The huge double doors closed, shutting off the light, sounds and smells of the outside world, leaving the seven men who had just entered in a haze of musty half-light. Two were holding flaming torches, given to them as they entered, whilst other torches sat burning steadily along the walls. The amount of illumination on offer was adequate for them to see a few dozen paces ahead but it did nothing to ease their nerves. Behind those heavy wooden barricades the sounds of the crowds, so loud in the lead up to the entrance, were now muffled and remote as if coming from a huge distance away. A scraping of metal, closer, sharp and precise, struck the ears of the seven men. The doors were being locked. They were trapped inside, the oppressive, mournful half-light around them clawing at their flesh.
‘So, this is The Labyrinth,’ a voice remarked, trying to sound calm and unimpressed, but failing to keep fear out of it entirely.