George gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the voices. He focused on the sound of the beating heart, just as the letter had instructed. It became his only anchor, growing louder and more pronounced as he pressed on.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, George arrived at the source of the sound. A massive, circular chamber stretched before him, its walls pulsating rhythmically with the beating heart of the maze. In the center of the chamber stood an altar, atop which sat a glowing crimson orb, pulsing in time with the walls.
But standing between George and the altar was the guardian.
The creature was unlike the others, twice as large, with an aura of malevolence that made the air around it heavy. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of the fallen: countless skeletal faces and limbs jutted from its torso, screaming silently in eternal agony. Its eyes burned with an unnatural light, and its clawed hands were stained with centuries of blood.
