The puzzle room greeted them like a memory.

  A large circular chamber, wider than it first appeared, its walls curving gently inward toward a domed ceiling. Several torches burned along the perimeter, their flames steady and bright, casting warm light instead of the Maze’s usual cold glow. The floor was smooth stone, unbroken—no obvious traps, no seams.

  Too clean.

  In the center of the room stood six pedestals.

  They were evenly spaced, forming a perfect ring. Each pedestal was waist-high, carved from pale stone, its surface worn smooth by hands that had lingered too long. No markings. No symbols. Just flat tops, waiting.

  “Well,” Bert said, “this already feels like a bad idea.”

  Between the pedestals stood a single plaque set into the floor, polished to a dull sheen. Leo approached first, crouching to read.

  “It’s a rhyme,” he said.

  “Of course it is,” Harlada replied.

  Leo cleared his throat.

  Six stand still, yet none alone,

  One voice fails, two may atone.

  No single path, no hero’s claim,

  The prize is shared, or lost the same.

  Two parties bound, one truth revealed—

  Together placed, the way unsealed.

  Silence followed.

  Bloodied Bert frowned. “That’s… very specific.”

  Leo stood slowly. “It’s not subtle.”

  “No,” Harlada said. “It’s explicit.”

  Bert counted on his fingers. “Six pedestals. Six people.”

  “Or,” Leo added, “two full parties.”

  Bloodied Bert looked around the room again, then at the four of them. “So… we’re short.”

  “Yes,” Leo said. “Deliberately.”

  Harlada crossed her arms. “It’s forcing cooperation.”

  “Or betrayal,” Bert muttered.

  The torches crackled softly.

  Nothing else moved.

  The pedestals waited.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  And the room made one thing very clear:

  No one was getting the treasure alone.

  ***

  A sound echoed from the corridor.

  Soft at first. Irregular. Stone on stone.

  Footsteps.

  All four of them reacted at once.

  Bert shifted his stance, axe coming up automatically. Bloodied Bert mirrored him half a heartbeat later, knuckles whitening. Leo stepped back toward the pedestals, already counting distances, angles, exits.

  Harlada raised her staff.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “Don’t rush this.”

  The footsteps grew louder. Closer. Unhurried.

  “Whoever it is,” Bert murmured, “they’re not sneaking.”

  “Which means they’re either confident,” Leo said, “or very bad at this.”

  Harlada’s eyes narrowed. “I think I know who it is.”

  She tightened her grip on the staff, lightning crackling faintly along the wood.

  “I’m going to paralyze them,” she said. “Just for a moment. Enough to talk.”

  Bert shot her a look. “You say that like it’s friendly.”

  “It is friendly,” she replied. “Compared to the alternatives.”

  Leo hesitated. “You’re sure?”

  Harlada nodded. “It can only be the two Harladas.”

  The footsteps reached the corridor mouth.

  Bert glanced at Bloodied Bert. “Two Harladas sounds like a lot.”

  Bloodied Bert snorted. “One Harlada is already more than enough.”

  Harlada didn’t look back. “Agreed.”

  She lifted her staff, eyes locked on the darkened corridor, muscles coiled.

  The pedestals stood silent behind them.

  Six places.

  Leo lowered his voice. “Whatever comes through that corridor—we need them to unlock the treasure.”

  Harlada didn’t look away. “I know.”

  “Six pedestals,” Leo continued. “Four of us. two of them. If this turns into a fight and we lose anyone—”

  “—the treasure stays locked,” Bert finished.

  Bloodied Bert glanced at the pedestals, then back at the tight cluster they’d instinctively formed. His brow furrowed.

  “Then why are you standing so close together?” he asked.

  They blinked.

  “What?” Bert said.

  Bloodied Bert gestured at them. “Every Harlada I ever knew opened with a fireball.”

  Harlada winced. “ you see we should have bought Fireball.”

  Bloodied Bert raised an eyebrow.

  “Leo vetoed it,” she explained, nodding toward him. “His argument was that in confined spaces we’d probably burn each other before the enemies.”

  Leo adjusted his glasses. “Statistically speaking, yes.”

  Bloodied Bert stared at him.

  “You are in a maze,” he said slowly, “full of enemies grouped in three… and decided not to buy the biggest area effect spell available?”

  “Yes,” Leo said.

  “…Because you were worried about friendly fire,” Bloodied Bert finished.

  They exchanged looks.

  Harlada sighed. “In hindsight, we might be overthinking.”

  “No,” Bloodied Bert said, shaking his head. “You’re underestimating how often Harladas burn their own parties.”

  Lightning fizzled out along Harlada’s staff. She lowered it a fraction. “We have lightning”

  She stepped left.

  Bert shifted right.

  Bloodied Bert backed toward one of the pedestals, rolling his shoulders loose.

  Leo repositioned just enough to keep all of them in sight.

  They spread out—still close enough to help, far enough not to immolate each other.

  The footsteps in the corridor drew nearer.

  Six pedestals waited.