The Minotaur

You awaken, your eyes adjusting slowly to the flickering light. You can discern little of your surroundings, but it quickly becomes clear that you are surrounded on nearly all sides by walls of stone. A labyrinth.
Your pulse quickens, and in the distance, you hear a low bellowing. A chill. You try to run, but the winding corridors lead nowhere, and somehow, the bellowing is growing closer. Soon, you hear the pounding of foot--hooves?--on stone, matched only by the pounding in your own head.
Suddenly, it is behind you, a towering monstrosity, part human and part bull, its eyes alight with ferocious hunger.
In truth, the maze instills a sense of hope as cruel as it is false, for when one is cast into its domain, there is no chance of escaping the minotaur.

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Though the imagery is frightening, in the modern era, the legend of this creature has been reduced to mere myth--an allegory at most, a fairytale at the least.
But what if there is truth to these legends, as there has been to so many others? Today, my valued listener, I will provide proof not only as to this creature’s existence, but a detailed account of its anatomy and physiology.
I must warn you, however: though its biology defies traditional scientific categorization, the truth of its origin is even more… disturbing.

Legend and Myth

The legend of the minotaur needs little introduction. Originating in ancient Greece, the tale tells of Minos, the king of Crete. It is said that Minos prayed to Poseidon for a sign of his favor, and as an answer, Poseidon sent a snow-white bull–a perfect specimen in every way. It was implied that Minos should sacrifice this bull to complete Poseidon’s favor, but Minos did not–a failure that Poseidon took personally.
As punishment, Poseidon caused Minos’ wife, Pasiphae, to fall in love with the bull, and… well, let us say simply that the product of this punishment was described as part man, part bull–a creature called the “minotaur,” but whose true name was Asterius.
Asterius was raised by his mother, but gradually, he became more aggressive, and owing to his unnatural biology, found sustenance only in consuming human flesh.
Eventually, King Minos was left with no choice; he conscripted famed architect Daedalus to construct a gigantic labyrinth, intended to hold the Minotaur indefinitely.
But the minotaur was not left alone–at least, not forever, and the creature was kept… well-fed. We’ll return to this point in due time.
In the modern era, the minotaur is often thought of as a type of creature, perhaps even a mythical race of numerous individuals. But as we’ve seen, it was only ever described as a single, very unfortunate specimen.
In terms of appearance, the minotaur is most frequently depicted with the body of a human, but with the head of a bull. This bizarre juxtaposition is likely why this creature is so easily dismissed as mere myth, much like the many other tales of classical antiquity.
However, as I’ve come to discover time and time again, where there is myth, there is truth–and though the minotaur is not quite what I expected, the grain of truth is larger than I could have imagined.
Following the discovery and subsequent documentation of the Si-Teh-Cah in Nevada, the tenuous strands that held our little team together were severed. It would be easy to blame Alaric's findings as the reason for Marcus' departure, but in truth, I believe he had grown discontent with my direction for some time. He has made his choice, and I cannot say that I blame him–even for myself, the world I once perceived as black and white is increasingly cast in tones of grey.
In any case, shortly after that fateful excursion, a new briefing was sent directly to my office. This in itself is not unusual, but the fact that the letter within was hand-written gave me pause. It wasn’t until reaching the signature line, however, that a chill ran up my spine. This assignment had come from Mr. Symaza himself.

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Alison and I arrived Crete mere days later. We were accompanied by a… liaison, for lack of a better word, who led us to the outskirts of Heraklion, wherein lay the well-known archaeological site of Knossos.
This is thought to be a primary center of ancient Minoan civilization, dominated by the Palace of Minos, a structure dating back to 1900 BC.
But now, the entire region was absent of both workers and tourists, and though fascinating, the partially reconstructed ruins now took on a haunted quality, as though harboring some dark secret.

And indeed, our liaison led us past these ruins, and to a site that seems only recently uncovered—an opening bordered by crumbling pillars, and that led directly into the dark Earth.
We were led inside.
It took a moment to realize that we were inside of a dimly-lit corridor, barely the width of our shoulders, and lined with blocks of stone.
There was little doubt that this was the labyrinth.
Our guide took us further in, apparently following a bundle of electrical cables laid on the ground. We walked for some time, taking turn after turn around corner after corder. I must admit my own bearings were lost within mere moments.
At last, at the end of the corridor ahead, the number of lights increased, and we reached a cavernous room lined with modern equipment.
In the center of the room, a makeshift room had been constructed, its walls made of clear plastic. Our guide stepped to one side and pulled a portion aside. Within, on a steel table, lay a desiccated body, normal in many ways, except for its head… which bore the distinct shape of a bull.

