Follow the Raven Path
You choose the path marked by the bird statue. At the first junction you pause, unsure where to go, until you spot a carving in the wall that might, if looked at from the right angle, be a crow's foot. You follow it, only to find another. Then another. Sometimes you find other marks, but you only choose paths marked with a crow foot.
You become aware of the sound of footsteps behind you, and a low, feral growl of a hungry wolf. You dare not stop to find out whether it is the ghost you saw earlier, and you flee deeper into the maze. Twice you take the wrong turn and have to double back, and with each mistake the sounds draw nearer. The second time you see, out of the corner of your eye, a spectral figure stepping straight through the wall.
You dare not look back again after that. You run with your hands on the walls, feeling for the carvings. After what seems like hours, the maze ends, and the sound of pursuit falls away as you sprint through an archway and into a circular room much like the one you entered the maze by. You recall the words of the book; the raven had a purpose. That was what the author meant. That gives you some hope that you can determine how to solve whatever challenges lie ahead.
Beyond the labyrinth is a great cave, its high ceiling lost in the darkness. It seems impossible that such a place could exist, for you do not recall travelling far enough below the surface to allow for such a vast space, yet here it is. To your right is a white marble palace emerging from the rock. A road runs from its pristine steps, forming a T-junction between the temple, the labyrinth and the anchoring posts of a great stone bridge. The bridge is gone, long since collapsed into the depths of a ravine. The word "Stygian" might just apply. You hear water flowing far below, unseen in the eerie light of long neglected, yet eternally burning braziers.
Four statues are embedded either side of the ravine, each reaching for their equivalent on the other side. They are the familiar four deities; kitsune, raven, cat and wolf. Each have their arms raised, as if supporting the great stones of the now collapsed bridge. Beyond, lit by ethereal green light, is an ancient chest of bronze and black wood. It sits atop a marble plinth, and seems to squirm in the torch light. You assure yourself it is simply an optical illusion.
In the darkness of the cave, you imagine you hear the sound of footsteps from the temple. Short, irregular sounds, like the staggering of a drunk, or the shambling gait of a walking corpse. Whatever their source, it is clear that you are not alone in this place, and that lingering too long may prove unwise.
Written by Jasan Quinn on 15 May 2015