“We should get out of here,” Alex said, glancing at the others. Their faces were pale, and they were reluctant to open their eyes, though Alex had promised them it was safe to do so.

“Are you sure they’re gone?” asked Ellabell.

Alex smiled. “I promise they’re gone.”

Tentatively, the group’s eyes opened in one collective movement. There was more fear written on their faces than Alex had ever seen before, and he could understand why; the specters were worrying creatures to come up against.

Feeling a pang of terror, Alex addressed the others. “Do you swear the specters didn’t open your eyes?”

“They tried, but I managed to fight them,” said Aamir.

“I kept them squeezed tight, I swear,” replied Ellabell.

Only Lintz did not answer right away, his face drained of color.

“Professor?” prompted Alex.

Lintz shook his head as if shaking off something unpleasant. “I didn’t look at them,” he answered at last, bringing Alex a small measure of relief.

“Good, then we should get going,” he said, pointing toward the spiral staircase leading down into the floor.

They descended toward the next task, but the mood had taken a drastic turn. Nobody spoke, the only sound being the scuff of their shoes on the stone steps as they headed down, the atmosphere growing hotter the farther into the earth they walked.

At the bottom of the steps stood a vast iron door, with a depiction of Theseus and the Minotaur carved into the metal surface. It didn’t bode well, bringing to Alex’s mind a remembrance of the task with the mechanical beasts. A relatively easy challenge, in hindsight, but no less frightening at the time.

“Abandon hope, all ye who enter,” said Lintz ominously, smoothing his hand over the frieze.

Alex gave a tight chuckle. “No need to be pessimistic—it can’t be any worse than the last room,” he said, immediately wishing he hadn’t tempted fate. The others seemed to share his feeling, as they flashed him worried looks.

The door opened by itself with a force that shook the walls, making dust fall from the roof above their heads. As it slid to one side, it revealed two corridors that split off in either direction, instantly clarifying the depiction on the door. Theseus and the Minotaur—it could only mean one thing: they were heading into a labyrinth.

On the side of each entrance were two tiles. On the right-hand tile were the letters “M” and “N,” and on the left were the letters “L” and “W.” In the center, above both tiles, was an inscription, reading, “Here is where your paths diverge. Pray they cross again.”

“What do you think it means?” Alex asked, taking a closer look.

“I think it means we have to split up,” replied Aamir, gesturing toward the letters with a trembling hand. His injury had become worse, his hand flopping limply, the bandage drenched in scarlet.

“Yes, you see, the tiles—I don’t think the letters are arbitrary,” Lintz agreed.

Ellabell’s eyes widened. “You’re right, Professor! ‘N’ and ‘M’—Aamir’s last name is Nagi. Mine is Magri. So, the two of us must go this way. Alex, that means you and Lintz need to go that way,” she said, with an apologetic look. “It’s probably for the best; I can change Aamir’s bandage on the way. It’s starting to look a bit nasty,” she added, with forced brightness.

Alex didn’t feel positive about the decision in any way, though he knew better than to argue with the vault’s demands. If he were to argue and insist on going with Ellabell, who knew what retribution the challenge might take? It seemed to him that the vault was doing this on purpose, splitting Alex and Ellabell up, to test them separately. Perhaps it was also meant to test his resolve in putting the tasks before any personal feelings. It wasn’t fair, and he feared the reasoning behind it, but he wasn’t about to defy the rules of the game. Not with so few tasks left to undertake.

“Our paths will cross again,” she said, evidently seeing his discomfort. “If we move quickly, and follow the rules, we’ll see each other again soon.”

Alex smiled, pulling Ellabell into a tight embrace and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. He still didn’t feel comfortable kissing her properly in front of the watchful eyes of Aamir and Lintz, but he desperately longed to.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” he whispered close to her ear.

“You better.” She smiled, melting Alex’s heart a little.

After a more casual farewell to Aamir, the group parted ways. Alex watched as Aamir and Ellabell disappeared down the right-hand passageway, before following Lintz down the left. It became clear within minutes that this place was definitely a labyrinth, as Alex had suspected, but what purpose it was intended to serve wasn’t yet apparent. It was just plain stone, no traps, no tricks, just an ever-winding walkway.

