“I builta game,” I whisper. “Not this. Not the traps. Not the deaths.”
He nods once. “Still. Clever work.”
I laugh bitterly. “You call this clever?”
“I call it survival,” he says. “You think too much. Keep thinking. We need that.”
Dravven chuckles. “Look at us. The brick, the ray, the engineer, and the priestess. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”
Allov smiles faintly. “Let’s hope it doesn’t end like one.”
Borzen stands. “Rest if you can. We will move again in five.”
As he walks away, I stare at my reflection in the metal floor. My face looks strange. Older. Harder. The Maze hums softly around me, alive and hungry.
Somewhere behind the walls, Dirk is still watching.
And somewhere else, something darker is moving—something not controlled by him.
I feel it.
It’s coming for us.
CHAPTER 4
GYON
The maze knows I’m here.
It doesn't fear me. It doesn’trunfrom me. No, itresponds—twisting corridors just beyond reach, whispering threats in languages I’ve butchered into silence. It shifts like a cunning predator, not prey. I respect that.
But Iamthe better hunter.
I track by scent—copper tang of old blood, acidic sweat, fear clinging to the walls like damp mold. The others have moved on. I taste them in the air—tense, panicked, clumped together in desperation. Civilians stink the worst. Adrenaline-sour and frantic. Like cornered rodents too dumb to hide.
But one is different.
She doesn’t smell like fear. She smells likefire.
The corridor pulses around me, a soft heartbeat hidden beneath cold steel. I pad forward, bare feet silent on the seamless floor. The lights dim and flicker, disoriented by my presence.
Another trap triggers behind me—pitiful attempt.
The floor vanishes in a hiss. I leap forward just as electrified needles jut up from the chasm’s bottom. Cute. The walls snap back into place with a sigh, as if disappointed.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” I murmur to no one.
No response. Just more whispers.
Sometimes they sound like the people I’ve killed. They sound like her.
The next junction reeks of ozone and fresh plasma. A sentry bot emerges, spider-limbed and gleaming. Its faceplate lights up with targeting glyphs, sensors snapping onto my core.
I give it exactly two seconds to make a choice.
It lunges.
Wrong move.