Biology of the Minotaur

In-depth examination took place over a period of five days, and included a full autopsy, as well as a full photographic documentation.
Though the specimen examined had undoubtedly shrunk slightly in the millennia since its death, in life, it was 8 feet, eleven inches tall, and likely weighed approximately 550 pounds. Much of its body had been covered in a thin layer of grayish hairs, though most had fully decayed.
The specimen was heavily muscled and robust–clearly built for superiority to the human body-plan–though, for precisely what purpose was at first difficult to ascertain.
We would later come to some of the answers to some of the myriad of questions that arose in our minds–but for every question resolved, dozens took its place. I will present our findings now, but first I must beg your indulgence–for unlike some other species I’ve documented, many of the answers I sought elude me still.

Skeleton and Muscle Systems

I will begin the recounting of our examination with the skeleton.
Of course, the creature’s overall shape is humanoid, with a clear distinction between the axial and the appendicular skeletons.
The vertebral column, for example, is similar to that of a human, though the individual vertebrae are more robust, with thicker cortical bone and more pronounced processes. The rib cage is also more robust than a human's, with thicker, more heavily curved ribs.
Notably, there is a large opening in the neck of this specimen, which extends inward to the esophagus–a gash, really, that I suspect was the cause of its death.
Now, in contrast to the axial skeleton, the appendicular skeleton exhibits more pronounced differences. The scapulae are particularly broad and thick, with a pronounced spine and larger acromion process.

The humeri are relatively short and stout, with pronounced tuberosities, and the radii and ulnae are similarly robust.
Indeed, even if the skeleton was all that remained of this creature, it would be evident that it was incredibly strong, and seemingly built for brute force.
But it is the lower half of the creature that displays the most pronounced deviations from that of a true human. In fact, the entire structure of the leg is altered to the point of being unrecognizable as human at all.
First, the metatarsals are significantly elongated, and fused into a single metatarsus. Similarly, the calcaneus is elongated slightly, while the tibia and fibula are shortened.
In short, the legs exhibit what can only be described as a digitigrade configuration, and in addition to the skeletal changes, the musculature has been shifted to accommodate.
The muscles of the calf, the gastrocnemius and soleus, are shortened, as is the achilles tendon, given that the calcaneus is now closer to these muscle’s origin on the femur. This would have provided the necessary leverage for digitigrade locomotion, but of course, these aren’t the only changes.
To move efficiently, a bipedal creature with such a stance would require a reinforcement of the ankles and knees–and indeed, this is precisely what we observed. The articular cartilage is thickened in comparison to humans, likely to cope with the continuous stress caused by the permanent “tip-toe” position, and the ligaments therein are also more tensile.
In the knees, the quadriceps are shortened, while the hamstrings are lengthened. These changes are certainly necessary, as a digitigrade stance requires the knee to be in a state of constant semi-flexion.
Notably, within the elongated bones, particularly the metatarsus, we saw that the growth plates exhibited signs of rapid and irregular growth. They were abnormally thick, for one thing, and the columns of chondrocytes are what I would consider disorganized.
Furthermore, the transition from the growth plate to the mature bone is abrupt and irregular, with an uneven boundary between the cartilage and the bone.
All if this seems to indicate that the process of ossification was accelerated and less precisely controlled than in normal growth, which in turn, indicates that this creature’s growth was significantly accelerated–at least, compared to normal mammalian growth patterns.
Moving distally, we observed that the phalanges have been radically transformed into what can only be described as a “hoof.”
Indeed, it appears that the first two digits of the foot have fused together, as have the last three, leaving a kind of cleft between them, separating at a point strikingly similar to a bovine fetlock. Even more astoundingly, each fused segment is covered in a thick, keratinized nail-like structure.
These "hooves" appear to be formed from an extensive modification and overgrowth of the nail beds. Though how exactly this appearance was achieved is difficult to determine, it appears that the nail beds have been drastically expanded to cover the entire fused toe segment. Meanwhile, keratin production has been likely significantly upregulated, resulting in a tough covering, something like a “pseudo-hoof.”
However, these pseudo-hooves lack the complex structure and growth pattern of true hooves, and given their appearance, were likely prone to cracking, splitting, and overgrowth.
The overall biomechanical implications of this anatomy are significant and completely unprecedented. Fused toe segments like these would have limited the Minotaur's ability to effectively absorb shock or adjust to uneven terrain, while the altered leg structure, as mentioned, is a major deviation from humans’ plantigrade stance.
But while these alterations are… extreme… they scarcely compare to those of the skull.

