The torchlight barely met the stone ceiling above the three weary old men. One a soldier in King Alfred’s army, one a noble lord from Cuttenbargh and the other unknown to the others. They had awoken in this strange place of darkness with no recollection of how they had arrived. The soldier, already with sword unsheathed, scanned the black, stone, walls. They had no top… they simply rise, he thought to himself. He tried to withhold his panic but his grimace gave away the dire situation these three men found themselves in.

‘The walls do not end!’ The shout of the stranger shattered the silence and bellowed back from various parts of the chamber. His hooded cloak hid his face well, much to the unease of the other two men. The soldier turned swiftly, swivelling to face the hooded figure, who held just as much mystery as the maze of walls.