Strike Team Revised

Hector stood slightly apart from his team. Their nervous chatter and bursts of laughter grated on his focus. Some Strike teams entered the arena for glory or thrills—but not his. For them, this was survival. A brutal winter loomed, and the winnings from the Strike were their only hope of making it through.

Above, the muffled roar of the crowd echoed like a distant storm, punctuated by explosions and screams. The previous team was already in the bolthole ahead.

“Enough,” Hector said sharply.

The noise died instantly. A few teammates looked relieved—someone was finally taking charge.

“Archie,” he continued, “if I have to hear one more joke about that hoar you spent a weekend with, I’ll tear off my own ear just to have something to throw at you.”

Archie’s grin vanished. Tilly smirked at him, which only deepened his embarrassment.

“We’ve trained for this. We know stages one and two inside out. If we make it to stage five, I like our odds. But stages three and four? That’s where we need focus. If we clear stage three with six still standing, we’re set for winter. The prize money will carry us through.”

He wasn’t just talking to them now—he was reminding himself. But the team leaned in, hungry for confidence.

“We’re ready. Don’t rush. Use cover. Slow it down if you have to. And don’t take a shot if it means going down. If you fall, someone has to pick you up—and that’s two people out of the fight.”

“People, Heck,” Hattie corrected gently.

“Right. People,” he nodded. “But you and Tils are worth two of any men on the other teams.”

Hattie smiled. The tension eased slightly.

“Let’s get ready. Last year we barely scraped through stage one. This year, we’re different. We’re prepared.”

The team dispersed, each heading to their corner of the room. Weapons were checked, armor strapped on, rituals performed.

Astor and Marlon, the long-range sharpshooters, inspected their bows and adjusted their quivers. Archie, a hybrid bowman and rusher, tested the tension on his smaller bow. He was fast and agile, darting through the field to take enemies down up close. He worked well with Tilly and Hattie—both small, fierce, and impossible to hold back. The girls thrived in close combat, spurring each other on like twin storms. Tilly wielded twin short swords, slicing with lightning speed.

Leo secured his holsters, each filled with vials—green for healing, red for fire, blue for shrapnel. In the arena’s holographic projection, these would burst on impact, either mending wounds or wreaking havoc. Leo was their lifeline.

Chase mirrored Hector’s role on the opposite flank. Both were broad, powerful men—brutes who could clear the field when the others couldn’t. Then there was Quinn.

Hector watched as Quinn strapped on more armor than anyone else, a curved shield on his left arm and a dagger in his right. Three more daggers lined his leg. He carried a few vials, but his bulk left little room. Quinn wasn’t reckless—he was deliberate. He chose the front line not for lack of skill, but because it gave him the best view of the battlefield.

He approached Hector quietly.

“A word?” Quinn asked.

Hector nodded.

“The tunnel opens right,” Quinn said. “We don’t know what mechanics they’ve changed this year.”

“I know,” Hector replied. “But if we all bunch up, we’ll get picked off.”

Each year, rounds one and two stayed the same, but the mechanics shifted slightly. Round one’s boss was always the same: a massive, enchanted minotaur nicknamed Rhino. Invincible until four keys were activated simultaneously—each hidden in a rock at the arena’s corners.

Simple in theory. In practice, waves of goblin-like creatures poured from the walls and floors, some armed with bows. Rhino would charge in shortly after the first wave, targeting whoever caught its eye. If any key was removed, the beast became invincible again.

Hector’s plan was precise. Marlon and Astor would take high ground on a rock near the entrance, covering the field. Tilly, Hattie, and Archie would rush to the far end to activate the rear keys. Quinn would draw Rhino’s attention. Hector and Chase would handle the front keys, with Leo supporting wherever needed.

The arena was vast—rocky, moss-covered, with boulders three times a man’s size and thick foliage that obscured vision. It was a nightmare to navigate, but they’d trained for this.

“I still think we shouldn’t split too early,” Quinn said. “If someone goes down fast, we’re done.”

“I agree,” Hector said. “We hold the front until Rhino shows. Once you’ve got its attention, the rushers move.”

Quinn nodded, satisfied. “Let’s make it count.”

“Right, listen up, everybody,” Hector called out. “If you’re ready, it’s nearly our time.”

