Spirit groaned as she began to sit up. "Just a nightmare." She said before opening her eyes. Her eyes widened looking over at the Maestro sitting in the corner of the ballroom, with his knees up to his face.

"I'm sorry . . . I'm so, so sorry. That was no nightmare. It was all real." He said sheepishly, with tears forming in his eyes. "I'm sorry you got involved." Maestro stood up, walked toward Spirit, and extended a warm hand to pick her up. She obliged.

"I have somewhere I need to take you." He said starting to walk her to wherever it was they needed to go. His touch was surprisingly warm, and soft, and Spirit didn't mind following. "I'll explain everything on our way. We only have a little over a day to get this done." He said, taking his hand away for a mere moment to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"I'm not exactly sure how to explain everything though." Maestro said with a very weak, miserable smile.

"Starting from the very beginning is always a good idea." Spirit said, also with a feeble smile.

"Well, once upon a time, this place was a happy, beautiful place. It was home to a man named Orpheus, and his wife and family. Everyone in the town called him the Maestro, and he was well loved by the town because every day he would fill the town with the most beautiful music ever. So beautiful in fact, that nature itself would lean in to listen. " Maestro said, as they passed through the halls.

"Really? I've heard very different stories about you." Spirit said cutting Maestro off.

"Hm? Oh no, I wasn't the original Maestro. I don't even have the same name as him." Maestro explained with a small blush.

"Well then, what is your name?"

"Michael," The Maestro answered. "I prefer being called by my real name anyway." Michael pursed his lips, for a second. "I should keep telling the story."

"Go ahead, shoot."

"A-alright," Michael started with a nervous stutter. "Well, over the years something vile, and evil decided that they wanted to break the peace, and shatter the happiness. He came here, now regarded as Someplace Else. He took over, and enslaved the Maestro, and his family, and those who died were forced to stay here forever, so that they could still serve him." Michael continued with a shiver.

"Would 'he,' happen to be the one who was holding a blade to my neck?" Spirit asked, feeling a chill herself.

"Yes, his name is Daemon. He has kept every poor soul in this house here for years." Michael balled his fists, and stiffened at the memory of the knife being pressed against Spirit's neck. "Twelve years ago, Maestro had a son. He was born into all this, and unfortunately this is all he's ever known. He knew it wasn't right though, and one day he went against Daemon's wishes. His entire family was killed in front of him, and he was tortured, thrown into pure darkness for five days. He was never the same, and has been terrified of the dark ever sense."

"That's terrible," Sprit said in a whisper

"And that's not the end of it. Daemon took away his true form, and forced him to bring him people from the town, so he could eat their hearts." Michael grimaced at another painful memory.

"Will we see Maestro's son?"

Michael hesitated. "Maybe, if we get this right." Now they were standing in front of the immense maze. Let's get this gone, and over with. Don't worry father, I'm coming . . .

"Your story makes so much sense, you know." Spirit said looking over at Michael, as the pair walked into the labyrinth.

"Well it was true. I have no reason to lie to you. How exactly does it fit though? I thought everyone in the town had disowned this place by now." Michael asked, with his hands clasped behind his back. He had his head tilted slightly as he waited for an answer. He looked rather childish walking like that, and Spirit had to laugh.

Her smile faded though. "They have, but I've noticed something. No one plays music, no one sings, and no one dances, with the exception of the kids. I heard people even the mayor mutter to themselves, 'not as beautiful,' or 'can never be replaced,' when they hear music."

Michael smiled, and a faint blush came to his face. "I guess no one's forgotten Maestro yet. That's a relief, but I'm going to hate seeing their faces when his son tells them he's gone." Michael's expression grew solemn. He squeezed his hands, and he tensed. "He's really gone forever. . ."

Spirit heaved a small sigh. That was sad. He seemed like a nice man. Whoever his son was, he was incredibly lucky to have him. Seeing his father killed like that right in front of him, his entire world must have come crashing down. Spirit thought to herself.

"Say, I never gave you the chance to tell me your name." Michael said softly, cutting off the sad moment, and keeping his head down.

"Oh, yeah, my name's Spirit." Michael's head craned up, and he smiled.

"Spirit? That's unusual."

"Yeah, I think it's creepy." Michael laughed, and Spirit tensed a little seeing the small grin on his face.

"Well. . . I like it, and it suits you. You're full of spirit." Spirit relaxed at the comment, and smiled back.

By this time, Spirit had pulled out her flashlight, and had a lighter in her bag just in case, she even had some flint she had kept from a field-trip. To her surprise, Michael looked extremely relieved when she said that she had the flashlight, and lighter handy. That was strange. If he was already dead, why would he have any reason to worry about walking through the dark?

"Michael,"

"Hm?"

