Page 18 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

He took a single step forward, butting against Ariadne.

“C–” she stopped herself and cursed. “Heir, we should turn around. Please, let us turn back.”

Corin looked down at her. Ariadne was not a short woman by any means, but in this moment, she seemed to turn in on herself and cower away as if haunted by whatever was in the chamber ahead.

He gulped and straightened his spine, nearly hitting his head on the stone above them.

“What is ahead?” he asked instead of moving again.

She shook her head quickly. “It is nothing. Shall we move now?” She shifted to the side, pressing tightly against the stone to shuffle around Corin. “Come now, heir!”

He knew he should listen to her, should move out of the way so that she could lead the way once again, back to where they journeyed from, but there was something in him telling him to keep moving forward.

Maybe it was to protect Ariadne. Maybe it was the Labyrinth talking to him. Maybe it was the thought of escaping the maze.

Whatever it was had him moving forward instead of following his companion. There were only a few steps between him and an opening in the hall; he could just make out the open chamber in front of him. Only a couple steps…

The stench of it hit Corin first. Iron and sweat and old blood. The smell of something that had lived too long in darkness and chaos.

“Please–”

Corin didn’t get to hear the rest of Ariadne’s plea when a beast stepped into the light.

It was taller than any man Corin had ever seen, its bulk would occupy the entire hall he was standing in. Its body was a grotesque union of man and beast: a powerful human torso corded with bulging muscle, scarred and old, set atop thick and furred legs ending in cracked hooves that rang dully against the floor as it moved.

Its head was that of a bull—massive and crowned with sweeping horns, one chipped near the tip and the other stained dark with something long dried.

The Minotaur.

Its eyes caught sight of Corin, and he gulped at the intense stare pushing down on him. Its eyes caught the glow of the open chamber illuminated by torchlight and reflected it back—deep, molten gold. It was too aware to be animal but much too ancient to be human.

He could barely hear Ariadne’s swear over the huffing of the beast in front of him.

The Minotaur snorted, a cloud of steam billowing from its nostrils, and lowered its head. The stone beneath its hooves cracked as it shifted its weight, muscles rolling beneath its hide.

Corin stepped forward the final step before entering the chamber fully and placed his body protectively in front of the passageway entrance, blocking the Minotaur’s view of Ariadne.

This is it, he thought, heart hammering so loud it felt like the Labyrinth could hear it. This is how they did it. This is how I do it.

He knew that this could do it for him, let him escape the maze. He’d fought beasts just nearly as large before. He could fight the Minotaur. Kill it. Take its psyche. Win. And the Labyrinth would open its path for him. The stone would yield. The doors would part.

It would be his escape. Bought with blood.

Corin would still have to wait the mandatory three days and nights before he could leave, but at least he knew he would be able to leave this cold, dark place. He could survive the rest of his mandatory time.

He could almost smile at the realization were it not for the beast he was preparing to face.

His grip tightened on his sword.

Behind him, Ariadne inhaled sharply. “Please. Don’t–”

“I know,” he said. “Stay behind me. I’ll protect you.”

“Protect–?” she scoffed. “You heroes… You do not know what you think you do, heir. I beg of you! Let’s turn around!”

The Minotaur pawed at the ground, its breath coming out faster now. It was watching him—not knowing whether to charge or wait longer. It was just assessing. Waiting.

If I kill it, Corin thought, I can leave.