The Labyrinth Keys

The air in the car is thick with unspoken tension. Finn sits behind the wheel, humming a tune to himself like we're on a casual road trip—not headed into uncharted territory with a treasure map that might as well have a skull and crossbones drawn on it. His carefree grin and bobbing head don't match the weight pressing down on my chest.

Rin is in the back seat, her boots kicked up on the console between us, one leg crossed lazily over the other. Her crimson eyes flick between the view outside the window and me in the passenger seat, like she's sizing up whether I'm worth the trouble.

She hasn't said much since we left Finn's place, but the occasional click of her tongue or scoff is more than enough.

"You could at least pretend to enjoy the ride," Finn says, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "It's not every day we get to do something this exciting!"

Rin responds with her characteristic tongue-click. "Not exactly what I had in mind for my Sunday."

The ride itself is rough, given the desert wasteland filled with jagged red rocks. Finn's car, though, is suited for the job—a four-seater off-road jeep with reinforced wheels. Finn takes pride in his dark black jeep, and I've heard him say more than once, It's as reliable as the moon rising every night.

I point out the window as I study the map spread across my lap. "Should be a minute or so that way."

Finn nods. "What do you think we're looking for, Captain Jack?"

I snort at the nickname. "Not sure. I guess a structure of some kind, but if we don't see anything, well... we've got shovels. We can dig around a bit."

Rin scoffs. "I'm not digging in the mid-summer heat with you two boneheads."

I turn around with a mock smile. "Oh, you don't have to. I'm sure you can walk back to town."

Rin opens her mouth to retort, but before she can, something catches my eye. Finn is driving fast enough that I almost miss it.

"Stop!" I grab his arm.

Finn looks startled but does as I ask, braking to a halt a few yards past the spot.

I get out of the car and start walking back the way we came. The others follow, curiosity outweighing their annoyance. The sun beats down on my head, but I ignore the heat and trudge forward.

"What are you doing?" Rin's voice is like a fly buzzing in my ear.

I don't answer, not yet. Kneeling down, I run my gloved hands over the red sandy soil until I feel something—metal. A latch. This matches the coordinates on the map, but it still doesn't make sense. How can there be a latch in the middle of nowhere?

I brush away more dirt and try to pull it open. The handle doesn't budge, no matter how hard I tug.

Finn crouches beside me. "What is it?"

"Some kind of latch," I reply, glancing at his still-playful expression. "I can't even get the damn thing to move."

Rin steps forward, her arms crossed. "Have you tried looking for a keyhole?"

I glare at her, deadpan. "Yeah, didn't think of that. Thanks, genius."

She smirks knowingly, then uses the toe of her boot to kick aside more dirt. Sure enough, a small port is revealed beneath the latch—one that looks like it would fit the chip in my pocket perfectly.

"No problem, Jack," Rin says with a laugh. "It comes with experience."

Grumbling under my breath, I pull the chip out of my pocket and slide it into the port. The fit is exact, clearly designed for this purpose. At first, nothing happens, and I start to think it's a bust. But then, with a soft click, the latch pops open.

"Just like old times," Finn says, chuckling.

He pulls the latch fully open, revealing a deep, dark hole with a ladder descending into what looks like an endless abyss.

"First come, first served," Finn says as he swings his legs onto the ladder.

Before I can respond, he grabs the chip out of the port and pockets it. Then, with practiced ease, he slides down the ladder into the darkness. Rin follows without hesitation, shoving past me like an eager puppy.

I shake my head, watching her disappear into the shadows. "Guess I'm the only one who hesitates around here," I mutter to myself. The sun beats down on my back as I glance around, half-expecting someone—or something—to jump out at us. But there's nothing. Just the vast, empty expanse of red sand and rocks.

With a resigned sigh, I grip the ladder and begin my descent.

The air grows cooler as I descend, the oppressive heat of the desert replaced by an eerie, damp chill. The ladder groans beneath my weight, the echoes bouncing around the shaft. A faint, musty smell rises from below—like wet stone and rusted metal.

When I finally reach the bottom, I find myself in a cavernous room lit faintly by glowing lines etched into the walls. They pulse with a soft, bluish light, illuminating the jagged rock floor and an ancient metal door at the far end of the space.

Finn is already inspecting the door, running his fingers over strange, angular symbols carved into its surface. "Looks like something out of a sci-fi movie," he says, grinning like a kid in a candy store. I walk up to the door and slam my fist on it a few times. The metal is solid, and the handle won't budge at all, even with all my weight behind it. There is no keyhole, so I can assume the lock is internal. It would take a bomb to blast this door open.

I look around the room more closely now. I notice a giant console in the center of the room. We all move towards the console.

Finn's fingers trace the lines on the console, his grin widening as he finds a small slot in its center—the perfect size for the chip. He pulls it out of his pocket with a flourish, glancing back at us.

"Well, here goes nothing," he says, sliding the chip into place.

The console lights up instantly, glowing symbols flaring across its surface. A soft hum fills the room, and a voice crackles to life from hidden speakers—calm, precise, and distinctly robotic.

"System online. Access granted."

