The room was steeped in silence—thick, suffocating silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the aftermath of shared trauma. The kind that felt like shattered breath in heavy lungs.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Samuel's eyes were locked on Ava, heart sinking. The corpse he had found her beside back then… it was Elliot. Mangled. Torn apart. Slaughtered not long before the Warden had wiped out everyone else in that prison corridor.
Jace stood behind them all, his face pale and unreadable. His jaw clenched tight, arms folded—but the way his eyes stared into nothing said everything. He didn't know how to process what he'd just heard. Or maybe he did—and didn't want to.
Owen looked like he wanted to speak. His lips parted slightly, then closed again, trembling. He remembered the Echo they had experienced. The Warden's presence. Its voice, its strength, the sound of bones cracking. They all had felt it. The pain of death. The coldness of helplessness. And now, imagining Ava going through that alone…
Ava sat still, motionless, staring at the floor like she wasn't even in the room anymore.
Her eyes were glassy.
Samuel hesitated, then slowly sat beside her, gently patting her back.
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he said softly, his voice cracking under the weight of it. "You didn't deserve that… none of it."
Owen moved in too, kneeling beside her, unsure how to help but knowing silence would only make it worse.
"We're here now," he said, his voice shaky but sincere. "You don't have to carry it alone anymore, Ava."
Jace hovered behind them, uncertain. He wasn't good with this—when people cried, when they broke down. But his eyes stayed on Ava, and his presence, while quiet, was steady.
Sierra knelt down on Ava's other side, gently wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "You survived the worst thing imaginable," she whispered. "And you're still standing. That's not weakness, Ava. That's strength."
Noa sat down cross-legged across from her, placing her hands in her lap. "I can't pretend to know how that felt," she said gently, "but... I know pain like that leaves marks. Not all of them visible."
Riley, quiet until now, reached for Ava's hand and held it firmly. "You're not alone anymore," she said. Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet warmth in the tension of the room. "Not while we're still breathing."
Evelyn knelt as well, her hand gently brushing through Ava's hair. "You didn't deserve to lose him like that," she said. "And he didn't deserve to go through that. But you loved him. And you kept going. That means something."
Ava's lower lip trembled. Her gaze flickered, meeting Samuel's, then Owen's. Then Sierra's, Noa's, Riley's, Evelyn's.
Her voice finally cracked out, barely above a whisper:"I couldn't save him…"
Samuel shook his head. "You didn't fail him, Ava. You were there. You held on. That's more than anyone could've done."
A tear rolled down Ava's cheek. She didn't wipe it.
"I just wish I'd died instead…"
"No," Riley said firmly, squeezing her hand tighter. "Don't say that. You're here for a reason. Maybe you're the reason we don't end up like him."
There was a long pause.
And for the first time since Ava's story began… she let herself cry. Truly cry.
But this time—she wasn't alone.
Ava cried.
Not loudly. Not frantically. But the quiet, broken sobs of someone who had held everything in for far too long. Her shoulders shook, her body slightly curled in on itself as though trying to shield what little remained unbroken inside her.
And the others let her.
They didn't try to stop her. Didn't fill the silence with hollow reassurances. They stood by her side—silent, steady, present. Because sometimes, the only thing you can give someone in pain… is permission tofeel it.
This prison—the tower, the phases, the madness of it all—it had taken so many. It had chewed through lives, friendships, loved ones, and innocence. Left scars on all of them, visible and not.
And now, seeing Ava like this… hearing what she endured… the urgency to escape was rising again, unspoken but heavy.
It sat in their chests like a stone.
A subtle panic crept through the group—not a loud, screaming fear, but something colder. Quieter. The fear that maybe… they wouldn't make it. That maybe their turn was next.
But no one dared to voice it.
Because what if the others saw you as weak? What if your fear made you the liability? In this place, keeping up appearances sometimes felt like survival too. You wouldn't want to lose that image, would you?
Ava's sobs quieted after a while. Her breathing slowed.
She whispered to herself between fading sobs—words like"I failed him…" and "I should've done more…"—and every single one cut deeper than the last. Yet no one corrected her harshly. They just stayed close, offering what little comfort they could.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity compressed into ten minutes, Ava pulled in a deep breath and sat up straighter.
