The entrance to the labyrinth was nothing like in his dream. It was not large oaken doors and a few steps down to a looming, bestial figure. Ikarus should’ve known not to expect such simplicity from his father. The maze was built so that the Minotaur could never escape, after all.

The square door led to a shoot. Ikarus plunged into darkness, his legs hitting metal. The shoot was slick and smooth. Bronze. His body struck the ceiling with a hollow thump. It was just wide enough and just tall enough for him to tumble head over heels. The incline was so steep that bruises formed where he thudded into the walls. He couldn’t think, couldn’t take a breath through the tumultuous fall. Muffled screams tore from him and echoed through the tunnel. It was never ending. His stomach flipped with his body and bile stung the back of his throat. Stagnant, damp air whiffled through his hair and raked his dirty skin.

He sensed the shoot widen and tensed, prepared to shatter bones against the stone floor. It was ingenious, really. There’d be no harm to Minos’ pet if the tributes were injured upon arrival. But between the fear and the adrenaline the youths would still be able to hobble further into the maze, give the monster a sporting chance to hunt it’s victims. He ducked his head against his chest and waited for the blare of pain.

His back struck something hard and unyielding. Someone huffed, the breath driven from their body. Hands grappled Ikarus’ flailing arms. Theseus’ sweet scent enfolded him as the hero staggered a step back. Panting, Ikarus sagged into his broad chest.

The prince cleared his throat, the sound so gentle that Ikarus almost couldn’t place it in this realm of utter darkness and death. “Are you alright?”

The inventor’s son pressed his heels to the rough stone and forced his shaking torso to straighten. Hands bunched in Theseus’ tunic, he felt the intensity of the gaze trying to penetrate the shear blackness. Ikarus smiled at the dark. “Ego more bruised than anything else.”

The prince released a breath like a chuckle, but it was cut short. Twelve teenagers shuffled about them, the heat from their bodies making the dank air stuffy. Heat rushed to Ikarus’ cheeks as their moment of privacy was shattered. They weren’t alone and they were on a mission. With reluctance, Ikarus pried his fingers lose. Theseus took a pace back. The air stirred as he swung about to face his fellows. Ikarus huddled behind him, emptyness and hunger in the space Theseus had left behind. A moment of silence descended upon them like a Furie’s black wings. All of their ears were perked to hear the monster that awaited them.

When the Minotaur was not heard nearby, Theseus spoke. His voice was even and steady, lacking both enthusiasm and pessimism. He said the words as one utters an indisputable fact, “I am your prince. I volunteered as a tribute, to walk among you as you headed to ritual sacrifice bestowed upon our city by angry gods. Minos himself thinks he is one such god. I have come to prove him wrong.” Theseus’ big hand groped behind him, clutching at the hem of Ikarus’ robes.

Jaw dropping, Ikarus’ pulse raced. What is this? Some last wish before death? His muscles went limp to give in, an embarrassing eagerness flooding his veins with warmth despite the circumstance. “Ikarus,” the prince whispered, his hand shooting under the other youth’s robes.

“Oh!” Ikarus startled as Theseus hand brushed a bundle of cloth. Realization made his cheeks flush even hotter. Then he was grateful for the blinding dark. “I got it.” Clearing his throat, Ikarus pushed Theseus’ finger away and removed the bundle. He unwrapped the cloth to reveal a metal tin, which he handed to Theseus.

Theseus flipped the lid for a heartbeat. Feet shuffled as the Athenians leaned in. The coals weren’t glowing enough to reveal their faces or provide any real light, but there was a line of bloody red at their edges. Their acrid scent was a welcome pinch in Ikarus’ throat. Then Theseus clapped the lid shut before anymore precious heat could escape. The prince of Athens thrust the tin into the folds of his own simple tunic, tightening his belt so it wouldn’t fall.

“I have a thin torch as well, pitched with sulfur,” Theseus told them. That was why he didn’t wait for the guards to haul him into the hole. He’d snagged an unlit torch from one of the Genite’s belts and jumped before they could think to check if anything was missing. It was Ariadne who’d informed him that the guards each carried one. Admiration calmed Ikarus’ pulse. The plan is coming together.