The massive door groans, its edges lighting up with the same blue glow as the walls. Slowly, it slides open, revealing a shadowy corridor beyond. Finn lets out a low whistle.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," he says, stepping closer to the console as more text scrolls across its glowing surface.

The voice speaks again, cutting through the silence. "Confirm number of entrants."

Finn leans over the console, scanning the screen. "Looks like it wants me to type in how many of us are here." He types "3" without hesitation and presses enter.

The floor beneath us responds immediately, glowing squares lighting up the floor. The AI speaks once more: "All participants must stand on designated activation points. Proceed."

We look around. Finn is standing on one of the squares already, the other two are beyond the door. Rin frowns, "This could be a trap."

Finn shrugs, his grin faltering slightly but not disappearing entirely. "Could be. But hey, what's an adventure without a little risk?"

I glance over at Rin, her crimson eyes narrowing as she glares at Finn. "You're way too casual about this," she mutters. "What if stepping on those things sets off some kind of trap?"

Finn chuckles, tapping the edge of his square with the toe of his boot. "Well, I'm still standing, aren't I? Worst-case scenario, we'll all die together. Bonding moment, right?"

Rin clicks her tongue in irritation. "You're insufferable."

Rin is right. It could be a trap, but we've come this far already. It would be rather lame to go back empty-handed. Both of us make our way to the squares outside the door. We plant our feet on them.

The moment we step onto the squares, sharp metallic clamps shoot up from the floor, locking around our ankles. I freeze, my heart pounding as I tug against them, but the restraints hold firm.

"Finn!" I shout, panic creeping into my voice. "What the hell is this?"

Finn's head snaps up, his carefree demeanor faltering for the first time. "Whoa, what's going on?" He takes a step toward us, but the AI interrupts.

"Participants secured. Sacrifice protocol initiated."

"What the hell does that mean?" Rin demands, struggling against her restraints.

Clamps made of metal shoot up and restrain Finn's feet too. Finn slams his hands on the console. "Hey, stop! What's this 'sacrifice protocol'?"

The AI responds without hesitation, its tone unwavering. "Sacrifice required to access prize. Two lives for one reward."

"What reward?" Finn asks, his voice tight.

"The power to heal anyone, even the dead," the AI answers.

The room falls deathly silent. My breath catches in my throat as the words sink in. Rin stops struggling, her crimson eyes wide with shock.

Finn stares at the console, his hand trembling as he hovers over the chip slot. "You're saying... I can bring someone back?"

"Affirmative," the AI replies. "Any life may be restored. Sacrifice must be confirmed to proceed."

Rin glares at Finn, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't even think about it."

He doesn't answer right away, his gaze fixed on the glowing console. "You don't understand," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I could fix everything. I could bring her back."

I begin shouting, "Finn, what are you saying! Leona is dead, man! You can't revive the dead!"

Leona was Finn's sister. She was only eight when she died of some kind of flu strain that would have been treatable if they had more money. Finn never truly got over it. They were very close Leona saw him as her hero.

Rin's crimson eyes narrow, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "You're seriously considering this? Sacrificing us for some... some fantasy of fixing the past? Finn, don't be stupid."

As if responding to her skepticism, the AI suddenly speaks again, its robotic tone calm and unyielding. "Demonstration initiated. Observe."

A section of the floor near the console lights up, and a hidden compartment slides open. A small, lifeless lizard lies within, its body stiff and unmoving. A beam of soft, golden light descends from the ceiling, enveloping the creature.

The three of us watch in stunned silence as the lizard's chest begins to rise and fall, its limbs twitching. Within moments, it's fully animated, scurrying out of the compartment as though it had never died.

Finn's breath catches, and his eyes widen in awe. "You see?" he says, his voice trembling. "It's real. It's actually real."

Rin stares at the lizard, then back at Finn, her face pale but her voice steady. "That doesn't mean it's worth the price. Two lives, Finn. Our lives. Is that what you want on your conscience?"

I grab my chains and pull at them, they don't budge at all they are welded to the floor. "This isn't the answer, man. Leona's gone. We're here. Right now. Don't throw that away for some miracle that might blow up in your face!"

Finn's hand hovers over the console, torn between loyalty and the weight of his grief. The room feels like it's holding its breath, waiting for his decision. I remember the day he lost his sister. It was a day I will never forget as long as I live. The pain on his face when he saw me the next day—it was part of the reason the last job we did together failed so spectacularly. We spent months preparing for that job. It would have been our biggest ever. I never should have pushed for him to come with us that day.

There was no sound in the room as Finn seemed to be looking down at his bracelet. Leona made it herself. It was made with beads and carved wood. Finn told me once that his sister gave it to him when their mom died. Leona had told him that the bracelet would always keep their family close. That bracelet was Finn's good luck charm. I suspect it was the thing that truly held him together enough to give the illusion of a carefree man unburdened by the past.

Finn hesitates, his hands clenched into fists. He looks at me, his usual carefree smile replaced by something dark and conflicted.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

Before I can say anything, his hand slams down on the console, confirming the sacrifice.

The room erupts in a blinding light, and the last thing I hear is Rin's furious scream before everything goes black.