Owen, quiet but kind, handed her a tissue. "Here," he said softly, avoiding eye contact so she wouldn't feel watched. "You're okay now. You're safe."
She wiped her tears slowly, then took the bottle of water he passed her. Her hands still trembled a little, but her grip was steady enough. She poured some into her palms, splashed her face, and let out a long, shaky exhale.
She looked… better.
Still devastated. Still grieving. But that cry had let some of the weight slip off her shoulders. A heaviness lifted—not gone, but dulled. Beneath the sadness in her eyes, a flicker of something small and brave sparked to life.
Hope.
Maybe, just maybe… she could make it out of this place alive.
And then—
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
A slow, mocking rhythm echoed from the far corner of the room.
All heads turned.
Victor.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing that same half-smirk he always did when he wanted attention.
There was something devious in his stance—almost theatrical in how he lingered in the shadows, letting the last echo of his claps fade out.
"Well," he said, his voice cutting through the room like a knife dressed in silk, "wasn't that just heart-wrenching?"
The room tensed.
Victor pushed off the wall slowly, that glint in his eye unmistakable—the kind of glint that made it hard to tell if he was being cruel… or just bored.
"I mean it," he continued casually. "Really. All of that? It's exactly the kind of horror story this place breeds. And if that doesn't motivate us to move faster, I don't know what will."
Jace's eyes narrowed.
Samuel stepped protectively in front of Ava.
Owen muttered under his breath, "Don't start, man. Not now."
Victor just chuckled and raised his hands like he meant no harm. "Relax. I'm just trying to get everyone back on track."
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
And that panic everyone had kept buried? It bubbled just a little closer to the surface.
Seirra muttered something under her breath, "I hope you die"— sharp, venom-laced words meant only for herself. No one heard them, but the way her jaw clenched said enough.
Samuel shot Victor a glare—sharp, cold, full of unspoken fury.
Victor didn't even acknowledge it. His gaze slid past Samuel like he hadn't noticed, like none of it mattered.
Owen let out a tired sigh. Of course, Victor was being Victor again. He was… an anomaly. A weirdo. Someone who never quite feltreal. And yet, always knew just the right time to make things uncomfortable.
The silence was broken by Lawren, who shifted slightly, arms crossed and voice unsure.
"So, what now, guys?" he asked, glancing at the others, trying to steady the rising tension. "We've been sitting here for almost half an hour now…"
Victor's eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch.
He turned to Lawren slowly, a crooked smile creeping up his face like it didn't belong there.
"Yes," he whispered. "Yesss... yesssss…"
Everyone turned toward him with immediate unease. That tone. That delivery. It was like he was performing. Like he was quoting something none of them knew.
Victor leaned forward just slightly, his voice low and warped like a ghost imitating human speech.
"Yes, boy… we have," he repeated, dragging out the words as if savoring them. "And it means…"
He paused, the silence stretching.
"…the exit is close."
The way he said it didn't inspire hope.
It inspired dread.
The others just stared.
Samuel furrowed his brow. Lawren looked more confused than before. Seirra blinked like she wanted to ask if he was joking but didn't want to encourage him. Evelyn tilted her head slightly, unsure if this was Victor being useful for once—or just insane.
Riley leaned closer to Noa and whispered, "What is wrong with him?"
Noa didn't answer. She was still watching Victor carefully, trying to figure out if what he'd just said actually meant something… or if it was just more of his unnerving riddles.
Victor, meanwhile, just stood there smiling. That strange, crooked smile that never reached his eyes.
It was like he knew something.
And the worst part?
He probably did.
Victor stepped forward slightly, his eyes locked on Ava.
"Poor Ava…" he began, his voice unusually soft, but laced with something wrong—something off. "Elliot boy was right, wasn't he? You had to acknowledge the change… the subtle shift in your surroundings… and go back. But you didn't."
His lips curled, not into a smile—but something between pity and amusement.
"Elliot was right," he repeated, slower this time. "He was actually right…"
Victor's eyes shimmered. At first glance, it almost looked like he was getting emotional—until his voice cracked.
