You've been running through the endless maze for what feels like days, guided by the unlikely pair of Ire and Mime who seem to know its twisting paths better than anyone. One moment they're threatening your life, the next offering small kindnesses that keep you going.

Now you stand at a crossroads, three identical corridors stretching before you. The brick walls seem to pulse faintly, and distant whispers echo from all directions. Your legs burn from exhaustion, your throat dry despite the water Mime insisted you drink earlier.

Ire paces restlessly, her eyes scanning each passage. "We should take the left," she finally declares, pointing sharply. Mime immediately shakes her head violently, crossing her arms and stomping one foot—her clearest disagreement yet.

They turn to you simultaneously, as they always do at these moments. The choice, as always, falls to you.