Skull

At first glance, the skull appears bull-like, with a pronounced snout and a wide, flattened forehead. However, closer inspection revealed this morphology to be the result of extensive remodeling of a human cranial base. In fact, the facial bones have been drastically elongated and broadened, while the braincase remains comparatively small.
The frontal bone is incredibly thick and dense, with prominent bony ridges extending from the supraorbital region to the apex of the skull. These ridges anchor hypertrophied temporalis muscles, which originate on the side of the braincase and attach to the mandible, and likely provided the minotaur with an immense bite force.
The mandible itself is robust and heavily muscled, with a pronounced angular process for the attachment of the masseter. Additionally, the mandibular fossa is both deeper and more elongated, which would have allowed for a greater range of motion in the vertical plane, while the mandibular condyle is larger and more robust than in a human. Both of these indicate a wide gape, as well as the ability to withstand high levels of mechanical stress, respectively.
Many of these alterations seem to indicate an adaptation to a predatory lifestyle–and as we will see, these are only the first of many.
Internally, for example, the nasal cavity is elongated, with complex turbinates indicative of a highly specialized sense of smell.
Finally, endocranial casting reveals a brain that, while larger than a bull's, is smaller than a human's when scaled for body size. The olfactory bulbs and temporal lobes are well-developed, a finding consistent with its presumed diet.
Of course, the increased craniofacial musculature, as well as the larger skull overall, would make the entire head much heavier than that of a human.
This could help explain the strongly expressed neck and shoulder musculature–indeed, the trapezius, sternocleidomastoid, and the muscles of the deep cervical group are hypertophied, as are the deltoids and the muscles of the rotator cuff.
All of this suggests that the minotaur was built for powerful support of the head, as well as immensely strong arm movements–perhaps relating to ramming, or even dismemberment of its prey–a point to which we’ll return.
In fact, the entirety of the creature’s muscular system is far more pronounced than that of a traditional human.
But perhaps its most striking features are, of course, the twin protrusions of bone that bear a striking resemblance to the horns of a bovid.
Now, technically speaking, true horns, as seen in cattle, consist of a bony core covered by a keratin sheath. The core is an extension of the frontal bone, and the keratin sheath is a continuously growing, non-branching structure. In contrast, antlers, as seen in cervids, are entirely bony structures that are shed and regrown each year.
Intriguingly, the minotaur’s horns fit into neither of these categories fully. And of all the anatomical deviations observed so far, these horns are of particular interest, primarily due to the obvious fact that the human skull is not predisposed to growing horns at all–their existence in this specimen is, therefore, one of the most obvious indications of manipulation of the normal pattern of embryonic cranial bone development.
In mammals, the skull bones form through a process called intramembranous ossification, wherein mesenchymal cells differentiate directly into osteoblasts, the cells that secrete the bone matrix. The parietal bones, which form the sides and roof of the skull, develop from the mesenchyme surrounding the brain.
In the Minotaur, it appears that this ossification process has been altered to allow for the growth of horns. The osteoblasts in specific regions of the parietal bones, determined by precise spatial patterning during embryonic development, likely continue to secrete bone matrix beyond the normal boundaries of the skull, resulting in the horns’ outward and upward growth.
In essence, these “horns” are exposed bone, lacking the keratin sheath that would better protect them, and indeed, the skin of the skull stops abruptly at their base.
This exposure of bare bone has several physiological implications. Primarily, the horns would be more susceptible to damage and wear without the protective keratin covering–the bone would be directly exposed to the elements and to any physical impacts during the creature's life. This is evidenced by the bones’ rough, bark-like texture, and numerous sharp indentations.
Interestingly, even upon cursory examination, one observes that these horns have grown irregularly, with immediately apparent asymmetry on the parietal bone, and their integration with the surrounding cranial bones appears rough and uneven.
In short, while these “horns” were likely formidable, the lack of a keratinous sheath also leads me to believe that they were not terribly effective as weapons. The sharp tips that would have been provided by keratin are, of course, absent, and without a sheath, they would have easily been prone to fracture.
Ultimately, symmetry and order, the hallmarks of natural organisms, are absent from not only these growths, but from the structure of the entire creature itself.

