The air within the Temporal Labyrinth shimmered, less like air and more like heat rising off asphalt on a sweltering summer day. Disorientation was a constant companion. One moment Ethan was walking down a cobbled street lined with gas lamps, the next he was navigating a corridor of brushed steel and blinking neon, smelling faintly of ozone. The architecture shifted and twisted, defying logic and gravity. He kept moving, driven by the faint, echoing whispers of his family, a siren song amidst the chaos.