Young Writers Society

Cyrin felt glad they'd managed to get Lyall and Alan to at last make a group plan for something. It felt like since the first week, when they'd made plans for things like brunch, they'd lost some momentum for their goals of spending more time as a cabin. He didn't blame either of them. There had been all sorts of drama since then, and... well, it was hardly their fault if they'd been too distracted or burdened to make more time commitments.

It was another reason he was relieved there hadn't been an event yet today. He only had a pattern of two occurrences to go off of, but those seemed to bring about the worst drama. Which was getting past the point of causing problems on the island and starting to affect the world at large.

He doubted Alan was aware of that part-- and if he wasn't, Cyrin didn't really want to be the one to share what the shockwaves in Aphirah that he'd caused looked like. Not if it was an overreaction to something that wasn't really bad anyway. The only person it was bad for was Shane, really, and he... honestly didn't know what was happening with Shane.

On one hand, it was surprising he hadn't spent that much time with the only other Aphiran on the island. On the other, Cyrin figured that was probably for the best. He didn't want to dislike Shane, but he wasn't about to start liking the Houses either.

A hasty shuffle of movement on the rock face caught his eyes, and Cyrin snapped out of that train of thought. Alan went back into focus in his vision, and they could see he was nearly at the top, but was having some trouble with his right foot. Cyrin was about to call out if he needed any help, but then Alan moved his hand and foot to new holds, and they relaxed again.

Too soon. That new ledge under Alan's hand looked... weak. Like it might have been a loose piece of rock sitting on top of an actual ledge.

Before Cyrin could shout a warning, Alan's hand came away, with nothing to hold onto but the rock clutched in his hand. They saw his shoulder leaning back, and Cyrin knew he could've recovered his balance if he'd just leaned forward towards the wall, but-- nope, too surprised for that. Alan's chest leaned away instead, causing his feet to slip on the rock, and they had just enough time to hear him mutter a swear before he was tumbling.

Instinct kicked in. Cyrin surged forward to the wall where Alan was.

He had a brief thought as he raised his arms, ready to catch him-- this isn't the same thing as picking Alan up, right? That seems much easier-- but there wasn't time for that. Without a belayer, this was the only way to break Alan's fall.

His targeting and timing were just right, at least, since Alan fell directly in his arms. The moment Cyrin felt the force of his impact, though, they knew they'd have to fall as well to absorb it. They grunted, tightening their grip on Alan as both of them crashed to the ground together. Cyrin felt the air get briefly crushed from his lungs by Alan's back landing on their chest, and his elbow hit them in the jaw painfully, but they gritted their teeth soundlessly, trying to listen for the snap of broken bone. Mercifully, they didn't hear it.

Alan groaned, stunned into stillness for a few seconds, but then snapping out of his daze and rolling off Cyrin, horror seeping in. "Oh my god, Cyrin, are you okay?" he asked in a hushed panic, scrambling back on all fours.

"Am I okay?" Cyrin wheezed with a weak laugh, wincing as he sat up. "You're the one who fell."

"Yeah, but, I--" Alan sputtered out, frantically glancing between the top of the boulder, then back at Cyrin, shocked. "I fell on you."

"And look at me," Cyrin said, dusting off their back. "Not even a pancake."

"Shit!" Lyall paced at the edge, unable to do anything else from where he was. "Are you hurt?!"

"No!" Alan yelled back up quickly, maybe a little too loud, but he wanted to make sure that Lyall could hear him. "We're fine." He turned back to Cyrin and said more softly, "You're fine. Right?"

Cyrin pressed a hand to their ribs, silently feeling for anything out of place. "Completely fine," he agreed, deciding the pain he still felt there was a bruise as he pulled his hand away. "Assuming that you're not injured."

Alan shook his head, looking down at the palm of his hand, which was shaking slightly. "No," he said softly with a smile, hand back down on his lap as he crouched beside Cyrin. "I'm not injured. But I might have been if you didn't catch me. Thank you for that."

Cyrin offered him a faint smile in return. "Of course. I'm glad you're safe."

Already halfway down, Lyall quickly retraced his path back to the sand ground to meet them. "Dammit," he hissed, "this is why I should've said something sooner."

Alan's gaze settled back up to the top of the boulder. "You know, I was pretty close to reaching the top of it," he mused for Cyrin to hear. "I was making pretty good time, too."

"You're both sure nothing's wrong, out of place?" Lyall pressed, twisting to cast down another worried look.

Cyrin nodded, glancing at Alan. "I'm alright," he said, rubbing his jaw. Maybe that was a bruise too.

With a quick wave, Lyall looked back down to his feet as he resumed his downward climb. "Just. Don't move, either of you."

Alan sighed heavily. But if he had any reservations, he didn't voice them.

"You don't have to climb down if you don't want to," Cyrin said, frowning slightly.

"Well, consider," Lyall replied amicably, almost all the way down anyway, "that I do in fact really want to."

Seems like they weren't getting out of this. Cyrin hoped the activity wasn't ruined.

"Alright," they said, finally getting to their feet and swiping off the sand.

Eventually, Lyall jumped the last few feet, and went straight for Cyrin first. "Excellent," he said with a small, still-concerned smile, hovering a hand by Cyrin's elbow. "That was going to be my first question. Having you stand, if you felt you were able. Any wooziness at all?"

"None," Cyrin promised.

"Fantastic," Lyall said warmly. He stepped back just a bit to look them over fully. "And how is your mobility? Can you lift both arms alright?"

Cyrin did so to demonstrate, first holding them up in front of himself, then out to his sides.

Lyall nodded, letting some of his worry melt with open relief. "Please," he said gently, "say something if anything does start to feel off, okay? I much rather we catch any potential issues early."

Cyrin had the feeling that telling him they'd suffered worse than whatever the fall could have given them wasn't the best reassurance. Neither was the message that they could've easily done something about it.

"Will do," they said instead, offering him a slight smile.

Lyall inclined his head in turn. Then flashed them a slightly sheepish smile. "Sorry," he said, tone relenting as he took another step back, "sorry, I just... I want to be sure you're okay, is all."

"I appreciate it," Cyrin said gently, resting their hand on Lyall's shoulder for a moment and giving it a slight rub. "You're a good doctor. And a good climber too, at that."

Grin relaxing further, Lyall nodded his thanks as he pulled away, turning his attention to Alan now, who had been quietly listening still crouched on the ground.

"Alvaro?" Lyall said, concern lacing his voice once more as he knelt down next to him. "You still with us?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm listening," Alan said, slowly standing up even though Lyall already crouched next to him. "I really am fine, though. Cyrin took the brunt of the damage. I'm sorry for causing so much concern. You don't have anything to worry about, though."

"You're rather spacey," Cyrin said, trying to remember the way Alan had fallen. He hadn't hit his head, had he? No, Cyrin was pretty sure that part of him was safe from the fall.

"Am I?" Alan said thinly through a weak laugh.

Standing again, Lyall quickly scanned him before carefully reaching up to the back of Alan's head, seeming to follow Cyrin's line of thought. Alan seemed wary of him, leaning away with an unsure smile.

"I didn't hit my head," he said firmly. "I'm not hurt. I promise."

Lyall nodded as he drew back. "Good," he said, matching Alan's tone. "However, a less hazardous activity might be in order for now."

Alan glanced between the two of them. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asked.

Cyrin paused. "There's always other things we can do," he agreed. "Ones without any falling."

Lyall didn't offer anything else, though. Just quietly folded his hands behind his back as he waited on them.

"Sorry that you didn't get the chance to climb, Cyrin," Alan said after a short, stiff silence. "We'll have to see you in action another time. Hopefully, it's without anyone falling on you."

Cyrin waved a hand, smiling reassuringly. "It's alright," he promised. "Climbing isn't complete without falling, honestly. It's all part of the lesson."

Lyall mustered a lighter grin in turn. "That could be a rather profound thing, my dear Bridger."



The three of them didn't return to climbing, but they did opt for a nice walk, walking around and up to the grassy banks at the top of the cliffs. Cyrin was the first to sprawl out in the sun, flopping on the grass like they were about to make a snow angel. Alan and Lyall soon followed suit, getting comfortable.

"So, Alan," Lyall suddenly said with a grin, lying back in the grass to look at him upside down. "Urban climbing, you said?"

Alan huffed through his nose, pulling up some grass to drop on Lyall's face. "Those were Cyrin's words, not mine."

Sputtering, Lyall gracelessly swatted the grass from his face. "Ah, right, both of you indulged in softcore city parkour. I assume. Though I can imagine Cyrin legitimately scaling skyscrapers, if they so desired."

Yeah, he wasn't wrong actually.

"I'd have the brains to bring a rope," Cyrin said with a laugh.

Alan raised a brow at him. "Have you actually climbed skyscrapers?"

Hmm.

"A small one," Cyrin said. "It was a training course for one day."

"Oh, wow," Alan said in awe. "That must have been difficult."

"What were you training for?" Lyall asked, deeply intrigued.

Cyrin shrugged one shoulder, cobbling together a story. "Something I ended up not competing in. It was what I guess you could call an urban climbing competition. I changed my mind because it messed with the Oolympiks schedule."

Folding his hands under his head, Lyall hummed. "That's a shame. Was it something you were excited for?"

"Nah, not really," Cyrin said with a laugh, waving their hand. "I still prefer acrobatics to climbing. Besides, skyscrapers are slippery. I don't know if you've ever looked at a skyscraper and wondered what trying to walk up the glass windows would be like, but if you have, it's exactly as hard as you imagine it."

"After dreams wherein I defied the laws of nature, sure," Lyall replied with a grin. "Though I will say my subconscious grossly overestimates my upper body strength and...overall grippiness. I'm no Spooderman."

"I think you did a good job of climbing, though. Spooderman or not," Alan said with a smile.

Lyall held up a hand. "Nay, I must humbly decline your compliments," he said in a particularly posh tone of voice, "for no one can hold a flame to Cyrin's true superpower of--" He then gestured to Cyrin. "--goat."

"Says the man whose power will let him hold as many flames as he wants," Cyrin said, grinning at him.

"Can you actually do that?" Alan asked to Lyall, even more in awe.

Lyall snorted. "In theory, sure. In practice?" He shrugged. "Not entirely sure, actually."

"Well, one flame or infinite flames, it's still impressive," Alan said.

"Nah," Lyall said, waving dismissively, "no need to flatter, good sir. There really aren't a lot of applications of 'flame' in this modern age. Which is all I can do at the moment." He then pointed a circle at Cyrin. "My friend, what of you? Do you have an idea of the full breadth of your power?"

Cyrin let out a quiet laugh. The question made sense, but it made a lot more sense for... well, someone whose powers weren't so harmful. It felt a bit like that one interview question they'd gotten one too many times-- How many hearts have you broken? Natural for someone to wonder about, maybe, but there were some uncomfortable implications to keep in mind while answering.

"I mean, for obvious reasons, I don't really... test it, or practice at it like some people do with their magic," they said, starting to run a hand through their hair absently, before they remembered it was in a braid. "I've learned a little about what I can do, though. I can only use it for people within a certain distance of me-- maybe twenty feet radius." Cyrin paused. "In fact, it does work with animals and plants, not just people. I've healed my younger's pet dog this way. With plants, it gets kind of weird, because what's life-threatening to a human is very different than what's life-threatening to a plant. So I don't know all the mechanics of that."

Oh, there was one other thing too.

"And it works for at least some sicknesses," Cyrin said. "I'm guessing only the contagious sorts."

Lyall hummed softly. "It's... only a transferrance, correct? It has to go somewhere?"

Cyrin nodded. "Right. If the problem is 'someone has an injury', then that problem isn't solved, in a sense. It doesn't get rid of anything. Just changes who the problem belongs to."

Nodding, Lyall gave it another second of thought. "...And species lines can be crossed," he tentatively furthered.

Cyrin nodded again, wondering where this was going. "Yes," he confirmed.

"So..." Lyall sat up then, scanning their hilltop for a moment. He reached out to Alan, quietly asking for his hand.

Instead, Alan looked between the two of them with mild confusion. "I'm following, but... I feel like I'm missing important context here."

Huffing a laugh, Lyall let his hand drop as he gently elaborated, "So, as a hypothetical: the scrapes on Alan's hands could somehow be transferred to, say...the grass?"

Cyrin startled. "Alan," he groaned. "I asked if you were hurt!"

"It's..." Alan let out a weak laugh, hands put up innocently.

But this only proved Lyall's point since now the red, chafed scrapes were visible on his palm and fingers. This must have occurred when he tried to save himself from the fall, instead roughing up his hands. Alan peered at his palms, slowly, closing them and lowering them.

"I'm not hurt, because I'm not in pain," he said calmly. "It's really not a big deal, but I'm sorry if I've caused alarm."

"Mild, yes," Lyall agreed, tone reassurring, "but still damage nonetheless."

"I can help with that," Cyrin said. "Just like Lyall described."

"I don't know, Cyrin," Alan said with worry, uncertain. "I still feel bad over what happened last time you helped. I don't think it's worth it."

Cyrin frowned slightly. "I get it," he said. "But you won't be hurting me. I won't feel it at any point. You won't even be hurting the grass."

"I don't know about that. I think you might be hurting the grass," Alan mumbled.

Cyrin didn't disagree with him that causing harm to plant life wasn't just fine, but he'd still go choosing people over it.

"The grass is not sentient," Lyall countered plainly, "nor does it contain pain receptors."

"I know that," Alan went on stubbornly. "But it's a scratch. What does it look like when you transfer that to grass? That can't be normal. Plants don't get scratches."

"It'll..." Cyrin peered at the side of the scratches. "Well, for something like that, it might cause a square foot or two of grass to wilt and go brown. But if I were careful and deliberate about it... I could spread the damage across more plants than that. It wouldn't kill anything that way."

"I believe you. I don't think we need a demo to see how your magic works between different species of life," Alan went on.

"Just a hypothetical," Lyall relented.

Cyrin frowned, rubbing his face. It was far from the first time he'd had someone refuse help, and he understood their reasons every time, but sometimes it felt like their refusal came from a point of... pride. Accepting this help meant admitting something bothered them. Alan seemed to have a track record of this denial.

"You know, this means you won't be able to play violin for a while," they said. "I believe you've got a pretty good pain tolerance, so if you didn't have a string instrument, this would probably stop bothering you within a week. But it'd hurt to play violin for a lot longer than that. Even the keyboard wouldn't be comfortable."

"It's... fine," Alan said after some hesitation. "I'll just take a little break from playing."

"I'm saying this because I don't think it's actually that fine for you," Cyrin said.

Alan stared at him, at a complete loss of words.

Cyrin let out a quiet, soft sigh.

"Okay. Let's assume this was about the grass," they said, then pointed to a blade of grass that was still in Lyall's hair, from when Alan had ripped it out and dropped it over his face. "Imagine the two of you had fun for a little longer, and Alan ripped out about that much grass five or six more times so that Lyall's hair was about forty percent grass by composition. It's about the same net damage as what this would do. That doesn't sound so bad, right? In fact, it'd probably look pretty silly if Lyall's hair was covered in grass. It could be worth the joke."

Alan, however, didn't think this was funny. Frowning, he stiffly sat up straighter, sighed, and then scooted closer to Cyrin to hold out his palms. "Just do it," he said wearily.

Lyall raised both brows as he looked between the two, somehow looking both amused and like he was biting back a tired sigh at once.

Cyrin hesitated, not sure what to make of Alan's reaction. It certainly wasn't the one he'd been hoping to get.

"Okay," he said, sitting up, and then adding without really knowing why he was saying it, "Sorry."

Alan didn't respond to him though, instead patiently waiting for him to use his magic.

Alright. Always a great sign when there was no reaction to an apology.

He resisted the urge to sigh, instead focusing on the scrapes on Alan's hands, imagining them sealing up and healing over. As he did, he felt this invisible tugging. That injury wanted to go somewhere before it would heal on Alan. It wouldn't go until he chose a target.

Had they been in a barren landscape, Cyrin would've felt that pull wanting to go to him or Lyall. Luckily, the grass was also brimming with energy and life-- a third sacrifice that could be used as an exchange. It took some conscious, careful effort not to deliver the strain of the injury entirely to a small amount of plants, which would've destroyed them entirely, and instead spread it out more thinly over a larger surface area of grass.

Cyrin knew it was done when he spotted the grass between the three of them wilting ever so slightly, and when he saw Alan's hands looked healthy and healed as normal.

"There," they said. "All done."

Alan pulled away, peering down at his hands. "Thanks," he said quietly, then flopped back to lay against the grass, one hand still in front of his face.

"Of course," Cyrin said, but they weren't sure what else there was to add. Or if everything was... fine.

Looking down at the patch of grass between them all, Lyall pursed his lips as he nodded slowly. "It happened exactly as you said it would," he said, sounding impressed.

Cyrin smiled weakly. "It usually goes something like this." Thank god the grass didn't bleed instead or something.

Lyall hummed. "Is grass normally the scapegoat?"

Cyrin shrugged. "No," he said. "Usually me."

Tilting his head, Lyall's brows furrowed a tad as he smiled with a mix of confusion and concern. "My dear Bridger," he said gently, "there is...so much grass in the world, though?"

Cyrin snorted, trying to keep it lighthearted. "Oh, you have not seen Renvara, then. I can go months without seeing a single blade of grass."

"Indeed, I have not." Lyall drew his knees to his chest and folded his arms on top of them. "Which is a different problem in and of itself. One we ought to amend, after all this. As soon as the fates will allow."

"There's always a space for you wherever I'll be," Cyrin said, smiling before glancing at Alan, who was still laying down staring up at the sky, arm draped over his forehead. "For both of you. I'd be delighted to be your host."

"I'd love nothing more than to be your humble guest," Lyall said, eyes brightening.

Cyrin grinned. "It's a plan, then. Once fate will see it happen."

Glancing back at Alan, Lyall asked warmly, "What say you, my good man? It won't be a true Rizz Cabin reunion without you."

Alan was quiet for a long moment, but finally spoke, saying, "Maybe. Isn't it cold over there?"

"Certainly. But," Cyrin said, raising a finger, "we also have the highest number of blankets and fireplaces per capita. It's a formula for coziness."

"Are there winters there? And snow?" Alan asked.

Lyall cast him a playful glare. "Are you trying to dissuade me from visiting?"

"No," Alan said firmly. "I'm just wondering if there's snow. I've always wanted to touch it."

"There's plenty," Cyrin promised. "You won't be lacking snow. It's the perfect place to learn to build a snowman, too."

Alan quietly hummed. "That sounds nice."

Lyall flopped back in the grass now. "You two may swim in the snow to your hearts' contents," he said lightly. "Unless you want a me-shaped icicle, I'll be staying inside with one of those blankets and a hot cuppa, thank you very much."

"Well, I don't want to swim in the snow if you aren't," Alan said with a scoff.

"Then so be it!" Lyall said poshly. "Leave Cyrin to swim and build snowmen all on their lonesome."

Cyrin sighed as though they were devastated. "If neither of you are, you'll be finding me right outside the window, sad and alone and waist deep in snow as I silently beg you to join me."

"Or we could just... not. And stay inside with blankets in front of a fire," Alan said quite seriously, still unmoved from his position staring up at the blue sky. "I'd rather we all stick together."

Cyrin smiled warmly. "Ah, that's some indisputable logic. Together it is then."

Closing his eyes, Lyall hummed dreamily. "Right by a warm, crackling hearth. Most importantly, away from the mountains of snow." He waved a hand. "Enjoying it from a distance, I suppose."

"Maybe I'll make a snowman after you've both gone to sleep, then," Alan mused.

"You really should take a Cyrin with you, though," Lyall replied, cracking another grin. "So he can teach you the ancient art of snowman making."

"It's an ancient art indeed," Cyrin said solemnly. "One that after years of practice and careful study, I am looking to pass on."

Alan turned to glance between the two of them, brows drawn together. Then he half-rolled his eyes with a small smile. "You guys are messing with me. It can't be that hard to make."

Cyrin pressed a hand to his heart. "I cannot bear this casual dismissal of the technique!"

Lyall gasped. "The audacity! How dare you dismiss their technique, sir?!"

Alan huffed an amused puff of air through his nose, now laying on his side facing them. "So dramatic," he murmured with with a soft smile.

"You will learn their ways," Lyall went on with exaggerated solemnness, "and then we will pit you against the master. From the warmth of the indoors, I shall thereafter crown one of you the snowman-building king."

"Hope you're ready, Alan," Cyrin added.

Alan smiled wider. "Yeah. I'm ready."

Something was humming over his chest. He could feel the weight of the small cat, curled up on top of him, purring at a low volume with his face tucked under James's chin. The cat slowly rose and fell with every breath James took, and the cat's purring seemed to match the pace.

James sleepily opened his eyes, feeling groggy, but clear-headed for the first time in a while. The pounding headache and feverish chills were gone, and the burning sensation under his skin had faded. Sweat no longer glued him to the couch beneath him, nor did it cling to his forehead.

No longer at death's door, James finally felt healthy again.

However, now that he felt more aware of everything, his own state included, he began to have a rapid unfolding list of embarassments play out in his mind as her recalled the past... day?

Had it only been a day?

The embarassment only deepened when he looked to the side and saw the living room was full of people.

Shrimp nuzzled James's chin with a "mrrp," immediately aware of his wakefulness and now begging for attention. Distracted by the company he found himself in, he tried to subtly reach out from under the blanket to pet the cat's head. Except, it was in vain, if he'd thought any movement on his part would spare him the other's attention.

Quite literally, anyone he'd befriended or befriended his friends seemed to be present. He found himself wishing that maybe he'd forced himself to crawl to his room instead of the shared space of the living room. This could have been avoided.

But alas, his pride was shattered once again. Not that there was much to being with.

"Do mine eyes now deceive me?" Lyall said brightly as he bent over the back of the couch to smile down at him. "Mr. James Hawke indeed lives to see another day!"

Oh. Aha. This was... pleasant but already overwhelming.

Mustering a weak, groggy smile, James tried to formulate words.

"Yes," he said. "I'm alive."

And of course, his voice sounded like he just woke up. Even lower than usual. There was probably some lingering phlegm in there.

"And thus still in need of breathing room," Hild pleasantly added as she yanked Lyall out of James's field of vision.

James felt a little bad for Lyall, but he was, indeed, grateful to not have a head hovering over him at the moment.

"You weren't staring at me while I was sleeping," James said slowly. "Were you?"

"At most," Lyall answered lightly, "the occassional glance to ensure you weren't melting the couch any further."

That took a moment for James to process. Any further? Oh, gosh. This... this was only getting more embarassing as time went on. And hardly any time had passed since his waking.

Shrimp let out a pleasant mrrp.

"Oh," he said, trying to mask his growing embarassment. "Right. For the couch's sake. Of course."

And he was still uncomfortably sandy. And lacking a shirt. And shoes. And his hair felt horrifically greasy. And of course, now that he had more of his wits about him, he was immediately regretting the impulsive chop of his hair - not for the loss of it, but because he was sure it looked sloppy, and definitely gave the impression of the stereotypical mental breakdown.

He felt himself shrink down into the couch just a tiny bit, lifting both hands to hold Shrimp a little closer. Perhaps he could hide under the cat and disappear under the blanket.

"Did it work?" Clarity called from the kitchen, leaning forward on the counter.

It took James a second to realize what she was asking about. The medicine. Right.

"I do feel better," he said. Which meant the answer was yes.

Clarity nodded, looking pleased. "Great!"

James nodded in return. "Thanks again."

Shrimp let out a questioning Mrrow?, shifting to lean over James's face. Unable to hide the small smile that tugged at his lips, he looked up at Shrimp fondly, huffing through his nose.

"It means I'm not sick anymore," James said softly, explaining to the cat who couldn't understand him. He reached up and pet Shrimps cheeks, squishing them a little bit before massaging the cat's neck affectionately. The cat purred happily.

If the others weren't watching, he'd probably hug Shrimp closely, but he restrained himself from doing so at the moment.

"Then my next question for you would be," Lyall said, playfully imitating the voice a televised reporter, "'how prepared are you for tonight's event?'"

