearing her voice.

"You are running out of time."

Elara's warning wasn't just some lingering echo of the past. It felt real. Present. Like a promise.

But time for what?

I had no answers. Only the growing certainty that whatever lay at the heart of this labyrinth—it was closer than ever.

A loud crack split the air.

The ground trembled beneath our feet, sending a jolt through my bones. The corridor before us collapsed, stone crashing down like a landslide. Dust billowed, choking the air.

Marek skidded to a halt. "Oh, come on!"

Cairon didn't hesitate. He turned sharply, scanning the shifting walls. "There—another path."

I followed his gaze. A narrow passage had opened on our left, its entrance jagged, as though it had been ripped into the labyrinth rather than built. The air beyond it pulsed with something wrong.

Marek squinted. "That looks like a trap."

"Everything here is a trap," I muttered.

Cairon was already moving. "No choice."

We plunged into the passage, the walls closing in behind us. The air grew thick, pressing against my skin like an unseen hand. It was too quiet. Even our footsteps seemed swallowed by the dark.

Then I felt it.

A pull. Not from the Codex—but from something deeper.

My breath hitched. The magic in this place was old, but it wasn't just residual energy. It was alive.

Cairon noticed my hesitation. "Elara?"

I swallowed hard. "Something's here."

As if in answer, the corridor opened into a vast chamber.

At the center stood a monolith.

Black stone, covered in ancient symbols. Unlike the rest of the labyrinth, this was untouched by time. Pristine. Unyielding.

And pulsing with power.

Marek exhaled. "Oh, that's bad."

Cairon stepped closer, his grip tightening on his sword. "This isn't just another test."

No. It was something worse.

I took a slow step forward. The moment my boot touched the chamber floor, the monolith responded.

A single symbol flared to life. Then another. And another. The entire surface ignited with golden script, burning like fire against the black stone.

And then—it spoke.

Not in words, but in thoughts. In memories.

Visions slammed into me like a tidal wave.

---

Blood on the Codex.

A woman standing in the dark, her hands dripping red. The monolith before her pulsed with power, whispering to her in a language older than time.

She spoke a name. My name.

"Elara."

And the labyrinth obeyed.

---

I gasped, staggering back. The vision broke, but its weight still clung to me.

This place—this monolith—it knew me.

Cairon caught my arm before I could fall. "What did you see?"

I struggled for breath. "It's tied to the Codex. To me." I swallowed. "Someone used it before. A long time ago."

Marek let out a long sigh. "Of course they did."

Cairon frowned. "Who?"

I hesitated. The woman in my vision—I hadn't seen her face. But she had known my name.

"Elara," I murmured. "The real one."

The air shuddered.

The golden script on the monolith shifted, rearranging itself.

And then—

A voice.

"The choice was made."

The words were not spoken aloud, yet they rang through the chamber, sinking into my bones.

Marek swore. "Yeah, nope. I hate this."

Cairon's grip on his sword was like steel. "Elara. What's happening?"

I took a breath. "It's remembering."

The monolith was reacting to me. Recognizing me.

And then it did something worse.

It moved.

A crack split its surface, and from within, something shifted.

A figure stepped forward. A shade.

Not flesh. Not bone. Just shadow and memory, wearing the shape of a woman.

Of her.

The real Elara.

She was like a reflection in a broken mirror—fragments of what she had once been, flickering between forms. Her eyes met mine, and for the first time, I felt something colder than fear.

Recognition.

She knew me.

The monolith pulsed again, and her lips parted.

"You cannot escape what is already written."

I froze.

She lifted a hand, and the shadows swirled around her. Magic, raw and ancient, gathered at her fingertips.

Cairon reacted first. He shoved me back, stepping in front of me. His sword ignited with light, golden energy crackling against the dark.

"Elara," he said, voice low. "Tell me we can kill that thing."

I didn't answer.

Because deep down, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

This wasn't some mindless guardian of the labyrinth.

This was her.

And for the first time since I woke in this body, I had to ask myself the one question I had been avoiding.

If Elara was still here—then who was I?