Bart stopped just after making it through the entrance, putting his hands on his knees and hanging his head to catch his breath. He didn't have a good vantage point from here to see if Lowell had made it or not. "Hey Rina?" Bart called out, pausing.

  Nothing.

  Looking around, he noticed he didn't hear much of anything. Even overhead, when he looked up, a shimmer of magic rippled across the sky.

  The labyrinth was sealed.

  The walls must block most sound as well as our vision and movement.

  Although this was the first time he'd ever competed in an artifact retrieval challenge, he had visited the mazes. Those, however, were traditionally built structures. Overhead, sunlight poured through the transparent field that roofed the challenge space, washing the corridor in hard, shadowless light. He reached his hand out to touch the wall.

  It was as solid as any physical wall. The wall had a slightly rough texture to it, but there was something wrong about it. It was cold to the touch, but not in the same way that stone or metal was. As he touched the phantom wall, Bart pulled his hand back. It suggested dampness without moisture; his palm came away perfectly dry.

  As Bart walked, he called out again, his voice thinning against the walls as if the sound were being swallowed. "Rina, Lowell? Can you guys hear me?" He paused, listening for any response, but the only sound was the soft hum of the labyrinth's magic and the muted scrape of his own footsteps.

  The silence was starting to get to him. He continued forward, his footsteps quiet on the smooth tiled floor. Bright light pressed on everything, offering no shadows, no warmth. The air felt heavy with anticipation and it felt as if he was being watched by the walls, their cold surface radiating an unsettling energy that made his skin crawl. He rubbed his fingertips together, needing the small rasp of friction to ground himself. Every so often, he'd glance back over his shoulder, expecting to see Lowell or Rina trailing behind him.

  Bart's eyes scanned the hallway, taking in the sleek lines and precise angles of the maze. It was a beautifully crafted structure, but its beauty was lost on him as he navigated the silent corridor. The white walls bounced light back at him, bright and clinical, and the space returned none of his confidence. He couldn't help but feel like an insect trapped in a spider's web, waiting for the inevitable. "Of course," Bart muttered reassuringly to himself. "The worst that can happen is we lose the match."

  He drew a slow breath and counted to four, the way Rina made them practice. The maze was clean and clinical. If it had rules, so did they. They had a plan.

  #

  In the ready room, before the match, the three members of Cross Company gathered around the scarred oak table planning their strategy. The tension in the air had been palpable, but they'd focused on what they could control.

  "In theory," Bart began, his tone measured as the trio continued their discussion of strategy, "because the maze reconfigures itself gradually throughout the challenge, this should mean that both teams are at the same disadvantage."

  Reinforcing Bart's point, Rina added, "we can't rely on memorizing a route through the maze."

  Nodding, Bart continued. "Artifact retrieval is a game that should force teams to rely on their instincts. Even if you're separated, you still need to operate as a team."

  Lowell, ever skeptical, leaned forward over the scarred oak desk that furnished their ready room. "That works if everyone is playing fair." He stared at the tokens used to mark Weston's team. "But if we're assuming that Weston has an unfair advantage; they might know something about the challenge that we don't."

  Bart nodded. "Precisely."

  Lowell relied on Rina and Bart for the strategy. It wasn't his strength. "So... what do we do? How do we improve our chances?"

  "We, uh..." Bart faltered, rubbing the back of his head, then looked back to Lowell a bit sheepishly. "Well, there's no specific 'winning' strategy for choosing an entrance or a path through the maze. Because there's no predefined structure." He gestured to the different entrances Rina had placed earlier and various areas of some of the books that were representing the maze.

  They all stared at the mock-up of the challenge's maze. Then, Bart moved the pieces representing their team around. Placing a figure at the middle entrance. "The middle entrance doesn't typically offer a better chance for leading teams to the artifact but it can be a sound strategy all the same. There's game theory around it, but a lot of it boils down to bias in the maze's design."

  "So, we aim for the middle door?" Lowell asked, tapping the pawn representing their team.

