I engraved the ancient runes I had written in Luharas into the blank stone tablets before me. They outlined the two great stones that together made a crescent moon. It was the closed doorway I sought–one piece like the bed of fingernail and the other its thin curved tip. All my sacrifice, all my grief that I imprisoned to concentrate instead on finding this doorway. It would all be worth it to see Eluvian’s ancient labyrinth open to me and reap its reward. The gates thundered, sliding open seconds after I etched the last rune in the stone door’s center. It sent echoes down the convoluted tunnels I navigated to arrive here. As it slid, darkness crept from its opening into the cave where I stood. A thick black fog. My lantern was the only thing that allowed me to see it envelop the surrounding air. It ate at its light as it continued to leak. Now, I could only see the bottom half of the dim entrance, my heartbeat the only sound I could hear. The eerie silence unsettled me–made my senses elevate and my stomach tighten trying to detect any noise. I prayed I wouldn’t. A metallic scraping pierced the silence–a slow, methodical sound that radiated from the blackened doorway in front of me. I swear I could also hear faint breaths in between the sounds of metal grating along the cave floor. It sounded like whispers drifting into my ear–causing my entire spine and neck to stand in a trembling symphony. I almost dared take a step forward. To see what I had worked for all these years, to fix what had happened to me. But that dream was shattered once the scraping and breathing stopped. The silence was deafening in my ears. Seconds felt like minutes as I stood frozen, contemplating the choices I made to get to this point. Shame and guilt washed over me–suffocating me in the darkness and silence–at the decisions I had made to stand in front of whatever was in the darkness before me. An evil shriek rang throughout the cave, coming from the pure blackness in front of me. My sacrifice,my grief, none of it seemed to matter anymore as I sprinted away from the scream, my dim lantern in hand. As I ran, I stumbled and slammed into the narrow cave walls. Another shriek pierced through the cave into my ears, and along with it, the slow, inevitable scraping continued. It never grew quieter as I ran. I couldn’t remember the paths I used to get here. The cave was now engulfed by the fog, barely letting my lantern light the ground beneath my feet, let alone the correct paths for my escape. The scraping of metal and whispering breaths didn't cease; they echoed relentlessly off every wall and corridor into my ears. I ran until my lungs gasped and my legs burned, feeling like I had passed an identical split of paths dozens of times over. I didn’t dare turn back while I ran, but now, my exhaustion coerced me into checking behind me. When I finally turned, I found myself in the same room I had fled, my lantern still illuminating only the bottom half of the stone doorway. All my running had been for nothing–not able to save me from the truth that stood a few feet away. The constant scraping and whispers now closed in. As they approached, my shame and guilt gripped me again—paralyzing me to whatever loomed nearer. In that moment, the last moment I thought my heart would beat, all my running and terror and sacrifice floated away from my mind, disappearing into the surrounding darkness. The only two things that entered it now were the images of my sweet girls. One is the reason I stand here in this cave. And the other being the one waiting—praying for me to come home, to come back to her. Only now, with the darkness and impending death upon me, did I realize which one I could still save, still love, still hold. The light of my lantern shone brighter just then, making clear the creature that indeed stood feet away from me, bordering the wall. My heart shattered at its sight, and I dropped to my knees as the image of my little girl flooded my eyes. Her metal toy horse sat at her feet, the one that squeaked when she pushed it along the floor–her favorite pastime before her illness overtook the joy in her life. Later, it took mine as well. But now. . . now, she stares back at me, my little girl whom I worked so hard to see again, to take home in my arms. Her face was blank as she stared at me, but she reached out her arms like she always did right before picking her up and spinning her around. My heart’s broken pieces splintered further upon seeing her gesture. I rose, and my feet instinctively stepped toward her to spin her like I had before. And to hear her infectious giggle like my heart had longed to for so long. But my mind and memories stabbed into me, compelling me to hesitate. Her check-to-cheek smile that was always smeared across her face when I went to pick her up was missing. Her blank face didn’t even flicker, and only her longing