NOVEL NEXT Chapter 46: Choices
The corridor stretched before them like the spine of some ancient beast, its golden walls lined with stone sentinels that had stood watch for millennia. Twenty-four knights carved from the same luminous material as the temple itself held ceremonial spears at perfect attention, their faces hidden beneath elaborately detailed helms. Each statue stood nearly eight feet tall, positioned at precise intervals along the fifty-meter hallway that seemed to extend into infinity until the distant walls finally converged at what appeared to be another doorway.
The expedition team moved in careful formation through this gallery of stone warriors, their enhanced senses probing every shadow and surface for signs of the traps and guardians that labyrinth lore promised. The artificial illumination that had blazed to life when they entered cast everything in warm, golden light that should have been comforting but somehow felt ominous instead.
Fenix walked near the center of their group, his crimson aura extended in subtle tendrils that mapped the space around them with systematic precision. His enhanced awareness cataloged every detail - the way dust motes danced in perfectly still air, the complete absence of any sound except their own footsteps, the faint vibration that seemed to pulse through the floor in rhythm with some vast, unseen heartbeat.
The silence stretched between them like a physical presence until Captain Lyralei finally broke it with words that carried the weight of confession.
"I need to be honest with all of you," she said, her voice echoing strangely in the enclosed space. "I've led seventeen expeditions, survived challenges that killed most who attempted them, and I've been to the Viraldean Temple twice before. But I've never actually made it inside."
The admission hit the team with the force of revelation. Their experienced leader, the veteran who had guided them through every challenge so far, was as much a newcomer to the temple's interior as they were.
"Both previous expeditions were eliminated by the external defenses," she continued, her tone carrying old pain and survivor's guilt. "The forest guardians, the approach hazards, the territorial defenders - they overwhelmed us before we could even reach the entrance. I'm the only one who made it out both times."
The weight of that knowledge settled over the team like a shroud. They were all pioneers now, exploring territory that had claimed the lives of everyone who had attempted it before them.
"Which means," Lyralei said with characteristic pragmatism, "we need to prepare for separation. Labyrinths are designed to divide intruding groups, isolate them, and eliminate them piecemeal through superior tactical positioning."
She gestured for them to form a loose circle as they continued walking. "Pair assignments: Fenix and Gareth - your enhanced capabilities and his defensive expertise create a balanced unit. Jully and Kate with me - strategic planning with precision combat backed by my experience. Elena and Abel - medical support with analytical problem-solving. Maya and Kai - reconnaissance with heavy assault capabilities."
Each pairing made tactical sense, combining veteran experience with newer capabilities while ensuring no team would be left without essential skills if the labyrinth's defenses succeeded in dividing them.
"Stay in visual contact when possible, audio contact when not," she continued. "Our communication crystals should function unless actively suppressed by the temple's systems. Most importantly, remember that survival takes priority over discovery. Dead heroes don't deliver intelligence that could save future expeditions."
The teams acknowledged their assignments with the grim professionalism of warriors who understood they might be walking toward their deaths but refused to let fear compromise their effectiveness.
As they progressed deeper into the statue-lined corridor, conversations began developing between the paired team members - quiet exchanges that served both tactical coordination and the human need for connection in the face of overwhelming uncertainty.
Fenix remained largely silent, his enhanced senses working overtime to process information that conventional awareness would miss. Something about this place felt wrong in ways that had nothing to do with obvious dangers. The air itself seemed to carry weight that pressed against his consciousness, and the stone knights' empty eye sockets seemed to track their movement despite being carved from solid rock.
Finally, mercifully, the corridor's end became visible - a doorway identical to the entrance they had passed through, but marked with carved symbols that grew more distinct as they approached.
Relief flooded through the expedition team like cool water after a desert crossing. Hours of tension, of waiting for traps that never triggered or guardians that never appeared, had wound their nerves tight enough to snap. The sight of progress, of advancement deeper into the temple's mysteries, brought the first genuine smiles any of them had worn since entering the labyrinth.
"There," Maya breathed, her reconnaissance training making her appreciate the tactical advantage of knowing their route continued forward rather than ending in dead-end elimination. "Finally, something besides endless corridor."
"About time," Kai added, rolling his shoulders to relieve muscle tension that came from maintaining combat readiness for extended periods without release. "I was starting to think this hallway went on forever."
Even the veterans showed visible relaxation as they approached what appeared to be genuine progress deeper into the temple's interior. Elena checked her medical supplies with renewed energy, while Gareth adjusted his equipment with the satisfaction of someone who had successfully navigated the first challenge of what promised to be many.
The carved inscription above the doorway became legible as they drew closer, revealing a single word worked into the golden stone with artistic precision that spoke of reverence and ceremony: "Viraldean."
The name resonated through the corridor like a bell struck in a vast cathedral, carrying implications that none of them could fully grasp but all of them felt in the deepest parts of their souls. This was more than mere identification - it was proclamation, declaration, and perhaps warning all combined into six letters that had survived whatever catastrophe had claimed the civilization that carved them.
Without ceremony, they crossed the threshold into whatever lay beyond.