He quickly ran through the opening stages of the plan, reminding each teammate of their roles and the arena’s mechanics. As he spoke, the noise from above began to fade. A mage’s voice echoed through the chamber, announcing the failure of the team ahead of them.

From behind the ornate doors, Hector heard the returning team—groans of pain, the scrape of armor, and the sharp edge of an argument. He didn’t need to look to know they were in rough shape.

That was one thing he loved about his own team. No matter how bad things got, they never turned on each other. No blame. Just grit.

He finished his briefing with a grin. “Let’s keep those keys in place—and under no circumstances are we going to be the idiots who let the Minotaur grab one.”

A few chuckles rippled through the group.

Then the doors burst open.

Nine men hobbled in—battered, bruised, one barely conscious and supported between two teammates. Blood stained their armor. One of them muttered as he passed Hector, “Good luck.”

Hector didn’t reply. His eyes were already on the chamber beyond—a vast square room lit by nine thick beams of light cascading from the ceiling. A surge of adrenaline hit him. Yes, they needed the money. But this? This was also the thrill of the fight.

He raised his sword, grinning.

“This is it, team. Hammer or nothing—all the way!”

The team roared in response, hearts pounding, weapons ready. They broke into a run, scattering to their starting positions, fired up and ready to take down a mutilated Minotaur.

The Arena

The nine beams of light flared to life, one for each team member. Hector stepped into his, heart pounding. The others followed, weapons ready, armor gleaming under the magical glow. The chamber around them began to hum—a deep, resonant vibration that filled their bones.

“Projection initializing,” came the mage’s voice, disembodied and calm.

The light intensified. Hector felt the familiar pull, like his body was being unraveled and reassembled all at once. The world dissolved into white.

Then—impact.

His boots slammed onto solid ground. The roar of the crowd above was gone, replaced by the eerie silence of the arena. The projection had taken hold.

They were in.

The arena stretched out before them—an expanse of jagged rock, moss-covered boulders, and shafts of golden light piercing through a low-hanging mist. The air was thick with tension and the faint scent of ozone, like a storm waiting to break.

“Feels different this year,” Tilly muttered, crouching beside a boulder. “Smells worse too.”

“That’s not the arena,” Leo replied, adjusting the vials strapped across his chest. “That’s Archie’s nerves leaking.”

Archie, already halfway up a rock face, shot Leo a glare. “You’ll be begging for my nerves when I’m saving your hide.”

“Eyes up,” Hector called. “Positions.”

The team scattered with practiced precision. Astor and Marlon scaled the high ridge to the right, bows slung across their backs. Tilly and Hattie darted low and fast, weaving between cover. Chase and Quinn took the front, shields raised, while Leo lingered near Hector, scanning the terrain.

Then Astor’s voice crackled through the comms. “Hector, I’ve got eyes on three key points. Fourth’s not where it should be.”

Hector’s stomach tightened. “Say again?”

“Northwest corner. It’s gone. Either buried or moved.”

“Damn it,” Hector muttered. “They’ve changed the layout.”

Quinn’s voice came through next. “We adapt. We always do.”

“Copy that,” Hector said. “Everyone stay sharp. We find that key.”

A low rumble vibrated through the ground. The mist stirred. Then came the screech—high, sharp, and inhuman.

“Contact!” Marlon shouted.

From the cracks in the arena walls, goblins poured out—dozens of them, snarling and armed. Some carried crude blades, others bows. They moved faster than last year.

“Hold the line!” Hector barked.

Tilly and Hattie were already in motion. Tilly spun through the mist, her twin blades flashing silver as she cut down two goblins in a single breath. Hattie followed, leaping from a rock to drive her dagger into a goblin’s throat before flipping away.

Archie loosed an arrow mid-air, landing beside them with a grin. “Told you I’d save your hides.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Hattie said, slicing through another attacker.

Leo hurled a red vial into a cluster of goblins. It shattered with a hiss, erupting in flame. Screams echoed as the creatures scattered.

“Nice throw,” Chase grunted, slamming his shield into a goblin and crushing it against a boulder.

“They’re faster this year,” he added.

“Then we hit harder,” Hector replied, driving his sword through a goblin’s chest.

The ground trembled again—this time deeper, heavier.

Then came the roar.

It wasn’t just sound. It was force. It shook the rocks, rattled bones, and silenced the goblins for a heartbeat.

From the far end of the arena, the Minotaur emerged.

