I wake on cold stone, lungs burning with dust and ozone. No sky above—only vaulted ceilings lost in darkness, ribs of some ancient beast. My clothes are unfamiliar, my name… almost gone. I remember only this: I chose to enter.

Before me, three doors stand ajar. One leaks sand. One drips blood. One exhales a sigh that sounds like my mother’s voice.

A figure stumbles from the shadows—half her face bandaged, eyes wild. 'Don’t take the middle,' she rasps. 'It lies. They all lie. But some lies keep you alive.'

She presses a shard of mirror into my palm. 'Find the ones like us. Or don’t. Either way… the Labyrinth is already inside you.'

The doors tremble. Something moves behind the blood-drenched one.

What do I do?