Wow. I rather have to agree with HAB. This is depressing. 

But it is also beautiful.

And terrifying.

And maybe, just maybe, sprinkled with grains of truth.

I also have to disagree with him because of the whole Saphira-Paris death-bot thing. 

Halfway, at any rate.  

Wow. I rather have to agree with HAB. This is depressing. 

But it is also beautiful.

And terrifying.

And maybe, just maybe, sprinkled with grains of truth.

I also have to disagree with him because of the whole Saphira-Paris death-bot thing. 

Halfway, at any rate.  

It's been a month. And there have been words, so many words....... I can't stop thinking about my untimely death. Could I have saved these people? Or was I destined to end my story alone in a dark corridor? Could I have prevented it?

These questions circle in my head as I wait, Eo-Lahallia and Charybdis at my side, for the rest of the souls to join us.

And when they do, my killer will finally be exposed. 

Top! My death must not be in vain! 

Day Thirty-Something

Key:

**: Mirax

~~: Paris

__: Brian

Italics: The Letterman

Bold: The Madman

For clarification, all events are happening at the same time to the three characters, thus when l write something from someone’s PoV, it’s happening to the other two and so forth.

___

To the esteemed Mr. Brian:

Though we have heard far and wide of your more…..infamous deeds, we are still extremely doubtful of your abilities to complete the mission that we have tasked you with. Know if you complete it, your rewards will be lavish and beyond your imagination, but if you do not, the punishment is unspeakable. You must handle the Artifact with the utmost care. Please know that we do not trust such a type as you are with this. The clock is ticking on…..

Brian crumples the paper in his fist, as the rain speckles the paper and makes the ink run. No. He didn't want to. Not now. Not when things were finally getting better for him. He knew he didn’t have a choice. Never mind that he had made a life for himself. Never mind all of that. They were coming for him.

The room wraps around him, purely dark, and utterly terrifying, not in and of itself, but like the very darkness was afraid. The floor is fragile under his feet, and not quite real, as if it will fall apart if he looked closer.

~~

Greeting, Miss Paris. We hope that this letter finds you in good health. How are you? We are wishing to enlist your services in finding something, something that we know you have experience in, a very strange something. It is very valuable to us. Your insight is much needed here.

Paris France was never one to give favors to people. After all, living as a treasure hunter wasn’t easy. Still, she felt the need to comply. The words were bring her on, pulling her forcefully towards this, dragging her onward.

**

Find it.

Find them. Find the Artifact.

The paper is thick and heavy, scrawled on quickly and yet with an air of menace.

Lit by the glow of reacting chemicals, Mirax considers burning the paper, and perhaps with it, all of her worries. She knew she’d have to pay it back one day, of course, with her skills or with her life. But so soon? Being a mad scientist wasn’t easy after all. This was the grand and bright future. They had no room for lunatics.

She blinks, vaguely, as the room began to spin around her. She doesn’t really care where she is going, not any longer.

Hello, fated traveler. I don’t know who l am, or you for that matter, but hello. That’s nice, isn’t it. Welcome, l suppose. Thought you’re never going to be able to get out, so what l am saying? Then again, what do l know? Nothing, nothing at all. You don’t need to know much, l suppose you can figure it out on your own. Just know--the doors never end. I know because l went insane looking for them.

Somedays, l wonder.

Am l the explorer?

The madman?

The master?

Or the laboratory rat?

~~

The room is dark, except for a box on a table, lighted from above. A few minutes of messing with the box leads her to find a switch, that ominously makes a light click on over a door that she had not seen before.

Hrm. she thinks. They went through an awful lot of trouble to scare me.

Is this what going insane feels like? I’m floating in the strangest way, a foot or so off of the ground. I don’t think l know why l'm here, any longer. Does it matter?

___

This has to be better than before, yes? Brian is trying to be optimistic. This place isn’t helping. It’ll be the death of him, he supposes. He doesn’t want to find the Artifact--that’s the point. After the first door, an empty books lies on a table illuminated from above. He learns very quickly that the light is where he needs to be, whenever he stepped into the darkness a crushing weight felt like it was being dropped on him. As he touches the page of the book, dark words ripple across them, names, in fact, that one says…

~~

Thousands and thousands, seemingly. She does not recognize any of them, and yet….she feels like something deep inside, one of the name sticks with her. Sydney. Odd. she did not know anyone by that name. More name flash by, and she feels no recognition with these names. Then they cease to be English--or any language at all, they are simply runes of some sort and yet they flash on, the names of the doomed.

I spent a long time staring at that book, don’t you know, dear traveler. l’ve come a  long way and yet l remember none of it. I wonder if my name, if l have one, is written in those pages. I feel so sorry for all of those names there…..so many names. I hear a voice. Just one. Echoing, like a lost soul. I find comfort in that, even if they’re not real. I like to think it is calling my name.

I don’t have a name.

