Labyrinth

        The holidays.

The time of crowded streets, Christmas music, hot drinks by the fire, and shops full of people. A period that always smelled of sweets and love, and traditions... but not for us—well, except for the traditions part.

          The Hamilton family was always considered different-the freaks living in the old house, the error in an otherwise perfect system of white houses and neatly manicured yards, the wrinkle on a perfectly ironed shirt. But, as they say, in every rumour there's a grain of truth.

It was 1987 when Archibald Hamilton, a rich entrepreneur, became obsessed with the idea of privatising the security of the world. He invested all his money in opening a society; a private organisation of military forces, tucking it between mountains, far from any form of human civilization—the Silent Keys.

He filled it with ten young and talented orphans of Alkavia (a small town in western Europe) each with a different kind of talent or special ability, that, after a selection among a hundred other younglings, had won them a place in the society.

I used to think that The Silent Keys had been a blessing, providing me with the freedom that orphanages could never offer, but as the years passed by, I came to see it for what it was: a prison with gilded bars. A hell loop of hard training and mind-wreaking studies, preparing us to face unthinkable situations-and unthinkable situations we faced indeed. Fighting and saving the innocents from the unjust system we were all trapped in. Annihilating the scum of the world. I thought of myself as a hero, I was so proud. But Archibald Hamilton toyed with our minds, carving a new moral code of blood and murder, convincing us that our deeds were necessary for the greater good.

The magical world of heroes vanished like smoke in my hands.

We were pawns in a chess game, weapons sold to the highest bidder, regardless of their morals or actions. My hands were drenched in the blood of innocents.

‘Evil is just a matter of points of view’ Archibald loved to use those words, telling us that there was no place for us to ask questions, only to follow orders.

But he had given us a chance to leave this hell and today was our chance. Today was the day I would regain my freedom—or die trying.

           "Raven." A voice crept through the thunders wrecking the mountains. "Father is waiting for us."

Father.

I almost laughed hearing that word. Archibald insisted on being referred to as our father and, technically, it wasn't a bad title to describe what he was to us—after all, the papers said it: Archibald Hamilton was our father, but the role he had played in our lives was the farthest thing from it. He had been a teacher, a general, a jury, the executioner—the creator of my misfortunes.

"I'll be there in a minute," I said. I took one last look at those mountains. If that was the last time I would see the world, I would die with a smile on my face. I'd remember the times when these mountains heard my screams of pain and despair, but also the laughter and content memories I shared with my brothers and sisters.

The figure approached. "How are you feeling?"

A sad smile tugged the side of my mouth. "Feelings are a defect, Aria. We were not made to feel, only to comply and obey."

"Don’t twist his words," she hissed.

"Twist…" I mouthed with bitter humour.

She grabbed my wrist in her hand, twisting me in her direction. Her bright golden eyes emerged like a wildfire form the darkness her hood concealed her with. She studied me with harshness. She was a thief, the best thief in Europe—she had been targeted by many agencies that wanted to recruit her but remained faithful to the silent keys and to our father. If there was an artifact hidden under layers of security, she could get her hands on it within a few hours.

Aria's coffee skin was wrapped in the familiar blue uniform we all wore, a leather suit that protected her from neck to boots.

"He saved me. He saved us all," she argued. The lightning flashed. "Never forget."

I stared at her with an arched brow. "Our father turned us into murderers."

"This is the only reality I know, and the only thing I…we've ever done," she shrugged and said, "Well, the rest of us anyway, you..."

The familiar sting of pain stabbed my chest. I had a family before this—a mother and a father that loved me for who I was, not for my abilities or for what I could offer—but like any other good thing, it broke and turned into dust. I had wished, after the orphanage, to become a doctor so that no one else would experience the pain of losing their family like I did. I wanted to save people on an operating table, not with a machine gun in my hands.

But I couldn’t blame Aria for being comfortable in that lair of vipers. It was the only world she’d been offered.

"What do you think there is at the end of the trial?" I asked, turning the conversation onto more comfortable grounds. Adrenalin surged through me, dancing within my belly. My palms were itching to grab whatever could grant me my freedom.

The treasure, as Archibald called it, the treasure that would give us the opportunity to choose whether to stay or leave.

"A shit-ton of cash?" she asked. A smile fought its way to her face.

I chuckled in response. "Whatever it contains, I hope it’ll get me the fuck out of here."

"You’ll have to get through me first, sister," she winked.

Here was the trick: banding together those who needed to leave society and those who desired the prize only to give it up and earn our father's pride, and with it a place at the top of the pyramid on which our family was built—the predator at the top of the food chain.

