Lord Mordred himself descends into the Labyrinth

as I accompany other escorts.
Am I just a catalyst
or sacrifice in the name of humor? 
 
“dontaskanymore”
was it ever Percival’s warning
or just strategem of my lord
eager to spring any coup
before it flew the coop? 
 
Undisclosed offshoot
one enigmatic door wretches open 
vaulted ceilings addled in cob 
contrasting the grace of the ground floor. 
 
The center holds a pit of upright swords
four chains bound in tendrils towards the cardinals
as the beast that was Lancelot howls at Mordred
impaled by an array of tools from previous knights
fallen. 
 
From Mordred’s gown,
the bloodied Grail is drawn
placed upon a stone altar overlooking pitted swords.
Pallbearers lie Queen Guinevere’s remains in place 
as Mordred spills his own blood to fill the Grail. 
 
A cacophony of chants eclipses need for reason.
The shadows in the room are outright extinguished. 
Lancelot grows incandescent and roars.
I still wonder what must be in store
I still wonder what am I doing all this for