James stared up at Lyall, who still hovered slightly over him behind the couch. At hearing the word 'event' a sudden pang of dread pooled inside of him.

The only 'events' on this island he'd ever experienced had ended poorly.

"There's an event?" he asked, more urgent.

"Yes," Hild cut in, trying to sound reassuring, "but you do--"

Lyall noisily whipped out a piece of paper and read from it like a town crier, "'Pumpkin Maze Night! A harvest-themed evening complete with thrilling challenges, puzzles, team bonding, and, of course, pumpkins!'" Then sped through fine print like a disclaimer in a radio ad: "'Participation from all contestants required. Transportation will be provided, but not food and drink-- you are encouraged to bring your own. By participating, you agree to not hold the DMV responsible for any ensuing emotional, psychological, and/or bodily harm.'"

Oh. Well.

James had to actively suppress the panic and think about this practically. Regardless of the issue James took with the DMV, this event was clearly non-optional, and they would have to figure out a way to survive it, whatever it was. But from the sound of the last disclaimer, things were likely to escalate rather quickly. Not just for him this time, either.

That was worrisome.

Okay. No time to come up with a game plan with no knowledge of what this "maze night" truly held, but he could at least steel his resolve to do what he could to protect those around them and help them all get through it. This wasn't his first time going into something blind.

"When in the evening is this happening?" he asked, slowly starting to sit up.

Shrimp, of course, was less pleased with the movement, but James held the cat steady through the shift. Shrimp rolled around in his arms, twisting while his small paws reached up to brush James's chin, using it as something to hold onto while the cat stretched.

"Seven--" Hild began.

"Seven this eve--!" Lyall cut in grandly again, which earned him a swift elbow to the side from his sister.

"Seven PM," Hild finished plainly.

Okay. He didn't know why they were interrupting each other. Sibling dynamics or otherwise. Regardless, one question remained.

"What time is it now?" he asked.

"Six fourty-seven PM," Hild answered, tone suddenly rather severe. She quickly shoved a pillow at her brother's face before he could add anything. "So, since you're feeling relatively better, it might behoove you to. Physically prepare."

Eyes widening, James quickly got up and walked over to Shane, plopping Shrimp in his lap. He decided to ignore that Alan was beside him - there was no time to acknowledge that awkwardness.

Except that Shrimp apparently didn't want to let go. Briefly trying to shake the cat away, Shrimp did not relent and James quickly gave up, letting the cat cling to his arm as he turned around with the attatched blanket trailing behind him.

"Wow, I see how it is," Shane said sadly to the cat, with a shake of his head.

James hurried up the stairs, running to the bathroom. Shrimp was a bit in the way, so James grabbed the cat and forcefully plopped Shrimp on his shoulder to appease him. Shrimp was at least content to sit there, if not to spend the whole time swatting at James's nose.

James went to the bathroom. He took one look in the mirror and decided this was his life now. No dignity.

He frantically searched for a hair tie and tied up his messy, greasy hair in as much of a ponytail as he could manage with Shrimp in the way, thinking the hair tie was a toy.

"You, sir," James said in mild annoyance as Shrimp played with James's loose hair. "Are choosing perhaps the worst time to be playful right now."

But Shrimp only looked at him innocently, as cats do, and James couldn't maintain his anger for long.

"Fine," James said, picking up the blanket he'd left on the floor. "But it's baby time for you while I grab a shirt."

He brought the blanket around Shrimp, who wriggled a bit in protest, and he snugly swaddled him up.

"That's enough swatting," James said, looking down at the burrito'd cat.

Shrimp let out a meow, to which James only sighed. He turned to head out to his room, but mid-step, stumbled as the ground beneath him instantaneously changed with an explosion of confetti.

James nearly had a heart attack.

Staring out at a twenty-foot tall headge of greenery, James found himself lined up beside everyone else, who looked equally surprised to be there. No contestant was left out. He could tell, because Stravos was somewhere behind him, squealing and panting like a rabid animal.

James looked down at the swaddled cat in his arms, then back up at the hedge that towered over them. They stood before an entrance - to what he could only assume was the maze - and twinkling lights wrapped around the archway, flashing orange, purple, and green.

At the top of the topiary arch there was a sign, alit with white lights, looming over them. It read:

Maeve's Miraculous Maze. And beneath, in smaller print: "The Pumpkin Challenge."

Wherever they were standing, it almost didn't feel like the island anymore. Much of the land had been cleared away for the maze before them, leaving only rock and sand at their feet and the lush island jungle behind them. The sky was beginning to darken, and the sun dipped behind the maze, casting them all in shadow.

The sunset was a vibrant orange, but a strange fog began to creep in out of the hedge's crevices, making what would normally be a beautiful display in nature feel eerie.

Music began to play from some distant source. Steel drums pounded out a slow, ominous beat, while a dissonant, yet upbeat melody started to play, dominated by a flute, or some kind of woodwind instrument.

James turned his attention away from the theatrics, scanning the crowd around him for his friends. Shane, fortunately, was right behind him, and upon eye contact, Shane was quick to join his side. Apparently Shane had been teleported next to Stravos.

Yeah. James would be quick to get away from him too.

Alan was a few steps ahead of them, Clandestine and Eve were clustered with Alex and Kazimir. Hendrik stood beside Aaron with visible distaste, and Lyall was grabbing Cyrin, who had been hedged in by Jay and Tula. James spotted Hild running over to Clanny, with Clarity following behind her, a large sack in hand.

Robin and Connie somehow ended up together, a bit further behind everyone, and they made no moves to approach closer.

His attention tore away from the people around him, however, when a darker shadow fell over them. Looking up once again at the maze's archway, there stood a person atop it, backed by the light of the setting sun. Their figure was but a silhouette cast in shadow, and James couldn't tell who it was as a voice boomed out over a set of hidden speakers.

"Hello, contestants!" Mireya said in her bright tone, her voice seeming to come from everywhere all at once. "So glad you could all make it. Isn't it fun that you didn't have to walk? There was transportation, as promised!"

To James's side, Shane was turning his head, trying to see where Mireya might be. He wasn't the only one-- other people in the crowd were looking around uncertainly. But if she was physically present, she wasn't visible.

"We want to get started right on time, because you'll be facing a race against the clock," Mireya continued. "It's a competition! Aren't you glad? The last two events, we've all been buddy-buddy, but you've probably been itching for some real stakes. We hear you! Now, if you'll just look up..."

A strangely uniform cloud that was floating over the maze was suddenly illuminated against the dim night sky by a bright spotlight. The cloud acted as a sort of projector screen, with the light shining a clock on it. The time displayed as 04:59:18, ticking down every second.

"The objective is simple," Mireya said. "You'll have until that timer runs out-- that is, until midnight-- to find a golden pumpkin in this maze. Once you or your team does, you'll get a prize, and everyone will get to leave!" She laughed. "I know, I know, it sounds like there's got to be more to it. And there is! It's more fun that way."

Mireya suddenly appeared in the gateway to the maze, dressed in some flowing, pale blue dress that made her look... ghostly, for lack of a better word. She grinned, looking amused by the suprise in the crowd.

"Remember what I said about teams? In this event, you'll have the choice to start the maze on your own, or in a group of up to three," Mireya said, stepping forward and waving her hand. As she did, the hedges sealed up behind her. "Once everyone's made their choices, entrances equal to the number of solo or group teams will open up, splitting you up more or less evenly at first. Of course, you might run into each other once you're in there. And once you do..." Mireya spread her hands. "Feel free to make new alliances. Feel free to backstab each other. Hell, you can even betray those who are on your team! Those who you choose to team up with or not will define your success or failure in this competition."

Her words caused a new flurry of exchanged looks among the contestants. Shane caught James's eye worriedly. James gave Shane a firm nod.

They would be in this together.

"Oh, and one more thing," Mireya said, snapping her fingers as if she'd just remembered something. "There are challenges within that you'll have to overcome if you want to find that golden pumpkin. And before you think it'll be too easy, there's a twist. You've all had your magic swapped!"

James stared at her intently. How... how was that even possible? What kind of magic did the DMV have at their disposal?

"It's up to you to figure out what your new power is," Mireya continued. "But if you want to do some process of elimination, it belongs to another contestant, so hopefully that gives you somewhere to start. Once the maze is over, you'll have the use of your normal powers. Until then, work on figuring it out." She paused. "You'll find the reward worth it, though. Can someone pull up my master PowerPoint?"

A new light suddenly shone on the hedges next to her, as someone shuffled through an absurd amount of PowerPoint slides, before landing on this one.



"Oh, not-- not that one," Mireya said. "That's slide... 1267, I think. Can you get me slide 1276?"

The presenter obliged, moving to a different slide that displayed a list of some contestants' names, including James's.



"If your name is in this list, and you or your team finds the pumpkin, you get to pick someone to receive immunity from one event," Mireya explained. "It can even be yourself, no one's judging. Well, someone might, but what would you care about it? You're immune!"

The PowerPoint moved on to the next slide.



"And if you're in this list, your reward is that you get to reveal one secret about a contestant of your choosing." Mireya waggled her eyebrows. "Maybe you think someone's hiding something from you, or you don't know what's up with that one person, or maybe they just won't admit to something small. Have you been curious about who really broke the rizz cabin's toilet back in week 2? This could be your chance."

The slides changed again to a new list.



"If you're a winner from this list, you'll get to influence the creation of next week's event!" Mireya said brightly. "It'd be nice if you could, honestly. It's a lot of work for me."

Finally, the last slide revealed the reward of the last contestants.



"Last but not least, if one of you four wins the event, you'll have the chance at mending relationships," Mireya continued. "Have you started off on the wrong foot with someone? Your reward would be the chance to mend that relationship in a warm, inviting pre-arranged setting to sort out your issues in. You'll get to make amends in the best way possible! No one could hate you afterwards."

Mireya glanced up at the sky. The clock now showed 4:56:43.

"Already? Well, no more time to waste," she said. "Go ahead and form your groups! Best of luck!"

And with that, Mireya disappeared, and so did the maze entrance. If it had been an entrance at all.

James looked over to Shane.

"You, me, and Shrimp?" he asked.

If Shrimp counted, there was room for a fourth after.

Shane nodded, tearing his gaze away from the maze. "Sounds good to me," he confirmed.

James searched the crowd of contestants again, seeing groups already begin to form. Lyall, Cyrin, and Alan had joined hands. Hild was with Clandestine. But where was... Eve? He felt like he hadn't seen her in a minute.

And as fate would have it, her voice was heard behind him.

"James. Shane. Hello," Eve said, waiting for them to whirl around before nodding her head as a greeting. "Would you be interested in forming a team together?"

James managed a weak smile. He couldn't help but feel embarassed about how he looked at the moment, but there was nothing to be done. He nodded in return, lifting the bundled Shrimp up slightly as if to confirm.

"I'm more than open to it," he said. "Shane?"

Shane nodded, offering Eve a smile as well. "I'd like that too."

Shrimp also let out an affirmative mrow.

Eve nodded, gaze settling on Shrimp who looked back up at her with big, curious eyes as he purred in James's blanket wrap.

"I think we'd make a good team," Eve went on. "Cat included."

James smiled a little more, feeling more genuine. He rocked Shrimp slightly, very much holding him like a baby in his arms.

"You think so?" he said, looking down at Shrimp. "Perhaps he will be of aid to us."

No sooner had James finished speaking than Shrimp suddenly vanished in his arms. The cat blanket burrito suddenly shifted to accommodate a... cat-shaped shrimp arrangment on a platter.

Shane let out a dismayed, shocked cry, immediately leaning in and pulling aside the blanket to look for the cat. Nothing. James stared down blankly at the instantaneous and sudden disappearance, admittedly frozen for a second. He... the...

"What the BLEEP?" James sputtered.

"Where's Shrimp?" Shane exclaimed, looking up and turning around, outraged and horrified.

"Is that... shrimp?" Eve spat indignantly, glaring at the cat-shaped platter James was now holding.

James stared helplessly down at the shrimp platter, utterly confused and disturbed. What kind of magic was this? What did they do to Shrimp? Why would they take the cat?

Unless... the platter... no. They didn't turn Shrimp into shrimp, did they?

He didn't know what to do. Was Shrimp alive? Was the cat okay? He didn't know. How was he supposed to find out? This had to be a deliberate attack, meant to worry them. Surely the DMV wouldn't actually kill a cat for show. People on the internet would riot, wouldn't they?

"This... they're trying to mess with us," James said, reaching over to set a hand on Shane's shoulder, trying to ground him. "They probably sent Shrimp back home. I imagine they don't want him going through the maze. Him being transported here was likely an accident."

A pause.

"It was... cruel of them to replace him with shrimp, though," he muttered.

They probably thought it was funny.

Not comforted, Shane reached out to put a hand on the platter. He frowned suddenly, like something else was wrong. Usually, whenever James witnessed Shane reading something, some microexpression would flash over his face for a brief moment as a reaction, but he didn't see it this time. Confused, Shane then pinched the sleeve of his flannel. His shoulders slumped suddenly.

"They... they really did take my magic," he said, his voice equal parts saddened and panicked. "I can't... I'm not reading things anymore. I can't see where he's gone."

"Then we'll find the person who has your magic. They can read the shrimp. We'll find your cat, Shane," Eve said assuredly.

"I'm sure we'll be able to ask around if powers have already switched," James said.

He hoped the odds were that whomever had Shane's power was someone willing to help. Other groups were still forming their groups. They still had time.

"We can ask..." Shane's head swiveled around, in search of allies, before he turned to the group made up of Lyall, Alan, and Cyrin. "Alan! Did anyone in your group get my psychometry?"

Because of their earlier shocking outburst, Alan had already been casting worried glances their way. The three of them exchanged confused looks before Alan led the way towards Shane, beckoning for Lyall and Cyrin to follow.

"Is everything alright?" he asked with a small friendly smile, gaze naturally settling down to the cat-shaped platter of shrimp cradled in James's arms.

"Shrimp just vanished," Shane said hurriedly, fear tinging his voice. "He got replaced with... this. And I can't read the platter anymore to tell where he went."

Alan nodded slowly, processing. "I'm sure he's back at the cabin. Maybe cats aren't allowed in the maze?"

"I don't know," Shane murmured. "They let him get here. They could've put him in there. What if it's dangerous?"

"This is going too slow," James said. "People will be heading into the maze and we'll lose them."

Lifting the platter up, James addressed the grouping crowd.

"Everybody come over here right now!" he shouted in the most commanding voice he could muster. "There's been an abduction!"

"An abduction?" Hendrik's voice boomed, stomping over quickly.

"Someone stole Shane's cat," James clarified. "Whomever has Shane's psychometry could help us--"

"WHO THE HELL CATNAPPED HIM?" Hendrik cut in loudly. The sound of his voice felt almost overwhelmingly loud.

Normally James's ears weren't this sensitive.

"Someone took Shrimp?" Clandestine's voice cut in, just as worried. She was running over with Hild and Kazimir following behind.

"Everyone," Eve said calmly, reaching over to poke the shrimp. "Please touch the shrimp. That's all we request." She met James's eyes. "You too, James."

James set his hand on it, earning him nothing. All he felt was... undercooked shrimp.

But at the same time, he could smell it. Potently. Why was his nose so sensitive? Was this related to someone's powers? ...Maybe Robin's? It was almost sickening. James could smell everything.

"Alan. Lyall. Cyrin," Eve beckoned when James didn't react.

Clandestine pushed through everyone and smacked her hand on the shrimp. She stood still for a moment, looking intensely focused before she pulled her hand away in dismay.

"Nothing," she mumbled.

Cyrin was the next to press a finger to the platter, then pulled it back and stared at their fingertip. "I don't think that did anything," he said in apology.

Others crowded around, some more willingly than others, each giving the shrimp a touch, with no luck. James noticed that Jay and Aaron were nowhere to be seen - likely to have already entered the maze, taking the distraction to their advantage. It was odd. He felt like he could almost... see their scent lingering in the air. Leading to a closed wall of the hedge.

One of them had Shane's abilities.

That, or it was Alan. Who was the only one left standing who hadn't touched it. James and Eve looked at him expectantly. The others were beginning to reform their groups after many apologies and condolences.

"I don't think I have your magic, Shane. Because it works with any object you touch, right?" Alan said, brushing his shirt down.

"It does--" Shane started to say.

"Just touch the shrimp," Eve said impatiently.

Alan stared uneasily down at the shrimp. "I... can't," he said uncertainly.

Eve plucked one raw shrimp off the platter and nearly shoved it in his hands, but Alan nervously laughed and backed away.

"Because I'm allergic," he said quickly with a faint laugh, hands out in front of him. "I'd rather not touch it. It's nothing personal. Sorry."

James sighed in resignation. Alan's logic was sound. If he couldn't sense memories off of his own clothes or anything else he touched, it wasn't like the shrimp would be any different.

"I hope you find him, though," Alan went on softly, watching Eve slowly place the shrimp back on the platter.

Oh, they would. James's first priority aside from safety while going through the maze was to find Shrimp and hunt Jay and Aaron down.

"Can you keep an eye out for him in there, even if you think he's at home?" Shane pleaded softly.

"Of course," Alan said as he reached up to rub Shane's shoulder. "We'll try to find him."

Shane nodded quickly, putting on a brave expression. "Thank you," he said with deep sincerity and gratitude.

"We all ought to get started," Lyall said, offering Shane an apologetic smile. "We'll keep an eye out for your companion, Hawking, rest assured."

"We will," Cyrin promised gently. "If he's here, someone will find him."

James was admittedly, trying to pay attention, but he was getting distracted by the overwhelming scent coming off of Alan. It was undoubtedly cologne, but it smelled like it was filling up the whole area. Almost sickeningly.

God, who had this ability? This was horrible. Or maybe James was just... not used to it. Yet.

"Will you be alright? It's too bad we can't form one big group," Alan said, pulling his hand away from Shane's shoulder.

"I'll be okay," Shane said quietly, rubbing his face with his hands, but he wasn't mustering any confidence behind the words. "I'm just... scared for him. He's just a housecat."

"We'll find him," Alan assured more confidently, even though he had no evidence to back his claim. "You'll have him in your arms again in no time."

Alan, Lyall, and Cyrin exchanged more comforting words to Shane as the groups slowly formed and entered the maze. Eventually, the three of them went in as well, leaving James, Eve, and Shane to be the remaining ones standing outside the entrance. Somehow, even though Alan was gone, the scent of cologne remained overpowering.

"What's wrong, James?" Eve asked as soon as the three of them departed, sensing the discomfort in his expression.

James shook his head. "It's... just whoever's power I have. They have very heightened senses. It's a lot to take in."

Eve furrowed her brows. "Who has that magic? I don't recall that being anyone's."

"My guess is Robin," James said. "Since he shifts into a wolf."

"So..." Shane said. "Can you shift into a wolf, then?"

"I..." James hesitated. "I don't know. I'm not familiar with how that's triggered."

"Try conjuring all the canine thoughts you can muster," Eve said with dead seriousness.

Well that just felt ridiculous, but James didn't want to say that to Eve's face. He doubted that was what Robin did. It was probably just... at will, right? He didn't see Robin shift based on any strong outward emotions. But if James could figure out how to, maybe the wolf form would aid in finding Shrimp.

Unless, he didn't need to? He could already smell everything. Problem was, he didn't have Shrimp's scent memorized, so he had to placement to recognize it.

A distant voice tutted in the back of his mind, then drawled, "Use it wisely."

James stiffened. What. What the hell was that?

He whipped around, looking for the source of the voice, but saw no one nearby. He didn't recognize the voice either, and almost everyone had departed by now, gone inside the maze. It was only the three of them that remained.

"Not to worry, stranger. This is only a temporary arrangement, after all."

What the...?

There was a voice inside his mind. This was no ordinary shifter's magic, and he was certain if Robin had another person occupying his mind that Robin would not be the kind of level-headed person he was. Right? Hell, this was like... it was like another consciousness inside of him. One he didn't have access to, but had acces to him.

Temporary arrangement. So someone among them had this voice inside their head all of the time? James thought he knew almost everyone's magics by now. There weren't many mysteries for him, but this one left him disturbed.

Either someone was lying, or...

The only people whose powers hadn't been revealed were Jay or Aaron, now that he thought about it.

All the more reason to find them.

"Ah, a sharp mind," the voice mused, tone bordering saccharine. "A rare treat."

A chill ran down James's spine.

So this... person. Being. Whatever they were. It could hear his thoughts?

Well if that was the case: get the fuck out. This was his body, his rules, and it was indeed staying a temporary arrangement.

The voice hummed a low, throaty laugh. "If only it were that simple."

James visibly curled his lip at that, resentful of the person's amusement and the pleasure they seemed to be taking in this whole situation. But before he could think of a reply, a sharp, painful, gnawing hunger struck his senses like a bullet to the stomach. Tensing on impulse, he leaned over slightly as the hunger coursed through him, like some kind of carnal desire.

And it seemed there was no relief to come.

"Use it wisely," the voice repeated gravely. Their cold presence then receded to the furthest reaches of his mind, like a predator lying in wait in the shadows.

This wasn't a shifting ability. He could feel it, writhing under his skin.

Somewhere inside him... was a monster. Hungry for blood.

"James? James?"

Shane's concerned voice cut in where he'd been hearing the voice. James shook his head, quickly trying to get his bearings again. He hastily shoved the shrimp platter into Shane's arms.

"Uh. Here. You. You should hold this," he said.

Even though the shrimp was raw, suddenly James felt the overwhelming temptation to eat it. Something inside of him was screaming to be satiated.

Shane stared down at it, looking like he still wished it was his cat.

"Okay," he said, adjusting his hold on it.

"Thank you," James said stiffly. He took the blanket in his arms and cast it over his shoulders, preferring to be covered to the small degree he could. Though it did feel a bit silly.

Like a kid. Wearing a blanket as a cape.

"We should head in," he said. "If Shrimp's in there we don't want to waste time."

Shane nodded, looking more resolved now. "Right."

Without asking for it, Eve gently took the platter from Shane, pulling it out of his grip. "Let me hold on to it. I'll keep this safe so you don't have to follow up on it."

"Thanks," Shane said quietly.

Eve glanced between the two of them. "We don't know what magic we have yet, but clearly, the effects are already prevalent. Are you comfortable entering now or later?" she asked.

"I vote now," Shane said, glancing up at the clock. "If they want us to participate, we're pushing our luck by staying out here."

"Now," James agreed.

Eve nodded, walking ahead. "Let's go. Keep close. We will go through this together."

Nodding, James let Eve lead the way. An archway opened up before them as their only entrance, and after but a moment's hesitation, they stepped through.

The maze was a bit eerie. The dark hedge walls were thick and tall to the point that Alan wondered if it stretched on forever. It was hard to tell since it blended into the night sky.

And after they made the first turn, the maze closed behind them. Alan stared at the hedge that covered the way they came from.

"Well," he said nonchalantly, "hope no one had to go to the bathroom."

Cyrin smiled, but it was unusually weak and uncomfortable. "Hopefully we're fine for the next four hours and fifty two minutes, six seconds."

"Depending on the severity of our circumstances," Lyall said, tone breezy as he warmly patted Cyrin's arm, "I might shat myself either way."

Cyrin raised his eyes skyward, pressing his lips together like he was trying not to laugh. "You saying that has no right to be that funny."

"Sorry, I missed that," Alan said with an amused grin. "Would you mind saying that one more time, Lyall?"

Lyall tried leveling Alan with a half-hearted glare. A grin slipped out anyway. "Sorry, but the moment's gone, Alvaro."

Alan sighed with feigned disappointment. "Ah, okay. I just thought I heard you say you shat your pants and wondered if you needed help."

"I'm going to have to ask you both to stop if I'm to remain dignified," Cyrin deadpanned.

"Ah, no," Lyall said with a chuckle, "if my dignity is to be trampled on by Alan, you don't get to have yours either."

Alan hummed. "I didn't trample on your dignity, Lyall, because it's still in your pants."

Lyall playfully shoved Alan's shoulder. "A king of the porcelain throne, you are not. You need to work on your toilet humor a little more."

Alan scoffed and shoved back, but he couldn't argue against that. He wasn't particularly fond of slapstick humor, but he could entertain it if it could bring a smile to Cyrin's face.