Rhino.

But this wasn’t the same beast. He was larger, his horns plated in blackened steel, his chest covered in enchanted armor that shimmered with runes. His eyes glowed with a furious red light.

Quinn’s voice was low. “That’s not the same beast. They’ve upgraded him.”

Hector stared, jaw tight. “Then we bring him down harder.”

The goblins surged again, emboldened by their champion. Rhino charged, hooves cracking stone beneath him.

“Leo!” Hector shouted. “We need that fourth key!”

Leo ducked behind cover, fumbling for a blue vial. “If it’s buried, we dig with fire.”

“Where?” Archie asked, already moving.

“Northwest quadrant. Look for a break in the moss—might be a collapsed tunnel.”

“I’m on it,” Archie said. “Tils, with me.”

Tilly nodded and sprinted after him, blades flashing.

The rest of the team held the line. Quinn stepped forward, shield raised, and bellowed a challenge. Rhino turned, snorted, and charged.

“Now!” Hector shouted.

Quinn braced. Rhino slammed into him like a battering ram. The impact sent a shockwave through the arena, but Quinn held. Just barely.

“Go!” Hector yelled. “Get those keys in!”

Meanwhile, Archie and Tilly reached the northwest corner. The moss was thick, but something glowed faintly beneath it.

“There,” Tilly said, pointing.

Archie knelt, brushing the moss aside. A stone slab lay beneath, etched with unfamiliar runes. In the center, a keyhole—but it pulsed with unstable energy.

“Uh… Hector?” Archie said, voice tight. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Archie brushed away the last of the moss, revealing the full symbol beneath. The stone slab was etched with a glowing red and gold rune—an eye-shaped design, weeping a single drop of light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Tilly crouched beside him, blades still slick with goblin blood. “That’s not just a key seal. That’s a sacrifice rune.”

Archie frowned. “You sure?”

“Positive. My sister trained with a rune-mage. This one’s old. Dangerous.”

The rune flared brighter as they stared at it, and a whisper filled the air—not in words, but in feeling. Hunger. Demand.

Leo’s voice crackled through the comms. “Status?”

“We found the key,” Archie replied. “But it’s locked behind a rune. Wants something in return.”

There was a pause. Then Hector’s voice, calm but firm: “What kind of something?”

Tilly answered. “A sacrifice. Could be a weapon. Could be a vial. Could be… more.”

Another pause. Then Leo again. “I’m on my way.”

“No time,” Archie said. “Rhino’s already charging Quinn. We need that key now.”

Tilly looked at him. “I’ll do it.”

Archie blinked. “What? No. You’re one of our best rushers. We need you.”

“I’m not giving up my swords,” she said, pulling a red vial from her belt. “But this? I’ve got two more.”

She held the vial over the rune. The light pulsed faster, almost eager.

“Wait,” Archie said. “Let me—”

But she dropped it.

The vial shattered on the rune. A burst of red light exploded upward, and the rune screamed—not aloud, but inside their heads. Then it faded, and the stone slab cracked open, revealing the key beneath.

Tilly staggered back, clutching her side.

“Tils?” Archie caught her. “What happened?”

“Just… winded,” she said through gritted teeth. “It took more than the vial.”

Archie looked down. The rune had vanished, but a faint burn mark now traced across Tilly’s ribs—like a brand.

“Hector,” Archie said, voice tight. “We’ve got the key. But it cost us.”

Tilly leaned against the boulder, her breath shallow. The burn across her ribs still pulsed faintly, the mark glowing beneath her armor like a coal buried in ash.

“You okay?” Archie asked, steadying her.

“Yeah,” she lied. “Just… took more than I expected.”

He didn’t press. But as she moved, he noticed something strange—the moss beneath her feet withered slightly, curling away from her boots.

Before he could say anything, Hector’s voice cut in over the comms. “Status?”

“We’ve got the key,” Archie replied. “Tilly’s fine. The rune’s gone.”

“Good. Everyone, move to activation points. Now.”

Tilly shook off the pain and nodded. “Let’s finish this.”

The team converged on their assigned positions. The arena trembled again—Rhino was still locked in combat with Quinn, who was holding his ground with sheer will and brute strength.

“On my mark,” Hector said. “Three… two… one—turn!”

Four keys slid into place with a deep, resonant click. A pulse of golden light surged through the arena, racing along the ground like lightning. The runes on Rhino’s armor flickered—then shattered like glass.

