Garinor decided to take the path on the right. After all, he would now know for certain if he had been told the truth. That would help him with his tally. He stepped toward the door and walked into a room that was completely dark. He held onto the door for a moment longer, trying to use the light from the main chamber to show his way. But something brushed against him and he released the door. When it closed, the room burst into life.
A pale glow emanated from all around him. He could see the area clearly, and it appeared to be a deserted town. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. How could a town be there inside the labyrinth?
There were several small buildings about, and rats swarmed the streets. He looked down at the large, hungry creatures as they snuggled up to his warmth. Garinor shoved them away with his foot and went off to find his next clue.
The streets of the town were empty and messy. The town appeared to have been ravaged in a massive attack and left to die. The homes of past villagers had crumbled and fallen. The only living things he saw were the rats that followed his lively gait through the streets.
Garinor peered into the different buildings. The baker’s hut held a horribly odorous scent and he wondered how he didn’t pass out from simply smelling it. Various homes appeared to have been hastily abandoned, with furniture and children’s toys scattered about. Garinor was wistful as he looked into the homes, for it felt to him similar to how he had left his own home.
The blacksmith shop boasted numerous weapons, some of which were taking on rust, and it made Garinor wonder how long the place had been deserted and whether the people had escaped or died there. He shuddered at the thought.
At last, one place he searched had a man lying in a bed with a furious fever. Garinor bent close and listened intently.
“Over there, to the left, if you take that door, you will find salvation and a quick path to the end. But if you take the door on the right you find a speedier path to your death.” And then he died.