Ethan had thought he was ready for whatever the maze would throw at him. He'd endured physical trials, battled his own fears, and faced moments of deep self-doubt. But this was something else — something far more insidious. The illusions didn't just pull at his past, they tried to tear down his very sense of identity. And the deeper he went, the more it became clear that the maze wasn't just a physical battleground. It was a war for his mind.
As he moved through the narrow corridors, the walls seemed to stretch and shift with every step, distorting his perception of space. He couldn't tell if he was walking in circles or if the maze was changing around him. The cold air was thick with something unseen, an oppressive force that seemed to press against his chest. It felt like the walls themselves were closing in, ready to crush him. The whispering voices had become louder, more insistent, until they were no longer whispers at all — they were shouts. And they were all calling his name.
"Ethan! Ethan! Why are you running?"
The voice was familiar — his mother's voice again, soft and pleading, filled with so much sorrow. His head spun. He had already faced this. He had already told himself it wasn't real. Yet, the longer the voice lingered, the more convincing it became.
His hands gripped the stone walls, nails scraping against the surface as if trying to ground himself in the present, trying to hold onto something real. "It's not real," he whispered under his breath. "It's just the maze. Just the maze."
But it didn't stop. The illusion grew stronger, like the maze itself was alive, feeding on his weaknesses, drawing from the very core of his memories. The walls trembled, the ground beneath his feet vibrating as if responding to his emotions.
"Come back to me, Ethan. You don't have to fight. You don't have to be alone."
The temptation was unbearable. For a split second, Ethan considered it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stop, to accept this false comfort. Maybe he didn't need to survive. Maybe everything was too much to bear.
But then he remembered why he was here. The others. The prize. The life he could build after all of this was over. He couldn't give up now. Not when he was so close to the end.
"No," he muttered firmly, shaking his head. "I'm not falling for this."
But the walls kept shifting, moving in ways that disoriented him, drawing him deeper into the illusion. Every step felt like it took him further into darkness, further from the reality he knew. He stumbled forward, trying to ignore the voice, but it was getting harder and harder. It wasn't just his mother anymore. It was every failure, every regret, every moment of weakness in his life. All the people he had wronged or who had wronged him — they were all here, trapped in the maze with him.
His heart pounded as the maze shifted again. The stone beneath his feet felt different — slick and uneven, like it was no longer solid. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out to steady himself against the wall, but the surface seemed to melt away beneath his hand, leaving him stumbling forward into an open space.
The moment he stepped into the new room, the hallucinations intensified. The figures in the maze — his ex-girlfriend, his parents, even strangers from his past — filled the room with a cacophony of voices. They surrounded him, their faces twisted in expressions of disdain and anger. They shouted at him, accusing him of everything from betrayal to cowardice. The weight of their words crashed down on him, threatening to suffocate him. His mind spun, his knees nearly buckling under the pressure.
"Why did you run? Why did you leave us behind?" The voices overlapped, blending together into one single, overwhelming chorus.
He clutched his head, trying to block out the noise, but it was impossible. Every word was a dagger in his heart. Every accusation a wound he couldn't heal. The maze was unrelenting.
"Why did you let me go?" one of the voices hissed, and Ethan felt a sharp stab of guilt. His ex-girlfriend's face appeared before him, eyes burning with contempt. The pain of betrayal flooded back — the endless days of working himself into debt just to keep up with her, only to have her take everything and walk away. She smiled cruelly at him, her eyes mocking. "You're nothing without me. You'll always be nothing."
"No!" Ethan shouted, gritting his teeth. "This isn't real. You're not real!"
He closed his eyes tightly, willing the illusion to fade, but it only grew stronger. A flood of images rushed to his mind — memories of his failed relationships, his broken family, the empty promises he'd made. Each illusion was more vivid than the last. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but the maze was suffocating him, and his mind began to crack under the strain.
Somewhere in the distance, a new sound pierced the chaos — a door opening. A way out? Was it real, or another trick? Ethan didn't care. He couldn't stay here any longer. He forced his legs to move, pushing through the mass of illusions, his breath ragged as he stumbled toward the sound. With every step, the walls seemed to press in tighter, but the door grew louder.
With one final push, he burst through a thin gap in the walls, collapsing into an open space. The noise faded, the images dissolving into the shadows behind him. He was alone, but the silence was almost as deafening as the chaos he had just escaped.
Meanwhile, Violet was facing her own battle, though the walls of the maze seemed to move slower for her, as if it was waiting to strike at her weakest moment. The voices had stopped. She was alone — or at least, she thought she was. But something lingered in the air, a sense of dread that she couldn't shake.
She walked through the corridor, her eyes flicking from one side to the other, watching for any sign of movement. The maze had become eerily quiet, the heavy silence pressing in on her like a physical weight. She couldn't remember how long she'd been wandering. Time felt strange here — days, hours, minutes, they all blurred together into one unending stretch of isolation.
The temptation to rest, to give up, clawed at her. The exhaustion of constant fear and self-doubt was beginning to take its toll. But Violet wasn't a quitter. She couldn't afford to be.
Her footsteps echoed in the emptiness, and that's when she heard it — a soft sound, like the flutter of paper. She turned to see a piece of parchment on the ground, illuminated by a single beam of light from the overhead.
Curious, she approached and knelt down to examine it. It was a note, scrawled in hastily written letters. She picked it up and read it aloud:
"You've come so far, Violet. But at what cost?"
She froze. The note was meant for her. It was part of the maze's twisted games. She could feel it. The words burrowed under her skin, filling her with a cold sense of dread.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered, her voice trembling, her heart racing.
A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she spun toward it, her heart skipping a beat. The maze was alive. It was watching her, waiting for her to break.