The Minotaur roared, stumbling mid-charge.

“He’s vulnerable!” Leo shouted. “Now’s our chance!”

The golden pulse faded, and silence fell—brief, electric.

Then Rhino roared.

The runes on his armor shattered like glass, fragments dissolving into the air. His massive frame staggered, exposed for the first time. The beast’s eyes burned brighter, not with magic—but with rage.

“Now!” Hector shouted. “All units—engage!”

Quinn didn’t wait. He surged forward, shield raised, slamming into Rhino’s chest with a thunderous clang. The Minotaur reeled, but recovered fast, swinging a massive fist that Quinn barely deflected.

“Leo, support!” Hector barked.

Leo hurled a green vial toward Quinn. It burst in a cloud of shimmering mist, knitting the bruises already forming beneath his armor.

From above, Astor and Marlon unleashed a volley of arrows. The shafts struck true—one embedding in Rhino’s shoulder, the other in his thigh. The beast bellowed, swiping at the sky, but the archers were too high, too fast.

Tilly and Hattie flanked from the left, blades flashing. Tilly ducked under Rhino’s swing, slicing across his hamstring. Hattie leapt onto a boulder and launched herself at his back, driving both daggers into the exposed flesh between his shoulder blades.

Rhino roared and twisted, grabbing Hattie mid-air. He hurled her across the arena like a ragdoll.

“Hattie’s down!” Archie shouted, already sprinting toward her.

Leo was faster. He slid beside her, pulling a green vial from his belt. “Stay with me, Hat.”

She groaned, dazed but alive. The vial hissed as it healed the worst of the damage.

Meanwhile, Hector and Chase charged from opposite sides. Rhino turned to face Hector, lowering his horns.

“Come on, then,” Hector growled.

The Minotaur charged.

Hector met him head-on, sword raised. At the last second, he dropped low, sliding beneath the beast’s swing and slashing across its belly. Chase struck from behind, driving his axe into Rhino’s spine.

The Minotaur howled, spinning wildly. Blood sprayed across the mossy ground.

“Archie, now!” Hector shouted.

Archie leapt from a ledge, loosing two arrows mid-air. One struck Rhino’s eye. The beast screamed, blinded, thrashing.

Tilly was already moving. She sprinted up a fallen pillar, launched herself off the top, and drove both blades into Rhino’s neck.

The Minotaur staggered.

Quinn charged again, shield-first, slamming into Rhino’s chest with all his weight.

The beast fell.

Dust and blood filled the air. For a moment, no one moved.

Then the arena pulsed with golden light. The crowd above erupted in thunderous applause, their cheers echoing through the projection.

“Stage one—complete,” the mage’s voice announced.

The team stood, panting, bruised, bloodied—but alive.

Hector looked around. “Sound off.”

One by one, voices answered. All nine still standing.

But as Tilly wiped her blades clean, she winced. The burn beneath her armor flared again—hotter now. She didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

Between the Storms

The arena shimmered, and the projection softened. The battlefield faded into a neutral zone—flat stone, soft light, and silence. A temporary reprieve before the next round.

The team gathered near a low ridge, catching their breath. Quinn dropped to one knee, shield resting beside him, sweat pouring down his face.

“Still standing,” he muttered. “Barely.”

Leo handed him a green vial. “Drink. You took a hit that would’ve flattened a horse.”

Quinn nodded and downed it, the healing mist curling around his chest.

Hattie sat on a boulder, flexing her shoulder. “I’m fine,” she said, waving off concern. “Just bruised pride.”

Archie grinned. “You flew like a champion. I thought you were trying to ride the Minotaur.”

“Next time,” she said, smirking.

Astor and Marlon checked their bows, replacing strings and counting arrows. Chase leaned against a rock, eyes closed, breathing deep.

Hector stood in the center, sword planted in the ground, surveying his team. Nine still standing. That was rare.

“We did good,” he said. “Stage one’s behind us. Stage two will be worse.”

“Always is,” Leo replied.

Tilly sat apart, wrapping a cloth around her ribs. The burn still pulsed beneath her armor, faint but insistent. She hadn’t told anyone yet. Not really. But she could feel it—something had changed.

As she tightened the cloth, the stone beneath her fingers darkened slightly. Just a shade. Just for a second.

