One thing saved Ikarus from that first charge. Ikarus’ eyes stung, needles of light piercing his retinas. After so long in pure darkness there was no escaping the pain sight brought. If the light nettled him, it burned the Minotaur. As far as he knew it had gone seven years without seeing light.

The beast bellowed, it’s head lowered and tossing. It’s steps were uneven. Tears leached from the corners of it’s large black eyes. Grunting it stumbled before reaching Ikarus. It’s horns crashed into the wall, showering him in dust and bits of rock. Coughing, the beast backpedaled, swinging it’s blood-stained muzzle.

Aigle grabbed at his hand. “Run.” Her eyes were blank with terror. She yanked him backwards, her heel skidding on the lose string. His gaze flickered to the beam of solid sun flame and back at her pale face. Even with her hair wild and matted, her cheeks gaunt and streaked with dirt, and her chiton too large, she was pretty. His thoughts churned slowly. What would Aigle be doing if she wasn’t trapped in the labyrinth? Preparing for her wedding? A small smile guttered at the corners of his lips. She’d make a man happy, he thought, in her rough way. Not Theseus, he could see it now. They were just friends. Dear friends. But someone else. She deserved to be happy.

“Ikarus!” she pleaded. Water from her eyes cleaned her cheeks. Her nose was red. “Run!” He wanted to listen to her for once before they died, he felt he could do that for her at least. Picking up his legs was too hard. His feet were encased in heavy ice. It was as if he moved through honey. Every pace was an exhausting battle.

He just wanted to sit down.

Aigle’s expression hardened. Her pulse throbbed in her neck. He saw the twinge of the overworked artery. Then her palm connected with his cheek.

She slapped him with enough force to turn his head.

His jaw dropped. If he’d had a free hand, he would’ve grabbed his pink cheek. “What- why-” His mind scrambled to life, eyes stretching wide.

Keeping Aigle behind him, Ikarus faced the Minotaur. The beast roared, shaking it’s head and blinking. The muscles beneath its dense, coarse coat were chiseled. It’s horns were a gleaming eggshell as if they’d been polished. Blood and froth lined ruby teeth. Dangling from between to incisors was a strip of peachy, human flesh. Ikarus couldn’t tear his gaze from it. The tattered skin was thin as fruit peelings. His stomach soared even more.

The beast staggered a step. The two froze their slow backwards gait. Releasing Aigle, Ikarus raised a hand, palm out. From the inhuman snout issued a lowing growl. The muscles of its humanoid arms bulged and tensed. Its nostrils flared. “Stay,” Ikarus said as if he was just trying to placate an errant palace hound. Steam rose from the beast’s moist nose. “That’s it. Stay there. Steady, Aigle.” The two began to shuffle backwards once more.

A pink, unruly tongue lashed from the creature’s mouth. The growl rose in pitch. It took three paces, arms swinging. Ikarus was drenched in sweat. Flies and fleas reveled on the beast’s musty pelt. Too close, Ikarus’ heart jabbed at his ribs, it’s too close. He clenched the weaving sword like a knife.

Locking eyes with Ikarus, the Minotaur bellowed and charged.

Eyes stretching Ikarus held his ground, widening his stance. He could at least give Aigle a chance to find Theseus and escape. He searched the monster’s wild expression. There must be something human there. Ariadne has always thought so… what did she say his true name was? His mind was blank as a slab of clay. The tips of those magnificent horns gleamed. Time seemed to pause, the heartbeats dragging. Death was sure to be a never-ending agony. What is the beast’s name? He’d laughed when Ariadne had first used it and she’d never uttered it in his presence again. “What kind of monster has a human name?” he chuckled.

Little Ariadne stared at her sandals, face aflame. “He’s not a monster! He didn’t ask to be born this way!”

Ikarus had picked her a flower to apologize, and they’d never discussed it again.

He just couldn’t remember a name…

Just before the Minotaur reached them the light grew more intense. Flames flickered on the wall above them, casting long shadows. Ikarus dared to remove his gaze from the beast to see a heroic figure perched on the wall. It was Theseus, brandishing a fiery torch in one hand and his club in the other. He held the flames aloft, his expression stoney enough to match the atmosphere. Theseus must’ve ignited the torch from atop one of the walls, which in turn reflected off of the gold paintings and etchings, giving the appearance that the whole maze was lit.

