"It's gonna be okay Reyna." Max told me while I paced on the training grounds.

We were in the center of the sword training arena, which was designed like a mini coliseum. Rows of empty benches overlooked the grounds above. One either side of the arena, their were two large wooden doors. One led directly back to the camp, the other was storage room where we held dummies and bails of hay.

"When I get my hands on that assassin. I'm.... I'm going to-" I roared in rage and tossed my sword at the nearest dummy with all of my might. The blade pieces  the dummies head.

Max sat down on the benches after a hard day of sparing with me. He wore a standard purple T-Shirt and cargo shorts. He offered to help me blow some steam off with sword practice, which was a welcome outfit for me.

For him, not so much. He had cuts all over his arms and legs. Nothing serious, but they were a sign of how hard I pressed him. Luckily, he didn't seem to mind.

"We will find him, shorty. I pro-"

"Stop calling me shorty!" I shouted.

He sat back and raised his hands. "Okay okay, sorry about that."

His reaction somehow made me even madder. I kicked the dirt and screamed.

Max stood up and slowly walked towards me while I tried to control my breathing.

"Rey, I'm sorry. I know your upset-"

I tackled him with a hug, resting my head on his broad chest. "I'm sorry. Gwen told me I need to get better with controlling my emotions and you did nothing wrong. You don't need to apologize."

Max chuckled softly and accepted my hug, his powerful arms holding me gently. "It's alright Rey. I get it. There's no need to apologize to me. When..... when Ben died, I had the same reaction. Im just happy Jason made it out okay."

I pulled away from him, feeling a little better. I looked him in the eye and then pushed him. He barely budged form the push.

"What was that for?" He asked, a puzzled look on his face

"What was the deal with you? Back at the meeting? Those things your said to Jason. That wasn't cool." I told him. I had been so preoccupied with Jason these past two weeks, I hadn't spoken to Max this whole time. That argument festered in my mind this whole time.

Max face became serious. "Because I'm right. Look, I'll admit taking it a little to far. But we can't sit around doing nothing! Ben died because John was more concerned about protecting the camp, that it gave our enemies an opportunity to strike at their leisure. Did you really think I was going sit around and let Jason make the same mistake?"

"He wasn't going to make the same mistake." I argued.

Max looked behind him and threw his arms in the air, as if trying to find someone to back him up. "You can't be serious Reyna. I'm not close to the guy, but I saw him every night during our meetings. He was running himself ragged. He wasn't in the state of mind to make any decisions, much less one as big as this one."

Max walked over and grabbed his sword. He stabbed it in the ground between us. "And I'm just going to flat out say it. Jason is not cut out to be a Praetor."

I kicked the sword away and got into Max's face. "Jason is more then capable of being a Praetor."

"Maybe with someone else as Praetor besides him. But unfortunately Sam is not cut out to be Praetor either. It's a two man job for a reason, Rey. And if one person is going to do it, it should be someone capable of making the hard choices no one else can. Jason is too goodie goodie to be that person." Max responded back.

As much as I wanted to uppercut him in the chin again for saying that, a small part of me couldn't help but agree with him. The conversation I had with John played on repeat in my mind.

"So what now? What's your big plan to stop the coming threat? Is it to carelessly throw our legionnaires lives at an enemy we know nothing about?" I asked him.

Max shrugged. "I have ideas, but I've already filed a motion with the Senate. An emergency meeting is already scheduled for next week Friday to discuss if Jason is fit to lead the legion or not. A vote will be taken and I'll be running for Praetor."

I pushed him again, incredulous. "Max! You asshole, why would you do that!?"

"I'm not letting another incident happen again!" Max shouted back. "We need to make a move!"

I marched away, feeling betrayed. How could he do that to Jason?

But before I could leave the sword arena, someone I didn't recognize entered the arena through the large wooden doors.

"Who are-" I pulled out my sword from the dummy I stabbed in the head and faced the intruder. "Stop right there!"

Max rushed to my side, his sword in hand. "Stop! Drop the sword!"

The older man dropped his bronze sword, which was laced in golden ichor. The man had a clipped grey beard and short grey hair. He could have been in his 50s, but he was very well built for a guy his age. He wore black mountain climbing pants, combat boots, and a bronze plate over an orange shirt. His hazel eyes were bloodshot and his bronze tanned skin was spotted with golden ichor as well.

Despite looking like he just fought some terrible monster, he was calm. He dropped the sword and raised his hands into the air.

"Sorry, I didn't expect the labyrinth to drop me here." The old man said. "The name is Quintus."

****************************

"Do you want to deal with the good cop or the bad cop!? Cause I'm both!" Sam yelled at Quintus.

Gwen, Max and I collectively slapped out foreheads, while the three of us watched from the outside the cell Sam and Quintus were in. The two of them sat across each other, with only a small wooden table between them. Aregentum and Aurum flanking Sam, sitting attentively.

Quintus turned his attention to the three of us. "This is your leader? Are you sure?"

Gwen sighed. "Unfortunately yes."

Sam looked at the three of us. "C'mom that wasn't too bad, right?"

The old man sighed. "I've already told you, there is very powerful magic preventing me from telling you the full scope of the issue. Understand I am an ally, I promise."

Sam turned his attention to the dogs, they remained motionless. "Oh yeah!" He shouted at Quintus. "Then why are you wearing an orange shirt, huh!?"