The three of them continued to walk down the dark, windy maze. Ever since they walked in, Alan had been hearing strange, high-pitched murmured voices, and he hadn't brought them to light. Yet. Partially because he felt half-delusional from the long day of today and wondered if he was hearing things right, and partially because he was trying to think through solutions himself.

Magic. Switching magic...

"So," Alan began lightly, not looking at any on thing in front of him as he continued to navigate despite not knowing where they were going. "You both hear that too... right?"

Cyrin slowed in their step, and it was as though he could feel the weight of their gaze on the back of his head. "Hear what?" they asked, suddenly more cautious.

Instead of scanning their area, Lyall silently turned an intense, searching look back to Alan.

"Okay, okay, I'll lay off the horror tropes and decide to not spring jump scares on you," Alan said innocently with a faint laugh, briskly waving Lyall off to dismiss his concerns. "It is very spooky in here, though."

"No no," Lyall said lightly, clasping his hands behind his back as he faced Alan fully. "You brought it up. Elaborate, please. What is it that you're hearing that we evidently can't?"

Alan drew out an exaggerated hum, squinting his eyes as he tilted his head up, listening closely. "Just the usual horrors of the night. You know, shrill voices. Spooky ghosts. Let me translate for you." He smiled playfully, but paused, truly listening to the faint voices he couldn't explain. "Crumbs," he said with a low voice. "He's dead, let's get out of here. We can't save him. No. I carried the last corpse, you do it this time. You're a warrior. Don't go into the light. I must touch its warmth. Crunch. Delicious. Get away. They're coming. I think he hears us. Shhhh. Quiet."

"Who--" Lyall tilted his head with a deeply confused grin. "Those... are all so specific."

Cyrin didn't say anything, but slowly turned in a circle scanning his surroundings. From the furrow of their brow, they were taking it very seriously.

"It's probably nothing," Alan said with a light shrug and a smile, ignoring the nervousness of his own heart. "Especially if you don't hear it either." He paused. "Unless... maybe... you're thinking this? Could be a mind reading thing?"

Lyall's grin faded, and confusion was replaced with a mix of open concern and sincerely trying to puzzle this out himself.

"...My inner monologue does not consist of 'crunch'," Cyrin said cautiously.

"Well, what is your inner monologue saying, then?" Alan asked stubbornly instead.

"Something like 'I don't believe in ghosts, but I'm unnerved anyway, and climbing that hedge out of here looks awfully tempting suddenly'?" Cyrin offered.

Alan let out a soft hum, squinting up at the top of the hedge again. At least, he tried to.

"Maybe you can try anyways? We went rock climbing earlier in the day. It can't be that much different from hedge climbing," Alan said.

"No, hang on," Lyall mumbled in thought, stepping back from Cyrin's side as he scanned the area now. "It could be in your head, Alvaro, it's even less likely to be ghosts. Or..." He looked down at the dirt and slowly pointed. "...it could be someone else's magic." He lifted his arm to point at Alan. "Where are the voices coming from?"

Alan hesitated. He didn't want to admit he sounded insane, but Lyall was right. This could be someone else's magic. He just didn't know whose.

"Around us," he answered honestly. "The ground. The shrubs. The air. I can't pinpoint one location, but it's not all loud. I just... hear it."

Lyall nodded, flashing him an encouraging grin. "Okay! We can work with that." He hummed as he glanced off in thought. Then snapped his fingers. "Pick one voice," he instructed gently, "and try and hone in on it."

Alan hesitated again, but then slowly turned around to face the hedge wall nearest to them. He pointed at it, frowning. "This one is crunching and moaning about a delicious feast."

Lyall mirrored Alan, pointing his whole arm at the hedge. "Not a fan of the tone you picked, but progress!" he said brightly. "Does it sound...distant? You said they were faint, right?"

"No... not this one," Alan murmured.

Ignoring everything in him telling him to turn around and leave, he stepped closer to the voice, leaning in and squinting. It sounded like a person was talking in a soft nasaly voice, eating something... but he only saw the rustling of the leaves.

"Hello?" Alan whispered uncertainly.

"Food?" the nasaly voice asked.

This was dumb. He was talking to a bush.

"Who are you?" Alan asked instead.

"Not food," the voice said. "Unless you're a bird. Are you a bird? I don't want to be eaten by a bird."

"I'm--" Alan began, then snapped his mouth shut as he glanced back at Lyall and Cyrin.

Cyrin looked skeptical, but he had their attention. With another grin, Lyall waved Alan on.

"...I'm not a bird," he finished calmly, crouching down and returning his attention back to the bush. "I'm not going to eat you, either. I'm just... confused. Who are you? What are you?"

"Are you a leaf?" the voice answered instead. "I like leaves. They're tasty. Crunchy."

"No. I'm not a leaf," Alan said with a level voice. "I'm not crunchy either."

"Hmm." The voice seemed disappointed that he wasn't a leaf.

"Alan, who is it?" Lyall asked, some urgency creeping into his voice now.

"Are you a leaf?" Alan shot back stupidly instead to the bush.

"No! I eat leaves!" the voice objected. "All caterpillars eat leaves. How dare you."

Caterpillar. Caterpillar.

Alan slowly smiled, the revelation seeping in. He could talk to caterpillars.

Wait! No. Bugs. No! Animals. He could talk to all animals!

He had Clanny's magic!

Trying to contain his excitement, Alan sprung up to his feet, focusing as he stepped to the side, suddenly yanking out a leafy branch full of delicious leaves and-- oh! Flower buds! That was probably good to eat. Right?

"Hey, hey, Mister Caterpillar," Alan cooed, rushing back to where he was before, sliding on the dirt so he could land on his knees. He rustled the branch in front of him. "I have some yummy delicious leaves and flowers for you. What do you say about taking a vacation? I can take you anywhere! You'll have a buffet!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" the caterpillar said excitedly. "Take me there!"

"Hop on!" Alan said with a laugh, but then squinted at the leaves. "Wait, where are you?"

"Hold on. Ugh... oof." Alan didn't see anything for a few moments, just heard some caterpillar huffing and puffing. After a few moments, he saw a thick, fuzzy, striped caterpillar squirming up a leaf, with a cocoon in tow. "My friend here is about to be a butterfly! He needs food too!"

"Oh! Yes, your friend can come with. There's lots of food for you two," Alan said with a wide smile. "Can I pick both of you up?"

"Could you, mayhaps," Lyall butted in, "enlighten us over here?"

"Shhhhh!" Alan shushed over to him. "I'm trying to listen."

Lyall huffed indignantly. "And I'm trying to get us in and out of this maze," he said calmly. "Preferably tonight."

Cyrin leaned over, saying something softly in Lyall's ear. Voice likewise lowered, Lyall hummed his agreement. Anything else he said after was talked over by the caterpillar in front of Alan.

"Yes, yes, yes," the caterpillar said eagerly, tugging the cocoon along as it shuffled onto Alan's branch.

With a hand under the leaf the caterpillar picked, Alan gently scooped up his branch and stood up excitedly, whirling around and showing his new friends to Lyall and Cyrin.

"I found a caterpillar!" he exclaimed brightly. "And a cocoon friend, too. We can understand each other. I think they're hungry." He nuzzled the top of the caterpillar's back, nudging it towards the leafy flower bud. "You're hungry, right? Eat up! And your friend, too. He needs energy to turn into a butterfly."

There only came sleepy, incomprehensible mumbling from inside the cocoon.

"He can't eat yet," the caterpillar said. "Oh, wait!"

The cocoon rattled a little, slowly, slowly splitting its layers. As the three-- or four, with the caterpillar-- watched, it fell open to reveal a monarch butterfly, opening and closing its wings as if to test them out.

"Look at me!" the butterfly said proudly in a much higher voice.

Alan laughed, trying to mask a surprised but giddy squeal that escaped his mouth from the sudden turn of events. He just saw a butterfly transform! And he could talk to it!

"You're so beautiful!" Alan said through a bright smile, reaching out to touch the butterfly, but it was quickly fluttering away. "Wait!" he said with a laugh, still keeping the caterpillar close and safe in his hands. "Where are you going?"

"Who knows! Whee! Catch me if you can!" the butterfly said, flapping in circles before starting to head down the hedge corridor.

Alan didn't think twice about it. He ran ahead to chase the butterfly, ignoring complaints from Lyall and Cyrin. Everything in him was saying this was right. Like fate. Like... the butterfly effect. Surely good things would happen if he chased the butterfly. There was one way forward, and he was following the flutters of the wind!

"Hold up!" Cyrin hollered, and he heard one set of footsteps running after him. Which probably meant there were two and just couldn't hear Cyrin's steps.

"Alan, please!" Lyall called after him. "I'm sure there's a more methodical approach to all of this!"

"Follow me!" Alan said confidently, not even glancing back.

The butterfly zipped across the sky, taking rapid left and right turns across the maze. There didn't appear to be any rhyme or reason for the way the creature took, and Alan was vaguely aware that the hedges around them moved, closing the way they came from.

But it didn't matter. He placed his blind trust on the talking butterfly.

Alan kept running after it, until finally, he came to a slow stop upon seeing the butterfly land on the nose of a tall, golden sphinx that blocked the way ahead. In awe, he stopped in front of it, amazed by how much the gold glinted in the dim light.

Behind him, Lyall stumbled to a far less graceful stop than Cyrin did. He fell against the athlete with a tired groan. Cyrin comfortingly patted his back, scanning the sphinx with intrigue.

"What is this? Why did you take us here?" Alan asked the butterfly.

"No idea! Hope you like it!" the butterfly said, doing a spin dive in the air. "Whee!"

Hm. Weird. Alan glanced down at the branch, just now realizing that the caterpillar was gone. Frantic, he snapped his head back up, squinting up in the air to see that the butterfly was... holding the caterpillar? But how...?

Ah well. Now the caterpillar could move through the air, at least. Alan hoped he had enough food to eat.

"This must be one of the challenges Mireya spoke of," Cyrin said, looking over the sphinx curiously.

"What a happy coincidence," Lyall said, sounding mildly out of breath but legitimately relieved.

"Hello, Mister or Miss Sphinx! How can we pass?" Alan asked, hand around his mouth to yell up towards the towering statue.

There was no response from the sphinx itself. But something squirmed out of the statue's open jaw, gracefully hopping onto the ground.

It was Shrimp. In a sphinx costume.

"It's some friends!" Shrimp yowled excitedly. "Look! I'm so fearsome in this costume! They told me I was going to be sooooo impressive!"

Alan felt like his jaw almost dropped to the floor. His eyes widened as he let out a giddy laugh, running to the cat and skidding on the dirt in front of him.

"Shrimp!" Alan said with a laugh, scooping him up and holding him up over his head. "Is that you, boy? We've been looking everywhere for you!" He brought the cat back to his chest, giving him a warm hug and nuzzling his head. "I'm so glad you're safe. Shane has been worried sick. You're here with me now, though. We'll keep you safe and get you back to him."

Shrimp purred, snuggling in his arms. "I didn't know what happened! I was with him and then I wasn't. I ended up here in this costume and some voice told me I had to help you with this challenge. I miss Shane."

Alan stood up, spinning Shrimp around with him before cradling him in his arms like a baby. He warmly smiled and caressed the side of the cat's face with his fingers. "I'm sorry. That sounds so frightening. I'm glad you're not hurt. We'll get you back to Shane in no time." He paused. "What's this about helping us with a challenge, though? Does it have something to do with progressing forward in the maze? Does it involve a sphinx?"

"Oh! Yes," Shrimp exclaimed. "You need to boop the sphinx's nose, like this--" The cat reached up with a paw, patting Alan's nose. Alan grinned. "--and then it's going to ask you all some riddles before you can pass."

Alan nodded, gently booping his nose in return. "Thank you. Let me tell the others. Hold on."

Keeping Shrimp close against his chest, Alan whirled around to walk back to meet the others, but turned out he didn't need to take a single step since Lyall and Cyrin had already met him there, perhaps hearing everything.

Ah wait. Right. They didn't speak cat.

Alan beamed, petting Shrimp's head. "I found Shrimp. I'm glad he's safe," he said warmly. "Hopefully we run into Shane so we can return him. I think he's worried sick."

"Aw, he's a cutie," Cyrin said, scratching Shrimp's back affectionately. "It's good we found him. We're going to have to look after him now and keep him safe."

"So many friends!" Shrimp let out a happy purr.

"Judging by the way the sphinx spat out a miniature version of itself," Lyall said with a slight grin, hands in his pockets, "I'm going to hazard a guess and say Mister Shrimp here is part of this obstacle."

Alan nodded, still rubbing the cat's face affectionately. "Maybe. He gave me the instructions." He gestured back to the sphinx with his head. "We just have to poke the sphinx's nose, then it will ask us a couple of riddles. After that, we can pass."

"Yes!" Shrimp chirped, begging for more back scratches from Cyrin. "Are riddles difficult?"

"He asked if riddles are difficult," Alan translated for Lyall and Cyrin, then smiled and poked Shrimp's nose. "It can be, but with teamwork, I think we can figure it out. Is there anything else we should know before we begin?"

"Perhaps," Lyall urged with a nod, "any potential consequences?"

"Are there any consequences? Lyall is asking about it," Alan said for Shrimp to understand.

"No idea," Shrimp said. "That would be mean!"

"He says he doesn't think so," Alan said back to Lyall and Cyrin. "What do you think? Ready to begin?"

Lyall tilted his head as he studied Shrimp. "That doesn't sound right," he murmured, "there's always a catch."

"Maybe more rules would be said after we touch the nose," Alan suggested.

"I've got an idea of what they might entail, but I'll hold the thought for now," Cyrin said, carefully reaching out to rest their hand on the nose of the sphinx.

They had to pull it back, because the sphinx statue suddenly sat upright, its eyes glowing with a violent green. It towered over the four of them, staring down at them coldly. Its voice was a low, gravelly rumble version of Mireya's when it spoke.

"You see a boat filled with people," it spoke. "It has not sunk, but when you look again you don’t see a single person on the boat. Why?"

"Okay, no clarifications," Cyrin murmured. "Well, given sphinx folklore, this typically would mean..."

As Lyall nodded and Cyrin trailed off in thought, Alan stared up at the sphinx, thinking this through. "Is it because everyone is crouching down?" he asked uncertainly.

A light glinted unexpectedly in the sphinx's emerald eyes as it seemed to come to life. The gold plating on its legs scraped. The ground tremored beneath their feet as it lunged forward, maws wide open with a drawled out, "Nawwww!"

Alan hardly had any time to react, but with the brief moment of panic, protective instinct kicked in and he held Shrimp tightly against his chest, turning his back against the sphinx so he could protect Shane's cat, as promised.

Though next thing he knew, he was engulfed in darkness, falling down a tunnel.

But at least he still had Shrimp.

The camera cut and zoomed in to the faces of the last two remaining contestants - too late to join a group, and left without other options.

Alex and Hendrik.

Just after leaving the shrimp-touching fiasco, the two of then made eye contact, each of them with the same questioning look in their eye.

"You with anyone, flamingo?" Hendrik asked gruffly.

Alexander's eyebrow cocked up, and he briefly looked Hendrik up and down. Assessing with the appearance of a faint smirk.

"Not sure I've had anyone call me that before," he said with either the undertones of amusement or interest. Time would soon tell.

Standing in another hawaiian-patterned shirt with white flowers and matching white shorts, Alex very much looked like someone who could've been called flamingo in his life. The camera pans as if to tell us this.

Meanwhile, Hendrik was dressed in his usual dinner time attire. That was, shirtless with a small towel around his neck, only wearing tight pants, which the camera zoomed in on. It was, indeed, tight. Almost too small for his bulky legs.

"Looking for a partner, superman?" Alex asked.

"Hah!" Hendrik bellowed out. "If I'm superman, you're a pansy. We could make a great pair."

Briefly making suggestive eye contact with the camera, Alex smiled.

"I do believe so. In that case, I'm honored to accept your invitation," Alex said with a small bow of his head. "'Tis a shame we've only taken to speaking 'til now. I feel we'd nearly missed an opportunity."

"I tell you what's a real missed opportunity: not bringing my cup of vodka with me," Hendrik said with a low growl.

He shook his fist up towards the maze sign, a bit wobbly. Perhaps because he was drunk. Then again, Hendrik was always drunk.

He let out a few expletives that were prompt bleeped out for the viewers' enjoyment.

Watching Hendrik with a visibly amused smirk, Alex let out a huff through his nose.

"Perhaps we should hurry inside, then," Alex said. "Though your magic may be temporarily displaced, maybe our DMV overlords will have blessed us with a drink."

"That better be the damn prize!" Hendrik huffed. He then took a step towards the entrance, slapping Alexander's behind to nudge him forward. "Let's go, pansy. The pumpkin isn't going to find itself."

Alexander, instead of looking, perhaps, uncomfortable at the butt slap, instead shot his brows up in surprise and then tried to hide a small... smile?

The camera zoomed in to catch it.

Yeah, Alexander was definitely checking Hendrik out. Proven by the music that started playing "Careless Whisper" in the background.

Alexander lifted his hands as if in surrender, and he hurried ahead with a bit of a swing in his hips. He looked to Hendrik over his shoulder, cocking a brow with an inviting grin.

"Apologies," Alex said in a way that did not feel like he was apologizing, but instead saying something very different. "To the pumpkin we go."

The camera cut out of the scene with a heart-shaped fade transition.

The camera cuts to a hoard of pumpkins blocking the path. The giant wall of pumpkins stretched up to the sky, but the camera only focused on the top for a second, instead zooming into a wooden sign wedged on the ground that read: CARVE YOUR WAY THROUGH.

There was a loud sigh the boom mic captured, which prompted the camera to turn around and zoom into the face of Connie, who tiredly and blankly stared at the pumpkins. He seemed annoyed. Then again, who could say? He was unbothered by everything and anything.

"What do you think, Robin?" he asked right as the camera panned down to the shorter bald man beside him. "Shall we carve?"

"Suppose so," Robin said. "Seems like the way through."

They both walked ahead, stopping by the pile of dull pumpkin carvers next to the sign. After gathering their tools, Connie picked up the nearest pumpkin on the edge, sitting on the dirt floor with his legs crossed. The dirt would dirty his white linens, but again, this prince was unbothered by everything and anything.

And carving he did, diving the knife right at the center. It seemed he was not aware that he was supposed to open the top and empty its guts first.

Robin interrupted when he noticed the fault, pointing at his pumpkin, and then at Connie's. Wordlessly, he lifted the "lid" he created, indicating that it made it easier to carve.

The two of them must have shared a silent language, because Connie understood what he meant, correcting his mistake and carving out a lid of his own. After Connie finished, the two of them dipped their hands in, emptying out the flesh of the pumpkins. Only the squelch of the raw pumpkin was heard-- that was, until Connie disrupted the silence.

"How does it feel?" he suddenly asked, still focused on scooping out the insides of the pumpkin. "To not be a werewolf anymore?"

"I liked being a werewolf," Robin said. "Remembering everything is a curse I'd like to be rid of soon."

Robin tilted his head towards Connie.

"Any news on what magic you've acquired?" Robin asked.

Connie was scraping out the sides of the pumpkin, really emptying it out. "I hear a faint hum and feel a faint tingle," he said evenly.

Robin huffed through his nose, looking back down at his pumpkin in thought. The face he was carving was a rather odd one. It appeared he wasn't gifted in this form of art, so the face he made was looking a bit uneven. It wasn't smiling either. It looked angry.

"That's not much to go off of," Robin said. "Is the hum more musical in nature? Or mechanical?"

"Mechanical. Like white noise," Connie said, carving two big eyes on his pumpkin.

"Perhaps you've been given Kazimir's magic," Robin suggested. "I can't think of other magics to explain that sort of phenomenon."

Connie paused to glance over at him before resuming his carving, making a smile that was much too happy and wide for the two big circles of eyes.

"How does his magic work?" Connie asked.

"I admittedly haven't had many discussion with him about the nature of his magic," Robin said. "But he's made a display of it from time to time. He seems capable of electrical disturbances but also has the ability to harness it and process it through his body, sometimes holding it in. I know this because he's shocked me once, but never again. And not in the way people can on their own. It wasn't as playful as he probably hoped."

Robin turned his pumpkin over to Connie, finished with the angry grimace. Then he set it to the side and grabbed the next pumpkin.

"And unfortunately I can remember every detail of that interaction right now," Robin muttered. "Kazimir's a bit of a child in many ways, still."

"Does he use his hands?" Connie asked. "To control the electricity."

"Usually he uses his hands, yes," Robin said. "Though I've seen him use his feet once."

Connie suddenly pointed to the base of the mountain of pumpkins, and for a moment, everything went white due to the sheer amount of energy that bundled around his fingers before shooting out as an electric beam. It shot out from his hand, heading to the base of the pumpkin mountain to burn a giant hole they could walk through. No carving necessary.

Connie seemed satisfied by what he did, but then turned back to the pumpkin, finishing the smile. He picked up a pumpkin behind him, carving out the top again.

The camera slowly pulled out, showing the two men quietly resuming their carving. It seemed despite the cleared obstacle, that the two of them were content to work on the pumpkins. The image of them transitioned to black with a pumpkin shaped outro.

"Huh," Alex said, hands on his hips as he looked at a simple, strong oak table with a near-human sized tankard sitting atop it. He looked equal parts amused and confused as Hendrik let out a voracious laugh, booming over the maze as he approached to inspect what was inside the giant mug on display.

Alex was a bit slower to follow, but eventually joined Hendrik with a deft leap up onto the table. The two of them looked down into it, seeing a clear liquid filled up to the rim.

At the very bottom of the tankard there were glowing golden letters that danced in the faint ripples created by their shared breath on the surface. The message read:



And, after a quick whiff, both of them clearly deduced the obvious. The tankard was not filled with water.

It was vodka.

Two normal-sized cups hung off the side of the table with arched handles.

Hendrik grinned widely, a knowing glint in his eyes. He hopped off the table with a heavy thunk to march over to the cups. "How's your liver, pansy?" he bellowed cheerfully.

"Not indestructable like yours," Alex said, leaning against the tankard as he watched Hendrik with raised brows. "And I'm pretty sure yours isn't anymore either."

The drunkard swiped the glass cups off the handle, already marching back to the vodka, grinning wider. "How about a proper drinking competition this time? One where you can understand me clearly," he said. It appeared the words flew over his head. That or he ignored it.

"Oh, I understood you the last time," Alex said with slightly pursed lips. "Are you sure this is a good idea? We may never get through the maze unless we're trying to kill ourselves."

Hedrik shoved the mug into Alex's hands. "Drink up if you want to get through. You heard the magic vase. We have to empty it."

"Oh, so you want me drunk, then," Alex said with a smirk. "Well you should've just said so."

Alex dipped his mug in, filling it with vodka. Hendrik was quick to dip his as well, filling it all the way to the top.

"Well, come on, then," Hendrik said expectantly, offering his mug out to toast. "Cheers to seeing your ass drunk."

Alex laughed a spoken: "Ha-ha," and waggled his brows a brief second before taking one long gulp. Hendrik drank at the same time, his gulp lasting a few seconds longer. When finished, he let out a satisfied "ah." Alex seemed less satisfied, but swallowed it down without difficulty.

"The universe has gifted me with vodka. It's a damn good day," he said with another bellow of a laugh, aggressively slapping Alex's back. It was supposed to be a pat, but this was Hendrik. His pats were slaps. Alex looked like he didn't expect it to be so aggressive, because he almost spit up what he just drank.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Alex gently patted Hendrik's arm, perhaps as a means to nonverbally tell Hendrik to stop it. But then his pat lingered a little on Hendrik's bare arm.

"Good lad. You swallowed that down," Hendrik said, then took another sip of his drink.

Alex pulled away, but watched Hendrik as he took another sip.

"So," Alex said. "I don't think we've had a chance to get to know each other. This is..." And Alex gestured to Hendrik up and down. "Your usual routine, is it?"

"I'm usually in a speedo at this hour, swimming. Unfortunately, I was teleport in here wearing pants," Hendrik said with a smidge of irritation, shaking his head.

Alex looked amused at Hendrik's sincerity.

