The moon hung low over the maze, a guardian in pale silver. Celia wandered through the paths, where whispers of forgotten stories lingered in the shadows. She had entered the labyrinth seeking direction, but found only the echo of her own breath and the touch of night against her skin.
Once, she had been certain about the way out. A beckoning light, flickering just beyond sight, had promised escape. Now, the light seemed to dance, leading her deeper into the core of the labyrinth. Each step she took was a step away from certainty, a step into the embrace of uncertainty.
Time looping around her like a serpent. The hours, like grains of sand, slipped through fingers made of mist. In this place, the rules of the world twisted like the hedges surrounding her. She heard voices that were not hers, saw shadows that had no source, and felt the pull of gravity shift unpredictably.
In the heart of the maze, under a canopy of stars, she discovered the well. It whispered secrets in a language long forgotten, inviting her to peer into its depths. The water shimmered with reflections of worlds unseen, of possibilities stretching beyond human comprehension. She hesitated, breath caught in the throat of suspense.
Would she dare to dive, to embrace the unknown? Or would she turn away, forever haunted by what could have been?