Quintus raised an eyebrow. "What does an orange shirt have to do with anything? It's my uniform for a summer camp I'm from."

While Sam continued to interrogate him in vain, hopelessly trying to explain why orange shirts are bad, a distance memory suddenly appeared in my mind.

I opened the gates of the jail cell and stepped inside. "Sam get out."

Sam raised his hands. "I tried."

I helped him with his crutches and he hobbled out of the jail cell. I took a seat across from Quintus and leaned forward.

"Where did you get that shirt?" I asked.

Quintus squinted. "From a summer camp I work at." He repeated.

The dogs remained neutral.

"And what did you do at the summer camp? If you don't mind me asking."

Quintus tried to speak, but for a spilt second, his mouth contorted strangely. He grimaced. "I teach troubled children sword fighting skills."

The dogs rubbed their ears, but remained in position.

To an untrained eye, it would have looked like he spoke normally, but I could see the truth.

I sat back. "He's not lying."

Sam banged his crutches on the cell. "What? He said he taught sword lessons. How does that have anything to do with powerful magic?"

I crossed my arms. "Whoever casted this spell is a real expert at speech manipulation. He won't be able to tell us anything about the camp to the east, but he's from
it."

The old man shrugged. "I'm from a camp in the east, but I can't confirm or deny it's the one your referring to." He sat back and crossed his arms. "Who taught you about speech manipulation? It's a very powerful form of magic. And those dogs? They can sense if I speak the truth or not, correct? Excellent craftsmanship, I wonder who built them."

I wasn't too sure on the greyhounds, but I shrugged. "Circe taught me magic."

If the old man had water in his mouth, he would have spit it out. "That old witch is still alive?"

I leaned forward. "You say that like you knew her. Do you?"

The old man chuckled, but he was hiding something and it had nothing to do with the spell casted over him. "I'm old, but I'm not that old. I've read stories is all."

I sat back against, curiously the dogs leaned forward. "Well she's dead, so no need to worry."

I said that with a little more emotion then I intended, but thankfully the old man didn't pry.

"So why are you here?" I asked. "Can you tell us that?"

The old man thought carefully about his next words. "I'm here....to warn your camp. A threat is coming. And it's coming through the labyrinth."

"The labyrinth." Gwen repeated. "As in, THE LABYRINTH? The one from the stories? With the Minotaur? Built by Daedalus?"

The old man nodded, a pained expression on his face, as if he had heard that story one too many times. "Yes. But unfortunately this isn't a simple maze in Ancient Greece anymore. The labyrinth has expanded its reach across the globe and its power has grown astronomically."

"In what ways?" I asked.

Quintus signed. "I imagine your camp has a very powerful barrier to defend against intruders, correct?"

"Of course." I responded.

"Well how would I have managed to enter your camp, without being deterred by your barrier or at least being detected?" He asked me.

I sat forward. "The labyrinth can be used to cross the border?"

The old man nodded. "Absolutely. The labyrinth is a living machine. It's entrances and exits constantly shifting and changing. Time itself flows differently down there."

Gwen kicked the bars of the cell. "That's how Luke got in last summer. No wonder Terminus didn't detect him. We need to let him know so he can scout out for potential entrances. "

Max shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Luke.

Sam made a popping noise. "I'm going to guess a quest is about to be needed to explore said, powerful maze."

The old man nodded in agreement. "If you wish to stop the coming threat, possibly."

"Who's coming from the labyrinth? And how do you know so much about the labyrinth?" Max asked.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but then grunted in annoyance. "Enemies..... friends. Enemies from places you'd expect, others from places you wouldn't. The same is true for your friends. Look for......." The man slammed the table. "Foolish gods. Have they never heard the phrase 'divide and conquer'! Do not fall for their deceptions, Romans. Your enemy is not-"

Suddenly his body contorted in painful ways. He gasped and started shaking violently, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull. With his head facing the ceiling, i could make out a tattoo of a delta on his neck.

I turned to Gwen. "What's going on?"

Gwen tried to open the gates. "The doors not opening, the door. Sam where's the key!"

He started helping her on one leg. " It was never locked in the first place! Rey get away from him!"

Max joined in, the three of them trying to open the cell doors. Quintus was now foaming at the mouth, I rushed forward to help him.

"Quintus! Are you-"

He grabbed my throat and squeezed. "GIVE IT BACK!" A woman's voice, not his own, echoed from deep within his throat. His mouth was still open, gaging profusely.

I struggled against his grip, punching  him in the face to little success. The greyhounds rushed forward and but down on his legs, trying to tear them apart.

Max shook the gates violently. "Let her go!" He yelled in desperation. He pulled with such force the brinks holding the bars in place started to spread dust across the cell. Gwen and Sam joined him.

"The... body!" Quintus said, in his own voice.

"GIVE IT BACK YOU ROMAN THEIF!" The voice echoed from deep within him. "YOU HAD NO RIGHT! NO RIGHT TO TAKE MY TITLE!"

I felt myself losing consciousness, his grip was like steel.

"Kill..... the body!" Quintus managed to say in between the rants of the possessor.

I started flaying my right hands wildly towards the cell door, scratching Sam's fingers. Quintus's grip was so hard, I could feel my wind pipe being crushed.

Thankfully Sam understood and placed a dagger in my hand.

I wish I could have said sorry before I stabbed Quintus in the neck, over and over again, while black oil gushed all over me.