Their starting chamber looked lighter this run. as if the light the maze shone through it was warmer toned with more colours.

  Harlada was already at the window.

  “They’re back,” she said — and for a heartbeat, her voice held relief.

  Across the chamber stood a familiar formation: two Harladas and a bloodied Bert between them. The same trio they had once fought beside. The same sharp posture. The same silhouettes.

  Leo stepped up beside her. “They made it.”

  Bert grinned. “See? We’re contagious.”

  For a few seconds, it felt almost warm.

  The two Harladas across the glass looked over, noticed them — and smiled.

  Then something shifted.

  The smiles didn’t fade.

  They stretched.

  Too long.

  Bloodied Bert began pacing. Fast. Sharp turns. Head twitching toward doors that weren’t open yet.

  One of the Harladas gestured wildly at the central bridge — then at them — then slammed a fist into the wall.

  Leo’s expression tightened. “That’s not normal.”

  “They’re agitated,” Harlada murmured.

  “Agitated?” Bert said. “They look furious.”

  Across the chamber, the trio began arguing — exaggerated gestures, accusatory pointing. One Harlada shoved the other. Bloodied Bert shoved back harder.

  This wasn’t tension.

  This was instability.

  Behind them, Satyr Leo shifted uneasily.

  He raised his hands and made a series of quick, intricate gestures — circling fingers, tapping temples, then miming strings pulling upward.

  Leo blinked. “What?”

  The satyr repeated the motion, then tapped his own chest, then theirs, then made the same string-pulling motion again.

  “Enchanted?” Leo guessed.

  The satyr nodded emphatically.

  The Unibrows stepped forward to observe more closely.

  One mimed erratic motion.

  Another mimed explosion.

  Danger.

  They rearranged imaginary pebbles in the air — seven on one side, three unstable shapes on the other.

  Unpredictable > strong.

  Bert frowned. “You think they’re compromised?”

  One Unibrow tapped his temple and shook his head.

  Mind affected.

  Harlada’s jaw tightened. “They don’t look… in control.”

  Across the chamber, one of the Harladas began laughing — head thrown back — then abruptly slammed her palm against the glass toward them.

  Not greeting.

  Challenge.

  Bloodied Bert followed, pounding once against the pane.

  Leo stepped back slightly.

  “They’re angry.”

  “And not in a rational way,” Harlada added.

  Satyr Leo made another series of gestures — this time slower. He traced a circle in the air, then pointed to the Maze ceiling, then down to the trio.

  Influenced.

  Manipulated.

  The Unibrows did not like that.

  One mimed a blade.

  Then tapped their own cluster.

  Defend first.

  Leo rubbed his face. “We don’t know what’s happened to them.”

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  “They could be bait,” Bert muttered.

  “They could be victims,” Harlada countered.

  Silence hung between them.

  Across the chamber, the unstable trio now paced aggressively near their door, clearly ready to charge once the corridors opened.

  The Unibrows shifted closer to Leo.

  One mimed open hands.

  Offer first.

  Then mimed a violent clash.

  If necessary.

  Leo nodded slowly. “We owe them a try.”

  Harlada met his eyes. “Even like this?”

  “Yes.”

  Bert exhaled. “Fine. But I’m not hugging anyone.”

  A new movement drew their attention.

  In the far corner chamber stood the final runner.

  Alone.

  A towering red creature — bull horns curling forward, broad chest, dark crimson skin. Hooves like a minotaur. Wings hinted at behind its back. Eyes glowing faintly.

  But the face.

  Harlada’s.

  A variant twisted through something infernal.

  The devil-minotaur hybrid leaned casually against the glass, watching the miming between rooms with intense, almost scholarly fascination.

  Not pacing.

  Not raging.

  Observing.

  Its head tilted slowly as Satyr Leo gestured again.

  Studying them.

  Leo swallowed. “That one hasn’t moved.”

  Bert glanced over. “That one’s enjoying the show.”