She blinked. It was gone.

Archie walked over, handing her a water flask. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

He didn’t push. But he didn’t walk away either.

Hector clapped his hands. “Alright. Ten minutes. Then we move. Stage two’s a maze. Stay close, stay sharp.”

The team nodded, settling into their brief rest. Weapons were cleaned. Armor adjusted. Jokes exchanged. But beneath it all, a quiet tension lingered.

Tilly looked down at her hand again.

The stone didn’t change this time.

But she could still feel it.

The neutral zone dissolved around them, and once again the beams of light flared. The team rose to their feet, weapons ready, breath held.

“Projection initializing,” the mage’s voice echoed.

The world blinked.

When it returned, they stood in darkness.

Not pitch black—just dim. The kind of dim that made shadows stretch too long and corners feel too close. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of stone and something older. Something wrong.

“Stage Two,” Hector muttered. “The Maze.”

The arena had shifted. Gone were the open rocks and boulders. Now they stood at the entrance of a vast labyrinth—walls of slick stone rising high above them, covered in moss and faintly glowing runes. The ceiling was lost in shadow. The only light came from the faint blue glow of the runes and the occasional flicker of torchlight deeper within.

“Comms check,” Hector said.

Each voice answered in turn. All nine, still together.

“Stay close,” he ordered. “This place splits fast. We lose line of sight, we lose each other.”

Leo stepped forward, holding a small orb that pulsed with soft green light. “I’ll mark our path. If we loop, we’ll know.”

“Good,” Quinn said. “But keep your eyes up. The maze changes.”

They moved in formation—Hector and Quinn at the front, Leo and Chase behind, the others fanned out in a tight wedge. The walls seemed to breathe, the runes pulsing in rhythm with their footsteps.

Then came the first sound.

A whisper.

Not words. Just breath. Echoing from every direction.

Tilly froze. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Archie said. “And I don’t like it.”

Suddenly, the wall to their left shifted—stone grinding against stone. A new corridor opened, and the one behind them sealed shut.

“Keep moving,” Hector said. “No turning back.”

They pressed on, deeper into the maze. The whispers grew louder. Shapes flickered at the edge of their vision—too fast to see, too quiet to track.

Then the first trap triggered.

A pressure plate clicked beneath Marlon’s foot. Before he could react, a wall of spikes shot out from the right.

“Down!” Quinn shouted, tackling him.

The spikes missed by inches, slamming into the opposite wall with a deafening clang.

“Thanks,” Marlon panted.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Quinn said. “That was just the start.”

They moved slower now, eyes scanning every step. The maze twisted and turned, corridors looping back on themselves, runes shifting like puzzle pieces.

Then the whispers stopped.

And the silence was worse.

Because it meant something was coming.

From the shadows ahead, a figure emerged—tall, cloaked in black, face hidden beneath a bone-white mask. It didn’t walk. It glided.

“What the hell is that?” Hattie whispered.

Leo’s voice was tight. “That’s not part of last year’s maze.”

The figure raised a hand. The runes on the walls flared red.

Then it attacked.

The masked figure raised its hand, and the runes along the maze walls flared red.

Then it moved—fast.

“Scatter!” Hector shouted.

The team split, diving behind stone pillars and corners. A blast of dark energy surged from the figure’s palm, slamming into the wall where they’d stood. The stone cracked, glowing with residual heat.

“Leo, what is that thing?” Quinn called, shield raised.

“I don’t know!” Leo shouted, ducking behind a column. “It’s not in any of the archives. It’s not even… alive.”

The figure glided forward, silent and relentless.

Astor and Marlon took position on a ledge above, loosing arrows. The shafts struck—but passed through the figure like smoke.

“Not physical,” Astor muttered. “We need magic.”

Leo fumbled for a blue vial, then hesitated. His fingers hovered over a small, silver-capped vial—his mother’s formula. The last one.

He clenched his jaw and threw a standard blue instead. It exploded in a burst of light and shrapnel. The figure recoiled, just slightly.

“Light disrupts it!” Leo shouted. “We can’t kill it—but we can push it back!”

Tilly darted forward, blades flashing. The rune on her ribs pulsed again, and as she slashed, her swords left glowing trails in the air. The figure hissed—actually hissed—and retreated a step.

Archie saw it too. “Tils… your blades—”

“Later!” she snapped, pressing the attack.

