As Artorius ventured forward, though, he caught sight something up ahead, a left turn, to all appearances. More intriguingly, though, this wall wasn't blank. There was something... carved into the wall, it seemed, a rough-hewn symbol. It exuded more than just malevolence, though – in stepping close enough to see it in the pitch black of the labyrinth, Artorius also stepped within its sphere of influence, a chill running down his spine as its siren call washed over him, bidding him to draw near, to examine it lovingly, to meditate deeply on what secrets it might signal.<br/><br/>Even without the protections of his gear, though, Artorius' mind was stalwart, resilient, and the symbol's magic struggled in vain to lure him in.<br/><br/>As his mind cleared, Artorius recognized the symbol for what it was – the unholy symbol of a fiendish demigod, the blasphemous choir of kyton demagogues. His expertise fell short of knowing which of their number it belonged to, but he didn't need to know the name to know the kytons were wicked, cruel fiends. He lacked the experience to do more than draw a connection between the word "kyton" and the bloody, barbed chains he'd left behind, though.<br/><br/>Speaking of, he could hear them jangling now, a discordant alarm sounding. His pursuer was putting no more effort into concealing their approach than before, though it was easy to imagine the cruel barbs tearing at their flesh at the speed they were moving... unless, of course, the nature of the creature was such that it was immune to those wicked barbs.<br/><br/>To continue this path, he would have to draw near and pass the symbol ahead. Having neglected studying to identify works of spellcraft, Artorius couldn't be sure whether it would trigger again, or if it would go dormant, now that he had shaken off its attempt to enthrall him. He could double back to the branch he'd left behind, but in doing so, his pursuer would gain ground.