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You walk directly across from you, both items buzzing and humming seemingly in confirmation with your choice. It is almost like your companions are with you, though you know they are not. It leaves a pang of loneliness in your heart but you continue on, both for their sacrifices and your own sake.

The next pathway contains angry coding, bouncing and reverberating all throughout the path in a cacophony of movement. The very symbols themselves scream out, and the sound is deafening. It makes you disoriented and without a sense of balance, and it leaves you stumbling through the corridor in a swerving fashion even though the path was completely straight. There is not even a glow to guide you.

You then feel the sorceress’s staff begin to vibrate in your hand.

What do you do?

The three of them walked back through to the original room, Zeke grumbling about losing his jacket the whole way. Myos and Amaya just laughed to each other, and the reed like boy was glad to finally have a warm atmosphere surrounding them again. The trio eyed the other two hallways suspiciously when they got back, deciding between the plush route that had Razzy at the end, and the carnal looking red one that housed Achernar.

“I don’t like the looks of the pink one,” Amaya said, shaking her head wildly. “It looks like Empress Territory to me.”

“But the other one has Achernar,” Zeke muttered, earning a hard whack on his now bare back from Myos.

“I agree with Amaya, and two against one, so you lose,” Myos said, flicking the other’s nose.

“When did heroism become a democracy?” Zeke asked, rubbing the offended spot and glaring down at the other.

“You’re right it’s a dictatorship and I’m the leader, so get a move on,” Myos laughed, and walked towards the admittedly creepy, totally not having any second thoughts about, crimson hallway.

Zeke sighed and fell in step behind Myos and the giggling Amaya, treading down the new hallway directly across from the one they had come. It was unlike any other place on the ship, lacking the futuristic feel of cold, hard technology, as well as the Empress’s signature pink plush. The corridor felt more natural in feel, something that could only be described as basic and animalistic. The aura was threatening and predatory, like they were wandering into a wild animal’s den. The walls were coated in a thick, viscous coat of crimson paint and textured with strange, stringy banded things that looked like veins running down the entire hallway. The ground felt soft and spongy under their feet, and Myos began to feel sick. Though the air was not aromatic in such a way to suggest they were walking through flesh, the visuals were enough to make his stomach turn.

“I hope she’s okay in a place like this,” Amaya whispered, as if she were afraid the walls were listening.

“She’s a fighter, she’ll be fine,” Myos reassured, just as a resounding yell echoed through the tunnel.

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