Nyxara immediately set off toward the labyrinth, and as soon as she arrived, the entrance seemed to shift. A final blast of scorching volcanic wind whispered “Leave” to her before everything fell silent—there wasn’t even any ground beneath her feet.

  “I feel like I’m walking on air,” she said, and in that very moment, the ground actually vanished beneath her.

  She plummeted nearly a hundred meters into black sludge that, according to a few skeletons, was supposedly corrosive. But just before she hit the surface, one of her dark shadows caught her by the hem of her violet dress.

  “Thank you,” Nyxara said. “But you’d better disappear before the labyrinth notices you’re helping me.”

  The shadow, which had no mouth but grey eyes in its place, simply winked and vanished faster than thought.

  Then she heard something clink beneath her. Looking down, she spotted a coin—its head black, the number white, the edge gray—and it whispered a single word: “Coin.” That kind of coin had always been the trademark of one of her siblings… even though she hadn’t seen them in a long time.

  Nyxara picked up the coin and walked forward with her head held high—only to see the path behind her close, and three others open.

  Suddenly, a giggle echoed through the air. “Hehe, heads, you go right; tails, you go left; edge… you fall deeper into the abyss!” said a female-sounding voice.

  Nyxara snapped back, “Are you crazy?! I’m not going to leave that kind of decision to a simple coin toss!”

  Despite her reply, her eyes widened slightly for a moment.

  “Why are you always so dreadfully boring?” the voice teased, stepping out from the blackest, pitch-dark corner—it was Coincedence, one of Nyxara’s siblings. “Come on! Flip the coin already!” she urged, looking as though she couldn’t wait to see the outcome.

  Nyxara shook her head. “I’ll find the right path without that coin. Unlike you, I actually have a plan for everything!”

  Coincedence pouted and tossed the coin herself. “Then I’ll just do it for you! But if you don’t like the result later, it’s your fault!... Or maybe mine?” she added with a mischievous grin.

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  As the coin fell and revealed what looked like tails, the ground opened up and swallowed it whole before sealing again and flattening out as if nothing had happened.

  “Well, even I didn’t expect that,” said Coin.

  Nyxara responded sternly, “What are you doing here, Coin?! You’re just going to cause a disaster, as always.”

  “Oh come on, I’m just trying to bring some humor into your life!” Coin shot back cheerfully.

  Nyxara, slightly smiling, just shook her head. “You’re impossible. I have to go—I can’t afford distractions.”

  “Ooh, I’m coming with you!” Coin said in an overly enthusiastic tone. “That way, Chance becomes your patron saint, hehe!”

  While Coin was still laughing at her own joke with her eyes closed, Nyxara quietly slipped away.

  So Nyxara continued deeper into the labyrinth. “I’ve already lost too much time.”

  The path behind her closed again, cutting her off from Coin—but this time the ground didn’t vanish. Instead, it began to rise higher and higher. Within seconds, it had lifted her above the height of any mountain she’d ever seen.

  Finally at the top, Nyxara stood before three gates—one black, one white, and one gray.

  “I should’ve tossed the coin after all…” she murmured to herself.

  She couldn’t see what lay behind the doors, as each one was sealed with its respective color. But their smells hinted at what might await. The black door smelled of rot and ash, the white one of fresh mint, and the gray… of both good and bad things, yet unidentifiable.

  Suddenly, the ground behind her began to crumble. She had only seconds to make a choice.

  She chose the white door—and found herself in a frozen snowy landscape. Behind her, the gate had never existed. There was no trace that anything other than an iceberg had ever stood there.

  “Where... where am I?” she asked quietly, taking a few cautious steps forward.

  But she didn’t get far. Something blocked her way… an invisible wall?

  Nyxara tried to find another path forward, but when there was none, she turned and walked in the opposite direction.

  After what felt like an eternity, she reached a village—made entirely of fire-houses. Yet the place was completely abandoned, even though the buildings looked brand new.

  She stepped into one of the empty houses, which had no door, and found… a replica of her childhood home—even a family portrait.

  “What happened here?” she wondered, staring at the picture with a heavy heart.

  Just then, a loud bang echoed. She rushed outside to see what had happened. At first, she saw nothing… but then—

  A shadow?

  As Nyxara followed and caught up to the figure, it revealed itself. Her eyes widened in shock.

  The shadow looked like her mother… but had her father’s eyes.

  One more difference: Nyxara had always been a head shorter than her mother—but she was taller than this being.

  “W-who are you?” Nyxara asked, confused.

  The figure calmly replied that she was Nyxara’s mother.

  Nyxara didn’t believe her. In a firm tone, she told the stranger not to lie. But the woman didn’t react—she simply asked her “daughter” to go to her room and change clothes, claiming she didn’t like Nyxara’s dress.

  That confirmed it—this wasn’t her mother. Her real mother had sewn this dress by hand.

  Still, seeing no point in arguing, Nyxara went to "her" room and opened the wardrobe.

  Every piece of clothing inside—from torn T-shirts to stained pants—looked familiar. But none of it was hers.

  They all looked like clothes once worn by her older sister, Valeria… even though the rest of the room matched Nyxara’s own style.

  “Mother?... Where are my clothes?” she called.

  “You never had any, darling,” came the reply. “You destroyed every gift I ever gave you…”

  Nyxara’s eyes went wide, and her skin turned pale. That’s exactly what Valeria had done.

  “Uh… okay…” was all she could manage to say.

  “What is going on? Where am I? Who is that?” she thought, her heart pounding faster than her thoughts.

  After changing, she stood in front of the mirror to check how the clothes fit.

  The outfit was nothing like her usual style—and she hated the messy, torn clothing.