"So sad…" he muttered, tilting his head slightly, as if reciting a eulogy that only he found poetic. "An incredible man. Sacrificial. Brave. Loving. Strong. And yet…" He sniffled, a single tear trailing down his cheek. "He passed away in the hands of that Warden."
The words should have been comforting. But Victor's tone—his delivery—was psychotic.
Too theatrical.
Too delighted.
It sent an instinctual shiver down every spine in the room.
Without thinking, everyone subtly took a step back.
Ava's eyes narrowed, furrowing in raw, rising anger.
Her fists clenched at her sides.
Samuel noticed and gently reached out, gripping her hand—trying to ground her.
Then he stepped forward.
"VICTOR, THAT'S ENOUGH!!" he snapped, his voice like a gunshot echoing through the tension-heavy room.
Victor blinked.
He looked at Samuel with a twisted innocence, feigning surprise.
"Boss…" he said softly, "please don't scream at me…"
Then he tilted his head again, this time addressing the whole room with a mock sincerity that made everyone uneasy.
"I was just trying to comfort poor little Ava—that her boyfriend was…" he smirked, "…an incredible man to figure it all out."
His words were a mockery.
His smile was venom.
It wasn't just Samuel he was taunting—it was Ava, too. And everyone knew it.
Samuel stood frozen, stunned by the sheer audacity of Victor's cruelty.
That's when Jace spoke.
A sound so rare, it made the air feel colder.
"That's enough, Victor."
His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
Deep. Unyielding. Serious.
Victor turned slowly to face him.
Jace wasn't glaring. He wasn't yelling. He just stood there, his presence alone sharp enough to silence a room.
Victor's smirk twitched slightly—then faded.
He raised both hands in mock surrender.
"My bad… my bad," he muttered, voice dropping into a sheepish whisper.
But the glint in his eyes?
It said he wasn't sorry.
Not even a little.
After the tension finally settled like thick dust in the air, Victor broke the silence once again.
Cheerful.
Too cheerful.
"Time to move, guys??" he chimed, clapping his hands together like a camp counselor rallying a group of kids. His tone felt like nails on a chalkboard after everything they'd just witnessed.
No one responded at first.
Just silent glances—nervous, unsure, uncomfortable. Eyes flitting from person to person as if silently asking,Is he serious?
Then Samuel nodded slowly.
"Let's get moving," he said, his voice firm but calm. Just enough to realign the group.
The others followed his lead, falling into motion like cogs reluctantly turning again in a rusted machine.
The girls—Sierra, Evelyn, Noa, and Riley—subconsciously positioned themselves closer to Owen, whose quiet but thoughtful demeanor gave them a strange sense of safety. He walked slightly ahead, constantly scanning the hallway, hand resting on the flashlight at his belt, backpack tight against his shoulders.
The three younger guys—Callen, Lawren, and Wesley—gravitated toward Jace. His silence, his calm, his sheer presence had earned their quiet respect. He didn't say much, but something about him made you feel like if chaos broke out again, he'd be the first to jump in front of it.
Ava moved beside Samuel. She didn't speak. Her head was low, her shoulders stiff. But Samuel walked beside her, not crowding, just there. A quiet pillar.
Victor, unfazed by the lingering discomfort in the air, walked in front—arms swinging slightly, his steps oddly light, like he hadn't just said the most unsettling words in the last ten minutes.
As they walked through the dim, shifting halls of the prison, flickers of admiration sparked among the group. Sierra leaned closer to Riley and whispered, "Samuel's got that calm authority thing going on, doesn't he?"
Riley nodded, eyes briefly flicking toward him. "Yeah… and Owen's been holding us together like a freaking human checklist."
Noa added with a low chuckle, "And Jace? I swear he hasn't said ten full sentences since I met him, but when he speaks, it's like everyone shuts up."
"Exactly," Evelyn murmured. "It's weirdly comforting."
For a moment, despite the horrors they'd just relived, the flickers of connection—the beginnings of trust—started to spark between the scattered pieces of this broken group.
Because in a place where everything was designed to break you down…
It mattered who stood beside you when you got back up.