A MIX OF TWO WORLDS

Sara was glad they were working with the witches, even if the alliance felt more like a truce born of necessity than trust. Vampires and witches working together—it was a rare sight, especially when history between the two factions was littered with betrayal and bloodshed. For now, though, their cooperation kept them alive. The witches had a knack for uncovering the not-so-obvious, finding faint markings along the maze walls inscribed in a language unfamiliar to Sara.

It didn't surprise her; witches dabbled in all things ancient and arcane. Their magic was rooted in the understanding of forgotten texts and symbols, making them invaluable in this labyrinth. One of the witches, a tall boy with ebony skin and flowing dreadlocks adorned with gold bands, ran his fingers along the markings and whispered something under his breath. A faint glow emanated from the symbols, guiding their group toward a passage that eventually led to the mouth of a cave.

"We're here," the witch boy said, his tone calm but grave.

Inside the cave, darkness wrapped around them like a second skin, thick and oppressive. The air was damp, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood. The faint witchlight glowing from the boy's fingertips was the only thing keeping them from complete blindness. As they descended deeper, the faint light of the surface disappeared entirely, leaving them in a shadowed maze that seemed to stretch endlessly.

"We're going in circles," Damian muttered under his breath, his frustration barely contained.

"Quiet," Sara snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. Hunger gnawed at her insides like a wild animal. They had been in the labyrinth for what felt like hours. Though vampires could eat regular food, it wasn't enough to sustain them. They needed blood—human blood, specifically. Animal blood was an alternative, but it lacked the vitality they craved. Without it, their bodies would start to wither, starving for the oxygen only hemoglobin could provide and given that they weren't immortal yet they could literally die of starvation or thirst whichever way you put it.

The witches, of course, were off-limits. The Vampire Council had forbidden feeding directly from the vein. But that knowledge didn't stop her from noticing the subtle pulse in their necks, the rich scent of life coursing through their veins. She shook her head, focusing on the task at hand.

The group pressed on, their pace slow but deliberate. The labyrinth was riddled with traps—spiked pits that opened without warning, narrow corridors filled with poisonous darts, and a room teeming with writhing snakes. How the snakes were still alive in this godforsaken place was a question no one dared to ask.

"If it weren't for the witches, we'd all be dead by now," Sara admitted silently, watching as the witch boy disarmed yet another trap with a wave of his hand. Even Damian, who had been openly skeptical of the witches, had been saved by their quick thinking more than once.

"Thank you," Damian muttered reluctantly after the boy pulled him back from a tripwire. The witch said nothing, only casting him a withering look before moving on.

But the frustration was starting to boil over. Hours passed, and the endless maze showed no sign of a way out. The narrow corridors pressed in on them, the weight of the earth above and around them palpable. Finally, Damian lost his temper.

"For hours we've been wandering this damned maze," he spat, his voice echoing against the stone walls. "Do you witches even know what you're doing? Or are you leading us into a trap?"

The ebony-skinned boy stopped mid-step, turning slowly to face Damian. His golden eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.

"Had we wanted to betray you, vampire," he said, his voice low and cutting, "we would've left you to the mercy of the maze. Witches are honorable. We do not stoop to trickery or backstabbing." He stepped closer, his presence commanding the narrow corridor. "You helped us, so we help you. But if you think otherwise, you are free to go your own way."

A tense silence fell over the group. All eyes turned to Damian, daring him to call the bluff. But even he wasn't foolish enough to venture alone into the pitch-black maze. The witches' light was the only thing standing between them and certain death.

"Enough," Viera said, stepping between them. "We don't have time for this."

Before anyone could respond, a deep roar echoed through the walls, shaking the very ground beneath them. It was followed by a distant voice—Tanaka's voice—shouting a single, panicked word:

"RUN!"

The group froze, fear gripping them as the roar reverberated through the labyrinth. Then came the smell—pungent and rancid, the stench of rotten flesh.

"What is that?" Sara whispered, her throat tightening as the putrid air filled her lungs.

"It must be a Minotaur," the witch boy said, his voice calm but tense. "They are guardians of labyrinths."

"A Minotaur?" Damian's voice cracked slightly. "Like… from mythology?"

"Not mythology," the boy corrected. "Reality. We must be on Crete."

"Crete? As in Greece?"

"Didn't King Minos sacrifice humans to the Minotaur?" Damian asked, his voice laced with rising panic.

"Yes," another witch, Selene, said, her tone grim. "And if we don't want to be next on the menu, I suggest we do exactly what Tanaka just shouted."

No one argued. The roar grew louder, and the vibrations of heavy footsteps echoed through the walls. The group broke into a sprint, their fear driving them forward.

The labyrinth seemed to shift and change as they ran, the walls closing in and twisting unpredictably. Sara's legs burned, but she didn't dare slow down. Behind them, the faint sound of something massive and heavy moving grew closer, each step a terrifying reminder that they were being hunted.

The witches led the way, their light flickering and casting eerie shadows along the walls. The vampires followed close behind, their enhanced speed keeping them ahead of the encroaching doom.

"What do we do if it catches up?" Damian asked, his voice ragged.

"It won't," the witch boy said firmly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty. "Just keep running."

As they rounded another corner, the roar echoed again, louder this time. Sara risked a glance behind her but saw nothing in the darkness. The smell, however, was unmistakable—it was getting closer.

The group pushed forward, their survival instincts taking over. They didn't know what lay ahead, but anything was better than the beast that hunted them.