The first Harlada entered singing.

  Not loudly.

  Not dramatically.

  Just… singing.

  Her voice drifted ahead of her into the puzzle room, soft and steady, carrying a simple melody that didn’t demand attention so much as invite it. The sound wrapped around the stone, slid between the pedestals, and settled in the air like something that had always belonged there.

  The effect was immediate.

  Bert felt his shoulders loosen without realizing they’d been tense. Bloodied Bert exhaled slowly, the constant edge dulling just a little. Leo’s racing thoughts slowed, numbers and contingencies dissolving into something less urgent.

  Even the Maze’s hum seemed to soften.

  Harlada frowned.

  “That’s magic,” she said quietly.

  Leo nodded. “Some kind of emotional dampening. Possibly bardic.”

  The singing Harlada smiled as she stepped fully into the room, letting the last note fade naturally. She spread her hands in a peaceful gesture.

  “See?” she said. “No need to fight.”

  Harlada did not lower her staff.

  The second Harlada followed.

  She didn’t sing.

  She watched.

  Her eyes flicked over the pedestals, the torches, the four figures already present. Her fingers twitched once—subtle, controlled.

  Prepared.

  “Get closer together,” the second Harlada said, voice calm, reasonable. “So we can talk properly.”

  The request slid easily into the lingering warmth of the song. It felt sensible. Efficient. Safe.

  Bloodied Bert took a half-step forward—

  —and stopped.

  Harlada’s grip tightened on her staff.

  “No,” she said flatly.

  The singing Harlada tilted her head, still smiling.

  “That’s unfortunate,” she said.

  The other Harlada began to gather mana.

  The air changed.

  And the song, gentle as it was, did not stop.

  ***

  “Wait,” Harlada said.

  Her voice cut cleanly through the fading warmth of the song.

  Before anyone could move—before mana could fully gather—she raised one hand. Not in surrender. Not in threat. Just interruption.

  “Before this turns into another disaster,” she continued, “let’s talk.”

  The singing Harlada stopped.

  The last note lingered for a heartbeat, then dissolved into the torchlight.

  “Parley?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  The other Harlada didn’t even look at her. Mana crackled faintly around her fingers, heat already building.

  “We talk after we’ve smothered them,” she said calmly.

  Leo cleared his throat. “That would be… inefficient.”

  Both Harladas looked at him.

  “You need six people,” Leo said, gesturing toward the pedestals. “Alive. Standing. Cooperative. You kill us now, and the treasure stays locked.”

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  The singing Harlada’s smile faltered.

  She turned slowly to her counterpart. “He’s right.”

  The casting Harlada frowned. “We can find others.”

  “Can you?” the singer asked. “Here? Now?”

  She hesitated.

  “Treasure first,” the singing Harlada said thoughtfully. “Then burn them?”

  The casting Harlada’s expression hardened. “If we wait, we lose surprise.”

  Bloodied Bert snorted.

  “Fireball isn’t a surprise.”

  Everyone glanced at him.

  “You don’t sneak-explode people,” he added. “That’s just… exploding.”

  A brief, dangerous silence followed.

  The Maze hummed, attentive.

  Six pedestals stood between them.

  Six places.

  ***

  The casting Harlada let the gathered mana dissipate.

  Slowly. Reluctantly.

  “Fine,” she said. “We talk.”

  “Good,” Harlada replied. “That usually happens before the burning.”

  “Terms,” the casting Harlada said immediately. “Double loot. We’re the defining party here.”

  The singing Harlada turned on her. “You don’t get to claim that just because you were the loudest.”

  “We’re alive,” the caster snapped. “That’s usually how it works.”

  Leo stepped forward before it escalated.

  “The treasure room doesn’t care about parties,” he said. “It only cares about numbers.”

  Six pedestals.

  Six people.

  “That’s it,” Leo continued. “It doesn’t reward structure. It doesn’t care who belongs to whom. It just unlocks when six stand.”

  Bloodied Bert nodded slowly. “So double loot isn’t a requirement.”

  “No,” Leo said. “It’s leverage.”

  The casting Harlada crossed her arms. “Then we still want it.”

  “Or,” Leo said carefully, “you take single loot.”

  She scoffed. “And why would we agree to that?”

  Leo gestured to Bloodied Bert.

  “Because instead of double loot,” he said, “you get him.”

  Silence.

  The singing Harlada looked at Bloodied Bert. Really looked. At the scars. The stance. The way he watched corridors without realizing it.

  “…That’s a combat-ready Berserker,” she said slowly.

  “One who’s already survived betrayal,” Bert added. “And knows how not to fall for it again.”

  Bloodied Bert shrugged. “I hit hard.”

  The casting Harlada hesitated.

  Single loot.

  But a third body that turned their duo into something functional again.

  “And we,” Harlada said, “keep our three.”

  “Two viable paths forward,” Leo concluded. “No one crippled. No one overpaid.”

  The casting Harlada exhaled sharply.

  “…Fine,” she said. “Single loot. We take the Berserker.”

  Bloodied Bert nodded once. “Works for me.”

  Leo looked up. “Maze. Can they merge into a new party?”

  The hum deepened.

  The Maze pulsed.

  Regrouping is not common.

  Please wait.

  …

  Approved.

  No judgment.

  No warning.

  Just confirmation.

  The pedestals waited.

  ***

  One by one, they stepped onto the pedestals.

  Stone accepted weight without ceremony.

  Harlada first—staff grounded, eyes alert.

  Leo next—hands already twitching toward his notes.

  The singing Harlada followed, posture relaxed but ready.

  Bloodied Bert took his place without comment, knuckles white.

  The casting Harlada hesitated, then stepped up, jaw set.

  Five.

  Bert lingered.

  He looked at the pedestals. At the torches. At the way the room seemed to be holding its breath.

  “Before I step on,” he said, voice unusually steady, “I need something.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “A promise,” Bert said. “When the treasure unlocks—no one attacks anyone else.”

  Silence.

  Harlada nodded immediately. “Agreed.”

  Leo didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

  The singing Harlada smiled. “That’s reasonable.”

  Bloodied Bert turned his head slightly, eyes on the singing Harlada.

  “If she tries anything,” he said flatly pointing at the casting Harlada, “we kill her.”

  The smile didn’t fade. “Fair.”

  All eyes shifted to the casting Harlada.

  She scowled. “This is unnecessary.”

  “Is it?” Bert asked quietly.

  Her fingers twitched. Mana stirred—then stilled.

  “…Fine,” she said at last. “I promise.”

  The singing Harlada smiled at Bloodied Bert.

  “It is good to have a Bert again.”

  “Stupid Berts,” the casting Harlada muttered.

  Bert stepped onto the final pedestal.

  Six.

  A bell rang.

  The floor split open beneath them.

  And something massive began to rise.