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Diet and Digestion

Given the creature’s external appearance, I had little idea what to expect in regards to its diet. But upon closer examination, we discovered that, to a certain extent, the legends hold true–but we will return to that in a moment.
Somewhat unexpectedly, the minotaur is not a ruminant, but rather an undeniably specialized carnivore. This became clear, even from its dentition, which exhibit elongated canines and sharp incisors–both designed for tearing flesh. Dental wear patterns also suggest a lifetime of heavy use, and consistent with a diet of tough meat.
The digestive tract also displays clear evidence of carnivorous adaptations. For example, the Minotaur's esophagus exhibits a thick outer layer of longitudinal muscle, the contraction of which serves to shorten the esophagus and push food down.
Additionally, the inner layer of circular muscle, which allows for the swallowing of large, unchewed portions of food, is several times thicker than in a human. In short, the increased muscle thickness means the Minotaur could generate substantially more force, swallowing prey items that would choke a human.
The stomach is capacious, and exhibits thick muscular walls. This likely means that in life, the stomach could expand drastically to accommodate large meals–a necessity for a creature that likely ate large but infrequent meals–while also being able to contact powerfully to mechanically break down its contents.
The small intestine, particularly the colon, is also relatively short compared to a human's, though this is typical of carnivores.
This presumed diet of meat makes sense in another way as well, which is to support its immense amount of muscle tissue. While it does appear that the expression of its mass was triggered during embryonic development and supported by elevated levels of certain hormones, metabolically speaking, protein intake would have been crucial in sustaining the creature for any length of time.
Based on the capacity of the stomach and the intestines, we estimate that the Minotaur could indeed have consumed and digested a human-sized meal in a single sitting.

Sacrifices

Now, my valued listener, I have hinted at the true diet of the minotaur several times thus far. And so the question is: if we presume the legends to hold some truth, how is it that a creature confined to a subterranean labyrinth would ever be able to meet its energetic requirements?
The answer, I believe, is given in another aspect of the legend.
You see, for reasons that vary in the source materials, relations between the island of Crete and the city of Athens were poor. Though the reasons differ, the primary myth states that King Minos’ son, Androgeus, had been killed by the Athenians, and in retaliation, Minos waged a bloody war against Athens.
He was victorious, and as a penalty for their loss, Minos commanded Athens to offer 14 noble children–7 boys and 7 girls–as a sacrifice to Crete.
Some versions of the myth state that this grim offering was required every seven years, some say it was every ninth year. And yet another states that it was, in fact, annual.
In any case, the end result was the same: these 14 children were sent to their deaths… in a subterranean labyrinth… to be devoured by the vicious minotaur himself.
Though the methods and implications of the minotaur’s diet are tragic, as we have already seen, they align perfectly with the minotaur physiology.
Given the size and weight of the living specimen, it stands to reason that a single human meal could sustain the minotaur for roughly 26 days. This means that a total of 14…meals… would provide enough sustenance for roughly 364 days–in other words, until the next Athenian tributes would be collected.
We’ve established that the creature’s digestive system is well-suited to the processing of large meals. Furthermore, it stands to reason that the minotaur was largely sedentary, with monthly bursts of energy required for a hunt within its maze. But otherwise, the minotaur likely had little reason to expend its energy at all.
This is important to note, because given the creature’s size and calculated weight, it likely had a relatively high basal metabolic rate, which would have required a significant amount of energy even at rest.
But more than its food intake, the creature’s cardiopulmonary system needed to be adapted to its enhanced physique.
The walls of the heart, for example, are much thicker than an average human, particularly in the left ventricle. As a result, the overall size of the heart is increased to more efficiently provide oxygenated blood throughout the minotaur’s larger system.
Notably, however, lung capacity was did not appear to be greatly increased from that of an average male human. In a mammal of this size, one would expect to find larger interior surface area, more bronchial branching, and perhaps higher alveolar density. Instead, we found little to distinguish the lungs from an organism of comparatively small body size. This leads me to believe that the minotaur, while certainly capable of immense bursts of speed and power, it was likely winded easily, or required a much higher respiratory rate to function properly.
And yet, it seemed that proper functioning was not the end result of many of the minotaur’s functions, structures, and even systems.
As our examination progresses, a palpable sense of anxiety began to permeate the ancient room.
There was something we weren’t being told.