I’d seen the labyrinth three times. And those times I’d seen two of my brothers leave us without saying goodbye.

"Hey, losers." The voice of our brother, Sam, pierced through our little cocoon of joy. "The ritual is about to start."

Aria squeezed my hand once, ready to go right into the lion’s lair.

I walked into the room. Shivers dressed my body. It was like entering a new reality.

The dining table had been removed, and right in the middle of the room, a big red circle was drawn on the pavement. The storm was still raging; the wind pushed against the windows, making the thick, dark curtains brush against the floor in a slow dance. The feeble afternoon light died at the doorstep; from there onwards, blackness choked the room, only broken by the fire dancing on the fat candles scattered around the room.

As a united shield, the rest of my brothers and sisters stood in the room. River, a perfect fighter, and the bloodiest assassin I have ever seen. Azalea was a master of poison, could kill you without lifting a single finger and with a crocked smile of her pink lips. Jagger knew how to play with your mind and utterly break someone until they begged for the mercy of a swift death. Blade, well, let’s just say her name says it all. Ghost could commit any action he wanted; nobody would ever figure out it was him, and if they did, well, Ghost knew how to make people vanish.

As if summoned, Ghost lifted his dark head and caught my eyes. The icy coldness of his silver eyes kept making me uneasy. Even after all these years, I kept anticipating a sword coming straight for my throat at any moment. I inclined my chin just an inch. He winked, curling the corners of his mouth into a smirk. I felt Sam’s hand in the small of my back to urge me into the room, and stood between me and Ghost. Aria was smiling like a deranged fool and her eyes shone with delight in watching the spectrality of the room.

Along the walls, rows of men and women dressed in uniform stood side by side, their faces devoid of any emotion and their eyes all set on the man standing in the far corner of the room.

"Welcome, children, to the labyrinth." Archibald emerged from the shadows like a grim reaper. Clothed from head to toe in jet black, the thick dark cloak bestowed on him a menacing aura, and with very good reason; our father was an incredibly dangerous man. "You know the rules; you only get one weapon." With a hand, he gestured to the wall at his back and to the heavy crimson cloth that draped the wall. He tapped his walking cane on the floor once, the flames stroked the silver lion-headed pommel. That was all it took for his staff to spring into action. A young man wearing a uniform grasped the cloth in one hand and yanked it away, revealing rows of various weapons. Knives, swords, bows, and arrows—everything but guns and anything that could load a bullet. Father always said that the gun is a weapon for cowards—a shortcut. "'Whoever is harmed, falls behind. Whoever is killed..." I shivered, "falls behind."

We all knew we couldn’t die in the labyrinth—the circle would’ve dragged our consciousness back into our bodies, linking us again with reality. It gave you the pain of the injuries sustained in the labyrinth, but without any evident sign of the body.

River chose a sword. She loved the rush of the hunt; the longer and messier the better, and she executed with deadly accuracy.

Azalea danced her way to the wall and chose a long sword. She rolled it and bowed her head to father with a feline smile. Jagger chose a bow and arrows, reserving the same treatment for our father. Blade, with no surprise, took in her hands a dagger. Ghost approached next, whispering silent words between his lips, and caressed the length of a scythe before cradling it in his hands. Sam, unsurprisingly, chose the other bow and arrows available. And I knew Aria would have chosen the stirrup, pointed on both sides and capable of piercing and cutting.

When my turn came, I already knew what weapon I would’ve chosen; it was singing to me from its place on the wall. It was a long, golden dagger.

We positioned along the red circle, lowering to our knees—weapons tight in one hand.

One of my father’s men gave me a bowl; the liquid inside was the same crimson that marked the floor.

I closed my eyes and I drank—the bitter taste fought its way down my throat, I resisted the urge to gag.

The last thing I heard before I lost connection with my body was the voice of father, snickering.

"May the hunt begin."

***

Year after year, entering the labyrinth had become less painful as the body grew accustomed to the potion, but never less weird. It felt like I’d been squeezed into a too-tight body—and it itched.

I stared at my surroundings. I stood within think walls of leaves and branches; before me was the only way I could’ve walked. The path of soil and mud stretched before me, losing itself in the darkness ahead.

The storm had vanished, leaving the place to a grey, heavy fog and the hissing sound of the wind. I waited, trying to listen to the sound of footsteps, trying to understand if some of my siblings were located nearby. When only silence echoed in my ears, I moved. I crushed my back against the wall of leaves, avoiding any path where the mud would’ve given away my position, and with light, rapid steps, I started my hunt.