"So you always go for an evening swim," he said. "Where to?"

"Mmmhmm. The coastline, half a mile east from the cabins. Water is real warm over there, and there aren't any waves," Hendrik said, taking another drink.

Clearly, he wasn't pacing himself. Then again, he never had to pace himself before. He was about to enter a rude awakening, and Alex seemed keenly aware of this. He was keeping a sharp eye on Hendrik.

"Sounds pleasant," Alex said. "Would you like company sometime?"

"Would I like company?" Hendrik repeated, then bellowed out, "I'd love company!" He aggressively slapped Alex's back again, and a little bit of his vodka spilled over the rim of the mug. "Come out and join. Plenty of room for two to swim."

"The ocean is quite expansive," Alex agreed. "I guess I'll have to find you there, then."

"You swim often, flamingo?" Hendrik asked.

"It's a bit hard, being as feathery as I am," Alex said with a playful tilt of his head.

"And flamboyant," Hendrik added.

"Oh, please," Alex said, limping his wrist at Hendrik and smiling. "Thank you for noticing."

"Hmph!" Hendrik threw back his mug again, gulping the vodka down as if it were water. "I notice lots of things on this island. But does anyone ever give a damn and listen? No."

"Oh, really?" Alex said, tilting his head again, but this time with interest. "I'd love to listen if you'd indulge me."

"Did you know that your cabin mate can fly?" Hendrik said, voice serious.

Alex's smirk tugged into a smile.

"Really? Is that so? Which one?" Alex asked.

"You tell me, buttercup. They're your cabin mates," Hendrik said lowly.

"Oh, but they hardly come out to play with me, big guy," Alex said, elbowing Hendrik lightly. "I barely ever see them! Hermits, they are."

"How'd the hell did you miss trench coat flying? How did no one see this?" Hendrik spat out.

"Flying?" Alex repeated, raising his brows with amused surprise. He looked like he was holding back a laugh. "That twig, flying around? Oh, I would've loved to see that."

"Hmph! You should've been there!" Hendrik took back another drink.

"I should've," Alex drawled playfully, nudging Hendrik's arm. But as Hendrik swung back his mug again, Alex's eyes flashed with a hint of worry. When Hendrik looked back at him though, it was concealed with a smile.

"I see lots of things on TV too," the drunkard went on, voice gravelley and serious. "Lots of secrets on this island." He tapped the side of his head. "It's all in here now."

Alex raised his brows, smiling again as he leaned on the tankard, giving Hendrik his full attention.

"And what will it cost to get those pretty little secrets out of you, hm?" Alex asked.

"Ever heard of a quid pro quo?" Hendrik said with a grin.

"I do believe I have," Alex said. "What would you have in exchange?"

"You say a secret, I say a secret," Hendrik said plainly. "Go on, then. Say something secretive."

Alex pursed his lips in thought, and then let out a little huff, leaning away from the tankard to sit down on the table at Hendrik's feet.

"Alright then," Alex said agreeably. "Get down here, big guy, if you want to hear a secret."

With a grunt, Hendrik sat down next to him, crossing his legs and being careful to not slosh the vodka over the mug's rim. He turned to Alex expectantly. "Go on, then."

Leaning in towards Hendrik, Alex lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Mr. Popular has a deathly fear of drowning," Alex said. "And in consequence, hates swimming."

"Mr. Popular," Hendrik echoed, then briskly nodded. "Romantic?"

"Oh, no," Alex said with a chuckle. "I meant our local wolverine."

Hendrik frowned. "Wolf man?"

"I fear we've come up with different nicknames for everyone," Alex said. "James Hawke. That one."

"Ah." Hendrik let out another grunt. "You mean Barbie."

Alex let out a laugh. "Is that what you're calling him? What on earth for?"

"He runs in bright pink. It nearly blinded me while I swam," Hendrik muttered. He then added, "He also goes by Potato King."

"I see," Alex said. "Well. I've done my part. Now it's your turn."

Hendrik hummed, taking a slow sip of his vodka, thinking. "The charisma cabin have the hots for each other," he said, voice deadly serious.

"Somehow, that doesn't surpise me at all," Alex said. "Put three pretty boys together in a cabin like that? Something's bound to happen."

"Hah! Of course they're your type, flamingo." Hendrik shook his head disapprovingly. "Has any one of them ever heard of facial hair?"

"Awh, come on," Alex said. "Not all of us are gifted with the genes to do so. If I could, I would, I'll have you know."

Hendrik raised a brow at him. "You can't grow a beard?"

"Seems I cannot," Alex said with a shrug. "I was born a rather hairless creature, aside from the tuft on my head."

Now it was Hendrik's turn to check out Alex, even though they were only talking about the hair on his face. "Very fine. Beard doesn't suit you, anyways."

Alex grinned in a self-satisfactory manner. With a little wiggle of his shoulders, he seemed pleased with the comment.

"Would you like to hear another secret, big guy?" Alex asked.

"I'm listening," Hendrik said expectantly.

"Apparently, drowning fears are quite common on this island surrounded by water, of all things. Lyall has some deep-seated trauma with it. It's all very dramatic," Alex said. "Don't throw that little man in water. I have a feeling he'd hate you forever for it."

Hendrik pinched his brows together, now clearly disturbed. "How the hell do you know this?"

"Oh. Well." Alex hesitated, pursing his lips. "Perhaps I'm not drunk enough for this conversation yet."

And then he took a long, uninterrupted chug of his drink. Clapping his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he leaned back with a sigh.

"If I'm going to answer that question, you'll owe me another secret," Alex said.

"Avoidant now, are we?" Hendrik mused. "Fine." Idly, he took a quick sip of his mug, thinking again. "Shane Hawking isn't as soft and helpless as you think he is. I've seen his hardy exterior, giving out orders and cursing at me like a true comrade. Man's no Cinderella. He's got a faulty memory, though."

Alex raised a brow at that.

"He cussed you out?" Alex said. "Really? Mr. Barely-Has-a-Backbone Hawking?"

"Yessir, I couldn't believe it myself," Hendrik said proudly.

"You must've really pissed him off," Alex said. "You have my admiration."

"Hah!" Hendrik playfully shoved him with his elbow, again with too much force. "Lad was already pissed off. It was not my doing, unless he was pissed over my mere existence."

Alex smirked. "Ah. So you caught him at a bad time. Well. Sorry for him, then."

"I think he oughtta be more angry. How the hell can you rule a country when you act like a pansy?" Hendrik said, then paused as he frowned at Alex. "No offense."

"You think I act like a pansy?" Alex asked. "What exactly is 'pansy behavior?'"

Hendrik jabbed a finger on his chest, pointing at a flower on his shirt. "You're literally wearing pansies."

"But Shane doesn't wear pansies," Alex retorted. "All he wears are flannel shirts."

"And princess gowns," Hendrik said matter-of-factly.

Alex leaned back for a moment, looking at Hendrik in disbelief.

"Princess gowns," Alex repeated flatly.

"And sun dresses," Hendrik added.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Alex said, taking another sip of his drink.

Hendrik scoffed. "Why don't you join me for morning Saturday television, then?"

"I believe I'm amassing dates with you faster than we're drinking," Alex said. "But I can't say no to that."

"Is that what we're calling this?" Hendrik said amusedly with a grin.

"Is it not?" Alex asked, mirroring Hendrik's grin.

"I think this date could use more secrets." Hendrik elbowed him again, this time more gentle and playful. "And I swear to god, if you tell me a third person who's afraid of water, I'm going to lose it."

Alex let out a laugh, but this one sounded less performative and more genuine. He rolled his eyes a moment and leaned in again to whisper.

"I'm the sandman," he said.

"What the hell is that? Snowman, but sand?" Hendrik said with a frown.

Alex laughed even more at that, slapping Hendrik's arm lightly.

"Oh, don't tell me you know nothing of folklore, Hendrik!" Alex said. "Please don't disappoint me."

Hendrik's frown deepened. "Enlighten me, then."

"You know. The sandman. He puts people to sleep and inspires beautiful dreams by sprinkling sand into their eyes."

"Sand man," Hendrik echoed slowly. "Never heard of it."

It seemed that he was drunker than he was trying to let on.

"Well now you have," Alex said, lightly pushing Hendrik's shoulder, likely to see if Hendrik would spring back or not. He did, albeit slowly.

"So that's your magic, is it? Giving people beautiful sandy dreams?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Not exclusively beautiful ones, but yes, I can give people dreams, Sir Superman," Alex said. "'Tis the magic I was gifted."

Hendrik narrowed his eyes at him. "How'd you know Barbie and cowboy's fear of water?"

"Ah. It's a consequence of giving dreams," Alex said. "In doing so I get peers into people's subconsciouses. It's not a malicious intention, I promise."

"Ever given me sweet dreams, sand man?" Hendrik asked with a sly smile.

"To be truthful, dearie," Alex said. "I haven't. But at your request, I gladly would."

"Well, why don't you slip right in, then? I'll see your ass in my dreams," Hendrik said with a bellowed laugh.

Alex looked into the camera with the most amused, suggestive side-eye ever.

"With that invitation?" Alex said. "How can I refuse?"

"What is this? Another date?" Hendrik said with another bellied laugh.

"We're up to three, now," Alex said. "I do like our streak we have going."

"Cheers to that," Hendrik said as he clinked his mug against Alex's, taking another long sip. Alex nodded and took a drink as well, but as Hendrik kept chugging, Alex pulled his mug away and simply watched.

There was a mix of admiration and worry in Alex's eyes. It seemed he was anticipating what every viewer was as well. Hendrik didn't have the same stamina as he usually did, but he was drinking like nothing had changed.

It was all going to hit him very soon.

"I believe we have a third secret left to exchange," Alex said. "Which means--"

He leaned in, dancing his fingers up Hendrik's arm.

"--you owe me," Alex said.

Hendrik slowly grinned, amused by Alex's advances. "I got one for you," he said, then cleared his throat. "Did you know that our very own Shane Hawking cannot experience sexual attraction?"

Alex stared into Hendrik's eyes for a solid three seconds before he erupted in a loud snort, pulling away in a fit of laughter.

"Here's another one for you," Hendrik said, still grinning. "I, for one, have a very strong libido."

Alex, still alight with laughter, shook his head.

"You, Hendrik, are quite the experience," Alex said through his laughing. But then he leaned forward and cupped Hendrik's cheek, pulling him close.

He closed the distance with a kiss. Hendrik was clearly caught off guard since Alex kissed his teeth, but maybe it was because he had a slow reaction time. Hendrik let out a soft moan and kissed him back.

Nice. These two were now making out. But it only lasted for a few seconds, because suddenly all of Hendrik's weight fell backwards against the ground. Instead of collapsing with a thud, there was no sound. And also, no Hendrik. He completely disappeared. Just... vanished. All that was left behind was his mug on the dirt, which was empty, so nothing spilled out.

Alex sat there, stunned as he stared down at the ground. The sound of the squidward blinking meme matched with Alex's blinks of shock.

And then he heard snoring. From the air in front of him, where Hendrik sat just mere moments ago.

Alex stared with bewilderment for a second before it seemed to click.

"Dammit, Hendrik," Alex said. "Of course the spectre's abilities were wasted on you."

With a sigh, Alex got to his feet and splashed the remainder of his vodka towards the sound of Hendriks' snoring. The vodka seemed to hit an invisible face, splashing a few inches off the ground.

"Get up, you giant," Alex said. "We have a maze to get through."

There was a sputtering sound. Alex's excellent hunting aim was put to good use since the vodka splashed over his mouth.

"Have to drink... more..." Hendrik muttered, still insivible and intangible.

"No, no," Alex chided with a click of his tongue. "No worrying about that. I have a better idea."

And at that, Alex turned to climb up to the tankard again, but this time when he came up beside it, he got down low and began to push at its base, grunting as he lifted up the bottom edge and tilted it away from them. With enough effort, he was able to push it on its side, and the whole contents went splashing on the ground around them like a wave.

A chime rang overhead, and suddnely, the bushy wall in front of them opened up with a door.

"What the BLEEP?" Hendrik spat. The camera panned back to him, now showing that he was half-visible. As in, only his upper body was seen. "Where are my legs?"

Alex stood atop the table for a moment and then hopped down beside Hendrik.

"Still there," Alex said. "Just invisible for the moment. Seems you've been gifted the ability to go ghost."

Alex offered a hand to help Hendrik up.

Hendrik was visibly confused, but considering he seemed to be barely holding on to sobreity and his legs were missing, the confusion was very justified. He took Alex's hand and was lifted up in the air. Or at least, his torso was.

Hendrik stared down at his missing lower body and did what our dear viewers expected least: he let out a little girl scream.

Alex looked into the camera, this time with less amusement and more with a look that read: Really? You've left me with this?

But Alex did not step down from being the responsible one, and he reached out to grab Hendrik's shoulders, looking into the man's eyes firmly.

"Hendrik, it's the magic you got switched with," Alex said plainly. "You didn't lose your legs, okay? You're going to be fine."

Regardless, Hendrik clutched on to Alex's forearm, swatting at the air beneath him and letting out a string of angry-sounding curses in Germa.

Alex sighed and with his free arm swung it around and slapped Hendrik's invisible ass.

"Feel that?" Alex said. "It's still there. Calm down."

"What the hell?" Hendrik muttered, craning his neck down to squint at his invisible legs. "Do that again."

Alex hesitated. But then shrugged and did it again.

"Is that sufficient for you?" Alex asked.

"I can get used to this," Hendrik said, slurring his words, with a grin. He was clearly drunk, but at least he had now calmed down.

"Okay, big guy, that's enough playing around," Alex said. "You're drunk off your ass so lean on me if you need to. I'd rather not have you fall and go ghost again. Might be hard to find you again if you do."

"Can I hold on to your ass the whole time?" Hendrik asked with a cackle.

"You will hold my waist and save your idea for when we're not on television," Alex said.

"What about BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP?" Hendrik suggested, the auto-filter automatically bleeping out rated R words so that the writers of the show will not get banned.

"Oooookay," Alex chided. "You've had too much to drink. Come on, now."

Alex put his arm under Hendrik's and began to turn him around, leading him to the open doorway.

"Hell yeah! Let's find the golden arches!" Hendrik cheered.

Alex shot a longsuffering look into the camera.

"Yes. The golden arches," he muttered.

Shane hugged his arms close to his stomach as the three of them wandered through the maze, trying to squash down a sick feeling.

It felt so wrong not to be getting readings off of everything, even if they were slight. Often, he managed to filter through them to the point that all the unimportant ones barely registered, but it felt like he was getting silence instead of the usual white noise. Even his clothes weren't giving him microreadings, like they usually did with every movement.

It felt like such a fundamental change, like not being able to hear his own breathing all of a sudden.

Some other contestant had it right now, and they were probably getting overwhelmed with every slightest contact. But whoever it was, they weren't here to help him find Shrimp. Shane felt even sicker at the thought of his cat who he'd had since he was a tiny kitten being lost in a maze that was supposedly filled with obstacles and dangers.

All he could hope for was that enough people would be kind enough to look after him if he was found by someone.

"Hey," James said softly beside him, in a near-whisper. "You hanging in there?"

Shane took a deep breath, looking down at his open hands.

"Everything feels so weird," he said quietly. "Even though I know it's normal for everyone else."

James nodded faintly. "You lost a sixth sense. It's akin to going deaf or blind, I'd wager. You've every right to be disoriented."

"I mean, it's not like I need to get readings off of everything," Shane murmured. "It's kind of unnecessary, like how you don't always need a sense of smell. But it feels like something's wrong when I know I should be."

"Yeah, but not being able to smell or taste is still..." James said, but trailed off, his eye twinging as his head faintly twitched to the side, as if he'd heard something that was too loud. But Shane didn't hear anything. If he was missing senses, James now had a few too many.

"Whether you want it to or not, your magic is a part of you," Eve cut in. "Or was. Now, you have something new that replaced what was familiar. James is right: it is expected to feel disoriented." She paused, glancing between them. "We all have difffent magic now. Do either of you feel... different?"

"Normal," Shane said. "But normal person normal, not my normal. I don't have anything to go off of."

"That doesn't sound normal to me," Eve said sternly, studying him more closely.

"It's not," Shane said weakly. "It's not natural to lose your magic, and I don't... feel anything that would suggest what they replaced it with."

Meanwhile, James was not answering. His brow was deeply furrowed.

"And James?" Eve coaxed. "Do you feel... normal?"

James took a second to meet her eyes.

"...No," he said.

She creased her brows together with concern. "You mentioned heightened senses. Can you elaborate?"

"I smell and hear everything," James said. "And... sense..." He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Everything feels loud. It's... I'll get used to it. Probably."

"Do you still think you have Robin's magic?" Eve asked.

A long pause. They walked tensely for a moment.

"No," James said. "I don't know whose it is."

There was a brief silence, the crunch of the steps filling the air. Suddenly Eve asked, "How much do the two of you know about Tula's cabin mates?"

"Aaron and Jay don't leave, except when they think no one's looking," Shane said. "I don't know their powers, and hardly know anything else about them, but Alex's power is similar to yours, actually. He can relive memories. He's not a recluse, but I haven't seen much else of him."

"Hendrik saw Aaron fly," James muttered.

"Fly," Eve repeated skeptically.

"He was the only witness," James said, squinting as if it was too bright. Except... the sun had gone down already.

"I don't know too much about them, but I highly doubt Aaron's magic is to levitate or fly," Eve said dismissively. "Especially if Hendrik is the only witness." She paused. "But perhaps there was merit to his observation, if he was truly soaring through the sky. But the conclusion of this being his magic seems like a dubious assumption."

"If it wasn't his," Shane said, "it would be someone else's. Probably Jay's."

"Someone who could make people fly," James said. "Telekenesis."

Eve slowly nodded. "Clarity mentioned that she saw Jay in her room one night. He was invisible, except for the goggles he tried to steal. Jay was able to go through the walls, but not the goggles." A beat. "Considering Jay and Aaron appear to be close, perhaps it was not Aaron who was flying through the air, but Jay, who was carrying Aaron."

Shane opened his mouth to ask why Jay would be stealing goggles, but thought better of it.

"If it's likely to be anyone, it has to be Aaron," James said.

"And how much do you know about Aaron or his magic?" Eve asked.

James glanced away from both of them, looking deep in thought.

"I haven't given him much thought at all," Shane said carefully.

Maybe he should have. But in all fairness, Aaron had kept to himself the last three weeks, and since he hadn't anticipated he'd have to worry about everyone's magic swapping, Shane hadn't taken it upon himself to create a masterlist of everyone's powers.

"If his magic is simply overstimulation," Eve said slowly, "then I wonder why he is guarding this knowledge. Perhaps there is more to his magic than heightened senses. Similar to Robin having heightened senses when he turns to a wolf, perhaps this is merely an effect of his magic."

"He's a wendigo," James said lowly, unprompted.

Shane felt his heart skip a few beats, then get louder, to the point that the blood in his ears was painfully loud.

What? Where was this coming from?

Eve stopped walking and leading the way, instead staring at James to process his words. "If that's the case... that would mean you're a wendigo too," she said in a harsh whisper.

James nodded stiffly, slowing to an uncomfortable stop beside her. "I know."

"How do you know this? How do you know he's a wendigo?" Eve pressed.

Shane stared at James, silently seconding the question. The three of them were at a standstill now.

"Some... day ago," James started hesitantly. "I was chased by a massive, wild beast in the jungle in the middle of the night while out for a run. I did not have an explanation for what happened at the time, and frankly repressed the memory as I was unable to find any logical reasoning for what it was or if it was even real. But the questioning of reality was merely based in the absurdity of it all. Knowing what I do now, I can... sense the beast inside of me, likely how Aaron does as well. I'd rather you both know."

"James," Eve said urgently. "How hungry are you?"

James swallowed.

"Ravenous," he said, barely audible.

Eve exchanged a nervous look with Shane, which he couldn't hold. He dropped his gaze.

The thoughts ticked through his head. First, he was relieved that maybe it was a good thing Shrimp wasn't here. Then a pang of guilt for thinking that hit him. His next thought was that he should be worried about himself and Eve, which only made the guilt worse. James wouldn't do that. But a monster...

"I believe I can keep it back, but if you'd rather part from me I wouldn't blame you," James said. "As I have not lived with this condition for very long."

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No, we're not separating." Eve stared down at the platter of shrimp she was holding, and for a second there, it looked like she was going to suggest that James eat it. But she shook her head and thought better of it, instead asking, "Do you smell food?"

"I smell everything, everywhere, all at once," James answered.

Hunting senses. Like a predator animal. Shane kept that thought to himself.

"Food," Eve emphasized. "Do you smell food you can eat? Is it possible to focus on one smell in particular? There has to be food somewhere in this maze."

James pressed his lips into a line, and he looked down the maze's path, in the direction they were headed.

"They said to bring our own," Shane said. "But I don't know that we did."

"I smell death," James said quietly.

"Ominous," Eve moaned.

"Like... something rotting. Sorry it's -- it is what I smell ahead," James said. "I'm not trying to be cryptic for the sake of scaring you."

"What about Shane's cat?" Eve went on. "Do you smell him? Is he in the maze?"

James squinted again, this time looking like he was trying to deeply focus. He ended up closing his eyes, taking in a deep breath, as if taking it all in, honing in on the scent.

"He's in here," James said. "But far away. The smell is faint. But... I think he's with Alan. Alan has a distinct smell."

Well, that Shane knew.

He didn't know if he felt relieved overall, but if Shrimp had to be separated from him in the maze, it was good he was with Alan. He nodded shakily.

Eve turned to Shane, expression serious. "Shane. Your cat didn't turn to shrimp. Would you be comfortable with James eating it? This can curb his appetite."

"Um..." Shane started.

James looked at the platter with a small frown.

"It's raw," he said.

"You're a wendigo, James," Eve said flatly.

"It's still disgusting," James muttered.

"Do you want us to cook this on a campfire?" she went on with a dull voice. "Let me just burn the bushes for you."

Shane raised an eyebrow. "...Do you think you might have Lyall's magic?"

Eve stared blankly at Shane, hesitating longer than normal. "I don't think so. But I can try to burn the bushes anyways."

She then glared at the hedge, indeed trying to burn a hole through it with her eyes. But nothing happened.

"We ruled that out at least," Shane said quietly.

Eve suddenly forcefully shoved the platter into James's chest for him to grab. "Take it. Eat the shrimp, James."

"We can still use it to track Shrimp," James said. "If someone has Shane's psychometry."

"Leave one shrimp, then," Eve said stubbornly.

James looked dismally over to Shane, as if to ask for his second opinion to help him out here.

"...Whatever you want," Shane said quietly, but he didn't really want James to eat it. Even if it would make him less hungry.

"No, we're both asking for your permission. Are you comfortable with this?" Eve said.

"I'm not a slave to my hunger," James said. "I will survive without a few raw crustaceans."

"I respect you both to be frank with what I think," Eve went on, her glare extended between the two of them. Even though Shane was quickly learning this was her normal gaze, he shrank back a little.

"I'm not going to eat it," James said firmly.

"And I want to minimize the risk of us getting eaten," Eve said stoically.

"Eve," Shane chided softly.

"I don't know why you're making a big deal out of this. It's literal shrimp and you have a dangerously monster appetite!" Eve said defensively.

"And eating a handful of raw shrimp to appease it will be like trying to fill a dried ocean with a single drop of water," James retorted, making a small, pointed drop shape with is fingers.

"So you're going to turn down a small snack because it's not a big meal?" Eve said, irritated with her voice rising.

"Because I know Shane doesn't want me to!" James said with a huff, wincing at the rise of her voice. "And I don't want to either!"

"Is that true, Shane?" Eve yelled back, snapping her head towards him. "What do you want?"

At the yell, James's face pinched with pain, and he looked away. Shane took a step back, flinching.

"I want to stay out of this," he said quietly, "and I don't want James doing anything he doesn't want to."

Eve took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's fine," Shane muttered.

James ran his hands over his face, groaning into them. "They have us arguing over shrimp," he muttered.

"Let's just..." Eve sighed, stomping ahead. "Let's keep going."

"Towards the smell of... death?" Shane asked uncertainly.