---
The moment Fenix's foot touched the floor of the chamber beyond, darkness descended like a living thing.
Not the gradual dimming of failing light sources or the natural progression of day into night, but absolute, overwhelming blackness that seemed to have substance and intent. The artificial illumination that had guided them through the statue corridor vanished as if it had never existed, leaving them in void so complete that enhanced senses struggled to process anything meaningful.
Fenix's calm composure, carefully maintained through months of increasingly dangerous challenges, finally showed cracks as worry flickered across his features. His crimson aura exploded outward in desperate flares of energy as he sought to understand what had gone wrong, to pierce the darkness that surrounded them, to reestablish contact with teammates who might be mere feet away but had become invisible and unreachable.
Nothing responded to his enhanced senses. The darkness absorbed his aura like a hungry beast, giving back no information about their surroundings, their companions, or the nature of whatever had trapped them. It was as though all his carefully developed abilities had been severed at the source, leaving him as helpless as any normal human caught in supernatural circumstances.
Then came the ringing - a sound that seemed to originate from inside his skull rather than from any external source. The tone built in intensity until it became unbearable, accompanied by a flash of light so brilliant that he instinctively raised his hands to shield his eyes from illumination that burned through his closed eyelids like fire.
When the impossible brightness finally faded, he felt something that made his heart stop.
A gentle touch, warm fingers moving through his hair with the kind of careful tenderness that spoke of infinite love and patient devotion. The delicate caress traveled from his scalp down to the ends of his white locks before reversing direction, creating patterns of affection that belonged to memories he had inherited but never truly experienced.
Soft lips pressed against his cheek in a kiss that carried every emotion a mother could feel for her child - pride, protection, unconditional love, and desperate hope for his future happiness and success.
Fenix's eyes snapped open to confront the impossible.
She stood before him like a vision from dreams he had never dared to hope for - a woman of such ethereal beauty that wars might have been fought simply for the privilege of calling her name. Her hair fell in waves of pure white silk that seemed to capture and reflect light from sources that didn't exist, while her eyes held depths of compassion that spoke of a soul incapable of cruelty or deception.
Her features carried the refined elegance of aristocracy perfected through generations of noble breeding, but more than mere genetic fortune, she possessed the kind of beauty that transcended physical appearance and touched something fundamental about what it meant to be truly, completely alive. High cheekbones that could have been carved by master sculptors, lips that curved with warmth and intelligence, skin that seemed to glow with inner radiance.
But it was her eyes that undid him completely - crystalline blue orbs that held nothing but pure, overwhelming love for the young man she was gazing upon with such tender concern.
She bore striking resemblance to him, the same aristocratic bone structure and noble bearing, but even more pronounced was her similarity to Abigail. The same delicate features, the same gentle strength, the same essential kindness that made cruelty seem impossible in her presence.
This was Lilith Ackerman. His mother. The woman whose death had shattered their family and left two children to navigate a hostile world without the protection her love had provided.
The realization hit him with devastating force as he noticed his surroundings had transformed completely. He was back in his room, but not the modest chamber he had grown accustomed to during their family's diminished circumstances. This was his quarters as they had existed during the height of Ackerman power - rich furnishings that spoke of wealth and influence, pristine conditions that reflected a household staff large enough to maintain perfection, windows that looked out over estate grounds that bloomed with carefully tended beauty.
Everything was intact, shiny, magnificent in ways that he had only seen in fragments since awakening in this world.
Fenix sprang upright with sudden panic, his warrior instincts screaming that this was wrong, impossible, dangerous in ways that traditional threats could never match.
Lilith noticed his jumpy nature immediately and moved to calm him with the patient skill of a mother who had soothed countless childhood terrors. Her palm settled against his cheek with warmth that seemed to penetrate straight to his soul, while her smile carried reassurance that made the rest of the world feel safe and manageable.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice carrying musical tones that belonged in lullabies and bedtime stories. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
As he gazed into those innocent eyes, eyes that held nothing except boundless love for her children and unshakeable faith in her family's future, something inside Fenix shattered completely.
This wasn't him crying. This couldn't be him. The tears that began streaming down his face belonged to someone else, to memories he had inherited when he awakened in this body, to emotions that predated his arrival in this world.
But then the woman who had given him life spoke again, her voice thick with concern for distress she couldn't understand but desperately wanted to heal.
"Oh honey, what's wrong?"
That was when the dam broke completely.
Fenix began sobbing with the abandoned grief of someone whose heart had been torn open by forces beyond his control. These weren't the original owner's tears anymore - these were his own, welling up from a place so deep he hadn't known it existed. The woman drew him into an embrace that felt like coming home after a lifetime of wandering, her hands stroking his hair while she whispered wordless comfort into his ear.
He couldn't remember the last time a parent had cared for him this way. In his previous life, affection had been conditional, approval had to be earned, and love had always come with strings attached. But this woman held him like he was the most precious thing in existence, like his pain was her pain and his healing was her only concern.
This was parental love in its purest form, and it felt so alien that his body didn't know how to process the experience without breaking down completely.
After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, his tears finally slowed enough for coherent conversation. Lilith sat beside him on the bed that had been made with perfect precision, her hands never stopping their gentle ministrations as she waited for him to find words for whatever had caused such overwhelming distress.