“How are we supposed to know which way to go?” Alex asked, brushing his hand against the blank wall.

Lintz smiled. “There’s a mathematical knack to these things. You stick with me, and I won’t lead you far wrong!” he explained, charging off through the maze. Alex followed confidently, knowing the professor had as good a chance as anyone of getting them through it.

Turning a corner, Alex spotted the first clue. A giant glass bubble of water, tinted blue, sat perched on a plinth. Nearing it, Alex could see a golden letter trapped inside, about the size of his palm—the letter “P.” However, the bubble was enclosed in its entirety; there was no lid to lift, no gap through which to attain the letter. It was truly trapped in there, with no easy way out.

“We could try smashing it?” Alex suggested, as he approached the glass orb. Trying to pick it up, he felt his muscles twinge under the strain; it was much too heavy to lift.

Lintz twisted the ends of his moustache in thought. “It must certainly be smashed,” he said. “The question is, how?”

The pair of them stalked around the orb for several minutes, inspecting every curve, in the vain hope that they might have missed something. Alex investigated the plinth too, wanting to seek out a secret lever, or a button, or another clue as to how to break open the glass orb. No such clue appeared, the stone plinth devoid of anything useful.

“In the study of physics, and it has been many years since I’ve studied such ordinary sciences, vibration is often a good means of shattering glass,” Lintz said, having walked around the glass globe for a tenth time.

Alex looked at the professor with excitement. “Vibrations! Of course! If we put our powers to use on both sides of the glass, we might be able to shatter it.” He thought back to his high school physics classes, the teacher explaining how it was possible for an opera singer to break a champagne glass with only their voice.

“Shall we?” Lintz grinned.

Alex nodded enthusiastically, approaching one side of the orb, while Lintz approached the opposite side. They stood, facing each other, and rested their palms on the cold glass. Taking a deep breath, Alex wove his anti-magic through the glass, letting it flow within the molecular structure of the orb. He felt his energy touch that of Lintz’s, and held his anti-magic back from it until the globe was alight—half gold and white, half black and silver.

“Ready?” Alex asked.

Lintz beamed. “Let’s science this thing into submission!”

Alex vibrated the molecules within the glass, feeling the pressure build. It pushed harder and harder, the anti-magic expanding the very fabric of the orb until, with one triumphant crack of breaking glass, the globe shattered, water surging over the edge of the plinth like a waterfall, cascading to the floor. Now that it was drained, the golden letter lay in the center. Alex plucked it out, careful not to touch the jagged edges of the broken glass.

“Good job, Webber,” said Lintz.

“Good job, Professor,” he countered, with a small smile. There were undoubtedly more mini-challenges ahead; it wasn’t yet the time for patting each other on the back.

Clutching the letter tightly, Alex and Lintz carried on through the labyrinth, peering nervously around corners, in case there was anything unpleasant lurking in the tunnels beyond. As they walked, they kept their eyes peeled for whatever might come next. It turned out to be a riddle, etched on the wall.

“What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?” Alex read aloud, his eyes glancing over the pattern of alphabet letters that had been pressed into the stone.

“Easy!” cried Lintz. “This one was around when I was a child!”

Alex frowned. “You know the answer?”

“Yes, it’s the letter ‘M’—get it?”

“I’ll have to remember that one.” Even though he knew the professor must be right, Alex felt a shiver of trepidation as Lintz approached the board of alphabet letters and pressed down hard on the letter “M.” As it was pushed inwards, the letter “Y” popped out of the board and fell to the ground. Alex picked it up.

As they carried on, Alex’s mind turned to Ellabell and Aamir. Were they collecting letters too? How far along were they in the labyrinth? He glanced over at Lintz and saw his own worry reflected back at him in the professor’s expression.

They hurried onwards, having to turn back a few times after taking the wrong fork in the road and coming to a dead end. The labyrinth had low visibility, lit only by the flicker of torches and the glow of some unknown substance lurking in the walls, and Alex and Lintz kept missing entrances in the stone that were shrouded by shadow.

