The stillness of the cool evening air and the soft whirring of the night insects did little to betray the terrible battle that ensued deep within the stony bowels of the mighty Labyrinth. In a dimly-lit chamber, a brawny Athenian youth was locked in mortal combat with the creature known as the Minotaur — the accursed son of Pasiphae, wife of Minos.
Themus, son of Labdacus, grandson of Poseidon drew forth his dagger from his belt as he and the Minotaur wrestled powerfully on the grimy floor, muscles stretching and sinews cracking. Both mighty opponents were bathed in sweat, and neither had the upper hand, until a powerful but awkward thrust of the dagger by Themus embedded the blade in the Minotaur’s left eye. The two drew apart — each quietly thankful for the brief respite from the fray.
Themus eyed his foe. Aside from the grossly disfigured head and the terrible, inhuman strength, the Minotaur was completely human in every respect. The gleam of intelligence that shown from its remaining eye made Themus pause, but the glimpse of the scattered bones along the chamber walls rekindled the fury in him, spurring him on with his sworn task: the destruction of this hell-spawned behemoth.
Due to the abnormal thickness of the monster‘s skull, the hurried knife thrust had not penetrated to the brain, but it had cost the creature the sight in one eye and a great deal of blood — though no signs of weakness were yet apparent. Themus attributed his lack of injuries to his quickness and to the oddly-defensive fighting style of the Minotaur.
He lunged toward the beast, attempting to bring it down and pound the dagger in the remaining inches needed to end this wretched creature’s life. The Minotaur easily sidestepped the lad and caught him from behind, its iron grip around his thick neck cutting off the blood to his brain. Themus’ mighty struggles became feebler as the world spun about him and blackness prevailed.
Sometime later, he stirred groggily to the realization that he was being dragged by his ankles down black, winding corridors through which the Minotaur’s rasping breath echoed ominously. Themus kept his own breathing even as he surveyed his surroundings through slitted eyes. He could dimly see the outline of the beast silhouetted against a slowly-increasing light far ahead — undoubtedly some chamber in which he would be devoured, Themus reasoned. He vowed not to give the creature a chance.
He was dragged past numerous intersecting corridors that darted off into deeper blackness. Gripping a corner as he was passing, Themus jerked his feet free and rolled to a standing position before the Minotaur was aware of what had occurred.
The Minotaur turned slowly, finally showing the effect of the loss of blood, but Themus was already upon it, bringing it down and pinning it to the cold floor. The monster looked up sadly, but did not struggle as Themus unhesitantly pounded the dagger the remaining inches, ending the beast’s wretched life. The world went dark once more.
Themus awoke confused amid a rush of memories as he tried to piece together the events of the last few hours. He looked at the still form next to him, noticing the dagger in the eye of the fine, regular, human features — peaceful in death — and was only dimly surprised when his own hand raised to his throbbing head encountered hairy, unfamiliar features.
He saw his battle with the Minotaur in a new light, only now realizing that the poor creature had been trying to prevent this terrible transformation.
He reached for his knife with intent to end his life but some force within him stayed his hand as his mind echoed with distant, hollow laughter. Cursing Zeus and resigning himself to his new fate, Themus began dragging the body in the opposite direction — away from the exit toward which the former Minotaur had been trying to take him.
His mouth salivated unconsciously as he brought home his meal.