Hattie followed, flipping over a low wall and landing beside her sister. “You’re glowing again. You sure you’re okay?”

“I said later!”

Hector and Chase flanked from the sides, driving the figure back toward a narrow corridor. Quinn moved to block its retreat, shield raised.

“Now!” Hector shouted.

Leo hurled another vial—this one green. It burst in a cloud of mist, and the figure vanished into it, dissolving like smoke in wind.

Silence.

Then the runes dimmed.

The maze shifted again—walls sliding, corridors realigning. A new path opened ahead.

“Everyone alright?” Hector asked.

One by one, voices confirmed. No injuries. No losses.

But something had changed.

Later, as they regrouped

The team gathered in a small alcove, catching their breath. The maze was quiet—for now.

Leo sat beside Tilly, watching her wrap her ribs again. “You’re not fine,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer.

“I’ve seen rune burns before,” he continued. “But this one… it’s not fading. It’s feeding.”

Tilly looked away. “I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Across the alcove, Hattie watched them, worry etched across her face. She turned to Quinn, who was sketching the new layout into his map.

“She’s not telling us everything,” she said.

“She will,” Quinn replied. “When she’s ready.”

Archie leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Weird shadow monsters, shifting walls, glowing swords… anyone else feel like we’re not just fighting for prize money anymore?”

Marlon chuckled nervously. “I’d take a goblin horde over this any day.”

Astor didn’t laugh. He was staring at the wall where the figure had vanished, his fingers tracing a faint scorch mark.

“It wasn’t trying to kill us,” he said quietly. “It was testing us.”

Hector stood, sword resting on his shoulder. “Then we pass the test. And we keep moving.”

He looked at each of them in turn—his team, his responsibility. They were tired, bruised, and carrying more than just weapons.

But they were still standing.

“Let’s finish this maze,” he said. “Then we talk about what’s really going on.”

The maze had stopped shifting—for now.

The team found a small chamber tucked behind a rune-marked archway. It was quiet, the air still and cool. A rare moment of peace.

They dropped their gear in a loose circle. No one spoke at first. The silence wasn’t heavy—it was earned.

Leo sat cross-legged, tinkering with a cracked vial. Tilly leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes distant. Hattie watched her from across the room, chewing her lip.

Archie broke the silence. “So… anyone want to admit they’re terrified? Or is it just me?”

Marlon chuckled. “You? Terrified? You flirted with a goblin last year.”

“It flirted first,” Archie said, grinning. “I’m very approachable.”

Even Hector cracked a smile.

Quinn, seated with his back to the wall, unfolded a worn piece of parchment. He began sketching the new layout of the maze.

“You’ve been mapping this place?” Hattie asked, moving beside him.

“Since my first Strike,” Quinn replied. “You don’t survive long if you don’t learn from the dead.”

She glanced at the map, then at him. “You ever lose someone in here?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Too many.”

Across the chamber, Leo looked up from his work. “Tilly,” he said softly. “Can I see it?”

She didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. With a sigh, she lifted her shirt just enough to reveal the mark.

The rune had spread—no longer just a burn, but a faint pattern of branching lines, like veins of fire beneath her skin.

Hattie stood. “Tils…”

“I’m fine,” Tilly said quickly. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s not the point,” Leo said. “It’s growing. It’s feeding off something.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The silence that followed was sharp.

Archie cleared his throat. “Well. I, for one, am definitely not cursed. Just broke and charming.”

Marlon laughed again, but it was quieter this time.

Astor, who had been silent, finally spoke. “That thing we fought… it wasn’t trying to kill us. It was watching. Testing.”

Hector nodded. “And we passed. But that means there’s more coming.”

He looked around the circle. “We’re not just fighting monsters anymore. This arena—it’s changing. And it’s watching us.”

Chase, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke. “Then we give it something to watch.”

Everyone turned to him.

He shrugged. “We’re still standing. That’s what matters.”

Hector stood. “He’s right. Rest’s over. We move in five.”

As the team began to gather their gear, Hattie moved to Tilly’s side.

“You’re not alone in this,” she whispered.

Tilly didn’t answer. But she didn’t pull away either.

The team moved deeper into the labyrinth, the walls narrowing, the air growing colder. The runes on the stone glowed faintly—blue at first, then shifting to a dull red as they passed.