Eventually, after a lot of missed turns, a burst of inspiration seared into his mind—the forced image of a small statue with a tangle of vines above, camouflaging a letter hidden in the wall, zinging into his brain, vivid and unexpected. Knowing what it meant, he insisted they go back.

“It’s this way. I know it is,” he promised.

“How do you know?” asked Lintz, his tone dubious.

Alex shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I just feel like we missed something.”

Lintz said nothing else, seeming to go along with the plan, as Alex led the way. At a small statue, Alex paused, and looked up to find the intertwined curtain of dark green vines that he had seen in his mind’s eye. Delving into the thorny weeds, the barbed points scratching his forearms, he found what he was looking for, buried within the center. With a great heave, he tugged the letter free of the wall and removed it from the spiny bushel.

Lintz eyed him curiously. “How did you know that was there?”

“I just… knew,” he replied. To try and explain that Elias was somehow in his brain, without yet having confirmation of the fact, wasn’t a conversation he felt like having at that particular moment. It was still something he was trying to come to terms with.

In his hand, he held the letter “H,” though it meant little to him. Together, they had the letters “P,” “Y,” and “H,” but he couldn’t picture the word they might make.

“Any idea what it means?” Alex asked.

Lintz shook his head. “Afraid not, dear boy, though I have been wracking my brains a good long while. I’m sure it will come to us, with a few more clues.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Alex, decidedly less optimistic.

With the three letters gathered, they headed back through the tunnels, treading carefully. Alex was still convinced there were going to be traps set around every corner, but so far, they had come across none. Much of the labyrinth looked the same, and so it came as quite a surprise when they abruptly found themselves at the end of it, arriving at a door with six blank squares on the wall beside it. Above the squares were the words “The Goddess of Lost Souls.” Sticking out of the wall beneath the squares was a demonic head, sculpted from pure silver, its savage mouth agape. It reminded Alex of a guardian to the gates of Hell, ready to snap its jaws at anyone unworthy. Wasn’t that what Hadrian had said? Only the truly worthy would be able to attain the prize. He could only pray he’d done enough to prove himself.

“Any idea who the goddess of lost souls is?” Alex asked, glancing at Lintz.

Lintz toyed with his moustache. “I believe it to be Psyche, if memory serves—though it’s something of a sieve these days,” he murmured.

The sound of footsteps nearby distracted Alex. There was a scuffling in the second passageway that led to the end of the labyrinth, followed by the joyful emergence of Ellabell and Aamir, who looked no worse for wear, aside from the fact that Aamir was drenched from head to foot and a pool of red had begun to emerge again from the bandage on his hand. In Ellabell’s hands were three letters, letting Alex know that the task had been successfully completed, provided that they were in fact the right letters.

“What happened to you?” Alex asked Aamir, trying not to laugh.

Aamir frowned. “There was a waterfall,” he explained, giving little else away.

“He was very valiant,” Ellabell chimed in, making Alex feel a slight pinch of jealousy.

“You’re too kind.” Aamir smiled, not seeing the look Alex was giving him.

Lintz cut in, in his usual, oblivious manner. “Please tell us you’ve got ‘S,’ ‘C,’ and ‘E?’”

“How did you know?” Ellabell marveled.

“Well, we have ‘P,’ ‘Y,’ and ‘H,’ and I believe we need to spell out the word ‘Psyche.’”

“She’s the goddess of lost souls?” Ellabell asked.

Lintz nodded. “She certainly is—a protector of sorts, in ancient mythology.”

Ellabell handed over her letters, and Lintz fixed all six into place within the blank squares. They waited in anticipation for the sound of the door grating, or the creak of it swinging open, but nothing happened.

“Did you put them in right?” Alex asked, casting a glance toward the spelled-out word.

“I could have sworn I did,” Lintz replied, pressing the letters in deeper. Still, nothing happened. He tried spelling it backwards, jumbling up the letters, spelling it forwards again, but still, nothing.

“Do we have to say something, maybe?” Alex suggested. It being the only idea they had, they began to shout, “The goddess of lost souls” at the letters, followed by “Psyche,” but again, nothing happened.

Did we miss something? Alex wondered to himself.

It seemed this task wasn’t so simple after all.