The progress of the arch stopped just as suddenly as it began. The light streams reaching towards it froze in place, the color becoming a faded icy blue.

"So, that's it?" Ben asked. "I thought it would be something grander, somehow."

"Well, you can always bleed on it a bunch more," Pritchett said and tapped the sword's handle for emphasis.

"Nah, maybe later. Let's check out this small tunnel." Ben said. They went through the tunnel heading left, Ben having to bend his head as the already restrictive tunnel became smaller. "You know, usually I get really uncomfortable and sort of creeped out in small spaces," he said.

"Is there a but coming on?"

"Nope. Just a warning, if I start flailing and kicking wildly." Ben replied, but it turned out he didn't need to, as the tunnel opened into a wider room.

There was no other way out but the tunnel, which was worrying, to say the least. The room held no discernible qualities, being made out of sickly green bricks, affected badly by the passage of time. A thick barricade split the room in half, going from the floor up to the ceiling. Its surface obstructed by a grey growth. Quickly checking if there was no secret exit by pressing a few bricks at random, Ben went to the middle of the room and stared at the opaque silvery-grey surface.

He had shoved the little crab in his jacket pocket as to not save the little guy some walking and not exhaust himself. Now, the crab clacked and moved every which way, wanting to be released. Letting him go on the ground, the crab ran head-first onto the middle of the room, giving the huge plate of grey a smack with his shell.

It was like a pebble in a pond, little waves spreading from the point of impact to the furthest reaches of the plate, the grey surface clearing as the waves passed. Instead, colors swirled and burst, becoming a facsimile of reality, showing a startling image.

Ben immediately recognized the Sergeant and from Pritchett's intake of breath, so did he. It must have been only a few hours past daybreak, and only around a day since their original capture but the Sergeant looked as if he had aged years.

His hands were chained to hooks and spread apart as the man dangled helplessly in the air, much like a hunted animal put up to drain. Hoses ran from pools of golden ichor up into his body, entering through cuts made between his ribs. Ben could see somebody in a dirty brown coat use a pump to move the golden ichor up through the hose.

Sergeant Davies began to cry suddenly, his stone-like facade breaking down. They could not hear him on the other side of the glass and Ben was thankful for it, as the man began to howl and gnash his teeth, shaking violently in trying to free himself. The magical concoction made seemed to rot him from the inside out, the pallor of his skin changing to a dull and sickly grey, the texture changing to look akin to rock.

The Sergeant's eyes rolled back into his skull, and his head fell down, the man falling unconscious. Pritchett began to strike at the surface with the sword, the slashes bouncing off, causing little showers of sparks.

"Stop," Ben said. "I hardly think a little iron is going to breach through this thing. Never mind that it's probably further away, closer to the surface."

"What are you saying? Just help me break it."

"It's not here, in the same room as us. This thing and the Sergeant, they are someplace else." Ben tapped the surface of the wall, and the images flickered, switching to a different view of a sunny desert and a small oasis with a quaint house next to it. "You've never heard of witches and their crystal balls? It's the same principle."

Pritchett covered his mouth with one of his hands and leaned on the wall. "We have to go back and do something. I can't just let him die like that. And it's not only him, Aetna and Tillby too. I'm sure that umbrella donning shit didn't forget about them." Then suddenly he turned towards Ben, hate in his eyes, "If you let Davies die on that beach, he could have avoided all of this. At least that was a soldier's death, dignified, not this nightmare. He'll end up like those dogs, staring at us with those empty eyes, happy to tear us to pieces."

Ben kept quiet, and let Pritchett work out his anger by swinging the sword at the magic wall a bit more. He shoved himself back into the small tunnel and careful as to not twist sideways and get his shoulders stuck, he made it back out and into the room with the arch.

He tried the door again, even shoving himself against it and giving it a kick, but it would not budge. Ben looked around and saw that the crab had followed him, along with the shadow blob. The creature had shrunk down into a smooth ball with small legs protruding from its sides, and two little crab-like arms. Soon after it began tussling with the crab, who pinched it angrily.

Ben slid down, with his back against the door and closed his eyes. He could hear the loud scratching caused by the two creatures fighting. The images on the magic wall had to have been sent by the Witch. The fact that it had only shown them the Sergeant when the crab hit it and then the image of the desert that seemed all too familiar to Ben.

Pritchett's yell startled Ben and he realized the scratches were coming from right behind the door. The door shook and groaned as it was forced open. A giant bull's head pushed through the opening, the jet of air coming from its nostrils scalding Ben where it touched his skin. Quickly hitting the bull's head, it was pushed back and with Pritchett's help, he managed to close the door. It would not hold for long, as the bull's madden bellow could be heard on the other side.

"The arch," Ben said to Pritchett.

"Don't let go," Pritchett said as he jumped back, and cut open his palm over the small stone circle. The man pressed his bleeding hand against the fine black sands to no effect. "Everett." He yelled and shook his head.

"Goddamn it," Ben said, sweat falling in his eyes from the effort of keeping the door closed. "Alright, switch with me."

Ben ran over to the stone circle, tripping over his legs in his haste. He unfurled the makeshift bandage and used the edge of the sword that Pritchett had left in the circle to re-open his wound. He closed his eyes against the sting of it.

As blood flowed so did the magic, with the arch beginning to slowly reassemble itself at first, but picking up speed as it went. When he judged it stable enough, Ben clamped his hand closed against the wound and called out for Pritchett. The crab and the shadow waited nervously by Ben's feet. Ben grabbed the crab while the shadow blob turned into a snake and twisted its way around his arm, putting pressure on the cut.

In the middle of the arch, a spider's web of intricately woven magic bloomed. The lines crossed each other, falling down towards the ground, the shapes taking on the facsimiles of the two people.

Pritchett gave up guarding the door and ran straight for the arch. The moment he reached the middle of the arch, he vanished without a trace.

Now, there was only one shape depicted by the spider's web, and Ben could see that the arch was cracking on its sides, the potency of the magic vanishing second by second.

Two horns punctured the door, breaking it into little bits of wood and metal. The bull roared, its lithe panther body pressing down close to the ground, ready for a strike, its four wings spread out, hitting the doorway.

His curiosity now sated, and not wanting to find out what other monstrosities lay in the freakish Labyrinth, Ben jumped through the archway.