"It's that or go backwards," James said. "We've yet to reach a fork."

Shane didn't need to glance over his shoulder to remember that was true.

"Great labyrinth design," he said.

They went on in silence, and some five minutes later, Shane thought he caught the rotting smell James had described. The air smelled of decay, like old logs, long dead things, and fungi overgrowing a damp forest floor. He scrunched up his face, deciding he was glad he couldn't smell this ten times as strongly.

The corridor of hedges ahead seemed to open into a wider space, but the ground was covered in an onimous fog, covering it from view. Shane anxiously looked back at James.

"James," he said. "Can you see through that fog at all...?"

James stepped forward in front of Eve and Shane, peering through the mist. He slowly held out an arm in front of them, as if to bar them from proceeding. Or as a warning.

"There's a graveyard," he said.

Shane slowed in his step, feeling his pulse pounding in his neck.

"Great," he said weakly.

"They're really leaning into the 'horror' feel," James muttered.

"Naturally," Eve said with a sigh. "Let's proceed with caution."

James nodded, and he lead the way, his shoulders slumping a bit under the blanket as he scanned the area around them on high alert.

Shane found himself holding his breath slightly as they entered the graveyard. They slowed a few steps in, scanning the area. It seemed to be an enclosed dead end, with no sign of a passage through. Shane's gaze traveled over the mist, and he felt cold as headstones appeared through it, looking old and cracked with age.

It looked similar to a graveyard, with the horror turned far up. But it was apparent that it wasn't real. Not only because it couldn't be-- he wasn't going to give into the fear that it was-- but because the closest gravestone read LMTKM AXKX, and the one next to it read [/b]MPH NI[/b]. There was no way those were the names of a married couple.

Shane frowned, daring to take a step closer to it.

"This seems deliberate," he said.

Not in the way he liked, either. His pulse sped again with apprehension.

"Do you think it's some kind of code?" Eve posed.

And at the mere suggestion, James, who stood ahead of them at another gravestone, looked over his shoulder at Shane with a look of dread. Shane had the feeling he knew exactly what he was thinking. His blood froze.

"No," Shane said suddenly, but not to Eve.

James's expression only turned more grave, equal parts apologetic and severe. Without saying a word, Shane knew the grave James was looking at was of the same kind.

Somehow, the DMV knew about their cipher.

Shane looked down at the grave, his chest feeling tight.

"There's no way," he said quietly.

"Am I missing something?" Eve said urgently. "What do you know?"

James turned to face them, walking back over, standing behind the grave in front of Shane, shadowing over it.

"It's a cipher," James said quietly. "One only Shane and I use."

Eve looked confused at that, but after looking between the two of them, looked like she decided to bite her tongue. Instead of commenting on their use of it, she looked down at the gravestone.

"Are you sure?" she asked severely. It seemed she also understood the implications of the DMV knowing about their secret communication without anyone saying it aloud.

"This can't be a coincidence," Shane said quietly. "Not for us to come across it."

Which meant... the DMV wanted them to know that they knew.

Of course they would. They would wait until they'd already gone paranoid acting undercover in their own cabin, hiding from some invisible threat and ripping out all the bugs, only to let them know that nothing had ever been a secret. It was twisted. The slight advantage they'd thought they'd had had never even been real.

There was a very long silence as James and Shane stood in distressed grief.

"The gravestones," Eve interrupted quietly. "What does it say?"

Shane looked back at James.

"What do you think the odds are," he asked quietly, "that it's encrypted the same way we did it? Seven PM, nineteen shifts?"

"'Start here,'" James said with a heavy sigh, answering Shane's question. "It says 'start here.'"

Great.

Shane read the letters on the headstone next to it, quickly shifting them over in his mind. M became T, P became W...

"The one next to it says, 'two up'," he added grimly."

"Two up," Eve repeated. "Two steps?" A pause. "Or two graves?"

"Two graves, I think," Shane said, looking past it. "The next grave is more than two steps away."

James and Eve already started moving. Shane hurried along, his dread increasing with each step.

"This is it," Eve announced with urgency, gesturing to the gravestone two away from the first one. "What does this one say?"

"Four down," James answered, looking at the graves behind him.

"Should've just said two down at first," Shane muttered, deciding being snarky towards the DMW was the only way he could process this situation.

Eve was leading the way, nimble in her feet as she rushed back where they started, going down two more graves. "And this one? What does this say?" she asked hurriedly, pointing at the next gravestone with her hand.

The grave read YBOX EXYM. Even if they didn't know exactly how the code worked, Shane had the feeling they would've been able to crack it with this sample size of messages.

"Five left," he said.

They moved quickly between graves, darting all over the graveyard, and Shane decided that if there was anything more insulting than making them crack their own secret code, it was having to run all over while doing it. The directions seemed to send them to every distant corner, and Shane was sure they were running out of graves when they finally got to one with different directions: WBZ BG.

"Dig in," he and James blurted together, then stared at each other.

Dig... in? Not dig here?

Eve exchanged a glance between the two, but wasted no more time. She slid all of the raw shrimps off the platter into her big pocket on the front of her baggy dress, shrimp juices included. Now holding an empty platter, she hurriedly crouched down and began digging away at the gravesite, using the plate as a shovel.

James met Shane's eyes and then tossed his blanket to the side, kneeling beside Eve, where he began to dig quickly with his hands. Deciding the awkwardness of this was better than letting them do it alone, Shane did the time, pushing through the loose soil. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of fungi.

Suddenly, Eve's platter hit something, a thunk echoing into the night.

"There's something here," she said urgently, fiercely digging away until the surface of an old, rotting coffin was seen. "Let's dig it out."

Shane didn't move, though. His heart was either beating very slowly or very fast, and he couldn't tell which, except that it was making his chest hurt. Eve and James took the lead as they tediously dug out the rest of the dirt around the coffin before James set his hand over Eve's to indicate her to stop.

The lid was cleared, and nothing happened yet.

James looked up at Shane.

"Take a deep breath," James said softly.

"You can look away. We have this covered," Eve added gently as well.

Shane felt his face warm with shame.

"I'm fine," he muttered firmly.

James watched Shane closely for a moment, but addressed it no more. Instead, he began to feel around the coffin's lid, fingers passing over nails that secured parts of it.

"I assume we're meant to open it," James said. "Maybe you two should stand back while I do."

Shane absently got to his feet, dimly aware that his shins were dirty as he took a few steps back. He was used to feelings of numbness, but without being bombarded with visions of readings every moment, the feeling of absolutely nothing was that much more intense. Maybe it was fortunate the smell was so strong. It was the only thing serving to ground him.

Eve hesitated, but then nodded and stood up, stepping back and meeting Shane by his side. "I trust that you can keep yourself safe if a zombie comes out of the coffin," she deadpanned.

Shane didn't want to think about that.

James looked over her at his shoulder.

"Thank you for trusting me," he deadpanned back. And then he curled his fingers under the lid.

It appeared to take more effort than James initially thought, because at first, it didn't budge. Humming, James repositioned to give himself more leverage and then tried again with far more hutzpah, and the lid popped up with a snap. Nails were ripped out, and some wood splintered in a crack down the lid as James tossed it off to the side effortlessly.

Inside the coffin, there was thankfully no body. But there were... bodies? No. Tiny dolls. Plural.

"Is that...?" Eve began, leaning forward and squinting over the coffin.

Shane stepped forward as well, heart sinking before he even got a better look. There were three dolls in there, all roughly and crudely sewn, with their arms folded over their chests. One appeared... normal, with pale skin and a head of long dark hair, but he only thought the word normal because of how the other two weren't.

The one next to it had red stitching over its arms, evocative of terrible wounds, and an unusually large bearded head with dark blue beads for eyes. HUG ME, the words on its shirt ordered. One side of the shirt was stained red, and it only took a look at the doll next to it to see why. The third doll was slightly taller, with dark hair and green bead eyes, but those traits were secondary, compared to the pool of bloody red liquid it was soaked and splattered in.

The realization of what he was looking at kicked in, and Shane felt himself choke on the next breath in his throat.

"Maeve has a sick sense of humor," James said lowly, but it was more like a growl.

"We're in a graveyard. This puzzle is trying to spook us," Eve said, but her voice was directed more towards Shane. She stepped in more, now by James's side, picking up the "normal" looking doll, likely supposed to resemble her.

James hesitantly reached out, gingerly picking up the doll that represented him. He had to stain his hand with the leaking blood to grab it, and Shane's stomach turned uncomfortably. James turned it over in his hand.

"Are you going to squeeze it?" she asked after a quick inspection of her own doll, now staring down at the doll James was holding.

"It's the only instructions they left for us, so I suppose so," James said. "Brace yourself for the unknown, I guess."

Lightly, James gave the doll a squeeze.

The doll's head exploded and blood-red liquid splattered all over James's face. Shane leaned away so fast he fell on his back, winding himself enough that the scream on his lips never made it out. As he breathed heavily, the hedge's wall ahead of them groaned with a creak, and the leafy bushes gave way to reveal an opening.

"Predictable," Eve grumbled, swiping away a small splatter of red that landed on her cheek.

James spat on the ground.

"Paint," he muttered.

Eve picked up the blanket that James had set on the ground before digging, offering it to him. "Here. You can use this to wipe it off. Hopefully it can come off after a wash."

Shane's hands felt numb and tingly. He gripped the grass at his sides, hearing the sounds of it snapping and cracking-- free of any memories.

"Thanks," James said with a sigh, wiping his face.

With the doll in one hand, Eve whirled around, extending a hand out to Shane on the ground. "Are you okay?" she asked.

A hand. What was he supposed to do with a hand?

Next thing he knew, Eve was crouching in front of him, her hand gently placed on his shoulder. "Shane?" she called softly.

Shane turned his head away from her, taking in a shuddered breath as he stared vacantly at a different patch of grass.

"I know it's scary. You're safe with us. We..." Eve started to say.

She kept talking, but it felt like Shane's head had been dunked underwater. Her tone registered as gentle and low, but was she even saying words? Presumably. Another hand's weight rested on his shoulder, but it didn't feel like Eve's. Was it James? Was James still here? A lower voice spoke, and Shane strained to hear it through the haze.

"...stay here for a while or get moving?"

He didn't know. Where was he? It smelled like a different graveyard. One with fresher lawns and perfumed flowers. Lilies. But the air still hung heavy with death.

He was rising from a chair, a wooden podium under sweaty palms. No. There was an arm around his shoulders, and that was how he was standing.

"...step at a time," James said, and the angle Shane saw he was looking at the ground from made it seem like he'd lost his balance and stumbled forward, but he was being held up.

"We're not driving," Shane mumbled at him, swaying to his right as his head spun. "Don't take me there."

"I'm not," James replied softly. "I promise."

"I don't care how far away we are. I'll walk," Shane continued, nearly twisting his ankle on a loose stone under his foot.

"Hey-- I've got you," James said, holding Shane steady. "Just a little further."

Were they almost out? He didn't feel any different. His fingers curled around the podium-- no, someone's wrist.

"It's okay," James said. "We don't need to win today. We just..."

The words faded out again, and Shane squeezed his eyes shut, no longer trusting his vision. Win? Win what? How had he gotten here?

"I'm covered in blood," he said faintly. "That's not how it goes."

James rubbed Shane's shoulder.

"No blood," he said sadly. "Just paint."

"Who did it?" Shane murmured. "What do they want?"

"Both good questions," James said. "It's... well, this whole maze thing was clearly put together by the Trieus. What they want, however, is beyond me."

Shane wanted out. But he didn't know how to say that without sounding like a scared child.

So he clung to the arm around him, hoping that it would get him there.

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Lyall could only watch in silent horror as the golden beast swallowed Alvaro whole in the blink of an eye. Cyrin dived, lunging the moment it moved, but their arms closed on empty air. The sphinx had already settled back on its haunches.

"Fuck!" Cyrin swore, skidding to a stop at the foot of the statue and staring up angrily at it.

Rushing to Cyrin's side, Lyall trained a wary gaze on the statue as he tried tugging his friend back to a safer distance. The tugging didn't work, but after a moment, Cyrin took a few steps back, never taking their glare off the sphinx.

"Note to self," they muttered darkly. "Don't hold the thoughts."

Clearing his throat and folding his hands behind his back to recompose his shaken exterior, Lyall stood next to his friend and hesitantly called up to the statue, "Your... your grace? Honor?" He wilted a bit. "Is there... How are we to address you?"

The statue was silent.

"Maybe it needs reactivating," Cyrin said cautiously.

With a nod, Lyall quietly gestured for Cyrin to stay back as he himself stepped forward.

He was fairly certain he had either Alan's magic, or James's. Assuming the contract was in effect, regardless of the fact that he hadn't signed it yet. Either way, Cyrin for certain no longer had their own abilities. Thus, Lyall would feel more at ease if they stepped back.

Standing on his toes, Lyall tentatively gave the sphinx's nose a tap. Then leapt back as the sphinx indeed got back to its feet.

"Let us pivot," the statue said, voice cheerful yet devoid of warmth, "from the usual men on numbered legs or horses on red hills."

"Fine," Cyrin snapped, throwing open their arms in come-at-me-bro style. "What philosophical absurdities were you planning to throw at us next?"

"Absurdities, no," the sphinx answered pleasantly, craning its neck to stare down at the two. "You who outwit the world with your masks and charms, prepare for a more tailored test."

Lyall kept himself placed firmly between Cyrin and the beast. Tone diplomatic, he asked, "Any rules or...guidelines we should be aware of?"

"You know well the consequences," it replied, "and no, no guidelines to be laid out. Simply answer correctly, then you shall pass."

Lyall bitterly wished he had his own magic. Which was a first. In the reflection of the sphinx's golden chest, he could see Cyrin as he stared intently at the sphinx, fingers itching at his side.

The sphinx held its head low like a predator lying confidently in wait.

"My first wears no crown," it began, tone suddenly solemn, "but seeks the throne. My second stakes its claim in the realm of the heart. My third is the hand that seeks no return. My fourth sees the light, but no dusk. My whole is a heartbroken heartbreaker, the fool who fools others. What am I?"

Cyrin exchanged a look with Lyall, no playfulness in their eyes.

"It sounds like one of those acronym ones," they said in a low, hushed voice. "The first being the first letter, the second being the second letter, and so forth until they spell something together."

Sounded about right, yes. Lyall nodded, and murmured back, "I suppose it was to be expected that there's no leeway with wrong answers, as well."

He looked the golden beast up and down, dread pooling in his gut as he tried picturing where Alan might have gone. Was he alright? Hurt? Conscious? Close by?

...Waiting inside that thing? Marinating in stomach acid as they spoke?

Lyall leaned with his shoulder pressed to Cyrin's arm. "The whole is a person, right?" he asked under his breath. "Despite the... the 'what am I' part."

"Could very well be," Cyrin murmured. "If not, it's probably a... playing card. 'Breaking hearts' is something that happens in a specific card game, and the fool could be a joker, but..." They trailed off.

"But that's not four letters," Lyall finished quietly.

"King, Jack, Nine, Five, Four all are," Cyrin said. "But this feels like a red herring. I don't know."

"Probably shouldn't try reverse engineering too much," Lyall hummed in agreement.

Cyrin's stare was distant now. "Then we've got to pick a letter to start with."

Right. Just start somewhere.

The first... No crown, but seeking a throne. A prince? A steward?

Staking claims in 'the realm of the heart'. Like... an engagement? Marriage? Some sort of relational commitment.

The third letter sounded like. A volunteer. He tentatively noted V.

How were Lyall and Cyrin to communicate their thoughts with each other, though? Lyall wanted to avoid the sphinx potentially overhearing a placeholder, and punishing them for that instead. Riddlers of this kind were not particularly merciful.

As if reading his mind, Cyrin softly said, "You know, the part it's asking for is the final word. So I think discussing the letters and settling on them together doesn't count as a premature answer."

Lyall looked back to the sphinx, not willing to trust it. But he trusted Cyrin. They were probably right.

With a nod, he looked up to Cyrin. "Maybe the third letter is V?" he suggested, tone still hushed. "For volunteer?"

"The hand that seeks no return," Cyrin repeated quietly. "Yeah, that seems reasonable."

Lyall shrugged. "Maybe," he reiterated. "Any thoughts on the fourth? 'Sees light, but not dusk.' Nothing's coming to me."

Cyrin shook their head. "It seems very figurative."

"We put a pin in it," Lyall concluded, demonstratively poking the air. "The second with the claimed heart. Marriage, or something to do with it, right?"

Cyrin was quiet for a few moments.

"Would 'love' stake a claim there?" he suggested, very tentatively.

Lyall glanced ahead in thought. "Something, L, V, something is more likely than... say, an M preceding the V," he agreed. "...I think. Yes."

Unless the sphinx was doing a play on DMV, but that was too few letters.

"Blank, L, V, blank," Cyrin said. "I can't think of words that follow that pattern."

Lyall pursed his lips. "Evolve," he mused, "revolve-- but those are all too long."

The whole was a person... Had to be, right? Heartbroken heartbreaker... L, V...

He scrunched his nose as a random thought suddenly hit him: "Alva?"

"Alvaro?" Cyrin asked, possibly mishearing him.

Lyall felt his frown deepen. "There's no reason for it to be 'Alva', and Alvaro is two letters too long... But it could be a name."

Snapping his fingers, he turned back to Cyrin. "'No crown, but seeking a throne,'" he said. "First thing that comes to mind."

Cyrin frowned. "An Heir, but that's Aphirah-specific. I wouldn't go with it."

Lyall snapped his fingers again as he muttered, "D'ast. Okay, something else that wants power..." He blinked. "Something less literal? More poetic?"

"Riddles do love the figurative," Cyrin agreed.

"Okay. Wanting a throne," Lyall mused, tapping his chin. "Wanting... what you don't have. No, getting off track. Throne, um... Reign? ...The reins?"

"One step too far, probably," Cyrin said.

"Yeah," Lyall said, deflating, "probably."

The pursuit of a throne. Authority, power...

"Ambition," Lyall said suddenly.

"A, L, V..." Cyrin said softly. "It's a bit strange this isn't six letters."

Lyall huffed in frustration. "It sounds like 'Alva', but that just doesn't make any sense! She is no fool."

But... she certainly played with hearts on the regular.

"Who's Alva?" Cyrin asked.

"My aunt," Lyall answered slowly. Which... saying it out loud, it started to make some sense.

She had ambitions, but her life's philosophy was built firmly on love in its purest form. A philosophy that left no room for deceit or underhandedness. Things that Astrid allowed herself to resort to, for the sake of personal gain. Alva was a far more selfless, righteous spirit.

"Well, it did say our test was tailored," Cyrin said. "Possibly to us. Does it sound... right?"

"It... oddly fits," Lyall conceded grimly. He made to step up to the statue once more. "I'll give it a try."

"Hold on," Cyrin said, raising a hand. "In case it goes wrong, I could do it."

Lyall frowned.

They had no idea where Alan was, but it wasn't likely to be a particularly... roomy space. It didn't seem wise to stick Cyrin into the belly of the beast second, if Lyall was indeed wrong.

"If my answer is wrong," Lyall gently insisted, "then you should probably be the one to keep thinking this through, right?"

"I don't think I'm any better equipped to solve it than you," Cyrin said. "I trust you."

Somehow, that was both a touching assurance and a heavy weight on Lyall's shoulders all at once.

"Cyrin," Lyall further urged, mustering his most reassuring smile, "it's fine. My answer, my risk. I'll--"

"You are Alva!" Cyrin shouted up towards the sphinx.

Lyall's blood ran cold. "Cyrin--!"

The sphinx lunged, closing its jaws around his friend. Its teeth hitting the earth shook the ground. Lyall fell back, no less shocked now than he was watching it first swallow Alan.

"BLEEP!" Lyall clapped a hand over his mouth, and watched in silent terror as the statue settled back once more.

Its eyes dimmed again. He'd have to reactivate it to give a final answer.

Oh god, what if it changed the rules on him again? Started anew?

Shakily pushing himself back to his feet, Lyall blankly stared at the statue as he slowly brushed the dirt from his trousers.

Maybe... he didn't have to entertain its riddles and tests?

He looked down at his hands. He didn't feel like... his... bones had been altered. But, again, that might've been a feature of James's skillset that was barred.

Turning his hands to stare at the backs of his fists, Lyall vaguely willed for the inexplicable hand knives to appear.

Nothing.

Or maybe he could charm the sphinx into simply regurgitating his friends back to him? ...Maybe not, the sphinx was an enchanted object, but an object either way. Not a living being. And he was fairly certain Alan's powers only worked on people.

The thought that Maeve simply lied about the magic swap suddenly occurred to him then. To throw him off course? But that didn't align with the goal to elevate Lyall to an admin role.

Or maybe it did? Test the tester twice as hard, make him prove his worth.

The longer he stood here, jumping blindly between every perceivable conclusion, the longer he left Alan and Cyrin to... Gods, he couldn't fathom what might've happened to them.

Before he could lose himself to that line of thought, Lyall took a steadying breath as he stepped up to the beast again. With a smack to the nose, it reawakened. He stood firm as it turned its piercing gaze down at him.

"Shall I repeat myself?" the sphinx said, tone bordering disdainful.

Lyall squared his shoulders. "What did you do with Alan and Cyrin?" he demanded sharply.

The sphinx bent its head down. Smugly, it started to repeat: "My first wears no crown--"

Lyall threw his hands skyward with a frustrated growl. "Alright, alright! Let me think!"

If it wasn't Alva, they had one of the letters wrong already. Lyall suspected it was the V.

Heartbroken heartbreaker, fool who fools everyone else.

The third sought no returns. An open hand was the supplied imagery. A generous spirit, charity...

A running theme amongst himself and his new friends, Lyall realized, was masks. As a tailored riddle, it had to pertain to one of them--

Altruism.

Lyall blinked.

A, L, A.

Alan.

Did it all match?

Alvaro was a perfectionist, but not ambitious. Not in the usual sense of the word.

Seeking a throne? Did this refer to his... situation-ship with Shane?

Man was a shameless romantic. Love was an obvious fit. Altruism was likewise a no brainer.

Sees light, but not dusk? The hell? That felt purposely kept too vague to actually form any semi-solid conclusion.

The arrival of night. Impending darkness... Did not foresee, then.

Naiveté.

Oh.

The answer was just. Alan.

Firmly meeting the emerald gaze of the sphinx once more, Lyall waved a hand and urgently called up, "You are Alan!"

The ground beneath him trembled as the sphinx shook and turned a bright gold until it became increasingly too bright to look at. Suddenly a barrage of "Hoorays!" were heard along with celebration noises as the sphinx exploded into colorful confetti and cat plushie pillows, landing everywhere on the ground among Lyall.

But most importantly, the bomb of confetti and pillows also spewed out Alan, Cyrin, and Shrimp. They flew in the air, landing-- conveniently-- directly on Lyall.

The entrance to the maze where everyone had been unceremoniously dumped quickly grew over-crowded. Murmurs from all around him rang in his head like shouts. Someone made the audacious choice to sport a horrendously strong cologne. A few contestants during the shuffle to find companions bumped shoulders with him as they passed. Deep, searing pains flared up on contact. Aaron flipped the collar of his coat up as he held himself tense, trying to make himself as small of an obstacle as possible.

There was nowhere for him to seek refuge.

Which made them all fish in a barrel.

...The din could all stop in a near instant, if he allowed himself to lash out.

Maybe.

The edges of his vision began to fray...

"Aaron," Jay's voice spoke up from behind him.

He whirled around, biting out a low curse at the spectre. "Will you-- Stop doing that!" Aaron hissed.

Jay looked unimpressed, pressing his lips together in a line as he looked to the side, scanning the crowd. His eyes fell back to Aaron, studying him.

"Keep a lid on it," Jay said lowly.

Aaron bristled, but quickly relented with a reluctant sigh.

"You could make it all stop," the Monster purred. "It would be so quick and painless. Relatively."

"Hey," Jay said, as if he heard it too. He swatted Aaron's shoulder. "Snap out of it. They teleported us is all. Looks like some kind of maze."

Aaron shrank back with a slightly pained grimace. "What gave that away?" he snapped. "Perchance the sign in big bold letters?"