**

There it is. The letters slow until they outline her name, scrawled boldly across the page. A pit of hollow fear, vast and infinite opens before her in her mind. She is staring into it, straining her eyes endlessly. Until she falls in.

___

He considers how ridiculous everything is. Here he is, a nobody, trying to find the Artifact in a labyrinth of nightmares!

Alright then. Reason. Logic. Try to figure this out. He knows who he is. Brian Great. What a ironic name for a glorified grave robber. He finds relics, artifacts, anything. And they--these people of which he has no information--they want him to to find the Artifact. A thing--person, actually, of some value to these people. He is stuck in a maze of sorts. And he has to get out on his life. the only way seeming to be is to find the Artifact. He feels sorry for this person, for the Artifact. But only briefly. He will admit it to himself, he just wants to keep himself alive. But there’s something else. Someone else seems to have been here before, with no mention of the Artifact, and they are leaving notes. Everywhere. He sighs quietly. Ha. how strange this all is. He wishes at that moment that he could return to his life. His heart aches for normality.

**

She begins to lose count. She knows she shouldn't, and is rightfully mad at herself for doing so. And yet--the doors, they never end, and after so many, after trying to keep track of it all. There was always a box of varying sizes in the center of a table. That box opened a door. The door lead to another box.

She admits, she was never a fearful person, nor exactly a very brave one. yet, sometime during all of that, the fear began to set in. but she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t escape.

Sometimes the boxes are simple. Just a button or lever inside. That is all. Sometimes there are hidden drawers, or false walls, sometimes there are locks. Sometimes there are codes, letters that you cannot read. Whatever is it, it doesn’t really matter not anymore. I suppose l'm telling you this as so you will stop looking for yourself. I'm not one to get sentimental, but somedays l wonder who--if anyone--will actually read these notes. Who they will think that l am.

And…..if you really want to know, l don’t know, really. My identity is like the folds of a cloak, forever hiding something. I hope my legacy isn’t lost forever.

Miss Paris,

This is extremely urgent. We have been watching your progress with finding the Artifact, and we are very disappointed. Your life depends on it. Get on with it. Find the Artifact.

~~~~

One door, opened. And there was no box. There was nothing. She starts to feel panicked. How could she possibly know where the Artifact was? Their demands were unreasonable! She couldn’t do this. Unwillingly she collapses onto the floor. “I'm going to--”

She stops, seeing a piece of paper on the floor.

I don’t think l remember anything, actually. It’s all nothing less. My hands are shaking badly, spilling ink, all over the paper, splattering my gloves like black blood. I have not known fear. I do not know it, even now. Fear is a strange thing. I don’t think any of us truly know it for what it is.

**

“You said the doors never end.” She whispers, fiercely to the paper. “You said there was no end...why is there an end? Where is the Artifact?”

__

His heart feels like a bird, knocking against his chest. Thud, thud. A despite thing. Thud, thud. So fearful. Thud, thud. It’s sound reverberates in his ears, tainting the silence all around them.

Is this the end of all things?

Mr. Brian,

We are afraid that you have failed at your task. We cannot do anything more for you, you already know too much. The Artifact has not been found. We will have to dispose of you. We would say that we’re sorry, if we were nice people. we’re not.  Since when did you think that we were nice? Haha. Well look at that. Nice people shouldn’t laugh at you. Yet here we are, rolling on the floor, laughing until we’re dying. Haha. We’re laughing at you. All of us are laughing at you.
Hahahahaha.

You know, famous people once said famous things, of which l am not inclined to quote at this moment. We place too much trust in other people. Like me. You placed too much trust in me. Famous people said things about other things, but sadly they never said anything about pudding. What’s wrong with pudding? Pudding is at the height of perfect. All hail pudding! Yet they never said anything about it.

I think we should say thing about pudding.

------

Yes! So who is this mysterious Artifact, and why are they wanted?If you wish to find the Artifact and thereby save their lives, you must answer these three riddles. The answer to all of them is a single word. Those words and will be hidden throughout the Artifact's PoV. Beware, for there are many false leads, but only the true Artifact will contain all three words. If the majority of people guess correctly, no one will die for another day. If not, there will be consequences.

You cannot live without me, and yet if broken l still work. If caught, l will not try to escape. What am l?

Explorers never come back from me, no one seeks me, but everyone will come to me. What am l?

I contain the world’s deadliest killer, yet l am everywhere. People fear me, people try to be to beat me. I rule over everyone’s lives. What am l?

Not yet related to the plot, but if you wish, you can guess the Madman’s identity. Clues are scattered throughout their notes.

Riddle for the Madman’s name: l am what you will become. (And no, the Madman’s name has nothing to do with the actual gender of the person. Nor has this name been put to this person before, but will be in the future.)

Top!

As this riddle thing does not seem to be working out, the second to last day waill come sometime before Monday, never fear.

Scylla--Nope. MP is not the madman.

Kate--Though all of your answers were very good, l am sorry to say that you only got the second riddle right.