Young Writers Society

Asteri studied Eremia and the maze for a moment. It sounded like they were cheating the system - a maze was meant to be solved. But there had been noting in the rules to suggest that they had to physically go through the maze. They just had to get out.

"I could make ice, but I think your wind would be more efficient." He hated having to admit that he needed to rely on her, but he was too excited at the prospect at finishing the puzzle so quickly that he didn't waste time in agreeing to the plan. "Let's do it."


It was a good thing Vala didn't have a fear of heights, because that would really suck right now.

Vala didn't mind puzzles. Most of her life involved solving puzzles, even though those puzzles rarely resembled a literal maze. She was happy to figure out how to get something stolen. This was similar in principle, though the actual design was very different.

And though she desperately wished to have Maahes by her side - having him there would make it easy enough to solve in five minutes - she was lucky enough to have one of his friends. She would take that over a stranger any day.

"That sounds like a plan to me," she replied.

Eremia would've liked to make a comment about "your wind would be more efficient," but she decided that would be in bad taste. Instead, she set a hand on Asteri's shoulder and concentrated. A second later, she heard the wind spring to life around them, battering the ever-shifting corn. Closing her eyes and focusing, she willed the wind to shrink to a column underneath their feet. It wasn't long before she could feel herself and Asteri lifting off of the ground.

Opening her eyes, Eremia found herself levitating just above the bridge. "Ready to begin?" she said, voice slightly strained by the effort of keeping the column in place.

James nodded to Vala, and looked over to Evron for some sense of confirmation. There was little to indicate which path would be favorable in the sea of cloud and fog, so he decided to just go with his gut. He moved towards the path furthest to the right.

"If any of you see anything, or have any knowledge or abilities that might be useful for this environment, do let us know sooner than later," he said as he stepped out onto the path.

"I'm ready," Asteri said, trying his best to ignore the nauseous feeling in his stomach as he glanced down below. "Let's do this."


"I don't," Vala said. She followed James over to the path. "I'm just a regular old human."

"Alright," Eremia said, willing them to move forward. It was a bit of a challenge; she normally would've moved around on a angled column, since it made the wind a little easier to control, but having a passenger complicated things. At least they were going over the maze without any issues. The way the corn bunched under their feet suggested it was a little less than happy about being ignored, which brought a smile to her face.

Glancing back at Asteri, Eremia wiped some beads of sweat from her forehead. "Are you feeling comfortable?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

James looked over at Vala, expecting as much. "That makes two of us," he said, grabbing a rail before he took another step. The path was steady, at least, for now.

The path they were walking on felt like it was breaking the very laws of nature. He felt like he had to keep testing his weight, as if at any moment, it would give out beneath them, but it kept holding.

He just wished he could see something physical to logically tell his brain that they weren’t going to fall to their deaths (as long as they stayed on the path), but he knew that was too much to as for. It wasn’t like Kartiel and Rendra were looking to make their torturous challenges easy or free of fear. They were looking for… entertainment, or something like it.

Whatever it was, he just wanted to get through it in one piece.

He looked back (and not down) to see if Vala had followed. As he did, a powerful gust of wind picked up out of nowhere, grabbing the end of his cape and pulling it to the left. He grabbed the railing with a death grip, feeling the rush of air pierce through his clothes and push everything around but the mask, which stayed secure on his face.

And as quickly as the wind came, it was gone.

“Well,” he said, letting out a breathy sigh. “I don’t know if that’s a sign that this is the wrong path, but I think as long as you hold onto the rails, you’ll be ok.”

The shifting tiles were but the first of a cornucopia of death riddles, fearfully and lovingly made, each new horizon leaving our brave trio begging to return to the last.

But in his heart, Boris could only be grateful, for what price could be put on breathing real air, and seeing the sky once again?

It was the feat that was navigating said death riddles, and Damascus’ constant worry. It was sweet, that he worried, and Boris resolved to give his heart a chance to skip a few beats over it later when he didn’t have giant swinging bladed pendulums to think about.

What he could appreciate at this time, was the presence of Raiden. He broke the tension, both romantic and in general with his whimsical nonsense references, he had a fantastical knack for these sorts of puzzles, and on top of that he never once referenced that time that Boris had almost killed him a hundred times over in the adventure that would not be referenced. An absolute legend.

With Raiden’s fresh perspective, Damascus’ gentle might, Boris’ suicidal audacity, and the wits of all three, they could boldly stumble their way through anything.


And boldly stumble they did, through an idyllic Swedish forest in which separate rules of gravity applied to each one of them and they all had to keep one another from slamming their skulls into trees, or floating up into oblivion.

The cavernous stockroom of a hoarding wizard who charged them with the retrieval of his missing talismans, but each one of them perceived the room differently, forcing them to communicate with each other to determine what was real, and what was about to devour, transmogrify, or bury them alive.

A similar lapse in synchronized gravity in which they had to climb platforms floating in a bottomless sparkling abyss, platforms invisible to all but one who had to serve as the guide, but it kept switching so the old guide had to trust the new until everyone's trust had been thoroughly tested beyond all mortal limit.

The thing with the swan, of which all involved agreed never to speak.

A perfectly regular hedge labyrinth, populated with thousands of ceaselessly whining cats.

And finally, they were left at the bottom of an unexpectedly roomy empty well, with no clues in it to speak of but a poem scratched in the wall.


THIS DREAM THAT WE THOUGHT WE WERE SAFE TO FORGET, TO BURY AND SAY OUR ADIEUS

ON THE DAY OF THE FOOL, DEATH WILL TURN A BLIND EYE, AND YORICK WILL DUST OFF HIS SHOES

WHEN THE REAPER DOTH LAY DOWN HIS TERRIBLE SCYTHE TO FOLLOW THE WARM WEATHER WEST

YORICK, PUT BACK ON YOUR DANCING SHOES, AND RISE UP TO CALL FORTH THE NEXT.


“That’s enough for me.” said Boris. “I’m taking a nap.”

With that he sat up against the damp stoney wall, an incongruent picture in his extravagant masquerade suit, and closed his eyes.