“I will light the torch when it is time to draw the beast to me, which will give Ikarus a chance to unlock the door.”

“Door?”

“Ikarus?”

“Who-”

Ikarus peered over his shoulder at the suffocating dark. A brick formed in his throat. How was he supposed to tell Theseus that he hadn’t expected a shoot instead of padlocked double doors reenforced with bronze? My father wouldn’t create such a maze with only a single entrance, he assured himself, scratching the back of his hand.

Theseus raised his voice to dispel the distraught muddle of murmurs. His people fell silent. Ikarus drew nearer to the prince, hoping to soak up some of his bravery. “Ikarus’ father designed the maze.” In the dark Theseus’ hand clamping on his shoulder made him squeal. The prince towed him forward and Ikarus’ steps were so loud that he winced. “If anyone can find his way through this labyrinth of death if is Ikarus.” He said it as surely as sunlight dispels darkness. Ikarus was dizzy with the statement’s meaning and worse, it’s pressure. Could he really find his way through the maze without Theseus by his side?

Of course! Bending, Ikarus reached up to his thigh. Wound about the skin was Ariadne’s skein of red thread. He unwound it with clumsy, chilled fingers, his nails catching and fraying it. Muttering rose from the group. Tucked into the thread was a needle. The string was threaded to the looped end. The metal was smooth against his fingers and long. A weaving sword, removed from the princess’s own loom. “It-It isn’t only me who has provided… assistance.” Ikarus’ throat bobbed. “Princess Ariadne has donated thread so that we may-”

“They are not Athenian,” came a girl’s voice, adamant and resounding.

The inventor’s son cringed as the words bounced back at him like a violently tossed ball. He’d never been very coordinated. “-may not get lost,” he finished in a small voice. “With the thread anyone lost can find their way back. We will know where we’ve been.”

The girl who had spoken up, or so Ikarus assumed, tapped her foot. He pictured her scowling, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted in the direction of the prince. It reminded him of how Ariadne acted with him in private, as if their titles had been erased and they were equals. A strange pang awoke behind his eyes. Ikarus tried to blink it away.

“Aigle,” Theseus widened his stance, authority radiating from him. His voice though was still oddly flat. As if it was making known what couldn’t be seen in the dark, the blankness of his stare.

The girl, Aigle, gave a wordless scoff.

“My father hails from Athens,” Ikarus said, and then hated himself for speaking so timidly.

“Daedalus?”

Ikarus nodded and then remembered that no one could see him.

“He was banished!” The air was agitated as Aigle flung up her hands. “The famed inventor turned criminal for murdering an excelling student. We have all heard the tale, my prince-”

“It was an accident!” Hot anger flared in Ikarus’ belly.

“Are you certain?”

The words imbedded in him like spears. Ikarus’ mouth went dry. Daedalus had told him the story of the promising pupil who had fallen from the Kecropia. His cheeks had been gaunt and hollow. His haunting tone had droned as if from a dark shadow despite the full sun beating down on them as they strolled the perimeter of the palace complex. Daedalus had said it was an accident and his son believed him. Ikarus gnashed his teeth. “Yes.”

Aigle just snorted. He thought the pig-like sound fit her. They’d been standing in the labyrinth how long and the only monster he’d met was human.

“Enough,” Theseus snapped. “There isn’t time for this. Ikarus may not be of Athenian birth, and neither is Princess Ariadne, but they are the only ones who have offered to help us survive this. Has any other aide been offered to any other tributes?”

Ikarus imagined them shaking their heads, except for Aigle. The girl was probably glaring at him. If she were Medusa, he would’ve been stone by now. Not that they’d know if there had been anyone to aide other tributes. They’re all dead, Ikarus thought, the bile still wriggling on the back of his tongue.

“Ikarus will take the thread. It is from the sun god’s own spool. It shall not cease.”

“And what will you be doing?” There was a challenge in Aigle’s voice that gave him Phaedra flashbacks.

“I will steal away from you all and light the torch when I am ready to fight the beast.”

“You have no weapon.”

“It is here. I only have to find it.”

