The shadow stood upright, looking very much like a reed about to be blown over by the lakeside wind. With each passing second, it materialized more and more. From the soft and malleable darkness appendages sprouted, looking much like tentacles, but the face turned into something akin to humanity. Its face dripped on the floor, and the droplets were pulled back towards the body until the transformation was complete.

"Guidebook?" Two slime-covered books were pushed out from the shadow's pulsating midsection. They left behind two gaping holes, but the blob reformed itself with no apparent problem.

Ben tested a book by kicking it gently with his foot and stepping back in a hurry. He whispered to Prichett out of the side of his mouth. "What do we do now?" The man looked back confused and terrified. Not knowing what else to do, Ben picked up one of the books after wiping the slime off it.

Opening the book, all he found were inscrutable squiggles going up the page with no variation, always the same page repeated throughout the tome. Checking the second one, Ben found it to be an exact copy.

"You said Labyrinth, right? Can you tell me more about that?" he asked of the shadow.

"It's where we are." said the shadow.

"That's not very helpful." Ben continued. "Do you mean us any harm?"

The shadow formed a top hat on the top of its head and picked it up, only to throw it into the air and vanish it.

Ben shook his hands in front of the shadow blob's face, or where he took its face to be. The metal chain and the cuffs clinked together. "Can you get these things off me?"

"Hmm." the shadow blob said, before wrapping a tentacle around Ben's hands and wrists. It only lasted for a second before the shadow retracted its tentacle and cradled it to its chest, as the tentacle had begun hissing and releasing a small wisp of steam.

"Guess that's not allowed," Pritchett said. "Maybe it doesn't react well to metal. Give it a poke with your sword."

"That might make it mad. Let's table that idea for later when it tries to add us to its body mass." Ben responded. The shadow-blob mixed waved one of its tentacles at him. Then it paused for a second, and as to fit in more, switched its appearance to that of a hand.

"What's with the doors?" Ben said and kneeled to pick up the little crab from the fountain. The little guide had had its fill of water, and it gave Ben an appreciative poke with its claw.

The blob's fake face frowned sadly. "You must forgive me, I can't quite remember."

"Yeah, that's going around," Pritchett said. He walked to the right door and stopped in front of it, hand outstretched, an eye on the handle. "This can't possibly hurt can it?" he asked Ben.

"If my travels are anything to go by, probably not. Assuming dying only hurts for the briefest of instants," said Ben. "Alright, I've had enough of these cuffs." He pulled the sword from his belt and threw it at Pritchett's feet. The man picked it up, looking uncertain as Ben pulled tight against the chain, and held his hands on the lip of the water fountain.

"You sure you trust me not to miss?" Pritchett asked him, running his finger alongside the edge of the sword, and not liking how dull he found it.

"Let's just get through the next few seconds and then we can talk trust," Ben said. The little crab turned and hid its face, safely in Ben's jacket pocket.

Pritchett held the sword handle with both arms, trying not to tense too much, fearing the swing would be a few inches wrong on either side and free Everett from his cuffs as well as one of his hands. Steadying his hands, he took a breath and brought down the sword. Pritchett closed his eyes at the moment of impact and dared not open them until Everett talked.

"Not bad. I mean, you tore off a little bit of my forearm but nothing that the Good Mother Time can't cure and turn into an ugly scar." The chain that once connected the two cuffs was indeed broken. Ben stretched his arms on either side to celebrate, spinning around.

There was a deep cut near his right elbow that he patched up by ripping a corner of his shirt and tying it around the affected area. Blood quickly stained the fabric.

"So, tell me about these doors," he said, lightly shaking his right arm while wincing.

The shadow blob shook its tentacles in response. "Choose."

"My right arm is wounded, so let's go right. That's a sign or something, no?" Ben asked. Pritchett was still holding the sword so Ben waited for him to take the lead, but the man just raised an eyebrow.

Pressing his hand against the cool metallic handle, Ben looked back at Pritchett and whispered, "Coward." before proceeding with opening the door. As the door creaked open, Ben could hear the wind whipping at the walls all the way back to where they stepped off the staircase. He thought he could hear scratches bouncing on the walls of the small tunnel, but it all went away when stepping into the room. Pritchett followed only after the shadow blob, not daring to turn its back to it.

Ben felt the blob crunch against the earth behind him. "So, what's this then?"

"Uhh." said the blob.

"Are you not some sort of guide?" Ben asked.

"Not sure, sir. My creator never fully explained. I was set free to wander." said the blob.

"So what's with the guidebooks?" Pritchett asked. "Where are they by the way?"

"I think we forgot them next to the fountain," said Ben.

"The books were given to me, although by whom I cannot recall."

"Great. More dead ends. This whole thing better start making some sense or I'm heading for the mountains, build a cabin, grow a beard, find somebody to put up with me." said Ben.

"Maybe dream a little lower. I'll be tickled pink if we escape with our hides intact." Pritchett responded.

"I'll agree with that if you change that idiom. I don't want to think about you get tickled, it's weird."

"Just a saying, no need to get weird," Pritchett said. The door shut behind them suddenly. Pritchett tried the handle but it would not budge.

There were torches put up on the walls of the room. By the light, Ben could see that the room was quite small, and only with a small corridor on the left as the way forward. A half-crumbled arch stood in a stone circle in the middle of the room, its two columns lay broken as they reached for each other. Ben walked towards it, balancing a leg on one of the stones.

He turned and waved a hand at the blob. "Any idea-- You know what, never mind." As he waved his hand, a drop of blood from his wounded elbow fell, landing in the stone circle. A small drop of light bloomed from the blood, and as it grew roots they too were luminous. They stretched purposefully towards the arch, and as they touched, the arch hungrily absorbed the light.

The arch shook off the dust of untold decades, devouring the drop of blood, using it to regrow itself. Spotless marble and intricate stones came back into existence and decorated the arch. The torchlight grew to be almost blinding. But just as it began, so it quickly ended and the arch fell silent, awaiting its next meal.