"Is there anyone else still alive here at Someplace Else other than Maestro's son?" Spirit asked, and Michael hesitated. The look on his face looked like one that was remembering a painful memory.

"Yes, Daemon always liked toying with me, and. . ." Michael let out a sigh, and stopped to think. He hated lying like this to someone's face, but he didn't want anyone's sympathy; he just wanted someone to care for him without that. He felt a pang in his heart as he continued. "I really have no idea why I'm still breathing. A lot of people would just like to end it all, but if I did that then he'd still win. Once I was given a chance to save this family, I took it. That's why we're running this labyrinth. . ." Michael said still walking on. Then out of nowhere he stopped. A look of shock overtook his eyes.

"What is it?" Spirit asked, concerned. Michael bit his lip, and slumped down the wall.

"This can't be happening." He whispered. He bit his thumbnail, and squinted his eyes in frustration. "We haven't made one turn; we've just been going strait, and we're going in circles. Dammit, dammit! We've already wasted an hour!" Michael shouted kicking one of the stones on the ground, and making it break against the wall. He eyes glowed sky-blue with fury. "Tricks unnumbered, and dangers untold!" Michael put his hands to his head and brought his head to his knees, and gave a loud grunt of defeat. "Just like that novel, with that blasted Goblin King!"

Spirit stopped for a moment, and thought it out. "Maybe that's it." Michael looked up at her, unsure of what she was implying. "You're right; it is like the Goblin King's Maze, meaning that there are turns. We just have to find them." Michael looked up with some surprise, feeling stupid, and slow.

Spirit put her hands against one of the walls, and ran her hand against it, trying to find a corner, and sure enough, she found one. She grabbed Michael's hand and pulled him into the passage.

Both Spirit and Michael looked around nervously at the things they hadn't noticed coming into the maze. There was a strange moss with appendages that looked too much like eyes for comfort. Thick, black vines were wrapped around the walls, and ravens gathered at the top, squawking mockingly. Michael didn't seem scared, but he looked suspicious that someone was watching him and Spirit, just waiting to trip them both up. His eyes glowed a faint molten gold, even letting the whites of his eyes turn scarlet, hoping to scare Daemon's servants away.

This would have scared anyone, but he was only aiming his glare at the ravens, and the moss, and the other things that they came across. When he looked at Spirit, however, those eyes were the brightest, warmest, deep, chocolate-brown that she had ever looked at. As they walked, making their way together, Spirit pressed herself against Michael, and he didn't mind, and he actually liked it. You would think he would be cold to the touch, but that wasn't the case. He was warm, tender, and solacing.

Michael thought about the labyrinth. They had been in here for about another two hours, and they hadn't come across any false alarms yet, meaning they were probably on the wrong track. That, or the idea of the false alarms were themselves false alarms. Michael bit his lip, a little confused as to which was which.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small tug on his sleeve. Spirit was pressing harder against him, and was anxiously looking up at the owls gathering at the top of the labyrinth's walls. Michael glared at them with molten gold, and scarlet eyes, but the owls didn't budge. This isn't good. This is bad. . . This is really, really bad. . . Those things are definitely not barn owls. Michael kept a close eye on them, hoping that they weren't going to do anything.

He pulled Spirit closer to himself, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, with rather heavy eyes. "If anything happens, I want you to run away as fast as you can, and I mean as fast as you can. Don't hold back, and don't look back. Do you understand, Spirit?" Spirit nodded half-heartedly. Michael softened his eyes and looked at Spirit once more, clasping her hand in his. "I need you to promise me. If anything were to happen to you, my entire world would come crashing down. I don't want anyone else to get hurt ever again. So I'll ask one last time. Do you understand? Will you run away, and save yourself?"

Spirit pursed her lips as Michael continued. "Don't worry about me; I'm nothing. Worry about yourself; you are everything. You're a manifestation of all the love and happiness taken away from this god-forsaken place, and I don't want that to be gone. I want you to live on and forget everything here. Don't look back; forget. Go home where you'll be safe and be welcomed with warm, open arms. No one loves this place, and no one cares about my home. No one dares to step foot here, and I want it to stay that way. No one cares about me, and you shouldn't either. Just get out of here while you still can. No one deserves to go through this Hell."

Spirit looked at him with the hardest eyes Michael had ever seen. "You're right. . ." she whispered. Michael looked at her with surprise, but he let her continue. "No one deserves to go through what you're going through now, yourself included!" she shouted. "And you know what, after seeing you crying in front of the window when I first saw you, I did care! Even before the you told me what happened here at Someplace Else! You're a human being, and you should have better!" She paused, clenching her fists. "I'm going to get you out of here. . ."

Michael was taken aback, but a smile pulled at the sides of his mouth. She cared that much from the very beginning, and she cared enough to risk her own life. . . She loved him, and he loved her.