  The devil-Harlada smiled faintly — not hostile, not friendly.

  Interested.

  The Maze pulsed:

  Run 1207 commencing in 1 minute

  scene 2:

  The doors unlocked.

  They didn’t hesitate.

  “Straight to them,” Leo said.

  They crossed a bridge and closed in on the chamber of the bloodied trio.

  The moment they stepped inside, the attack came.

  No warning.

  No formation.

  Just chaos.

  Bloodied Bert charged first, swinging wildly — too wide, too slow, as if he were imitating combat rather than fighting.

  “The Maze kills,” he growled.

  One of the Harladas hurled a sphere of energy without aim.

  “The Maze kills.”

  The other echoed it.

  “The Maze kills.”

  The words looped.

  Repetitive.

  Unfocused.

  Leo dodged a clumsy strike that should have connected.

  “They’re not coordinated,” he said.

  “They’re not thinking,” Harlada answered.

  Satyr Leo flinched as a spell shattered against the wall behind him.

  “The Maze kills,” Bloodied Bert repeated — but this time, the cadence shifted.

  Not statement.

  Question.

  “The Maze… kills?”

  Harlada stepped forward, hands raised.

  “Stop! We’re not your enemies!”

  One of her variants turned toward her slowly.

  “The Maze kills.”

  Again that lift at the end.

  Uncertainty.

  A sphere of crackling energy formed in Casting Harlada’s hands and launched forward.

  Leo saw it too late.

  It struck his shoulder and spun him sideways, slamming him into the stone.

  Pain flared.

  “Leo!” Bert shouted.

  Without thinking, Bert hurled his axe at Casting Harlada — clean, precise, lethal.

  Leo saw the arc.

  Saw where it would land.

  He forced himself up and struck the handle mid-flight, knocking it off course.

  The axe spun past Casting Harlada, embedding in the wall instead.

  Harlada screamed, “No! They’re friends!”

  Bloodied Bert lunged again, wild and off-balance.

  “They’re under something!” Leo gasped. “It’s strategically logical to break the spell!”

  Another sphere began forming.

  They had to disrupt it.

  “Move!” Leo shouted and pushed Bert away the fell on the ground together.

  The Harlada variants hesitated.

  “The Maze kills—?”

  The words wavered.

  The embedded axe shimmered.

  Recall.

  It vanished from the wall.

  Reappeared in Bert’s hand.

  Half inside Leo’s abdomen.

  For a second, no one understood what they were seeing.

  The handle protruded cleanly from his stomach, metal phased through cloth and flesh.

  Leo looked down slowly.

  Then up at Bert.

  Bert’s face drained of color.

  “I— I—”

  The room fell silent except for the fading echo:

  “The Maze kills…?”

  Leo staggered but remained standing, one hand gripping the axe handle where it intersected him.

  ***

  A melodie carried in the dull, blood drenched air of the maze.

  Hooves mixed in. galloping, coming closer fast.

  Satyr Leo sang as soon he thought it would be heard.

  Low at first. Raw. Not polished. Not pretty.

  A song that carried grief instead of harmony.

  The sound cut through the chamber — through the looping chant, through the chaos, through the words The Maze kills that had begun to sound like a question.

  The Bloodied Bert staggered mid-swing.

  One of the Harladas dropped her half-formed spell.

  The other clutched her head as if waking from deep water.

  “The Maze…” she whispered.

  Silence.

  Bloodied Bert blinked.

  He looked at his hands.

  Then at Leo.

  At the axe embedded in Leo’s abdomen.

  The color drained from his face.

  “What did we—”

  The second Harlada stumbled backward. “No. No, no—”

  Leo swayed but stayed upright, gripping the weapon to keep it from shifting deeper.

  Satyr Leo’s song softened, anchoring them fully back to themselves.

  Bloodied Bert dropped his weapon.

  “We didn’t mean—”

  He stared at Leo in horror.