eyes stared back at me. At my hesitation, she finally spoke. “What’s wrong, Dad? No spins anymore? I thought you’d been wanting to see me. You can come take me home now.” My eyes shut in anguish at the sound of her voice and at the words she spoke. My heart trembled at the realization that it wasn’t my little girl in front of me. She never–never once in her life called me that name, for she hadn’t made it long enough to grow out of the phase of saying daddy. This was a trick, a sick, twisted trick that Eluvin had set out to lure me into his lair. I looked over and saw I was inches from crossing the doorway’s threshold. My stomach sank into the ground thinking what would happen if I crossed it. As I stared into the eyes of my girl, the person I had given up so much to see, the ache of acceptance stung through my whole body. The acceptance that she was actually gone, the acceptance I had denied myself in pursuit of dark rituals and malevolent tricksters, the acceptance her sweet older sister had gone through on her own so long ago. It had only now arrived within me, making me fall to the floor again, filling my eyes with emotion I had repressed with lies and delusions. She was gone, and there was nothing I could do to hold her again, to spin her around, or hear her laughter. But. . . I could still love her. I could still love her so much that she never truly disappeared. I could love her as much as I still love her beautiful sister anxiously waiting for me at home. I could do it for her, I could do it for them, I could do it for us. I did not need Eluvian, nor anyone else, for that. And so, with bitter acceptance and all my love, I tossed my lantern at the illusion posing as my little girl. It was my only source of light that guided me here, and it shattered with flames scattering the ground under her feet. No screams of pain, not even a single wince, as whatever stood in front of me remained in the fire. A cloaked figure emerged due to the light given by the blaze. It had been stalking mere feet away, with long arms and thick sharp nails that reached the floor—as if four scythe blades hung between its fingers. Eluvian. The trickster god slowly, methodically stepped forward, its claws scraping the whole way, eventually standing in the fire next to the illusion that stung my heart. He peered into me under the shade of his hooded cloak, never breaking, studying me for seconds that stretched to hours in my mind. Finally, his hood broke from me, looking down at the illusion next to him. He took her hand in between the blades, and they slowly turned and walked away into the darkness. The. . . illusion turned and waved to me with a big smile as she walked, “Bye, daddy. I love you. Tell Efi I love her too. I miss you to the moon and back.” Everything in me screamed to run back towards her, hugging and never letting her go, but before I could decide if it still was a trick, or really was her drifting away from me, both she and Eluvian disappeared in the darkness. The stone doors rumbled and crawled to a close in front of my face. And for a moment, I was clouded in silent darkness–the darkness I had known for years–not knowing if that truly was her, if that was my only chance. But, in fact, I knew it was not, for I now knew she never left, at least not to me, nor to her loving sister. Just then, a faint light painted the cave from the thin tunnel I had sprinted through moments earlier. I followed it, knowing it was my only chance of navigating the darkness. It bent and illuminated the cave into only one path. Its light bathed my face, bubbling up the memories of Yuri’s laugh and her soft, curious voice in my mind. And, for the first time in a long time, a tearful smile graced my face as I thought of her. The grief and shame left me like the fading dark fog as I neared the cave’s exit. I escaped Eluvian’s Labyrinth. The glow of the yellowish moon was raining on my face, its nearly full ellipse shining over the valley of long grass and trees that hid the dark cave. Its dark edge contrasted the brighter side perfectly, letting me appreciate its guiding light even more. I breathed in the valley’s scent of cool dew as I brushed against the long grass, it was the deepest, lightest breath I’ve taken in years. I arrived home before the morning sun rose, only faint orange strokes on the horizon as I opened our door. Effa was asleep in one of the four kitchen chairs, hers facing where I entered. She awoke and wrapped me up in a hug before I could set my bag on the ground. With her face pressed into my torso, she muffled, “I missed you, Dad. D–Did you see Yuri? Did you find what you’ve been looking for?” “Yes,” I said, “yes I did, sweetheart.” I picked her up with a tired groan and carried her outside where the moon was still lingering. I looked up and guided her arm to its beauty. “She said she loves us to the moon and back.”