  Rina shook her head. "Not all of us. Most teams will send at least one team member to a middle door, usually the strongest on the team." She looked at Lowell, "the middle entrance is also typically one of the more difficult routes. This is the door you're going to go through."

  Rina tapped her finger next to one of the blue markers she'd placed earlier representing the beacons. "Remember though, it isn't just about retrieving the artifact. The beacons are also important."

  Bart placed additional blue markers between two of the beacons Rina had previously placed, continuing the briefing where she left off. "What we want to do is connect beacons. When beacons are in close proximity to one another and activated by a team, they'll create paths in the maze between them. This should make it possible for us to reunite. If one of us reaches the artifact first, we'll have a better chance of getting it back to the starting line."

  "Our focus should be trying to navigate the maze as efficiently as possible while securing the beacons." Rina placed the remaining two pawns at the two entrances right of the middle where the figure representing Lowell was placed. "If we each take a different entrance, we'll have a better shot at reaching the artifact."

  "It isn't without risk, though," Bart tapped the books. "If we're separated, we might get stuck, or worse, get knocked out of the game."

  Lowell lifted one of the pieces of equipment assigned to each of them for the challenge: a light chest protector that had a faint charge of magic emanating from it. The magitech device was simple and permitted some of the rules of the game to be applied without a referee present.

  Lowell stared at it. "Three hits, huh?"

  "Three." Rina's expression grew serious. "Once that hit meter registers zero on it, you're down. You're not getting back up unless one of us is nearby and can revive you."

  "That's not a lot." Lowell tossed the protector lightly onto the table.

  "Just don't get hit then." Bart grinned.

  #

  Bart lifted his hand off the cold, smooth metal of the labyrinth's beacon. It was the first he'd come across since entering the maze. Reaching and activating a beacon for his team was a small but real success. His pulse steadied and a wave of relief washed over him, erasing the tension and unease that had been ever-present since entering the maze.

  His fingers lingered on the engraved rim. For a heartbeat he let himself have it. Maybe he was first.

  Rina would tell him not to get cocky; Lowell would grunt and aim for the next one. Still, the idea sharpened him. First meant tempo. Tempo meant options.

  He pictured the crude map from the ready room and traced lines between beacons in his head, biasing paths toward the center. If he could chain two more, he'd turn dead ends into corridors they could all use.

  He set his stance, weight light on the balls of his feet, and scanned for the fastest branch.

  Something quivered under his boot: too soft for a footfall, too steady for the beacon's pulse. He stilled, listening.

  That relief was, however, short-lived.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  He had only just started down the newly opened path when a faint alarm bled in from the distance. Before he had time to ask a question, the upper third of the white-grey walls shifted to a pale red. Then the walls trembled.

  The sound was like a low growl, a distant rumble from deep within the maze that cascaded and rippled from one end to another. Bart froze, his breath catching in his throat. The ground beneath his feet and the walls on either side of him seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly at first, as if the labyrinth were coming alive. His heart skipped a beat. The false calm he'd tricked himself into believing was immediately shattered and his adrenaline surged. Panic unfurling in his chest.

  No... No, no, no.

  The walls groaned again, louder this time, and Bart stumbled backward. The air around him crackled, electrified, as if a surge of energy would at any moment erupt between the magic-fueled walls of the maze. The beacon was supposed to be stabilizing the maze. It was supposed to be an anchor for this section. Not this, whatever this was.

  A shrill snap split the air and the walls shifted in response, collapsing in and then rearranging themselves suddenly. Bart spun on his heels, instinctively turning back toward the path he'd just left, a path that had been safe. He was met with nothing but shifting fields of magic. The opening he'd secured had vanished and the corridor was warping into a smooth, impenetrable barrier.

  The realization hit him like a slap across the face. I have to move now!

  Without a second thought, he launched himself forward, his feet pounding against the stone floor as the maze behind him seemed to convulse, rearranging itself with frightening speed. The air around him crackled again, thick and oppressive. It was as though the walls themselves were closing in, pressing in on him, forcing him to run faster, harder. His mind screamed at him to turn and go back, but there was nothing to go back to. The maze was sealing itself like a tomb, and if he hesitated he risked getting caught by it.