Jay narrowed his eyes at Aaron, but instead of shooting back with a sharp quip, he just... bit it back.

Rather out of character, actually.

Before Aaron could draw any attention to that, however, the blue-haired woman with her obnoxiously loud voice made another appearance. Accompanied by a slide show this time, however, which actually piqued his interest. Just momentarily. Then they the one flipping through the slides landed on... a very strange image that Aaron had no hope of deciphering. Did he even want to know what the yellow legs on that tear-streaked face meant?

Wasn't this a professional, internationally-funded organization?

Then again. None of this island had been arranged in typical DMV fashion, so. Any sense of dignity or professionalism was long tossed out the window.

After that fumble, contestants' names were listed under various categories of prize types. Aaron squinted at his own name under "Knowledge and Wisdom". Which... felt wrong at first, until the woman detailed the possibilities:

"Maybe you think someone's hiding something from you," she said, "or you don't know what's up with that one person, or maybe they just won't admit to something small. Have you been curious about who really broke the rizz cabin's toilet back in week 2? This could be your chance."

Well, sure, Aaron could concede. The toilet was a rather confuzzling mystery. However, it went well without saying, anyhow; everyone's hiding something from everyone.

"For god's sake," Constantine hissed, "think bigger than the toilet!"

Aaron frowned with offense. Obviously he didn't plan on wasting the prize on that. He just couldn't deny it was a curious circumstance--

"We know well enough about Hawke," Constantine went on snippily. "If this is knowledge straight from the DMV database, we may be able to confirm the full depth of Bridger's abilities."

Some so-called "man of the world" that the Monster turned out to be, Aaron thought bitterly. Hadn't he heard of Giggle by now?

"Ingrate!" Constantine snarled.

The noise around him reverberated in his mind at now-deafening levels. Aaron bit back a whine as his ears rang from it, and fought the urge to curl in on himself.

"Do you know where you'd be right now if I hadn't found you?!" the Monster's voice boomed. "Dead in some city gutter by the hands of a petty thief! I was your salvation! And this is how you--"

Then everything fell dead silent.

Aaron blinked blankly at the dirt beneath his feet.

The ringing lingered, but less sharply. Looking up, he found that most of the other contestants had already started the maze.

What... Had the Monster left? Mid-spiel?

Mind reeling with uncertainty, Aaron scanned the remaining faces.

"Jay--" he started, but was cut off by something flashing before his eyes as he turned. An image. Vision? Hundreds. Of...

...himself, putting on his coat?

Aaron stumbled to a stop, arms spread to steady himself. He didn't dare move another inch.

"What," he muttered, "the hell."

Where he expected some snide remark from Constantine, he was only met with silence. Which. Yeah, Aaron hated the Monster's constant presence, but he didn't like the uncertainty of this... new gap in his brain either.

Oh, god, had Con left him? Was Aaron going to drop dead any second now?!

When he reached for his own pulse, he was hit by another barrage of extraneous moments.

Jay reached out and grabbed Aaron's shoulders, shaking him.

"Aaron," Jay said firmly. "Our magic has been switched around. What are you experiencing?"

Flinching away, Aaron blinked through another set of visions. "I..."

What was he experiencing?

"...I can't smell you anymore," he eventually mumbled as realization set in.

Jay winced at that, as if it were too much information.

"Yeah, well," he said plainly. "That's because you're... not what you normally are."

All of Aaron's senses were dulled, for that matter. He still had a slight headache from the noise a moment ago, but now he felt like. Maybe he could actually think.

Their magics were switched? So... Constantine was gone? No, that wasn't possible!

How could the DMV have switched their magics? Who held that kind of power?

Nudging more of those mundane visions to the corner of his mind where Constantine usually lurked, Aaron carefully lifted a hand to touch the crack in his glasses.

Two shots rang out as he was transported from the maze's entrance to an open field of wheat. Dark, moonlit. Loud fearful yelling turned his attention to a farmhouse. The light of the front porch revealed a farmer with a rifle. A bullet struck his temple.

When he blinked, Aaron was facing Jay again. The crack in the lens remained.

"If you're not dying, and not--" Jay started to say.

Hastily stepping around the spectre, Aaron pushed at his back, quietly ushering him into the maze. The second he made contact, a flash of a memory played out before him.

He was looking through the eyes of Jay. He could see Jay's hands holding a bouquet of flowers. A crowd of people dressed in black meandered around him. The people were blurry, and the murmuring voices were faint. Jay was walking up to an open casket, and it immediately occurred to Aaron that this was a funeral.

But the odd thing was, it was like he felt it too. The weight of grief and sorrow Aaron imagined one might feel from a loss clung to him heavily, and as Jay stepped up to look down into the open casket, his heart sunk.

He was looking down at a young woman. She couldn't have been older than her mid-twenties. Her brown skin looked pallid, even with the makeup, and there was an eerieness in her hollowed-out cheeks, along with how her hands were crossed over her heart.

Aaron heard someone start wailing in the background, and the pang of grief sunk deeper. Jay gently laid his bouquet around the casket, adding it to the abundance of flowers and mementos already there.

Jay's vision got blurry, and Aaron was struck with a sadness so overwhelming and almost foreign just before the memory faded.

Jay stumbled forward, glancing over his shoulder at Aaron with a curled lip.

"Fine. Let's hurry," Jay muttered, casting a glance to where everyone else had gathered around someone holding up a plate. When Jay looked back at Aaron, though, his expression of annoyance faltered.

"...What?" Jay asked a little more hesitantly.

Aaron found himself unable to reply at all for a moment. It took all his conscious effort to stamp down the sorrow, and bury it deep next to his own.

Eventually, he coughed, needlessly loud, and stiffly offered, "You wear that literally everywhere."

No, wait, that didn't clear anything up.

Aaron pointed with his whole arm in toward the maze. "I'll tell you on the way," he quickly amended.

"I find it hypocritical of you to judge my clothes considering you literally do the same," Jay said, starting to walk to the entrance. The group behind them was chattering loudly, but for the first time in a long time, Aaron was actually able to block it out with no issue.

"It's not a judgment," Aaron snapped half-heartedly, urging him to go faster by wheeling his arm once.

Jay narrowed his eyes at him, quickening his pace. Trailing close behind, Aaron glanced back at the group. They headed another direction entirely. Good.

Once they turned a corner, Aaron hopped a few steps to walk beside Jay now.

"I believe I have the Heir's magic," he finally said, voice hushed as he scanned the hedges for cameras.

Jay's expression was difficult to read, but perhaps Aaron was getting better at this. He saw a hint of alarm in Jay's eyes.

"Psychometry," Jay said. "You can see memories off of objects."

Aaron nodded stiffly. "Precisely."

Jay fell silent at that. And then, after a very long, several-second pause of uncomfortable tension, finally said: "I don't know what I have, but it may not be a power easily accessible without practice. Let's hope whoever has yours doesn't get into trouble."

Oh.

Oh no.

"I hope they've taken precautions," Jay muttered lowly. "This is still on TV."

"There's no way for anyone to have prepared," Aaron said dismally, "I haven't told anyone outside of our cabin..."

Though...

Hawke.

The man was running one midnight. Had the misfortune of running into Aaron-- the Monster.

Whether Hawke had made the connection back to Aaron or not, he couldn't say. But the former soldier at least knew that... something other did indeed exist on this island.

A big part of Aaron wanted to... put out some sort of warning for everyone else. But...

"I guess we'll know if we see it or not," Jay said grimly.

Aaron wished his senses weren't so basic again. If only to catch a whiff of that danger in order to avoid an encounter with it.

Then again, it was a true reprieve. As a temporary circumstance, he figured he was allowed to savor this.

"But if we do," Jay said. "Is there any way to stop it? Once they turn?"

"If there is," Aaron answered darkly, "I haven't found it yet."

Jay nodded soberly.

Aaron stopped at another corner. No, a fork in the path. He looked down both ways, each equally foggy and unreadable.

"You do remember the objective, right?" Jay asked.

"Of course." Aaron hesitated. "...No."

Jay gave Aaron a flat look. "Find the golden pumpkin. We get information."

A pause.

"We could ask if there's a cure," Jay suggested quieter. "For your condition. When it inevitably returns."

Aaron blinked.

Jay was right.

The DMV held... a cryptic, yet powerful ability. Far greater than any one person should be able to possess. This required further research, actually.

That said, Aaron dared to hope the constant overstimulation, the lingering aches and pain from shifting, and the crippling hunger... The reprieve from it all could be permanent. He could be a person again. Live like a human being again, among other human beings!

...Constantine was gone. If only for a few hours.

Aaron reached for Jay again, but stopped himself short of... what might have been another intrusive vision.

"He'll be back," he blurted, realizing this was his only chance at...

He wasn't sure what exactly, actually. But Jay knew this much about him, and insisted on, uh. Sharing this problem. He should know about the true source of it, too.

Jay stopped, looking back at Aaron with creased brows.

"Who?" Jay asked.

Aaron hesitated. Twisted around to throw frantic glances about them. Just to be sure that this wasn't some strange trick.

"The Monster," he answered, voice low and urgent. "The one who gave me the infection to begin with. He's always there. Watching my every move, lurking in my thoughts--"

Tensing, he threw another suspicious glance over his shoulder. He thought he heard someone approaching. Nothing.

Jay's look turned less judgmental and more serious, as he seemed to realize Aaron wasn't messing around. Leaning in a little closer, Jay lowered his voice in turn, though he didn't look comfortable doing it.

"You can hear the man who infected you in your thoughts?" Jay asked.

Assured once more no one else was within earshot, Aaron nodded. "He hasn't left since... Until now, anyway."

Jay was quiet for a moment.

"Damn," Jay said. "That's twisted."

Aaron just went quiet.

In a way, he'd grown used to it. It wasn't a comfortable existence, but it was a reality he couldn't change. But the open acknowledgement of it being Not Okay felt. Strange. It created the same mix of confusing emotions as Jay's insistence on being... nice sort-of did.

"So, who is this BLEEP-er anyway?" Jay said. "Since you can finally talk honestly without him listening."

Shoulders tensing, Aaron shrank back into his trench coat. "Constantine," he said after another hesitation. "...Not to be mistaken with the royal on this island. A very different person. I don't know where he is now..."

"So the range on his ability to speak to you -- there isn't one? It's not affected by distance or proximity?" Jay asked.

"Apparently not," Aaron muttered.

"And..." Jay spun his hand. "So... he can what, just talk to you? Or does he control you? Him and the monster are connected, right?"

"...He is the monster."

Jay stared at Aaron.

"So... when you..." Jay said slowly, and then squinted at Aaron, apparently piecing together the rest in silence.

"He takes over," Aaron confirmed.

"So it's never been triggered out of your own volition," Jay concluded.

Aaron sighed heavily. "Not really, no. On occasion, if I'm..." He scrunched his nose. "...feeling things too strongly, it comes out. But that's..." That was him, sure, but still out-of-control. "I don't know."

"He takes advantage of it," Jay said.

Oh. Huh.

"Maybe that's it," Aaron agreed.

The more they talked about it, the easier it became. It turned somewhat into something he might be able to actually face directly. Maybe.

It was nice finally having someone else know.

"Let's go right," Jay decided, with no perceivable logic. He started walking.

With a determined nod, Aaron dropped down onto his stomach and peeked under the hedge to their right. There seemed to be an adjacent path.

Jay's steps paused.

"Dude," Jay said.

"We could just cut through," Aaron suggested, poking his head into the leaves. "Not waste time winding through just to run into dead-ends."

"We shouldn't test that theory," Jay said. "What if there are consequences?"

"Well, how will we know," Aaron countered, "if we don't try?"

Ducking his head, he began crawling through. Then yelped and curled up tightly as an entirely unexpected gale tossed him back out onto the open path. He peeked out through his braced arms.

Jay stood over Aaron, looking down with disappointment.

"And now you've tried," Jay said flatly. "Why don't we keep walking?"

Aaron muttered with no real heat behind it, and hopped back up to his feet. "We bear right, correct?"

"Right," Jay answered. But Aaron didn't think that Jay meant it to be funny, because he said it with a straight face and immediately started walking again.

Delayed, Aaron snorted quietly anyway as he stayed close on the spectre's heels.

"So, this Constantine," Jay said. "How'd he infect you in the first place?"

"Ah," Aaron said, "yes. Well... He found me, I suppose, after I wound up cornered in an alley someplace. He told me at the time when I came to, that it was the only way to preserve my life."

Jay stared at Aaron with the blankest look possibly known in existence, and then spat: "Yeah, well that was a load of BLEEP. If you were able to come to at all, it was unnecessary. Hospitals exist. Healers exist. We've got technology that practically does miracles. Constantine's just an ass."

Aaron fell quiet again. Not out of disagreement. Jay was completely right. But it made Aaron feel foolish for ever believing Constantine.

"He took advantage of you. Has this whole time," Jay muttered. But as Jay's eyes drifted back to Aaron, their normal hardened look softened. Jay's eyebrows twitched.

"It's..." Jay hesitated. "Well. That."

Oh no. He was trying to be nice again, wasn't he?

Aaron couldn't bear it. Not right now. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he quietly picked up the pace, walking past Jay, instead of waiting for another painful display of 'being nice'. Jay only sighed behind him, catching up and looking normal again. Good.

"Okay. So you're free from him for a while," Jay said, like he was about to try changing the subject. "And you have psychometry. Does it feel... better?"

"...Just different," Aaron answered. "Distracting."

Through the ever-present barrage of every damn time Aaron put on his coat, his thoughts turned back to the memory he read off of Jay's poncho.

Maybe Aaron ought to change his coat, wear something different every once awhile.

Maybe Jay should do the same.

The camera cuts to a chamber that appears to be underground, from its lack of windows, and the tunnel overhead that opens up into the room. Despite the lack of natural light, it appears very cozy, filled with dozens of cat cushions that cover the floor so thoroughly that it is unable to be seen. The pillow styles of cats range from cutesy anime to photorealistic art, and they are all very, very squishy.

Just as this image remains for long enough that it begs the question of what and where this cat room is, a thunking sound is heard, like something hitting the inside of a pipe. A few moments later, Alan falls from the ceiling, holding Shrimp the cat tightly. The pillows break his fall, but swallow him up in the process. For a few seconds, there is no sign of human or cat, except for Shrimp's yowl.



TRANSLATION FROM CAT: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!

And then Shrimp's head poked out from the pillows. Alan appeared to be lifting him up from the pillows so that he wouldn't drown in the plushies.

The cat shook his head and sneezed.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: (It's literally just a sneeze.)

There was rustling among the pillows until Shrimp was lifted higher, and Alan emerged from the ocean of cat plushies, gasping for air.

"Are you okay?" he asked the cat, turning Shrimp around so they could talk eye-to-eye. The cat let out a plaintive meow.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: That was rude of it!

Alan blew out a raspberry, smiling as he cradled Shrimp back in his arms. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" He glanced around. "It looks like we're in a room of... cat pillows." Shrimp meowed at him again.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: Oh, I was here before! They can't talk. Why can't they talk?

Alan hummed, holding Shrimp up with one arm so he could reach over to the neared pillow that had a kawaii cutesy blushing kitty with big eyes. "They can talk. Don't you hear it?" he said playfully. Then with a high-pitched voice, cooed out, "Hi, Shrimp! Your fur looks lovely today!" while jostling the pillow in front of the cat.

Shrimp's paw shot out, booping the pillow on its head.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: That's just you in a high-pitched voice! Silly!

Alan giggled, tossing the pillow across the room and then wrapping his arm under Shrimp again, cradling him closer up against his chest so he could nuzzle him with his head. "You got me!" he cooed. The cat purred.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: I did! I figured it out! I'm brilliant!

"You are!" Alan said brightly with a big smile, lifting Shrimp high up in the air again, hands right under his front legs so that his legs stuck out in the air. Alan spun him around, slightly wobbly from not having firm footing. "You're so brilliant, Shrimp! I'm so proud of you!" Shrimp let out an excited meow.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: You're so nice! I wish you came over more often. You weren't so cuddly before.

The cat was indeed calling Alan out for being weirdly awkward with pets before. This didn't seem to faze Alan, though. He smiled, lowering Shrimp back into his arms, holding him like a baby. From the stream of gentle fondness coming out of his eyes, maybe he did see the cat as a baby.

"I'm sorry about that," Alan said gently, rubbing the side of Shrimp's head with his thumb. "I'll come over more often and give you cuddles. I promise."

Shrimp purred, snuggling into his arms.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: I'd like that! So would Shane. He likes you too.

Now Shane was the one getting called out by the cat. At least it was common knowledge, or this would've been an unfortunate twist.

"You think so?" Alan said with a smile, still rubbing the cat's face. "Well, I like him too, and I like you, so why wouldn't I visit more to give you the cuddles you deserve?"

Shrimp's ears perked up.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: You don't have a reason why not, right?

"Ex-actly," Alan said brightly, booping his nose. "Instead there are a million reasons to see you and Shane."

The two of them looked up at the ceiling as the same thunking noises came from above. Alan had just enough to turn inwards protectively before Cyrin crashed through the opening, hitting Alan as they did, and the two humans (and cat) fell to the ground and were buried in pillows once more. Shrimp invisibly yowled.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: (Cats can... swear? I didn't know that. That cat just swore. I have... a moral requirement not to translate that.)

Cyrin staggered up, wobbling on the pillows underfoot. As they rose, a cat pillow balanced perfectly on top of their head, but they made no effort to remove it.

"Good grief," they groaned, fighting to stay upright.

There was more rustling of the pillows, but Alan (and cat) didn't emerge yet. Perhaps he was winded, which was fair, considering that Cyrin had landed on him.

"...Alan?" Cyrin asked, scanning the sea of pillows. "Shrimp?"

Instead Cyrin only heard a mrrp.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: I'm a pancake. Oof.

Cyrin leaned over, plucking up a pillow. Alan's back was now visible.

"Oh, there you are," they exclaimed. "I'm glad you don't look digested."

Slowly, Alan rolled over, quickly sitting back up when he almost sunk deeper into the pool of pillows. He loosened his grip around Shrimp, who had thankfully used hyperbole when describing his condition, and let out a breath of relief upon seeing Cyrin.

"Cyrin! Hey. We're..." He let out a faint laugh. "Definitely not digested."

Hesitantly, his gaze panned back to the chute they both tumbled down from, finally analyzing the situation. Or whatever Alan's version of that was, considering he hadn't yet considered what happened or where he was.

"Good," Cyrin sighed with a laugh, holding out a hand to rescue Alan from the sea of pillows. "I guess we're even now. We've both fallen on top of each other today."

Alan smiled, taking his hand to be lifted up. However, due to totally real Pillow Physics that neither of them accounted for, the sudden momentum in lifting him out of the pillows was just enough energy to make him boing. Alan sprung up in the air, this time being the one to land on top of Cyrin. Thankfully, they didn't sink deep into the pillows.

"Sorry!" Alan said with a laugh on top of Cyrin's chest, rolling off him to keep Shrimp close and safe. "I guess the universe wants us to fall for each other."

Ah, yes. A classic Alan Alvaro joke that landed somewhere between being funny and flirty. It never ended.

Cyrin laughed as well, pushing himself up from the pillows. "Who am I to argue with fate? It seems it disturbed the frail balance the moment it settled again."

Alan playfully scoffed. "You mean you're not tempted to question fate once more so that we could sink into the cat pillows together again?"

"I have a feeling the little guy wouldn't appreciate it if I jumped on top of you," Cyrin said with a teasing grin. "Right, Shrimp?"

"What do you think, buddy? What do you say about Cyrin jumping on top of me again?" Alan said to the cat with a grin. Shrimp meowed in his face.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: Will I be pancaked again?

Alan shook his head. "Nope. You'll be waffled instead."

Shrimp flicked an ear.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: Hmm. Okay! Everyone knows waffles are better than pancakes!

Alan turned to Cyrin with a warm smile. "Do you think Shane will let me adopt him? He's even on team waffles over pancakes."

"Shane seems rather attached to him," Cyrin said with a smile of their own. "But perhaps you could discuss joint custody."

Alan smiled down at Shrimp, purring in his arms. "Maybe I will."

With a grin, Cyrin let out a playful battle cry, kicking off the wall and bouncing off to crash on top of Alan and cat.

"Cyrin!" Alan scolded with a laugh, voice muffled under them and the pillow.

"What?" Cyrin asked, laughing as they scrambled off of him.

"You're going to squish the cat!" Alan groaned. "Oh, wait, no." He rolled to his side, in fetal position with Shrimp close to his chest. "He's okay."

Shrimp meowed brightly.

TRANSLATION FROM CAT: I feel waffled!

They weren't in any rush. Truth be told, Eve wasn't particularly crazy about winning this maze event by finding the golden pumpkin. She would win information, but she already had a lifeline to that.

Not that she had even signed the contract given to her in the box yet. But...

Eve knew that there was no chance of winning teaming up with James, anyways. She and Shane doomed themselves the moment they made the alliance with him. She didn't bring herself to care, though. It wasn't right for James to navigate this situation by himself, especially with their magic switched around.

That was a whole other perspective to consider. What magic did they all have? James had Aaron's magic, which was evidently holding a wendigo curse. Whose could Shane have? He didn't exhibit any worrying symptoms, but Eve held a close eye on him.

James was guarding him, comforting him, being there for him. She was glad that he was a safe and comforting presence, but the irony certainty wasn't lost on her. Although Eve trusted James, she didn't want her emotions to overtake logic and reasoning.

James was ravenously hungry. And wendigo magic was, in short, contagious. Should he shifted to his monster form and bite or scratch at them, they could have the same magic for the rest of their lives.

It was incurable.

They had to be careful.

Eve really wished James would eat the shrimp, but she wasn't going to push this topic anymore. Especially when Shane had clearly disassociated and was no longer with them.

It was cruel to spill the petty vengeance against James over to Shane, who was much more sensitive to certain topics. Digging up a graveyard and seeing a doll representing himself covered in blood no doubt traumatized him.

Giving the two of them privacy, Eve tuned them out and looked past the platter of shrimp she was holding again. She slid the raw crustaceans out of her pocket and back on the tray in hopes that seeing it would relieve Shane later, no matter how ridiculous this felt. But also, she had to make room for the dolls.

Maybe they would become important later on? She wasn't sure, but she opened up the pocket and peeked down, eyeing the three of against one another. James's headless doll was... uncomfortable, to say the least. But so was Shane's doll that was covered with paint. She had done her best to smear the paint off so it wouldn't seep into her dress, but the red stains remained.

And then there was hers. A normal, creepy doll.

Typical.

Eve waited by the corner, thinking about the possibilities that awaited them, when finally, James and Shane slowly approached her. Shane's stare was still half-vacant, but he was at least standing and walking on his own. James himself seemed fine, but the red paint on his face wasn't gone so much as it was smudged. It made him look... fierce.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, standing up straight. "We can rest a little longer if need be."

Shane seemed to take a moment to realize that was for him, but he quietly said, "I'm fine."

Eve didn't believe that. She looked at James for an answer instead.

"We can keep moving," James said with a nod.

Eve nodded back, turning around and leading the way. There was only one path forward, which was strange, considering this was supposed to be a maze. But the hedges kept moving, and this entire day was orchestrated by the DMV, so everything was orchestrated.

They were given a specific path. And because they were with James, it wasn't going to be a pleasant one.

Eve was glad she was here. She could only imagine how worse it would be for him if she wasn't.

The silence dragged on, the crunching of their feet against the dirt filling the air. Until, finally, Eve broke it and called out to James.

"James. Do you know of any stories?" she asked.

James slowly looked over to her with a raised brow. "Uh. Just any story? Or... what do you have in mind?" he asked.

"Something about an animal. A fuzzy creature, perhaps," she suggested.

"I did grow up with a lot of farm animals," Jame said. "Though not all of them were fluffy."

"What farm animals?" Eve asked.

"We had a cow named Betsy growing up. She was our milk cow," James answered. "For a few years it was one of my responsibilities to take care of her, so she grew on me after a while. She was a fussy animal, but I learned that the way to her heart was chin scratches and singing. Don't ask me why, but if you sang to her she'd calm down."