This time Ikarus nearly joined Aigle in scoffing. “Only.”

“Ariadne dropped it down the meat slot.” Besides providing the coals and the string, that was the princess’s job. She was to swipe Theseus’ staff from the altar of Zeus and drop it down the hatch where the Minotaur’s food was usually delivered. He could only imagine the beast’s anger when a wooden club clanked at its cloven hooves instead of a heap of bloody goat meat. Minos always starved the halfling before the sacrifice.

What if it’s not there? His palms itched. Ariadne had hurried off to fulfill her part while Ikarus and Theseus were dragging the dead boy’s body and stuffing it in a pithos. If she’d been caught… if the alter had been guarded… if… if…

“If you fall?”

“Ikarus will guide you, help you escape, and lock the door behind him.”

The inventor’s son gulped, fingers twitching with the urge to grab Theseus’ hand and never let go.

“That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in a stranger.”

He could hear the grim grin that split Theseus’ lips. “He can do it.”

Aigle shifted. “But what if-”

A lowing oozed from deep in the maze. Abject and keening. Searching. The beast was hungry. It’s calls rose in a steady rhythm, like a distant pounding drumline. There was a ceremonial quality to it. It’s beginning. Ikarus’ hopeless gaze probed the dark and found nothing.

“No more ifs,” Theseus said as he swiveled, somehow finding Ikarus in the pitch. His hand enclosed over the messy, tangling ball of thread and pushed it into Ikarus’ chest. The inventor’s son couldn’t tell if it was the sun-string giving off such pulsating heat or the prince. With his other hand Theseus squeezed his shoulder. “Everyone form a line, do not let go of each other. Ikarus will lead. Follow him. If you lose him then follow the string. I’ll be right behind you once the beast is taken care of.”

“Be blessed,” Ikarus stammered, just as Theseus turned to go. The warmth of his hands was already fading. The inventor’s son swallowed hard. He wracked his brain, but his mind was as blank as the air about them. No names surfaced. “Be blessed by the gods.”

Even through pitch blackness Ikarus felt their gazes brush, hold for an indistinct moment that could’ve lasted half a heartbeat or an eternity. Then the Prince of Athens dissolved into the labyrinth.

*****

The walls of the maze were rough under his palm. Carved from stone and brick. It was built for strength above all. Strength to hold the Minotaur in. Little double-headed axes were carved into the sheetrock at intervals. Labrys, symbol of the Genite builders. His other hand unwound the thread. His fingernails skated over the soft-spun wool, wondering how many hours it had taken Ariadne’s slave women to create such fine material. The wool would have come from Helios’ prized cattle themselves, a gift from the mighty titan to his daughter, queen of Genesis. Would he ever again hold something god-touched? A hum sprang from the thread, magic was thicker in the air than the musk of old blood and bull droppings.

A hand detached from Ikarus’ waist. Vibrations rolled down the taut string, making it jump. Ikarus startled, grip tightening to hold it steady, steps faltering. Someone had plucked the thread. “Aigle,” the youth hissed, “why did you do that?”

“I was making sure you were winding it tight enough.” The girl replaced her hand on his waist. Since Ikarus didn’t have a free hand Aigle had a hand on his midriff to keep him connected to the others. Ikarus clenched his teeth and didn’t reply as he resumed their crawling pace. They moved with slow accuracy, allowing Ikarus to unwind the string and study the walls by feel without attracting the Minotaur’s attention. At least that was the hope. Theseus’ steps had faded long ago and they’d heard no more noise from the creature. An ache was beginning in Ikarus limbs.

“How much longer?” Aigle demanded in a whisper as if sensing his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” Ikarus sighed, wanting to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“You father created this place,” Aigle said. “He never shared with you a way out?”

“No one is supposed to get out of the labyrinth.” It’s not as if my father ever expected me to be inside. Exhaustion swept over him like a cloud of sawdust from Daedalus’ workshop. He squeezed his eyes shut tight- not as if they were any use anyway- and thought back to the day seven years ago when Daedalus had finished constructing the maze. The monster had just been moved to it’s new home. Roars trembled through the palace. Ikarus had been nine.