A New Order

You see, while myths and legends often possess truth, the constant in all my studies has been that the more… fantastical aspects of these stories can be explained through rational means.
But in examining this specimen, the hallmarks of natural origin and descent where no where to be found.
The creature’s head, for example, appeared to have achieved its bovine morphology through the seemingly haphazard resculpting of a human base. In other words, the deeper our examination went, the more clear it became that the creature that lay before us was an entirely novel organism.
And yet, according to our hosts, radiocarbon dating indicated that this specimen had been preserved in this tomb since classical antiquity.
Alison and I spent long hours talking through the possibilities here. Eventually, we both reached the conclusion that if answers to our questions were to be fully answered, we had to expand our search beyond the body.
Our search didn’t have to go far.
We approached the liaison who had guided us to this location, intending to ask if anything had been uncovered along with the body. We had hoped to learn more about the Minoan culture in relation to this creature. But what our guide produced, as though she had been waiting for just such a question, was more than we could have possibly imagined.

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Along with the minotaur’s body, those that first rediscovered its final resting place also found numerous scrolls, sealed and shielded from decay in a kind of sarcophagus. Even so, the scrolls themselves had deteriorated to an extent, but much of what had been written there so many centuries ago was surprisingly legible.
I am no linguist, but much of the work of translation had already been accomplished by hired experts on-site.
In all honesty, I have yet to fully comprehend what was written there. They were apparently written by an group who never identified themselves by name, but who clearly regarded themselves as the keepers of some, even more ancient, esoteric knowledge. I call them the Keepers of the Labyrinth, and it seems likely that though contemporary with them, their existence pre-dated Minoan culture.
Within those scrolls we saw diagrams, notes, and recipes that simply did not fit with the knowledge of the time. These ranged from a clear understanding of inheritance through selective breeding, to schematics for devices capable of advanced magnification, impossibly precise surgical techniques, and mostly accurate maps of microscopic biological systems that would not be discovered for thousands of years.
Though recognizable as such, much of this was written in language that seemed almost codified, using terminology one might describe as “mystical.”
A common thread throughout was a process called “Sarkos Techni” or “flesh craft.”
Unfortunately, the exact details of this process are not provided in the scrolls. But from what I can gather, Sarkos Techni involved extracting the 'essences' of different organisms, likely referring to their genetic material or some biochemical extract containing it.
These essences underwent a process of what is described as purification, concentration, and combination in specific ratios and under particular conditions–each of which were performed in elaborate rituals.
The resulting 'fusion' of essences was then introduced into a host organism, at an early embryonic stage, where it would influence the development and traits of the resulting creature.
But he texts appeared to have little interest in serving as a manual for recreating the processes they describe, and more to do with passing on the spiritual concepts behind them. They seem to imply the existence of additional texts, assuming that the reader already possesses a base level of knowledge.
What was clear, however, is that the authors of these texts viewed the minotaur as their magnum opus; a manifestation of their power to fundamentally alter humanity into a new image.

Drawings, crude by modern standards but unsettlingly sophisticated for the time period, depicted what appeared to be a sequence of embryonic development, clearly beginning as human. The stages gradually change, however, through the apparent administering of some unknown vectors at specific timings. Slowly, the embryonic form shifts to something distinctly… different.
Though difficult to interpret fully, this process bears a striking resemblance–at least, conceptually–to the principles of transgenic organisms and genetic chimeras rarely seen even in modern biology.
Indeed, the Keepers seemed to have developed a rudimentary but effective method for combining genetic traits from different species... a feat so strikingly anachronistic that I could scarcely believe it.
But while much of the DNA we could have extracted from this specimen had degraded harshly over the millennia, the results of our genetic analysis could not be refuted.
We found growth hormone genes inserted into the Minotaur's genome, likely accounting for its enhanced musculature and size, as well as myostatin gene sequences–both of which almost perfectly aligned with sequences obtained from bovids.
Unfortunately, much more study of these sequences is required to understand them more fully, but the results of the samples we sent for further analysis were apparently elevated beyond our level of clearance.

Conclusion

As I stated near the beginning of this recording, my valued listener, at this point, the questions are many, and the answers are few.
What I can say at this point is that there is clearly much about the minotaur’s origin that we have yet to discover.
Our investigation eventually ground to a halt, limited by a simple lack of information. Our flight back to America was scheduled within a few days. But there was something in those ancient scrolls that I suspect may have been missed by my employer, or perhaps deemed insignificant: a reference to the mountains of Thessaly.
I don’t know what I will find there, but suffice it to say: I will be missing my flight home.

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