The air was wrong

Darrien Hale knew it the moment the tunnel behind him disappeared. It didn't collapse. It didn't shift with a groan of moving stone. One second it was there - a passage leading back to the others - and the next, it simply? wasn't

He pressed a hand against the icy wall where the opening had been. Smooth.. Like it didn't exist.

His torch flickered in his grip, its flame struggling against the damp chill that pressed from all sides. The air smelled of moss and something else - something older, something that clung to the stones like a warning.

He wasn't alone.

The thought crawled up his spine, sending a shudder through his limbs. He turned, his breath shallow, listening. The silence was absolute. No sound of his companions, no distant footfalls. Just the slow rhythmic drip?drip?drip of water echoing through the tunnels.

Mallory had been right beside him. Then she wasn't.

One moment, her footsteps matched his, cautious, steady. The next, she was gone. No sound. No cry. Just?gone.

Oren had vanished soon after, slipping around a bend and never reappearing. He had hesitated before stepping forward, tilting his head as if hearing something Darrien couldn't. The last thing he'd said still echoed in the dark:

"I think?something's watching us."

Darrien had scoffed, uneasy but unwilling to let fear overwhelm him. It's just a maze. That's what they told themselves. That's what all the stories said. The maze shifted, played tricks, and swallowed those who strayed too far. But it wasn't alive.

Except now, alone in its silent depths, he wasn't so sure.

His grip tightened around the hilt of his dagger. His torch's flame danced wildly, shadows stretching and twisting against the uneven walls. He stepped forward, carefully, scanning the narrow corridor ahead. The stone path curved, veering left - then right, then left again. How deep had they come? The maze had a way of turning certainty into doubt, twisting paths into loops that led nowhere.

A sound.

Faint. A whisper of movement.

Darrien froze. His pulse pounded in his ears. He turned, lifting the torch higher, its weak glow pressing against the dark.

Nothing.

Just the endless stone, stretching against every direction. And yet - he could feel it. A weight in the dark, thick and pressing, like unseen eyes dragging over his skin.

He clenched his jaw. Focus. He needed to mark his path. His fingers fumbled for a piece of chalk, but as he reached toward the wall, he hesitated.

There.

Scratch marks. Deep, jagged cravings etched into the stone, as if someone - or something, had clawed at the surface in desperation. He traced a shaking hand over them, feeling the uneven grooves.

Not new. Not old, either.

His stomach twisted.

Another sound. Closer.

A rush of cold air ghosted against the back of his neck. His breath hitched. Slowly, he turned.

Still nothing.

He needed to leave a message. If someone finds this?if I don't make it?

With trembling hands, he tore a scrap of paper from his pack, scrawling a single, frantic warning. He pulled his dagger free and slammed it into the wall, pinning the note beneath its blade.

The maze is listening.

His torch sputtered. The flame wavered - then dimmed and died.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

Darrien sucked in a sharp breath, pulse hammering, he fumbled for flint, his fingers slick with sweat. The strike of metal on stone sent weak sparks into the air, failing to catch.

Another whisper. This time, not imagined.

Right beside him.

His lungs seized. The air turned thick, pressing against his ribs. He could hear something now. A faint rhythmic sound.

Breathing.

Not his.

The whisper came again, too close to his ear.

"Run."

Darrien staggered back. His flint slipped from his fingers, clattering uselessly to the ground. He didn't hear it hit the stone. The floor had vanished beneath him.

For one endless movement, he hung in the dark.

Then he fell.

A scream tore from his throat, but the abyss swallowed the sound. The last thing he knew was the sensation of cold, unseen hands reaching for him - pulling him deeper - deeper,

Then silence.

And the maze shifted once more.

The town of Breckenridge