Tilly walked near the front now, her hand occasionally brushing the wall. Each time she touched the stone, the rune beneath her armor pulsed faintly.

They reached a dead end.

A massive stone door blocked their path, covered in ancient symbols—some familiar, most not. At its center was a circular indentation, surrounded by a ring of runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

Leo stepped forward, examining it. “This isn’t a puzzle. It’s a seal.”

“Can you break it?” Hector asked.

Leo shook his head. “Not without triggering something. It’s keyed to… something else.”

Tilly stepped closer. The rune on her ribs burned—not painfully, but insistently.

She reached out.

As her fingers brushed the stone, the runes flared to life—bright red and gold, just like the mark on her skin. The door responded, the symbols shifting, aligning into a spiral.

The stone groaned.

Then it opened.

The team stepped back, weapons raised, but no enemies emerged. Just a long corridor, lit by the same red-gold glow.

“Tilly…” Hattie said, staring at her sister. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Tilly whispered. “It just… reacted.”

Leo looked at her, eyes wide. “That rune—it’s not just a mark. It’s a key.”

Quinn stepped forward, eyes scanning the corridor. “Or a beacon.”

Hector nodded slowly. “Either way, we move. Tilly, you’re with me.”

As they entered the corridor, the walls shimmered faintly, and the runes whispered in a language none of them understood. But Tilly felt it—not in her ears, but in her bones.

The maze was watching her.

And it was opening.

The corridor narrowed into a chamber—circular, domed, and eerily silent. The walls were covered in the same red-gold runes that had opened the door, but here they pulsed with heat. The air shimmered, thick with magic.

At the center of the room stood a pedestal, and above it, suspended in midair, a glowing orb of fire. It spun slowly, casting flickering light across the chamber.

As the team stepped inside, the door behind them sealed with a heavy thud.

A voice echoed—not from the walls, but from within their minds.

“One marked. One flame. One path.”

The orb flared, and a ring of fire erupted around the pedestal, separating it from the rest of the room.

Leo stepped forward instinctively, but the flames surged higher.

“Nope,” he muttered, stepping back. “That’s not for me.”

Tilly’s rune burned.

She gasped, clutching her side. The mark glowed through her armor, brighter than ever.

“It’s calling her,” Quinn said. “This is her trial.”

Hector turned to her. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” Tilly said, already stepping forward.

The flames parted for her.

She walked into the ring, the heat licking at her skin but not burning. The orb pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

“Prove your flame,” the voice said. “Or be consumed by it.”

The orb split into three smaller flames, each taking shape—figures made of fire. One held twin swords. One moved like a shadow. The third… looked like her.

Tilly stared at the fiery version of herself. It mirrored her stance, her weapons, even the defiance in her eyes.

Then they attacked.

She met them head-on, blades flashing. The first flame struck hard, testing her strength. The second danced around her, fast and elusive. But it was the third—the mirror—that fought with her exact rhythm.

Outside the ring, the team watched, helpless.

“She’s fighting herself,” Hattie whispered.

“No,” Leo said. “She’s fighting what the rune sees in her.”

Inside the flames, Tilly gritted her teeth. She struck down the first figure, then the second. But the third—her reflection—matched every move.

Until she stopped.

She lowered her blades.

The flame-Tilly hesitated.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Tilly said. “You’re not my enemy. You’re my fire.”

The flame stepped back. Then it bowed.

The orb pulsed once more—and the flames vanished.

The room cooled. The pedestal lowered, revealing a glowing sigil carved into the stone.

The maze shifted again. A new path opened.

Tilly stepped out of the ring, sweat-soaked and pale, but standing.

Hattie ran to her. “You okay?”

Tilly nodded. “I think… I passed.”

Leo looked at the sigil. “You didn’t just pass. You unlocked something.”

Hector placed a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever this is, it’s part of you now. And it’s leading us forward.”

Tilly looked back at the ring of scorched stone.

“I just hope it knows where it’s going.”

The sigil on the pedestal pulsed once—then sank into the stone, vanishing from sight.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the floor beneath the pedestal cracked with a deep, grinding sound. A circular platform began to descend, revealing a spiral staircase carved into the stone, lit by flickering red-gold torches that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“A hidden level?” Leo said, eyes wide. “That’s not part of the standard maze.”

“Nothing about this is standard anymore,” Quinn muttered.