Most amazing was that his eyes weren’t death-hollow, they carried no ghosts. The flames made the sea-foam irises spark with life. His eyes were flecked with artificial starlight, as if they really were in a nighttime meadow-

Starlight.

Ikarus gasped.

“Asterion!” he yelled, eyes fever-bright. “You were named Asterion, meaning star. Your sister, Ariadne, told me that. Do you remember her, Ariadne?”

The beast wavered, his large nostrils contracting. His charge became a canter. His wet, drippy gaze focused on Ikarus. Lifting his head a bit, so that the dagger horns weren’t aimed to puncture Ikarus’ chest, the beast wobbled, top heavy. As he readjusted his stance, his lips stained that pink tongue and red flesh hanging out and flapping to and fro as he shook his head. Ikarus’ eyes narrowed. With sudden clarity he saw in the beast’ high cheekbones a human face, beneath disheveled fur a man’s torso, under an arcane stench a person’s skin, and reflected in the Minotaur’s gaze, pain.

Ikarus’ chin wobbled, his vision blurred. He turned his hand palm-up and whispered gentle as a lullaby, “Asterion. Let us be friends.” There was starlight, glistening and beautiful in the beast’s eyes too. The inventor’s son edged forward, the conversation with Ariadne when they were children flowing through his ears. It is not Asterion’s fault that he was born a monster…

As if in a trance, head sloshing from side to side, the Minotaur matched Ikarus’ movements. The youth felt like he did when he was holding out apples to the palace horses with the princess. He made no sudden movements, afraid to startle the huge beast. While he saw the humanity in him, read it in the unsure flick of the beast’s tail and haggard expression, he was aware of the power in him. The bone-crushing jaws, limb-rending hands, body-snapping hooves. Human flesh still fluttered in his stark jaws. Hair still bristled on the beast’s back. The Minotaur seemed to be fighting against his instincts just as Ikarus was.

“That’s it, Asterion…”

Heavy-lidded, more docile than Ikarus ever imagined seeing him, the beast lowered his sniffling nose towards Ikarus’ outstretched palm.

Theseus pounced from the wall, dropping the torch, and taking the club in both hands. With the momentum of his fall he struck the Minotaur across the back of the head. There was a resounding crunch.

“No!” Ikarus shouted but it was too late.

The Prince of Athens landed in a neat stoop, club damp. The Minotaur roared, the sound flooding the passage with pain and betrayal. Rage glazed his black eyes. The beast swung, lowering great horns to face Theseus.

Dusting off his tunic, Theseus met Ikarus’ shocked stare. “Go.”

Numb, Ikarus hesitated a moment. Panting, Aigle snagged his arm and tugged him past the beast. Without glancing their way, the Minotaur swung at them. His arm sailed over their heads, Aigle pulling Ikarus to the ground just in time. A whoosh of air forced his ears to pop.

Theseus lunged, his shadow long in the torchlight. The fire sputtered and spit from the ground, nestled in the crook of the wall. Instead of all-encompassing as it was before, the light now seemed trapped and small, lighting only that passage. There was another crunch and roar as Theseus brought the club down like a hammer onto the beast’s shoulder. The beast howled and thundered at the prince.

Ikarus blinked away the numbness and stumbled after Aigle as she ran into the dark. Just before leaving the pool of light Ikarus saw a jut of stone protruding from the wall. It was formed when the Minotaur’s first charge had gone wrong, extending from the broken crater in a jagged line. The inventor’s son hurriedly wrapped the slack string over the point, weaving sword stuck in his hand. Then, wincing at the clatter and pained grunting of the fight, Ikarus bolted after Aigle.

She hadn’t gotten far. He followed the sound of her frantic, weary footfalls as she trailed the wall. He slipped his free hand into hers without hesitation, the glowing thread creating a beacon. “Where are we going?” There was no inflection in her voice. She sounded exhausted.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know. Somewhere water trickled and chugged. He pressed his eyes shut tight. Think, Ikarus!

What does a caged beast need?

Food, water, entertainment…

Food… Water…

His eyes tore open to the dark and the blazing string. Water. That was it. There must be three entrances and exits. They already knew that one steep shoot was used to provide food. Another more private duct was used to insert the entertainment- the tributes. Somewhere nearby was rushing water. An underground river or stream must be what provided the beast water.