"What would you sing?" Shane asked quietly, out of the blue.

James huffed. "Oh, sometimes I'd just sing the things I was thinking. Sometimes I'd sing random songs. Or, uh, make up songs. About cows. Or farming."

"Can you demonstrate?" Eve asked.

Normally, Eve wouldn't be this frank and offer a suggestion this bold. But considering the situation, she wanted to do whatever it took to help Shane feel better. James was far more of a calming presence than she was for him, so if singing a cow song was what it took, then she would gladly instigate this for him.

James briefly narrowed his eyes at Eve. There was a hint of a smile in them, and then the smirk grew on his face. It felt like he was catching on to exactly what she was trying to do.

"Only if you volunteer to pretend to be Betsy," he said.

Eve stared at him flatly, unamused.

Shane's gaze went between them, confused for a moment, before he let out a faint, short laugh and looked to the side.

"Fine," she said with a sigh.

"Give me your best moo," James said with a twirl of his hand and a slight bow.

"Moo," Eve said briefly with a monotone voice, furrowing her brows with a frown.

James looked over to Shane as if to say: "get a load of this." He was clearly suppressing a grin.

"Hey, look, Shane," James said. "Betsy's in a mood. Think I should sing to her?"

"I've got to hear this singing to believe it," Shane said.

"Ye of little faith," James said, patting Shane's shoulder. "Are about to find out."

Taking Shane and Eve's hands, one along each side of him, James led them forward and started singing softly, his low baritone carrying over the foggy path with a calming warmth that didn't seem to fit their environment.



It was... cute. A cute song. Even though this hardly matched their surroundings at all. Still, Eve couldn't help but let out a little smile, listening to him sing as they walked together hand-in-hand. Shane managed to smile as well, which made Eve let out a silent breath of relief.

If this were a normal situation... perhaps this could be a memory that she'd hold dear to her heart.

But it wasn't.

"There," James said, letting go of their hands. "Now you can believe it."

"I retract my earlier doubt," Shane said, still faintly smiling.

"Much appreciated," James said. "Eve, thank you for being my stand-in Betsy."

"No problem. I'm much calmer now. Thank you," Eve said with a faint smile as well.

"You're welcome," he said. "Now you can see why I'm a master of farm animals."

Eve gestured ahead. "It looks like the path converges ahead to another room. Do you smell anything out of the ordinary?"

James slowed in his steps, turning his attention to the open archway head of them.

"No," he said. "It just smells like... dirt. Wet earth."

Eve nodded. "Let us know if you sense anything out of the ordinary." They all paused to a stop in front of the arch. Inside was strangely dark with hardly any light outside of a flicker of a torch, presumably on the other side of the room. "Are you ready to go in?" she asked.

"Ready implies preparation, but I am resigned to our fate," James said simply. "I'd prefer if you two let me go first, though."

"Please do." Eve gestured to Shane. "We can walk beside one another."

With a dip of his head, James boldly went in first, looking alert as he scanned around in the darkness.

"I just realized. I can see better," James muttered. "Huh."

Eve exchanged a glance with Shane. He pursed his lips together, but said nothing.

Wordlessly, she stepped in as well, gesturing for Shane to follow. Her eyesight was decent, but she could barely see from the thick darkness enveloping them. The clock above showed it was now past eight. The timer seemed to dimly illuminate the room, ticking down slowly as if mocking them that they were moving too slow.

"It's strangely dark and quiet in here," she said softly.

"Not as strange as the creepy dolls, in my opinion," James said in return.

"Maybe," Eve murmured.

He had a point. But there was something... unnerving about this. About not being able to see or sense what could happen. It felt like they had willingly entered a trap, and if something were to spring up on them, she wouldn't be able to see it until it was too late.

"Something's moving," James said.

Well, that was ominous. Eve froze in place.

Maybe... they should hold hands. Just in case. So they wouldn't get lost.

"Underground," James added.

"Shane--" Eve began, but was immediately interrupted when she tripped on something and lost her balance, falling flat on the bed of dirt in front of her.

Everything happened quickly. She felt her heart race against her chest as she was quick to get up on her feet-- or at least, try to. She thought she had tripped on something, but that didn't make sense, because she hadn't taken a step forward.

Something had grabbed her. From underground. And it was pulling her in.

In a panicked frenzy, Eve kicked at her foot, yelping out, "James!" as she dug her fingers into the dirt, desperately trying to claw her way out of whatever force was pulling her in.

He'd spun around. His hand gripped her arm, strong and firm. Digging his feet in, he pulled her up, against whatever hands were trying to pull her down.

Hands?

She only got a glimpse of it up close. They were white, bony, skeletal hands.

More faint rustling of the mounds of dirt was heard, along with the muffled rattling walking.

They had entered a walking skeleton ambush.

"Hang on," James grunted, pulling harder as his other hand shot out to grab the back of Shane's shirt - who'd just let out a yelp and fallen down.

Back on her feet, Eve hurried to Shane as well, frantically grabbing his hand and pulling him up. She knew she wasn't the strongest person here, but every little bit helped, and he needed help.

At the back of her mind, though, she knew: James needed help too.

Between James and herself, Shane was able to scramble back on his feet. Eve briefly wondered where Shane was grabbed and if James had to pry the skeleton's grip away, but there was no time in thinking.

They had to run.

She tightly held on to Shane's arm, looking back in a panic at all the skeletons coming their way. They were awakening from back to front, rising out of the ground and moving slowly with their arms out, trying to reach them.

They had to run fast.

The biggest threats were their hands immediately rising from the ground when they detect movement.

"James!" she screamed out, taking frantic steps back while still tightly gripping on to Shane.

Time was blurring. It felt like mere seconds ago that he was lifting her and Shane up, but suddenly, there was a big pile of skeletons piling on top of him, pushing him down into the hole in the ground. Briefly, they met each other's eyes when only his head and arms was above ground. His eyes went wide as he viciously clawed at the dirt, but it was no use.

"RUN!" he yelled the second before the skeletons pushed him under.

They had to run now.

"No!" Shane shouted, first lunging, then leaping back when another hand broke the ground. He stared in distress at where James had been.

Eve acted fast, tightly gripping on to Shane's arm and bolting to the other side of the room where the flame flickered. She knew Shane didn't want to leave, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to lose both of them.

Shane's weight was heavy behind her, resisting her movements. She had to forcefully pull him, and had he let go, she may have tripped and fallen from the sheer amount of force she had to exert to bring him along with her.

Her pulse pounded against her head until it throbbed, and her hand felt clammy and sweaty. She had to dig her nails into Shane's skin just to keep her grip on him, which Eve made a mental note to apologize for later in case she had caused pain.

But they had to leave. Now! There wasn't any time to lose!

She and Shane were getting closer. Just another ten seconds, and--

Eve was yanked down, and she once again lost her balance, nearly falling flat on her face. Her grip around Shane was lost due to the momentum, but she whirled around, ready to go back on her feet to grab him and run.

He was knee deep already, thrashing against the grip of a new bony hand, but when she turned to reach for him, he pushed her hands away.

"Just get out!" he shouted as he sank.

No. What if he was put somewhere unsafe? How could Shane ward monsters off? What if James wasn't there? Who would protect him? He was already so vulnerable.

He couldn't be alone.

And neither could Eve.

"No!" she shouted back, gritting her teeth as she wrapped her arms around his chest, one knee down to try to pull him out of the ground. "We're leaving together!"

This wasn't going to work. This wasn't going to work. This wasn't going to work!

The skeleton had likely grabbed his foot. If skeletons managed to pull James down, how could she go against that type of strength? She had to pry away the hands. The bones. The grip. Could she do that? He was already partly underground. What if in grabbing the bony hand, it managed to grab her, too? Then they were both doomed.

But she had to do something. She had to help!

"Please, just run," Shane begged, trying to shake her off and unpry her arms from him at the same time. "They might let you go, but they're not going to for us--"

"No! Stop!" Eve yelled again, unrelenting and resisting his movements by slapping his hands away.

She grunted as she tried to pull him up with all her strength, her arms tight around him as her feet slid across the ground in trying to pull him up to no avail. The earth was now past his hips.

This was futile. And yet... it was all she could do. Because leaving was not an option.

She felt something else grab on to her at the same time that she felt her grip around him weaken, partly from exhaustion, and partly because he was being dragged down at a quicker pace. Panicked, Eve glanced back, but the whiplash from sinking into the ground snapped her head back towards Shane, whose head was barely above the surface.

"Shane!" she yelped out, but in the next second, he was gone.

Eve clenched her jaw, feeling the ache of a throbbing headache. "Fine! Just pull me under!" she growled, no longer resisting.

As she let the skeletons pull her into the earth, she could only hope that they would be put together in a new room, safe-- and that the only consequence was that they were no longer eligible to find the golden pumpkin.

But in her gut, she knew this wouldn't be case. All because of the group she picked.

So be it. She could face the consequences. Eve loathed that Shane, an innocent bystander, was brought into this mess as well.

The earth enveloped her, and for a moment there, Eve wondered if they were going to any room at all. Were they getting buried alive?

This was her last thought before everything went black, and she entered into a state of blissful nothing.

The camera panned to show Tula and Clarity walking together down the maze. Weird, how did they get paired together? Too bad the camera didn't catch that interaction, but it probably involved a lot of pragmatism and fake enthusiasm from Tula to be paired with her. Totally because she wanted to be with Clarity, not at all because going in a group increased her chances of finding the pumpkin.

"Have you ever been in a maze before?" Tula asked with awe in her voice. Oh no, she was being fake again. "This one is pretty spooky."

"Eh," Clarity said with a dismissive wave of her hand, chugging the water bottle that was no longer water. The moment she'd figured out she had Henny's power, she'd made use of the supplies she'd packed for the event. The adults all knew there was vodka in that bottle, even though the kids might not have guessed. "I've been to a haunted house. It was more scared of me."

"Why do you say that?" Tula said with an amused chuckle.

"I screamed at the creepy blood-covered nurse who wanted to harvest my organs," Clarity said, swaying her head. "Then growled at the zombies until they backed off."

"What!" Tula snorted. "That's so freaky. I definitely chose the right person to pair up with. Are you scared of anything?"

"Moths," Clarity replied instantly. "And tax collectors. Because (BLEEP) em both."

Tula giggled. "That's funny. I feel like I'm afraid of the buggy critters too, and you know, monsters chasing after me. But also random social things. Like what if I'm playing loud music from my phone and I'm like, 'Oh, why can't I hear anything?' Then it hits me that I forgot to plug in my headphones. Ugh."

"The worst," Clarity said, taking another gulp and turning around to walk backwards, facing Tula. "Well, second worst. You know why? The worst is that they gave me the most chemically interesting power and didn't let me go to my lab!" She threw up her hands, accidentally watering (vodkaing?) a shrub as some liquid spilled from the mouth of her bottle. "Do you know how impossible that is? This water became ethanol! Where the (BLEEP) did the carbon atoms come from to form those molecules?"

Tula let out an airy laugh, smiling from amusement. "Can't you, like... make ethanol, chemically? It feels silly to give the chemist this kind of magic. Or maybe it's fitting?" She shrugged. "Who knows what the logic is."

"Sure, but not from water!" Clarity exclaimed. "Water only has hydrogen and oxygen atoms. But ethanol has those in addition to carbon atoms to form high-energy carbon-carbon and carbon-hydrogen bonds. That's why it burns when there's oxygen. But you can't just easily construct organic molecules, much less magic up new atoms!" Clarity groaned. "Hendrik is either capable of photosynthesizing, or doing nuclear fusion. Probably both. Has to be both."

Tula looked at Clarity with awe, admiring her with a little smile. "You are crazy smart. If Hendrik isn't the key to figuring out nuclear fusion, then I'm pretty sure you will find it instead."

"Thank you, thank you," Clarity said, taking a bow and nearly tipping forwards. "I'll put you as a recommender for my grad school."

"First line of my letter of recommendation: Clarity is a bad ass girlboss who knows her shit," Tula said with a sly smile.

Clarity gulped more vodka. "Hear, hear," she said, strolling with ease around a maze turn. She seemed to be listening to some silent music only she could hear, so the TV broadcast helpfully added it in for the viewers to hear.



Clarity was, as the kids say, slaying.

"...Who was that young woman?" Aaron asked suddenly. When he looked back to Jay, he found himself unable to clarify who he meant. So he stammered incoherently as he scrambled for a made-up scene. Then couldn't think of one, so he let his voice die in his throat.

Jay's brows twitched in confusion.

"What young woman?" Jay asked more intensely. Perhaps he hadn't been confused after all.

Aaron managed not to shrink back at Jay's tone.

This would be a detour, and they were on a time crunch.

But he also didn't want to air out Jay's past with the Monster back in his head.

Aaron glanced off. "...You wore that to the woman's funeral," he murmured.

Jay's hardened expression went vacant, and he looked away, eyes locking on the path ahead of them.

"So you saw a memory when you touched me," Jay said. "I figured."

There was an awful, tense pause as Jay kept walking, keeping up the fast pace with rigid steps. Aaron didn't think Jay was going to say any more and was surprised when he did.

"You saw Ani," Jay said. "She was my closest friend."

Aaron nodded. "I'm... so sorry," he said quietly.

Jay looked down at the ground.

"Yeah," he said faintly. "Me too."

"How..." Aaron hesitated. "What happened?"

Jay's mouth pressed into a faint frown.

"She killed herself," Jay said quietly.

Aaron felt himself frown deeply as the full weight of Jay's reality hit him.

"So... she was sick," Aaron said tentatively.

"Yeah," Jay said. "Terminal cancer."

That struck Aaron like a spear through his chest. Stopping in his tracks, he exhaled slowly through his nose.

"So was my mother," he uttered. Then repeated, softer and with full understanding, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry to hear about your mother, too," Jay said, just as softly. He stopped as well, but didn't look to meet Aaron's eyes.

They stood in silence. Oddly enough, despite their mutual stiffness, it wasn't uncomfortable. There was actually something unexplainably... good, about being able to understand each other. And even share in this sadness.

"How long ago was it?" Jay asked faintly. "That your mother died?"

"Four, maybe five years," Aaron said. "What of Ani?"

Jay hesitated.

"Last year," he said.

Aaron nodded once. So. Some time had passed, then. It wasn't a completely fresh wound. But it was still a fairly new reality.

"For how long were you friends?" Aaron asked, finally looking back to Jay.

"Two years," Jay said, still staring at the ground.

Aaron looked ahead for a moment.

"What was she like?" he eventually piped up again, picking up the pace once more.

Jay kicked at the ground, then slowly followed behind him.

"Kind as shit," Jay muttered. "Nicest person you'd ever meet, probably."

Aaron hummed. "The only way one would reach someone as horrendously anti-social as you, I presume."

Jay shot Aaron a sharp glare, but it felt more forced than anything. Like it was a mask, to hide the sadness that showed in Jay's eyes only when he looked away.

"Yeah, well, it worked," Jay said faintly. "Eventually."

"A stubborn soul, then," Aaron concluded.

"She had to be," Jay said.

Ah. Yes.

Another split in the road. Aaron looked to Jay for a suggestion.

"Your choice," Jay said. "We just have to remember what turns we took if we have to turn around and restart at any point."

Clapping his hands together, Aaron slowly pointed as he turned leftward on his heel. "You wouldn't happen to have that perfect recall feature, would you?" he asked.

"I wish I did," Jay said. "But no. Just my regular memory, here."

"We'll figure out what you've got eventually," Aaron hummed as he whipped out a small notepad and pen.

"Ah. Good. Notes will help," Jay agreed.

"Not just notes," Aaron said, allowing himself a brief, victorious smile. "A map."

Jay raised his brows at that, and even though Jay's mouth didn't turn, it looked like there was almost a smile in Jay's eyes.

"Even better," Jay said, continuing on going left.



As they steadily pushed through the bush labyrinth, Aaron both slapped together a working map of every turn and the occasional dead end, whilst simultaneously ruminating on the sorrows they both seemed to have buried way deep inside themselves for varying reasons.

He was also trying to mentally prepare himself for Constantine's inevitable return.

He was still trying to wrap his head fully around the fact that the Monster had been booted to begin with.

Aaron was supposing the extreme guardedness was a self-defense for Jay. As it usually was with anyone, really. It was the same for Aaron, of course. But there was the added element of trying to keep everyone else at a safe distance. Which Jay seemed to pick up fairly quickly on.

But now the conundrum was that, the information about Jay was inside Aaron's brain. Which meant, once the Monster was back, he'd have access to it too. And Aaron loathed the thought that one of Jay's deepest sorrows could be at any point used as a weapon or leverage.

...Maybe some networking amidst the island residents was in order, then. There were a select few with magics related to the mind. There might be something there.

In the meantime, Aaron would simply have to keep his sights firmly trained on the same, crucial thing as always: not killing anyone else.

Aaron was so engrossed in his thoughts and his slowly-developing map, that he failed to notice the next obstacle fast-approaching as they walked.

Jay grabbed Aaron's coat collar, pulling him backward.

Aaron stumbled with a surprised yelp. "What--"

Oh. Ah.

He'd nearly walked himself right into a...sort of net. No, wait.

"Is this...?" Squinting, Aaron tentatively poked his pen at it.

The pen immediately stuck. It was a spider web? Of... frankly massive proportions.

"It's like something out of Lord of the Things," Jay muttered. "And I don't like it."

Aaron's thoughts exactly.

Giant spiderwebs stretched across and between the walls of the hedges. Its adhesive qualities caught the low light in a gross, sickly shine. The corridor itself grew narrower-- or... was that just perspective? Aaron couldn't tell. The tall shrubbery gradually thinned, revealing jagged stone walls farther along. It was like some sort of cave.

No. It looked like a regular spider's den turned macroscopic.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Aaron held his breath as he slowly relinquished his pen. It dangled, but didn't send any waves through the thick threads.

"This would be great time to have your usual skillset," Aaron muttered.

"I know," Jay said with just as much disappointment. "And it's not like memories of the webs will help us any."

Aaron sighed in agreement. Pocketing his notebook, he dropped to the dirt and tilted his head to see if there were more workable gaps closer to the floor. It was all thoroughly webbed. Damn.

"Does Nye have giant spiders?" he murmured curiously.

Too long of a hesitation followed.

"...Yes, actually," Jay said lowly.

Aaron looked up at Jay with a glimmer of hope. "How familiar are you with them?"

"Well I've never seen one, if that's what you're asking," Jay said. "I live deep in the city and I try very hard not to go places they are."

Expression turning somewhat flat, Aaron waited for something more helpful.

"They're deadly. I don't know what you want me to tell you," Jay said. "Depending on the kind, their venom can kill you within hours without treatment. It'll also paralyze you. But they're also blind, so, that's the only thing they really have going against them. They're the only spiders on Nye without eyes."

Aaron nodded his appreciation as he turned another intent look back to the webbing. He was tempted to... pluck it experimentally, but that would have been another level of stupid.

"I'm going to presume their remaining sense are typically fully intact, if not heightened."

"Yeah," Jay said. "They can sense anything that touches their webbing, I think. Even the slightest breath. At least, that's what it said on the scary nature documentaries."

"An infallible source of information," Aaron commented plainly, hopping back up to his feet. "But it's all we have. Best err on the side of caution in that case."

Both Jay and himself at least had lack of height and absolutely no bulk in their favor. They could potentially slip through? Holding their breaths the whole way? How far was the other end? Aaron squinted again.

Then looked up for a way around. Which. Wishful thinking, yes. The maze as this segment turned into a legitimate tunnel, completely closed in on all sides.

"Turning back doesn't feel like an option," Aaron muttered.

"Well, we could," Jay said. "But I assume our chances of winning would be nil," he said. "The only way forward is through."

Aaron huffed as he began searching his coat pockets. "Well. Yes, that's. That's what I was saying."

Scalpel? Meh. It was sharp, but small.

Scissors? Felt like a worse option, but. At least he wasn't at such a risk of tripping and gouging out his own eye or something.

Pen-- Nope, pen gone. Web had it.

Pencil? Worse.

"What are you doing?" Jay asked, watching as Aaron rifled through his jacket.

"Arming myself, of course." Aaron whipped out the scissors and gripped them firmly in front of himself. He blinked at Jay after a moment of the spectre notably not doing the same.

"I have... extras?" Aaron offered.

Jay winced. "I'm not really a 'fighter,'" he said. "But sure. I guess it's better than nothing. Give me the scalpel."

Aaron gave him another flat look as he held up the scissors in his own hand. "If it comes to that, clearly our chances of surviving are next-to-none."

"I'd like to think that the DMV wouldn't actually let us die on live TV," Jay reasoned. "Though I'm sure they wouldn't mind us getting close to it."

"Considering my very presence," Aaron agreed, "they have no qualms with the prospect of a near-death experience, yes." He dug through his pockets again and held out the scalpel's handle to Jay.

Jay took it with a quiet nod, holding it at his side as he turned to look into the webby path before them.

"I'll go first?" Jay said hesitantly.

Aaron blinked at him. Confidence here was key--

"What, it's not like we can walk side-by-side," Jay cut in snippily. "I'm -- just follow me."

"I don't feel assured by your leading the way," Aaron countered flatly.

"Too bad," Jay said, already doing so.

In a bout of stubbornness, Aaron started to reach out to grab him back. But hesitated, remembering the Heir's ability, and withdrew. Unable to change the circumstances now, Aaron let out a very put-upon groan as he followed.

The spaces of the corrider, between all the webbing, were tight. The spectre, for seeming to rarely actually walk whenever Aaron was in his company, was silent and sure-footed. Every once in awhile when he had to twist to fit through an oddly-shaped gap, Aaron caught sight of his face through the dark and slight mist. Jay seemed to be actually holding his breath as he went. He'd tied the loose ends of his poncho around his waist, as well, to keep from a careless snag on the webs.

Hesitating for a moment, Aaron looked down at himself. His coat, in particular. Long and with some frayed edges. He studied the narrow corridor again.

Hm... Dammit.

Suppressing his next sigh, Aaron silently shed his trench coat, folded it carefully, and left it on the ground. Then, drawing a deep, steadying breath, followed Jay's steps exactly.

Turned out, the gradual narrowing of the tunnel was not in fact perspective, but the tunnel actually shrinking in size a bit. Aaron didn't care for it. The spacing between the webbing was about the same, but it still felt harder to navigate.

As they slowly and silently wound through, Aaron actually contemplated things to talk about. For when they got through, anyhow. He didn't want to so much as breathe the wrong way here.

He did want to ask more about Ani, but also didn't want to push a painful subject.

Without Constantine constantly hanging over his shoulder for the evening, Aaron even entertained the thought of possibly getting to know Jay better in general.

But Constantine was still the reason Aaron ultimately struck down the idea. Again, he didn't want Jay's personal matters accessible to the Monster. So the less Aaron knew, the better.

Oh. Come to think of it, did Aaron look any different? Since the curse was momentarily lifted? He didn't feel starved for once.

Stopping, he looked down as he patted himself. Then immediately regretted it. Flashes of his morning earlier filled his eyes. More stupid small moments, of just him buttoning up his shirt.

With his head tilted as it was too, he was disoriented enough to forget his current reality. Just for a split-second.

More than enough time to bungle the whole thing.

Straightening on instinct, Aaron's head hit some webbing. Panicked, he recoiled. Overcorrecting. He tripped on another strand by his foot, and fell back with a fearful yelp. The webs stuck to his back and arms, and he did about the worst thing a creature could when entangled like this: he flailed.

"(BLEEP)!" Jay hissed, slowly weaving back to Aaron.

Aaron froze in place, then held up both hands at Jay. "No-- Stop!" he urged in a harsh whisper. "Shh!"

Jay scrunched up his nose in disdain, but continued to approach, taking into account every placement of his feet. Aaron could see that Jay's hands were starting to tremble as he reached over with the scalpel, beginning to cut away at the webs.

Willing himself to lie still as possible, Aaron strained to hear any signs of another being nearby.

This was where his heightened senses would have been fantastic.

Once again, Jay was holding his breath. But his work was slow. The webbing appeared to be far more durable than either of them would've hoped, and as Jay frantically sawed away at it, they could hear a sickening skitter - the clicking of something gutteral and foreboding - echo off the stony walls.