He couldn’t sleep that night. He’d asked to share Daedalus’ bed. His father scooted over to make room. As the covers, scented like smoke from his father’s forge snuggled under his chin, the boy was instantly soothed. His eyes started to slide shut, hazy sleep descending like fog over his head. “Ikarus,” Daedalus rolled to face him. His words were so quiet that Ikarus almost didn’t catch them. “Do you remember what I told you the other day. What does a caged beast need?”

“Food…” Ikarus said thickly, his thoughts slow and tumbling.

“What else?” There was something intense glowing from his father’s eyes. Ikarus struggled to swim back awake.

He blinked hard. “Water.”

“Very good. One more thing.”

“Enter…” Ikarus yawned, the world fuzzy. “Entertain…”

“Entertainment.” Daedalus fluffed the pillow around Ikarus’ head. The boy slumped into the plush surface, drowning in down. Feathers filled his mouth, warmth blossomed in his limbs. Daedalus tucked the blankets around him. “Never forget those three things.”

“In the cage… the beast needs… food… water… enter…” Ikarus’ eyes fastened shut.

“That’s right.” He thought he heard Daedalus’ gentle voice crack, but he was so tired all he could do was sleep. That was the only time they’d discussed the Minotaur’s needs or the designs of the labyrinth.

“He must’ve said something. Unless… he didn’t trust you.”

“My father does tru-” Ikarus whirled on the girl, halting the procession, and pulling the string taut.

“If he did,” Aigle’s voice was a furious whisper, her breath hot on his nose, “then why didn’t he reveal-”

“Some secrets are too dangerous-”

“Convenient excuse!”

“You don’t even know him!”

“I-Ikarus,” a boy down the line stuttered.

“If he’s anything like you-”

Ikarus stepped closer, clutching the needle so tight that it drew a line of blood across his palm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Theseus may trust you but that doesn't mean we have to. You don’t even know what you’re looking for do-”

“Aigle!” A thin wail. Shuffling down the line.

Someone else hissed, “shush!”

Murmurs made their way up to Ikarus. “Did you hear that?”

Ikarus and Aigle froze, they were so close that he felt the tension rising off her like heat off sunbaked earth. An icy trickle of fear ran fingers down his spine. He strained his ears. There. In the distance an echoing splash. “W-w-was that…?” someone chattered and Ikarus felt the ripple as Aigle tossed a hand back to silence whoever it was.

A slight clack, hooves over stones. Click, click, click, click… It bounded throughout the maze jumping back at them from the empty blackness, slapping against the dome of the earthen ceiling. The sound grew longer, harder. Clck, clck, clck, clck! The monster was running. Between the echo and the fierce pound of his heart Ikarus couldn’t tell how close it really was.

Then the noise stopped.

Silence cloaked them, smothering. The quiet wrapped around Ikarus’ throat and squeezed. Chest puffed with held breath, he stood so still it was a blessing he didn’t shatter to pieces. Blood dripped from his palm to the floor. He didn’t even feel the sting of the cut.

Where’d it go? He opened his eyes to blackness. A new fear eased over him with the subtly to an executioner’s blade. Was it after Theseus? He pictured the prince, dropping his club as he heard the monster approach, determined to light the torch and distract it. Theseus would shove the torch into the coals, over and over. What if it didn’t light and the monster took the opportunity to make a soundless kill.

Aigle was shaking. Her hand was on his waist again, squeezing. With small movements, he turned around to face forward again. He took a deep inhale and was greeted with an awful stench. Rotten meat mixed with latrine. His nose crinkled, he froze. Slowly he groped forward with his free hand.

The string went slack.

Panic clawing the back of his throat Ikarus stared at his open hands in the dark, seeing nothing. He tugged and the line didn’t tighten. The thread was lax and pliable.

Someone had cut the string.

No, no, no! Ikarus fumbled with the weaving sword, stabbing it deep into the pad of his thumb but not feeling it. More simmering blood dropped to the floor. That’s the only way to tell where we’ve been, the only way for Theseus to find us! Tears smoldered at the corners of his eyes.

Anger surged in his veins, burning and bubbling. “Aigle-” he began to scream. Just because she didn’t trust him didn’t mean she had to cut the string and ruin it for all of them!