Hector stepped forward, sword drawn. “We go together. Tilly, you lead.”

Tilly hesitated. “Why me?”

“Because it opened for you,” Hector said. “And whatever’s down there… it’s waiting for you.”

The team descended in silence, the air growing warmer with each step. The walls were covered in murals—ancient, faded, but still legible. They depicted warriors with glowing marks, like Tilly’s, standing before monstrous creatures and strange machines. Some were victorious. Others… were not.

At the bottom, they entered a vast underground chamber. The ceiling arched high above, supported by obsidian pillars. In the center stood a massive stone structure—part altar, part mechanism—covered in runes that pulsed in time with Tilly’s mark.

Leo approached it cautiously. “This is… old. Pre-Strike era. Maybe even pre-mage.”

“What does it do?” Hattie asked.

“I think it’s a forge,” Leo said. “But not for weapons. For people.”

Tilly stepped closer. The runes brightened.

A voice echoed through the chamber—not the same as before. This one was older. Wiser. Sadder.

“The Flamebearer has awakened. The Trial begins anew.”

The altar shifted, revealing a hollow space shaped like a person—arms outstretched, palms open.

Tilly stared at it. “It wants me to step in.”

“No way,” Hattie said, grabbing her arm. “You don’t know what it’ll do.”

“I think I do,” Tilly said quietly. “It’s not trying to hurt me. It’s trying to finish something.”

Hector stepped forward. “We don’t have to do this now. We can come back after the Strike.”

But Tilly shook her head. “What if this is the reason I was marked? What if this is why we’re still alive?”

She stepped into the hollow.

The altar closed around her.

The runes flared—blinding light, heat, and a sound like a forge roaring to life. The team stepped back, weapons raised, but didn’t interfere.

Inside, Tilly felt… everything.

Fire. Memory. Pain. Power.

Visions flashed before her eyes—other Flamebearers, other trials. Some succeeded. Some were consumed. But all were chosen.

Then the light faded.

The altar opened.

Tilly stepped out, her armor scorched but intact. Her eyes glowed faintly, and the rune on her ribs had spread—now wrapping around her arm like a living tattoo.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

The chamber rumbled, and a new path opened—one that hadn’t existed before.

The maze had accepted her.

And something deeper had awakened.

The chamber was quiet.

Tilly stood at the edge of the altar, her breath steady, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. The rune that had once been a mark on her ribs now curled around her arm like a living flame—etched in gold and red, pulsing with quiet power.

No one spoke at first.

Then Hattie stepped forward.

“Tils?” Her voice was soft. “Are you… still you?”

Tilly turned to her, and for a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then she smiled—tired, but real.

“Yeah,” she said. “Still me. Just… more.”

Hattie rushed forward and hugged her tightly. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I didn’t know what would happen,” Tilly whispered. “But it felt right.”

Leo circled the altar, eyes wide with wonder. “That wasn’t just a forge. It was a conduit. It didn’t give you power—it awakened it.”

“Is that a good thing?” Marlon asked, half-joking.

Leo didn’t answer.

Quinn stepped forward, arms crossed. “We’ve seen magic change people. Not always for the better.”

“I know,” Tilly said. “But this isn’t like that. It’s not controlling me. It’s… listening.”

Archie raised an eyebrow. “Listening?”

Tilly nodded. “The maze. The arena. Whatever’s behind all this—it’s alive. And it’s watching us through me.”

Astor, quiet as ever, finally spoke. “Then we use it. If it’s watching, let it see we’re not afraid.”

Chase grunted in agreement. “She’s still one of us. That’s all that matters.”

Hector had been silent, watching her carefully. Now he stepped forward.

“You’ve changed,” he said. “But you’re still standing. And you opened a path none of us could.”

He paused. “That makes you our edge. But it also makes you a target.”

Tilly met his gaze. “I can handle it.”

“I know,” he said. “But you don’t have to handle it alone.”

She nodded, and for the first time since the rune had marked her, she felt the weight of it ease—just a little.

Hector turned to the rest of the team. “We move forward. Tilly leads. If the maze wants to test us, we show it what we are.”

“Strike team,” Archie said, raising his bow. “Hammer or nothing.”

The others echoed the call, their voices steady.

Tilly looked down at her arm, the rune glowing softly.

Whatever lay ahead, she wasn’t afraid.

Not anymore.