The water must be fresh and moving… it must lead to a way out!

His father had told him the answer! He’d known it all along. A crazed grin split his face. “Come on!” He yanked Aigle towards the sound, following the twists and turns of the labyrinth. Aigle, for once, didn’t argue. Relying on his ears, Ikarus jogged for what felt like eternity chasing the sound. They tripped over smooth objects that rolled and rattled. Ikarus tried not to think of them as bones though certainly that’s what they were.

They found the edge of the stream by almost stepping into it. Only the shushing sound of the sleek current and the soft splash of droplets halted Ikarus before he literally led Aigle into unknown waters. Handing Aigle the string, Ikarus kneeled and plunged his hand into the stream.

The cold sucked at his fingers and made goosebumps erupt on his arms. A fresh wave of energy swelled within him. He leaned in up to his elbow but couldn’t feel the bottom. The current was strong, he tensed his muscles against it. He guessed that it was deep but not so deep that the Minotaur couldn’t stand upright and wade across. Minos wouldn’t want his monstrous stepson drowning.

“It must lead somewhere,” Ikarus said aloud as he stood and took back the thread. It was a fiery vein aglow in the dark. His fingers skimmed Aigle’s. “I think the stream might lead us out. It could carry us all the way to the ocean.”

“To the sharks? We’d be at Poseidon’s mercy. A riptide could cast us far from land,” she chuckled but there was no chill to it. Her words were a tired ache in his muscles. “What if it takes us underground?”

“We must chance it.” There’s no other choice.

She took a sharp inhale. “How will Theseus know where we went?”

“I won’t let go of the thread.”

A bellow shook the maze, long and drawn out. A human scream followed, of pain or fury, Ikarus didn’t know. His mouth set in a grim line. Aigle clasped his hand and together they jumped.

Bubbles streamed from his mouth as the air pushed between his lips to watery freedom. His lungs screamed and burned. The current slammed his head to the doorframe again and again. Aigle was a dead weight, arms wrapped around his waist. The girl had been right, soon after ducking under the water they’d been washed underground. There were no more air pockets, just the sucking stream and the wooden hatch Ikarus had bumped his head against.

Now the threaded needle was shoved into the rusty lock. Ikarus pressed inward and then down with one hand while the other pried at the hinges. The hatch didn’t budge.

His mind swam. Fatigue lobbied on his limbs. The greedy current spun past, seeming to ask for him by name, Ikarus…

Shaking, the inventors son dug the needle in harder. The string seared even underwater, providing a mockery of light. He could see nothing else but its blazing trail. Water probed the inside of his nostrils. His chest shuddered. This can’t be how we die! Kicking, Ikarus rammed his shoulder into the hatch. The screech was deafening. The wood gave way. Ikarus’ head burst through the sticky surface.

Strong, rough hands grasped his shoulders. Ikarus flopped to the dusty floorboards coughing and hacking. Liquid dark as the Styx trickled in rivulets from his hair and robes. He cracked tired eyes to see a burly figure fishing Aigle out. She crouched next to the hatch, spitting, arms trembling. Curling up, he glanced at his scaped hands.

They were empty.

Panic filled him and the inventor’s son scrambled on hands and knees to the hatch. There, gleaming from the lock, was the thread. The weaving sword was stuck fast in the rusty mechanism. Ikarus sat back, vision swaying, and peered up at the hooded apparition. “Are you real?” he mumbled, reaching out. Then he yanked his fingers back as a thought pierced his fragmented mind. Could this be the shade of Androgeus? Was the priest right, did Minos’ lost son watch the tribute with favor? They could be in the Underworld at this very moment. Heart a beating anvil, the boy crawled backwards.

“Of course, I’m real,” the chuckle was serious and quiet. Ikarus went still, blinking hard. Blackness crowded the miraculous sight before him. The man in the cloak dropped his hood and straightened, an oil lamp in his hand. “It’s me, son.”

A sad smile played across Ikarus’ lips. He’d thought he’d never see his father again. He opened his mouth to tell Daedalus this, but exhaustion stole his consciousness before he could. Ikarus was left in the dark once more.