A short, quick squeal cut him off. Then nothing.

“Perseus?” someone muttered. Toes grated over stone as the youth groped behind them for their companion.

Hold still! Ikarus wanted to shout but his mouth was soundlessly forming the question: what in Hades is going on?

A whimper. A horrid crunch. Liquid splattered Ikarus’ side. It was warm and smelled like copper. Terror squeezed his heart tight, with every beat he expected it to pop and end this nightmare. Aigle, trembling like a pot on a shelf in an earthquake pressed against his back, her face tucked into the coarse fabric of the dead Athenian’s tunic. Acrid envy filled his nostrils. He wanted to do the same with Theseus. Melt into him, allow his strong arms to encircle him, pretend they were in a starry meadow instead of a version of the Underworld.

He still found himself saying, “Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go.”

The beast can’t move so silently… Ikarus strained to listen. There was the sluff of fur against the wall. It should’ve been impossible. The animal moved with the stealth of a panther and the voracity of a wolf. The air parted to warn him. Someone shrieked. It was cut off with a sickening snap. If Aigle’s arms weren’t around him Ikarus would’ve kneeled over and puked.

They were being picked off one by one.

Sweat trickled down his back, down his face. It dribbled, leaving a salty trail over his lips. If any god is listening, he cast his unseeing gaze towards the ceiling and pictured the all-encompassing sky above, please take care of my father. Keep him safe. Thoughts of Daedalus crowded his mind. Nighttime stories, toys carved by his father’s burly, gentle hands. The fire he itched with when he thought someone had wronged his boy. Enduring the prison of Minos’ construction for years because if he disobeyed Ikarus could be punished.

Hooves scattered rocks. Another screech silenced. He wanted to ask if there was anyone still clinging to Aigle, but he was afraid to know. A gruesome rip echoed down the passage where they huddled against the wall. The harsh shear of teeth scraping together made Ikarus wince.

The Minotaur was feeding.

Choking on the stench of blood Ikarus waited for death. He regretted not hugging Theseus, not bringing their lips together while they spoke in the grimy, intimate cell. He regretted not saying goodbye to his father. Minos would gloat about his end surely, probably hoping that the inventor would stay forever in Genesis since he had nothing else to live for.

All the grievances he’s held against his father seared away. He’d give anything to go back to being nine years old, bundled safe in his father’s bed, the nightmares vanished with his protector nearby. Hooves clattered and a nose snuffed. Ikarus’ eyelids were shutters. Don’t let go, he willed Aigle. As selfish as it was, he didn’t want to die alone.

Death didn’t come.

He wasn’t sure how long they were rigid, Aigle clutching him for dear life. She was uttering a prayer under her breath in a language he didn’t recognize. Harsh, punishing beats passed where there was no sound but the distant drone of moving water. He gulped, eyes daring to crack in the darkness. An ugly hope that logic urged him to crush flowered in his shuddering chest. The aftermath of fear left his muscles sore and weak.

Maybe the beast had left. Maybe it had eaten it’s fill and there was still time to find Theseus and escape. If Theseus was still alive… Ikarus reached out quivering fingers.

The very ends of his fingertips skated living flesh. He recoiled, his jaws unhinging-

The labyrinth was lit by the sun.

Light burst from gold flourishes along the walls. Suns and eddies and great bull silhouettes painted in liquid gold. They glowed, radiated. Light raced like lightning, zigzagging down the passage at them. Everything was illuminated in harsh yellow. Dust motes ignited into gold chips. The stone underfoot was made soft and decadent. The thread was the worst. The string blazed and all Ikarus could think was, it really is a gift from the fiery sun.

Ikarus was blinded. His eyelids dropped like drapes released by servants at dusk. Wet, putrid heat washed his face.

His eyes snapped open. The glare turning everything to melted gold. Except for the dark oily mound of fur standing before him.

The Minotaur snorted, freckling his face with spittle. The beast lowered gleaming horns and met Ikarus’ gaze. He raised a hoof and scraped it over the floor. Tear tracks gleaming from its shaggy face, the monster charged.