  Bart's instincts took over. His body remembering his track and field experience, the rhythm of sprint and hurdle. He'd never been the strongest fighter, but he'd always been quick on his feet. His mind could find patterns others missed, anticipate threats before they materialized, find the gaps. The maze wasn't random. It was reacting to his presence, to his movements. He needed to stay ahead of its logic, turn its own rules against it.

  He zigzagged through the shifting corridors, his body moving on instinct. When a wall began to bulge outward, he veered left. When the floor started to ripple, he leaped to the side. His breath came in sharp gasps, but his mind stayed clear. Each step was calculated, each movement purposeful.

  Magic rippled across the surface of the walls, their rough textures distorting and being replaced with something more sinister.

  Ahead, a jagged structure began to form, extruding itself from the wall slightly. In an instant the extrusion shot out in front of Bart, cutting off his path. The magical surge behind it was fierce—sizzling with raw energy, disturbing the very air around it.

  Bart barely had time to react.

  He dove low, sliding beneath the barrier just inches from his face. The magical surge grazed his back, sending jolts of pain through his spine. He hit the ground hard, rolling to his feet as the magic around him twisted again, forcing him into a tight corridor. He shot a look behind him. The walls were alive, convulsing, shifting, almost as if they were chasing him.

  He knew he couldn't slow down. The labyrinth wasn't just unstable; it was fighting back.

  Another wall spike shot out from his left. Bart twisted mid-stride, his body contorting effectively, but not exactly gracefully. His foot caught the edge of a shifting tile, and he stumbled. The floor buckled beneath him, throwing him off balance. He threw his arms out, fingers scraping against the wall for purchase. The surface was slick with magic, but he managed to steady himself.

  The corridor ahead was narrowing. He could see the walls converging, creating a funnel that would trap him. He needed to find another path, another way out. His eyes darted left and right, searching for any opening, any weakness in the maze's structure.

  There. A crack in the wall, small but growing. Bart sprinted toward it, his heart hammering in his chest. The crack widened as he approached, revealing a narrow passage beyond. He squeezed through just as the walls behind him slammed together with a sound like thunder.

  His heart thundered in his chest, his breath ragged as he sprinted, barely avoiding the bludgeoning force of the next wave of modification passing over the maze's structure. The entire corridor seemed to warp, expanding and contracting like the pulsating veins of a creature. He could hear the low thrum of magic beneath his feet, vibrating through the stone as if it were alive. His every instinct screamed that something was terribly wrong.

  It isn't supposed to be like this. Bart's mind raced. Beacons were meant to stabilize a section of the maze. The labyrinth should have been opening up, revealing clear paths to the next challenge, but instead every step forward was a battle against the magic itself. The walls weren't just moving; they were reacting, like the labyrinth had a mind of its own, an intelligence far more dangerous than he could have imagined. The alarm and the change in walls' hue were further evidence of that something was wrong, but Bart didn't have the luxury to think about that now, not if he wanted to survive.

  As he ran, the hallway continued to distort and stretch, forcing Bart to duck, weave, and jump over the obstacles. It was likely that these were all part of a trap designed for this section of the maze, but the speed at which they were manifesting was beyond dangerous. Whatever had destabilized the labyrinth was causing havoc with the internal challenges.

  And then he saw it.

  A flash of light ahead, shimmering, pulsing with an eerie blue glow. He saw it only briefly as the walls shifted. His breath caught. Another beacon! The glimmer of hope surged through his chest. He didn't care what kind of traps the maze had set in place. He didn't care what danger lurked in the walls. If he could reach it, just reach it, maybe he could restore some semblance of order to this madness.

  The ground shuddered beneath his feet, and a series of blindingly fast wall spikes shot out, aimed straight for him. Bart's eyes widened. He barely managed to duck below them, feeling the rush of air as a spike missed his head by mere inches.

  The walls weren't done yet.

