The maze doesn't explode.
It fades.
One second the crimson glass walls tower over us — tall, jagged, veined with dark lines that pulse like something breathing behind them.
The next, the veins dim.
The red dulls.
The glass fractures without sound.
It doesn't shatter outward.
It collapses inward, folding into itself like a broken mirror being swallowed by the air.
Then it's gone.
No debris.
No shards.
Just sand.
The sudden openness makes the beach feel too big.
The sky stretches wide and gray above us. The ocean rolls in slow, indifferent waves like it didn't just trap us in something that knew our worst moments.
For a few seconds, none of us move.
Not because we're stunned.
Because we're adjusting.
The maze was close. Tight. Suffocating.
This is open.
Too open.
The portal flickers in the distance — a vertical tear in the air near the center of the shoreline. Dark around the edges. Warped in the middle. Like heat rising off pavement, except colder.
It feels farther than it did before.
Or maybe we're just slower now.
Camron is the first to shift his weight.
His staff is planted in the sand, but he's leaning on it more than usual. There's a shallow cut across his cheek. His shirt's torn at the shoulder. When he rolls his neck, I hear it pop faintly.
He doesn't complain.
Jordan stands a few feet ahead of us.
Kunai still in her hand.
She hasn't sheathed them.
Her shoulders are straight. Spine locked in place like she's holding herself up by force. The wind pushes her hair across her face and she doesn't brush it away.
Maya is quieter than usual.
Both daggers are tucked back at her sides, but she keeps flexing her fingers like she's making sure they still respond. There's dried blood on her sleeve — not all of it hers.
I look down at my own hands.
They're shaking.
Not violently.
Just enough that if I focus on it, I can't ignore it.
So I don't focus on it.
The mark under my sleeve pulses faintly — heat under skin. Not burning. Just there.
A reminder.
We start walking.
No one says "let's go."
We just move.
The sand feels heavier than before. Like each step sinks half an inch deeper than it should. My boots drag slightly. My ribs ache when I inhale too deep. I don't know if that's from the fight… or from the water.
The water.
I don't look at the ocean.
I don't think Jordan does either.
The waves crash softly, but it sounds distant. Like it's happening somewhere else.
Camron exhales through his nose.
"So," he says.
That's it.
Just so.
Jordan doesn't respond.
Neither does Maya.
Camron kicks at the sand lightly. "That maze was… something."
Understatement of the year.
Jordan keeps walking.
"It's over," she says.
Her voice is even.
Controlled.
Not cold.
Just… sealed.
Camron glances at her. "Yeah. I noticed."
There's no bite in it. Not really.
Just exhaustion.
Maya speaks up quietly. "It wanted us separated."
Jordan nods once. "Yeah."
That's all she gives.
I open my mouth to say something.
Close it.
Open it again.
Words always feel like they get stuck halfway up my throat. Like they don't know if they're allowed out.
"I think…" I start.
Three heads turn slightly.
Immediate regret.
"I think it was trying to see if we'd turn on each other," I finish, a little too fast.
Silence.
Camron hums under his breath. "That's dark."
Maya looks thoughtful.
Jordan doesn't answer.
But she doesn't dismiss it either.
We keep walking.
The portal flickers again. Closer now. The air around it bends slightly, like reality doesn't like being stretched that way.
The temperature drops the closer we get.
Not freezing.
Just enough to notice.
I rub my thumb against the grip of my sword. The metal feels heavier than usual. Or maybe my arms are just tired.
We're not arguing.
We're not joking either.
It's not dramatic.
It's just quiet.
The kind of quiet that happens after something intense — when everyone's brain is still catching up.
Camron adjusts his grip on his staff. Small sparks flicker along the wood, faint and unstable, before fading out again.
Jordan finally slides one of her kunai back into place at her thigh. The other stays in her hand.
Maya walks closer to me than before.
Not touching.
Just close enough that if something happens, we won't be too far apart.
I don't think she realizes she did it.
I don't think I realize why that makes my chest feel slightly less tight.
The portal is maybe fifty feet away now.
Up close, it's worse.
The edges aren't smooth. They ripple. Dark cracks branch outward from it into the air like fractures in glass, except nothing's breaking.
It hums.
Low.
Constant.
Camron stops walking first this time.
"Okay," he says quietly. "That's definitely not normal."
"Nothing about this is normal," Maya replies.
Jordan steps forward again.
Of course she does.
"We destroy it," she says. "That's the mission."
She sounds steady.
But I can see the way her grip tightens slightly around the kunai.
She's not fearless.
None of us are.
We're just moving anyway.
I swallow.
Fifteen.
That's what I am.
Fifteen and standing in front of something that looks like it could swallow a city.
I didn't ask for this.
None of us did.
But the portal doesn't care.
The world doesn't care.
If we walk away, someone else pays for it.
So I step forward too.
My voice almost doesn't come out.
"Let's just… stay close."
It's not heroic.
It's not inspiring.
It's just honest.
Camron nods once.
Maya nods too.
Jordan doesn't look back.
But she slows her pace — just enough so we're aligned again.
Four shadows stretching across the sand.
Four kids pretending they understand what they're doing.
The portal pulses.
Stronger.
And this time—
It feels like it's waiting