"I had a nightmare," he managed finally, though the explanation felt inadequate for the emotional devastation he had just experienced.
Lilith studied his face with the kind of attention that mothers developed through years of interpreting their children's needs and fears. Her expression made it clear she didn't believe a simple nightmare could reduce her fourteen-year-old son to the kind of tears usually reserved for toddlers dealing with profound trauma.
But she didn't press for details he wasn't ready to share. Instead, she smoothed his hair one final time and rose from the bed with renewed purpose.
"Well, whatever it was, it's over now," she said with the confidence of someone whose presence could banish any darkness. "You need to prepare, sweetheart. We're having a banquet tonight to celebrate your cousins' return from the academy. Kai and Abel have completed their training and will be rejoining the family before their deployment to humanity's military forces."
The words hit Fenix like revelation. His cousins, returning from academy training instead of being fellow inhabitants of a diminished estate. Military deployment that spoke of family honor and continued relevance rather than desperate survival in political wilderness.
This was the Ackerman family at the height of their power, when their name commanded respect and their children's futures seemed limitless.
He could hardly believe what he was hearing, but he nodded and stood from the bed as his mother prepared to leave him to his preparations. As she reached the door, she paused to look back with eyes that held infinite tenderness.
"Take a long bath and try to wash away whatever shadows were haunting your sleep," she advised. "Tonight is for celebration, not sorrow."
After she left, Fenix moved through his evening routine in a daze of confused wonder. The bathroom attached to his quarters was luxurious beyond anything he had experienced since awakening in this world - marble fixtures, heated water that flowed without effort, soaps and oils that carried fragrances he had forgotten existed.
While he soaked in water that felt like liquid comfort, his mind worked frantically to understand what had happened to him. He remembered clearly being in the Viraldean Temple with his expedition team, crossing the threshold into the chamber beyond the statue corridor, then being overwhelmed by darkness that had transported him... here.
But where was here, exactly?
The only explanation that made sense was that this represented one of the labyrinth's tests that Captain Lyralei had warned them about. Some form of illusion designed to challenge intruders through psychological manipulation rather than physical danger. The temple was testing him through the cruelest possible means - offering him everything he had never known he wanted, then presumably forcing him to choose between illusion and reality.
When he emerged from the bathroom, clean and refreshed but no closer to understanding his situation, he found that his clothes had been laid out on the bed which had already been made with military precision. Standing by the door was Lily, the estate's head maid, offering the same respectful bow she had maintained even during their family's darkest period.
He nodded acknowledgment of her courtesy and moved toward the bed where garments worthy of nobility awaited his attention.
Minutes passed as he transformed himself into the aristocrat he had been born to be but never truly experienced being. The stylish blazer jacket fit perfectly over a black inner shirt that emphasized his lean build, while black pants and expensive shoes completed an ensemble that spoke of wealth, taste, and social position that commanded automatic respect.
Looking at himself in the full-length mirror, he saw someone who could walk into any gathering and immediately attract attention from everyone present. This was what he was supposed to look like, how he was meant to present himself to the world - not as a struggling survivor of political catastrophe, but as a member of one of the Human Domain's most influential families.
As he made his way out of his room, he found Abigail waiting in the corridor. She wore a stylish short red gown that complemented her dark hair and emphasized the natural elegance that marked her as nobility even at her young age. When she saw him, her face lit up with the kind of genuine joy that had become rare during their reduced circumstances.
"Look at you, big brother," she said, giving him a hug that felt completely real and wonderfully normal. "You clean up nice when you put effort into it."
They exchanged their usual playful banter - teasing remarks about each other's appearance, speculation about what the evening's banquet would bring, and the comfortable sibling interaction that had remained constant through all their family's changes in fortune.
Together, they made their way down to the main lobby to wait for their parents so the family could make their entrance to the banquet as a unified unit. The halls they walked through were pristine, maintained by staff who took pride in their work rather than grudgingly performing minimum duties. Portraits of family ancestors watched from walls that gleamed with careful attention, while furnishings reflected the kind of quality that only came with unlimited resources and refined taste.
But as they waited in the elegant lobby, chatting quietly about inconsequential topics, the atmosphere changed with sudden, overwhelming intensity.
The air itself seemed to thicken as though a titan had just entered the room. Power radiating from approaching footsteps made Fenix's enhanced senses recoil instinctively, while pressure that belonged to legends rather than living people pressed against his consciousness like a physical weight.
Fenix gulped hard as he felt the ominous aura of the man who had been called his father approaching through corridors that seemed too small to contain such overwhelming presence.
This was the pressure of someone who stood among the absolute pinnacle of human achievement, whose capabilities transcended normal understanding of what individual warriors could accomplish.
This was Zeke Ackerman. The man whose death had marked the beginning of their family's long decline into political irrelevance.
And he was about to discover whether the stories about his father were true, or whether reality would prove even more impressive than legend.
The trial had begun in earnest, offering him the chance to experience the family he had never known while simultaneously testing his commitment to the mission that had brought him to this place of impossible choices.
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