  They lashed out again, twisting and extending like living appendages, cutting off his path. A massive block of force materialized along the floor and shot upward, barely giving him enough time to dodge to the side. His heart raced as he barely kept his footing. His muscles screamed from the exertion, but there was no time to stop, no time to think. The pulses of energy were getting stronger, and the beacon he had seen was his only hope. Even then, this was no guarantee.

  Every instinct said slow down. He couldn't. The maze closed in, faster and faster. Bart dove through a narrow gap as the wall snapped shut behind him. He stumbled. His hands hit faux stone, scraping skin, the cold, wet-yet-dry surface biting his palms as he pushed back to his feet, breath knifing in and out.

  Ahead, the beacon pulsed. Clear now.

  It's right there. Within reach.

  He threw himself into a dead sprint. Almost as quickly, he stopped short.

  From one of the newly opened paths, halfway down the hall, he saw it. At first he thought it an illusion, another programmed challenge. Its aura wasn't. It emerged, slow and deliberate. Its skin shimmered black, moving like a wave, and its eyes blazed with green, fire-like energy. The writhing shadows that made its body moved independently, yet in unison.

  Sleek. Feline. Muscles built for a predator. It turned, revealing three eyes on one side and two larger on the other. Not the nightmare from Orus, but no less terrifying. Bart stepped back. Panic surged.

  Everything began to make sense. The red wash along the walls. The interference. A schism had opened, somewhere in the maze. The challenge had turned deadly; they would be lucky to make it out alive.

  His muscles screamed: run. His legs turned to lead under the fear rolling off the creature. The nightmare flowed, effortless. It padded forward, unhurried and unstoppable. He could feel its eyes boring into him. He knew he didn't have the luxury of faltering here if he wanted to survive. But what? He didn't have any magic to defend himself, and he couldn't match the creature physically.

  As he moved the monster matched him, step for step. Bart's mind went blank, leaving only the memory of the fear in the courtyard.

  The nightmare's eyes never left him. It moved with predatory grace, each step calculated, each movement deliberate. Bart could feel its intelligence, its patience. It wasn't rushing. It knew it had him cornered.

  He stumbled, tripping over his own feet as he desperately tried to get away from the monster. His back hit the wall, and he realized he'd trapped himself. The nightmare's lips curled back, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. It was smiling.

  As Bart fell, he saw the walls of the corridor shudder behind the creature. He landed hard on the ground, scrambling to try to get back on his feet, but in that instant the creature leapt at him, pouncing and pinning him to the ground. The nightmare loomed over him, its weight crushing his chest. Bart stared back at it, feeling the warm blood pooling on his arm where the nightmare's claw dug into him.

  A tone chimed and a flash. Bart's hit meter registered a point of damage.

  What?! Bart's eyes were wide. No. No. No.

  The nightmare's breath was hot against his face, carrying the scent of decay and something else—something that made his stomach churn. It pressed down harder, its claws digging deeper into his flesh. Bart could feel his ribs creaking under the pressure.

  Just then, the walls shuddered again. A portion of the wall, one likely programmed as part of a corridor trap, activated. With unregulated speed, the wall slammed into the nightmare, pinning it against the opposite side of the hall. The creature let out a shriek that made Bart's ears ring, its body writhing against the magical barrier.

  Bart managed to roll away before another portion of the maze did the same to him, avoiding the blunt force of the wall by a hair's breadth. He scrambled to his feet, panting hard as he looked around frantically for any sign of escape.

  The nightmare was still trapped, but Bart could see it struggling against the wall. The magical barrier wouldn't hold forever. He needed to move, and fast.

  He scrambled to his feet, panting hard. Bart scanned frantically for any sign that the nightmare had followed him. The realization that he'd escaped hit him like a physical blow, and his legs nearly buckled under the weight of his terror.

  The wall behind him remained solid, the nightmare trapped beyond it.

  An opening had formed to his side—he wasn't sure when—leading away from the creature. He wasn't about to wait. He forced himself upright and dashed for the opening without hesitation. Just as he passed its threshold, the labyrinth gave one last shudder and fell silent.

  The wall behind him was closed. He was in a small room with no exits.