I walked through the maze, with the dagger clenched in my hand, ready to strike.

The leaves stirred, it could’ve been confused for the effect of the wind, but as a smile spread on my face, I saw the silhouette of River creeping her way before me. She's crouching in a fighting stance, her sword drawn.

"Come out, you bastard," she chuckled, then raised her voice into a creepy lullaby. "Come out, come ooout."

I held my breath, trying to be as quiet as possible. I melted in the shadows and wind, breathing when the hissing of the wind was strong enough to conceal my breath.

"I’m not going to hurt you," she followed, slashing the wind with her sword. I could see her face, inclined in concentration. She reminded me of a wild animal, playing with the prey before the slaughter.

I moved another step forward.

Something crunched.

Fuck.

River smiled so widely that the white of her teeth looked as if the moon had decided to leave the sky and reside in this labyrinth of death and chaos.

She raised her sword. And slashed the air behind her.

A growl of pain followed, "You bitch."

Jagger. River had slashed a red line along his stomach, and he was now on his knees, clutching the wound with a hand. His bow lay on the ground beside him. There was no trace of any arrows in his quiver. I wondered who he had sent to the ground before encountering River’s sword.

The relief of knowing that my cover hadn’t been blown ceased the place to adrenaline. I knew what I had to do. The time was now.

River slowly, with delicate movement, raised her sword to the side, as if she were golfing—ready to strike, ready to kill.

But I was faster.

Like a ghost I appeared in her back, grasping her hair in one hand, I pushed her neck exposed and then with a swift movement I dug my dagger in her neck. Jagger chuckled, and a line of blood rolled out of his mouth. He coughed, but even as he collapsed, he never stopped laughing. River went soft in my arms, and I lowered her next to Jagger.

"Stabbed in the back," an applause exploded behind me. I twisted in time to see a silver trail travelling towards me. I watched the stirrup jab itself into the ground, right where it was going to impale my chest. "Aria, always a pleasure to see you."

She smirked. "You'll be pleased to know I've eliminated Azalea."

"Eliminated? Is that what we're calling it now?"

She shrugged, striding over to her stirrup. "If you're done aiming your weapon at my throat, we should probably hurry," Was it a strategy to let me lower my guards and then murder me? "Come on! Before one of those morons steals that treasure from you."

"Aria—"

"You can thank me tomorrow," she winked.

We didn’t know for how long we dodged and crawled, and cut a path in the labyrinth before a scream rolled down the walls. Another of us had died. It was sick to be happy when one of your siblings is getting brutally murdered, but I was.

"There," Aria said, pointing to her right. A golden light shone at the bottom of the path—the treasure. It was so close that I felt victory in my hands. Something whizzed past my face, cutting my cheek. I raised my hand, and it came away bloody. Blade was there, in the middle of the path with his hands clenched into fists and frowning.

"Now you are unarmed."

Blade smiled. "Am I?"

She pointed her chin behind us. I was so focused on looking at Blade that I didn't realise Ghost was behind us. In an instant, his arms were around Aria's neck, and he pulled her with him until he caught Blade's dagger and threw it back into her hands.

"You little shits," Aria growled.

She caught the dagger and, in a mocking tone, said, "Shall we dance?"

"We shall."

I launched on Blade, trying to hit her as fast as I could. Her knife sliced the air, and I felt the blade whisper on my cheek. I aimed a kick in her stomach, but she was fast—faster than anyone I’d ever fought. She dodged my foot as if it were a fly and laughed as the handle of her knife smashed on my nose. My head shot backward, groaning in pain.

I saw her hand fly toward my nose again, but I crouched low, plunging the dagger into her knee. She screamed, and I never heard a more satisfying sound. "Not so cocky now."

Blade used her uninjured leg to smash her knee into my face. My bones cried in protest.

I fell backward. My dagger jabbed in her leg and my vision blurred by the pain. She stepped closer and closer, bringing in the air her own knife, charging that fatal blow. Blade kicked my chest, knocking me to the ground. The knife came down and down. But never hit.

Blade’s body stiffened and slumped to the side. I saw the sickle sticking in her body. Ghost had struck her before she could strike me.

I stared at him—in wonder, in shock. He smiled at me; his hands busy keeping Aria on the ground. "Hurry!"

I wasted no time. I launched myself in the direction of the golden light, plunging right into that small sun.

The light was too intense; tears rushed down my face. I felt my body being dragged and squeezed.

"Hello?" I called into the light.

"Hello, Thalia, Codename: Raven. You won the price. Welcome to level two of the Labyrinth." A mechanical voice echoed around me. Level? "May the hunt begin."