Jay's sawing went faster, but Aaron could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Jay, just go," Aaron hissed at him, "now."

"And let you get eaten by some (BLEEP)--" Jay started to whisper, but he fell silent and his face went pale as a shadow fell over him.

The shadow was coming from behind Aaron.

His own heart thundering in his ears, Aaron did the second thing that came to mind: grab Jay by his arms and yank him down to the dirt, twisting so that Aaron could bodily shield him.

There was another memory flash, but it was quickly lost. The spider struck his back the next instant. A pained cry tore out of Aaron's throat.

Jay slipped through Aaron's arms, holding onto him as he reached over Aaron's shoulder and make a sharp jabbing motion. Aaron heard a screech ring out right in his ears, and he felt something thwap against his back as the horrible skittering receded for but a moment. Unable to move except to hold Jay, all he could do was feel the rippling shake of the webs around him as the spider jumped on top of them, casting them both in shadow.

With the frenzied movements of someone trying to kill any spider, but especially so for one so large, Jay stabbed and stabbed and stabbed into its exposed abdomen, causing it to writhe with another screech before retaliating, this time jabbing in Jay's direction.

Aaron couldn't do anything to block it.

Jay let out a pained, sputtered gasp as the spider's stinger plunged through his back. Horrified, Aaron screamed out a curse.

Falling limp in Aaron's arms, Jay began to convulse, spitting up blood onto Aaron's shoulder.

But Jay's reaction seemed short lived. As quickly as he started sputtering, his breaths started to return to normal. And a second later, the spider let out a deathly screech as its abdomen began to split open as if struck with an invisible spear.

Blood and guts splattered down onto them as the spider recoiled and reared back, falling backwards into its own web. Aaron stared wide-eyed as the spider's legs twitched and spasmed, and then its movements eventually stilled. He quickly faced Jay again, trying to process what the hell was happening.

Jay pulled away slowly, and shakily, staring down at his chest, then up at Aaron.

There was a glazed, horrified look in his eyes as he patted his chest down, suddenly unharmed.

"I... I healed..." Jay said, sounding dazed.

Aaron could only nod dumbly.

"You..." Jay's attention snapped back on to Aaron.

"Oh god, you're bleeding. (Bleep. Bleep. Bleep.)" Jay began to tear at the webs again, this time managing to finally rip Aaron away so he could slump to the ground, instead of slump in the webs. Too slow to catch himself, Aaron winced when he hit the dirt.

Jay propped him up on the ground, pulling off his poncho and tearing it. He continued to mutter the same curse word over and over again under his breath as he pulled Aaron's shirt up, looking at the hole gouged through him. Jay's whole face contorted with a wince.

It occurred to Aaron that he should probably. Offer words of reassurance. Only a faint whine slipped out when he tried.

Reaching around Aaron, Jay began to tie the torn poncho around the wound tightly.

"I hate this (BLEEP)-ing (BLEEP BLEEP)," Jay continued to mutter. More curse words followed, and frankly, Aaron wasn't sure if Jay was speaking coherent sentences at this point. In fact, he was quite sure Jay wasn't.

Jay pulled the knot tight. So tight, that Aaron was convinced Jay had almost cut off his circulation as well as his breathing.

Waving a limp hand to grab the spectre's attention, Aaron bit back a groan.

"What? What?" Jay muttered, clearly abound with confusion.

"Wound... transfer..." Aaron shook his head to try and clear the pain-induced fog. Melting with some relief as he processed it himself, he uttered almost-inaudibly, "You're still alive."

Jay stared at Aaron intensely for a second, like Aaron's words were sinking in too-slowly. Then his eyes shot open wide, and he nodded, reaching down to Aaron's stomach again.

Then Aaron realized he may have not communicated what he meant to, because the pain in his abdomen was starting to ease.

Biting out another curse, Aaron frantically pushed Jay's hands away. "No--!"

Jay let out another pained groan, pulling away now out of his own volition. His hand reached for the same space on his own stomach that Aaron was wounded, and it seemed that now they shared a portion of the same pain.

"(Bleep,)" Jay hissed. "I meant for that to go to the spider."

"(Bleep)ing idiot," Aaron muttered, slowly pushing himself up to lean on his elbows. "It's already dead."

Jay let out a groan, doubling over as he held his stomach.

"I thought it'd work," he said in an uncharacteristic whine, sounding terribly pained.

Lip curling in a grimace, Aaron sluggishly pulled off his shirt entirely as he sat fully upright. "I only meant to say," he went on, "that you got Bridger's abilities. I hadn't meant to imply you should... try anything else."

Jay nodded faintly, but he seemed too overcome with pain to really move or look up at him. He clenched onto the remains of his poncho in his hands tightly, and his breaths turned shaky.

Aaron frowned deeply as he leaned closer to assess how much of the wound Jay took. Exhaling slowly through his nose, he carefully twisted to look at his own back then. It was. About the same actually. He'd stopped Jay halfway through the process.

Good thing, too. Judging by how... well Jay was handling going halfsies, anymore would've been entirely paralyzing.

"You should transfer it back," Aaron eventually said. "I don't think... it was a venomous strike, so it's fine."

"Noooooo," Jay moaned, practically curled up in a ball. "It'd still... kill you!"

"Hm," Aaron conceded, looking down at himself. He looked back to Jay. "...Do you need me to... carry you?"

Jay let out another groan as he began to shakily bring himself to his feet. He held his poncho to his stomach in a wad, hunched over in the shape of a C.

"No," Jay said after a beat of silence, but if Aaron thought he heard right, Jay sounded like he was on the verge of tears. His voice cracked.

Deciding his shirt was a lost cause (torn, bloodied, and sticky as it was), Aaron abandoned it as he hauled himself up to his feet. He watched for a second as Jay struggled, then quietly came up alongside him. Taking the spectre's arm, Aaron helped Jay sling it around his neck, and brought his own around Jay's back to hold him up.

So. Now they knew whose magic Jay got. And, while they were decidedly not okay, they at the very least were surviving. Progress? Debatable.

Aaron was more than willing to take 'alive' as a win at the moment. As with any regular day, honestly.

Cyrin startled as they crashed to the ground, quickly rebounding to their feet. Good. He could tolerate a short time in an enclosed space with no feasible way out, and Alan and Shrimp had been a good distraction, but he'd gotten the feeling his time in there before he started feeling the pressure to escape was running short. He made a silent prayer as he dusted himself off.

"I think I might stay here. You make a comfortable bed," Alan teased, still sitting on top a layer of fallen pillows and confetti that engulfed Lyall.

"Oh my gods," Lyall said, peeking out through the pillows with a bright, utterly relieved smile, "you're still alive!"

"And not even digested," Cyrin told him with a smile. "Thanks to you."

Alan grinned. Still holding Shrimp with one arm, he rolled out of the way and threw out the pillows on top of Lyall so he was out in the open again. "There you are."

Not bothering with the confetti that covered him, Lyall hopped up and grabbed Cyrin in a tight hug. "You utter fool!" he declared, tone suddenly reprimanding. "I told you to wait and let me give my wrong answer!"

"Please," Cyrin said, hugging him back. "You would not have survived the cat pillow break room."

With brows raised and his chin resting on Cyrin's chest, Lyall looked up at him with the most confused grin. "The what?"

"Well, it's all around you now," Cyrin said, waving their arm around to the pillows.

"What was the answer?" Alan asked, getting up on his feet and cradling the cat like a baby.

Cyrin looked to Lyall, silently asking the same question.

Glancing back up from the pillows, which did not seem to clarify anything for him, Lyall blinked at the two. "Oh!" he eventually said after mentally rewinding. "It's because they're all couples."

Alan slowly nodded, processing as he patted Shrimp's head. "Oh. Hm."

Cyrin groaned as it hit them. "Not a single person. Got it."

That had only been the first riddle, though. Had the sphinx reverted to it once it had swallowed them?

"Did you solve the second one too?" he asked.

Finally letting go, Lyall bowed his head as he tousled the pieces of confetti out of his hair. "You're standing here, aren't you?" he replied with a cheeky grin.

"You have done what I could not," Cyrin said solemnly.

There was a short, stiff silence until Alan said obliviously, "How many riddles did you have to solve?"

There was a flash of weariness in Lyall's eyes, even as he maintained his breezy exterior. "Two." Then paused, and furthered, "Well. Six, I suppose, since riddle 2 required multiple answers."

Alan was obviously distracted, smiling down at Shrimp lifting him closer to his head, scratching behind his ear. "That's a lot of riddles," he murmured, then looked back at Cyrin with a smile. "Thanks for solving them."

"Ah, don't thank me," Cyrin said with a easy wave of his hand and a smile. "Lyall's the hero of the day."

Lyall waved dismissively and playfully went, "Peeshaw! T'was only thanks to your sacrifice that I had the opportunity."

Cyrin took a slight bow. "Let me know there are any other terrifying jaws I can throw myself in front of for you."

"Next time," Lyall said, tone still light, but sincere concern starting to show through, "I'd much rather you listen when I say 'don't'."

Cyrin had to remember this was still a new friendship. Lyall had yet to learn that... well, that didn't work on them.

"No promises," they said innocently.

Judging by how Lyall's grin turned slightly weary with the furrow of his brows, he seemed to be quickly catching on, though.

Cyrin rested a hand on his shoulder, patting gently in a reassuring way.

"Everything was alright," they said, with less jokingness. "Some risks might be necessary in this game."

Lyall sighed out through his nose. "Very well," he said with a conceding nod. He warmly patted Cyrin's hand on his shoulder. "Could we at least be in full agreement the next time about said risks?" He pursed his lips. "More on the same page, in general?"

Cyrin nodded. "Good idea." He wasn't sure if it was an idea he'd be good at following, but it seemed wise anyway.

"It looks like there's an opening now," Alan said, leading the way to the opening of the hedges where the sphinx once sat. "Let's see what's ahead!"

Not one to linger behind, Cyrin followed along, treading over the confetti. Lyall quietly sprang into step beside them.

It was still a little strange that the answer to the second riddle had gone undiscussed. Surely, Lyall hadn't resorted to playing hangman with the final letter. But he found it wasn't all that important to him.

They went on talking, and Lyall and Alan started up a new conversation, with Alan occasionally translating the meows Shrimp spoke up with. Cyrin smiled, but they found themself distracted from joining in. Something new was pulling at their senses.

...But what?

He frowned, trying to concentrate on the feeling. They weren't sure if it was working, but it got unmistakably stronger. What was it? It was strangely intangible-- not a force, pulling or pushing them in any direction, but it felt directional in a different way. It felt almost like someone else was creeping into his head in a haze of peaceful feeling and thought.

"...Hey, guys?" they called hesitantly.

Lyall was quick to stop beside him. "Myes?" he answered lightly, but concern shone in his eyes.

How to explain there was fuzz in his head and he didn't think it belonged there.

"I don't know how to describe it, but..." Cyrin pressed a finger to their temple, pressing their lips together thoughtfully. "I've got this... intrusion of emotions in my head that don't feel like me. Is there any power here that causes that?"

Alan's smile slowly faded, and he kept Shrimp upright, idly petting his head. "Maybe it's the mind reading magic?" he suggested.

"I don't think so," Cyrin said, before he joked, "I mean, I've only just noticed it. I presume the two of you have been thinking this whole time."

"Of course," Alan said, then paused for a moment, in thought. "What emotions do you feel?"

Cyrin paused, focusing on it.

"Overall, it's got this dreaminess to it," he said. "Strangely peaceful, serene. But there's some other things in the mix. Loneliness, quiet sorrow... that kind of stuff."

A beat.

"I think it's from a person," Cyrin said. "Maybe multiple, actually."

Lyall pursed his lips in thought. "Well, two things already aren't adding up: one, I don't believe we have a straight-up empath on this island. Two, who the hell would feel peaceful or serene in a setting such as this?"

"Right," Cyrin agreed.

They knew they were feeling it, though, even if they didn't know what it was.

"Unless..." Cyrin thought out loud. "They don't think they're in this setting. They could be dreaming."

Lyall's eyes lit up with a new revelation. "You must have dreamwalking!"

"Someone has that here?" Cyrin asked, intrigued.

"Constantine," Lyall confirmed brightly with a nod, "of Talia."

"Ah!" Cyrin nodded thoughtfully. "The more you know."

He still had a gnawing feeling past this, though. Like something was to be done.

"...If someone's sleeping, shouldn't I try to wake them up?" he suggested. "Doesn't seem normal."

Tapping his chin in thought, Lyall hummed. "Well. If you can sense that someone's asleep, they're within reaching distance. Which we can naturally conclude that that places them within this maze." Spreading his arms, he tilted his head. "Not an ideal setting for a snooze. You probably should wake them then, yes."

"Right." Cyrin paused, then sat on the ground, crossing his legs and clearing his throat. "I will... try to do that now."

Lyall tucked his hands in his pockets. "Is there anything we could do to assist in the meantime?"

Cyrin hummed. "Keep Shrimp entertained. Little guy looks like he's about to nap."

Alan gave Shrimp another pat, and the cat purred brightly. "Are you sure you're going to be alright?" he asked softly to Cyrin.

"Definitely," Cyrin said, flashing him a slight grin. "Worst that happens is I look silly sitting here."

Alan nodded. "Alright. We'll wait for you, then."

Cyrin closed their eyes, trying to connect to that nebulous haze of emotion. He could tell they were actually separate dreams, overlapping slightly. He focused on one of them, wondering how this would work. It seemed like they didn't have to over think it, though, because soon enough they felt their mind changing places, and they couldn't feel the ground below them.

It was like he wasn't in the maze anymore.

Cyrin blinked, adjusting to the feeling of a new place. He didn't feel quite awake, but this wasn't all... completely dreamlike. But then he hadn't experienced dreamlike for a long time, either.

Maybe they'd just forgotten.

The air around him was acrid. Smoke tendrils filled the air, billowing up against the bright light of a setting sun. The land around him was scorched, as with fire. Torn apart machines of war littered the flat expanse, abandoned, half-hidden in ash. In the distance there were hints of life further out on the horizon, where it seemed trees may lay, but it was a distant hope against the present appearance of a battlefield, in the wake of what looked like a harsh battle.

Shapes that looked like they once belonged to bodies could be recognized in the ash heaps, but there wasn't much left to look at aside from embers and dying flames.

At least, until he noticed a lone figure up ahead, sitting in the dust, back turned to him.

James.

...Was this really the inside of his head?

Cyrin took cautious steps forward, their feet near-silent over the ash and debris. Even in this dreamscape, the smoke stung their nose. He moved until he was about twenty feet away from James, watching him for a moment. But he made no movement.

James was looking at the sunset.

"James?" Cyrin asked, their voice calm and not urgent.

But James didn't respond.

Cyrin's gaze fell to the ground, landing on a pile of ash. Something was poking out of it. They reached for it slowly.

It was a watch. An old-fashioned one, one that appeared to be able to open.

Cyrin carefully scooped it up, then pressed his boot into the pile, being sure to let it crunch audibly.

"James," he said again.

Still no response.

They moved forward in a slight arc, gradually moving around to the side to see James from the right and enter into his vision sooner. Even then, it seemed he didn't notice them, until Cyrin was almost right in front of him.

"It's a beautiful sunset, isn't it?" James asked quietly, eyes locked onto the sun.

Cyrin glanced at it. It was. It painted the battlefield orange, and they had the distant thought that it could've been a good picture. But it wasn't real. It might've merely been James's idea of a beautiful sunset.

"It is," they agreed gently.

James didn't move or say anything else.

Cyrin glanced at the ground.

"Is there room for two here?" he asked.

James nodded once.

Carefully, Cyrin sat down next to him, in the same pose as him. He knew it was dusty, but he was counting on not being this way when they woke up. Silently, he held out the watch to James.

"I found this," he said.

James turned, looking at the watch with a look of recognition and sadness. He briefly glanced up at Cyrin before he reached over and gingerly took it out of their hands, turning it over in his own.

He examined it quietly, brushing away the dust with his thumb.

"I thought I lost this a long time ago," James said softly.

Cyrin felt his heart sink slightly, and he sighed.

"You can look at it here," he said. "But you don't really have it back. You're dreaming here."

James stared at the watch in his hands, his expression solemn, but deeply saddened.

"I know," he said, voice dropping even lower.

Cyrin looked up at the wastelands. He could still see fires burning. It seemed...

It wasn't the kind of place one would want to keep returning to. More like a place one kept finding themself in despite leaving over and over.

"They still need me out there," James said quietly. "Don't they?"

Cyrin paused, turning back to him.

"Do you mean your team?" they asked softly. "I'm not with you, physically. I don't know what your situation looks like."

James's brows furrowed deeply at that.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I mean my team." A pause. "I think we were all put to sleep."

Cyrin nodded slowly. "I think I sensed the three of you. You must be together, at least."

That seemed to give James at least some sense of assurance and resolve. James's hand slowly closed over the watch, and he took a deep breath, putting it in his pocket.

"Alright," James said, and he got to his feet. As he looked down at Cyrin, the dreamscape around them started to fade.

"Please bring them back too," James said. "I'm ready to wake up now."

"If it's possible, I will," Cyrin promised gently.

"Thank you," James said, and as he looked away, it became clear that James was waking.

Cyrin felt this dreamscape starting to deteriorate as James woke, but there was another sleeping mind nearby.

He drifted into that one, feeling like he didn't have a body for a few moments. Everything went dark as he moved between dreams.

When Cyrin could see again, he was breathtaken for a few moments by the size of the library he found himself in. Row after row of wooden bookshelves towered over him, filled with old, glided hardcover books. Ladders leaned against walls, meant for accessing the highest volumes. Stained glass windows let golden light stream through, illuminated everything from the hardwood floor to the vaulted ceiling.

It seemed like a historian's paradise.

In between a row of bookshelves, Shane sat at a desk, nearly blocked from view by the stacks of books in front of him. A banker's lamp lit the open one he was reading from, and Shane paused in the middle of turning a page, seeming oblivious to Cyrin there.

Cyrin took a few steps into the bookshelf passage, keeping his eyes on him.

"Shane?" he called softly.

Slowly, the Heir looked up from his book, staring almost blankly at them. Cyrin felt like more of an intruder here than he had with James.

"How did you get here?" Shane asked.

"I dreamwalked," Cyrin said. "It's Connie's magic. My group found you, James, and Eve sleeping. James should already be awake, and maybe they've managed to shake Eve out of it too."

Shane's gaze fell back to his book.

"I had the feeling this wasn't real," he said.

Cyrin shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. It's a lovely place."

Shane's fingers pinched the corner of the book's face, moving it back and forth slightly, but never quite turning the page.

"I don't get to be here anymore," he said quietly.

Ah. James might've had an inescapable place for a state of mind, but Shane had one he could never get back to.

Cyrin felt a pang of empathy, moving closer to stand near the desk. No wonder that stack of books was so tall. Shane wanted to catch up.

"I'm sorry," they said again, more quietly.

Shane went on staring at the book, his gaze still vacant.

"Am I still in the maze?" he asked.

Cyrin nodded. "When you wake up, that's where you'll be."

His group still didn't know why the three of them had fallen asleep. He didn't suspect any good reasons, such as lying down for a nap. And even though he very much wanted to know, he had the feeling that asking Shane here, at a moment he seemed unwilling to return to the real world, was not the best place or time.

"Waking us up won't keep us safe," Shane said quietly. "We'll have to keep going."

Cyrin blinked, unsure if he heard that right.

"Safe?" they echoed.

They hadn't ever been unsafe yet. Sure, they'd been swallowed by a statue, but it had only taken them to a room full of pillows, and not to a monster's stomach as he feared. A setback in the competition, certainly, and maybe frightening to some, but not dangerous. And yet, the way Shane said that word unnerved him. Like he wasn't using it lightly.

Shane swallowed, not looking up.

"I think something bad's going to happen to me," he whispered quietly. "Maybe to James, too."

Cyrin felt his heart race a little faster. That didn't happen much on its own.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly. "Were you threatened?"

Shane didn't answer.

Cyrin carefully, slowly moved closer, so that he was standing by Shane's chair. He put a hand on the desk.

"If something's wrong, you can tell me here," they said. "There isn't anyone else. There aren't any cameras. And clairvoyance can't foresee anything that happens here if it's not happening in reality."

Slowly, Shane tore his gaze away from the book, meeting Cyrin's eyes again.

"We uncovered dolls," he said. "In a graveyard coffin. One for each of us. The ones that looked like me and James were bloody."

Saints.

Cyrin hesitated, taking a few moments to turn the implications of this over in his head.

"And you think they... have that in store for you?" they asked quietly.

Shane was silent for a while.

"I don't know," he said.

Cyrin couldn't leave him sleeping on the maze floor. Shane had to wake up, and so did the rest of his team. But they didn't want to sentence him to that, either.

He leaned in, meeting Shane's gaze with seriousness.

"If anything happens to you or James in this maze that shouldn't, and we don't find our way back to each other this night," Cyrin said. "I want you to find me at my cabin and mention the word locusts. That's all. If they target you, they shouldn't be able to get away with it. Got it?"

Relief and a hint of gratitude slowly seeped into Shane's expression.

"Got it," he confirmed softly.

Cyrin offered him a bare smile, leaning back and standing upright again.

"Are you ready to wake up?" they asked.

With a hint of reluctance, but with new resolve, Shane slowly closed the book.

"I think so," he said.

The dreamscape around them warped and faded again, and Cyrin closed his eyes, preparing to move into the last of them, which must've been Eve's, if James was right.

But just when it seemed like they were about to pass into that dream-- which they could still feel-- it was as though something pulled the brakes on them.

Cyrin groaned as they violently snapped back to reality, blinking their eyes open to find the maze again. His ears were filled with a high-pitched ringing, and he winced, covering his ears. It did nothing for the sound.

"Ow," they muttered indignantly, rubbing the sides of their head.

"Hey, Cyrin," Alan greeted with a smile, sitting next to him with his legs crossed, Shrimp perched on his lap. "Welcome back."

"Good to see a friendly face again," Cyrin said, laughing slightly as they shook out their head, trying to banish the headache. "I'm talking about Shrimp, of course."

Shrimp sat up, meowing. Alan whispered soft, affirming words to the cat, leaning down as if he were trying to whisper in the cat's ear. Cyrin smiled, his heart feeling warmed.

He was a little distracted. He'd told James he'd wake up Eve, and he... hadn't. He could only hope she-- and them-- were fine.

"Did it work?" Lyall asked, sitting at Cyrin's other side. He tilted his head sideways to lean into view. It was kind of funny. "Who did you find?"

"James and Shane," Cyrin said, turning to him. "Eve was with them, I think, but I didn't manage to get in her dream. I think they're all okay, though."

He had evidence to suggest otherwise, but he wasn't sure if he should disclose that.

Alan's brows pinched with worry as he pulled his hand away from Shrimp mid-pet. "You entered their dreams? Are they alright?"

"I think so," Cyrin said, more reassuringly and gently. "Sounds like they got put to sleep from one of their challenges. At the very least, James and Shane should both be awake now, and they should be able to wake up Eve too."

Lyall's curious look fell. "We ought to check on them if we can, anyhow," he said seriously, leaping up to his feet.

"We should, and we can," Cyrin agreed, standing as well. "Let's keep going this way. With any luck, we'll run into them."

"Do you think something happened?" Alan asked, quickly getting up on his feet as well, holding Shrimp with both arms, draping his head and upper legs over his shoulder.

Time to fib a little.

"I didn't really get details, but Shane and James were perfectly calm when I talked to them," Cyrin said. "I'm guessing it was something like they got a challenge, but made a mistake, and instead of getting placed in the cat cushion room like we were, it gave them a little nap as a way of causing them to lose time on the clock. It sounds perfectly safe, though."

Thankfully, Alan bought this white lie. The worry and concern began to fade away, and he gave Shrimp another idle pat. "Alright," he said softly, then looked up at the two of them with a small smile. Cyrin internally sighed with relief. "Well, I hope we do run into them. It was too bad we couldn't form one big group at the beginning."

"Me too," Cyrin said, smiling back. "If we run into them here, we might be able to stick together. Wouldn't that be fun?"