They knew where they were headed long before they arrived.
The corridor widened.
The air shifted.
And there it was again:
The Tangram Room.
The giant stone shapes.
The judging duck outline on the far wall.
Bert whispered, “We meet again… poultry of doom.”
Harlada pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please stop talking to the puzzle.”
Leo studied the room like a general surveying a battlefield. “Okay. We know what went wrong last time.”
Bert raised his hand. “Everything?”
“Yes,” Leo said. “Everything. So this time, we do it differently.”
Harlada crossed her arms. “We move every block to the general area first. Together. Slowly. Without panicking.”
“Then,” Leo said, pointing at the duck silhouette, “we assemble them only at the end. No premature placing.”
Bert nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. No premature ducks.”
Harlada stared at him. “Never say that again.”
They spread out and approached the first massive triangle.
All three braced themselves.
“Ready?” Leo asked.
“Ready,” Harlada confirmed.
“My back hurts just looking at it,” Bert said.
They shoved.
The stone scraped forward with a deep grinding groan.
But together, without rushing, it moved twice as far in half the effort compared to last time.
Leo grinned. “Good! Teamwork!”
Harlada nodded. “It’s almost like not panicking helps.”
Bert wiped sweat from his forehead. “I still think the duck is mocking us.”
They moved the next shape.
And the next.
And the next.
Slow. Steady. United.
They built a tidy lineup of giant stone Tangram pieces near the puzzle outline — none of them in place, all of them ready.
Leo took out his notebook. “Okay. Final assembly phase. We start with the big triangle—”
Harlada interrupted. “Before that: ground rules.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Rule one: nobody pushes anything alone.”
Bert pointed to his back. “Agreed.”
“Rule two,” Harlada continued. “No one yells unless they’re on fire.”
Leo scribbled. “Good.”
“Rule three,” Bert added helpfully, “no licking the duck.”
Harlada and Leo both turned to him slowly.
“…Why would anyone do that?” Leo asked.
Bert looked away. “I’m just saying it proactively.”
Leo exhaled. “All right. We’re ready. We do this carefully, calmly, and—”
The Maze pulsed above them:
Tangram challenge re-engaged.
Time limit: 30 minutes.
Corrective fire armed.
Bert groaned. “Here we go again.”
Harlada planted her feet. “Let’s make that duck.”
Leo raised his hands to the first piece. “For the love of sanity—slow and steady.”
And they began.
***
For once, things were going well.
Suspiciously well.
The pieces slid into place one by one — slowly, carefully, without back injuries, accidental fires, or Leo punting the square across the room in frustration.
They were one shape away from finishing the duck.
Just the parallelogram remaining.
Bert wiped sweat from his forehead. “Okay. I think—”
“DON’T SAY ANYTHING,” Harlada hissed.
Bert nodded fearfully and mimed zipping his lips.
Leo steadied his grip on the last piece. “Ready? On three.”
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“One,” Harlada whispered.
“Two,” Bert whispered twice, just in case.
And on “three,” they lifted—
—SCRAAAAAPE—
A sound echoed down the corridor outside.
A soft drag.
A whisper of cloth on stone.
Then another.
And another.
Harlada froze. “That’s not a trap.”
“No,” Leo said. “That’s footsteps.”
Silent footsteps.
They all turned toward the doorway.
Three figures glided into the Tangram chamber.
Same height.
Same clothes.
Same stance.
Except—
No mouths.
Smooth skin from nose to chin.
Featureless.
Silent.
The Mouthless Trio.
Harlada groaned. “Oh for—WHY NOW?”
The moment the mouthless versions saw them, their heads snapped forward in perfect sync—
And they charged.
No battle cry.
No threat.
Just immediate, decisive violence.
Bert yelped. “WHY DO THE QUIET ONES ALWAYS ATTACK FIRST?!”
Leo shoved the parallelogram aside just in time to block a swinging arm. The impact rattled his bones.
Harlada spun her staff in a clean arc, deflecting blows. “They’re faster than the drunk ones!”
“And creepier!” Bert added, ducking under a silent swipe. “MUCH creepier!”
One of the mouthless Harladas vaulted onto the puzzle pieces, landing with unnatural grace. Her faceless head tilted, as if judging their almost-finished duck.
Then she kicked a triangle across the room.
“No!” Leo shouted. “We worked SO HARD on that!”
Harlada parried another attack. “Forget the duck! Fight!”
Bert grabbed a stone piece and held it like a shield. “WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO US?”
The Maze pulsed.
Combat engaged.
Puzzle progress: fragile.
Good luck, probably not enough.
And the room exploded into chaos.
***
The Mouthless Trio split without hesitation, each gliding toward the wrong target like the Maze itself had assigned them.
Leo found himself face-to-face with Mouthless Harlada.
She raised her hand.
A pulse of force erupted from her palm.
Leo had exactly enough time to say, “Oh—”
before it slammed into his chest and launched him across the Tangram room.
He hit the wall so hard his vision flickered.
–14 HP
“Great,” Leo wheezed. “She has spells.”
Mouthless Harlada advanced, steps smooth and silent. Her faceless head tilted, calm as a judge about to deliver a death sentence.
Leo fumbled for his sling. “I am so tired of fighting better versions of you!”
He loaded a small stone, pulled back—
Another blast of force narrowly missed his ear.
“STOP THROWING INVISIBLE WIND AT ME!” Leo shouted.
He fired.
The pebble whistled through the air and struck Mouthless Harlada square in the forehead.
She froze.
Wobbled.
Collapsed.
Leo blinked. “…Huh. Direct hit.”
He slumped against the wall. “I need heavier rocks.”
***
On the other side of the chamber, Bert faced Mouthless Leo.
The faceless version moved with precise, predatory steps — nothing like normal Leo, who moved like a man constantly about to trip over his own thoughts.
Bert pointed his sword at him. “Okay, before we fight, I have ONE question.”
Mouthless Leo lunged silently.
Bert dodged. “HEY! I SAID ONE QUESTION!”
He circled defensively. “How do you communicate without mouths? Huh? Telepathy? Mime? Subtle air pressure? I NEED TO KNOW!”
Mouthless Leo kicked Bert’s knee.
“OW! ANSWER ME!”
No answer, obviously.
Another swing.
Another dodge.
Bert grew increasingly offended.
“This is RUDE! RUDE and UNHELPFUL!”
With a frustrated yell, he drove his sword forward —
and impaled Mouthless Leo cleanly through the chest.
The mouthless version staggered, tilted his head in eerie calm…
and toppled over.
Bert yanked out his sword. “You died without EVER telling me. That’s just inconsiderate.”
***
Meanwhile, Harlada fought Mouthless Bert.
Which was somehow worse than all the others.
Mouthless Bert moved with a strange sideways shuffle, like an assassin who had once been an enthusiastic toddler. He circled her, studying her posture, her stance, her clothes, her very soul with blank scrutiny.
Harlada swung her staff.
He ducked effortlessly.
She jabbed.
He sidestepped like he’d trained his whole life just to annoy her.
She growled. “You are infuriating.”
Mouthless Bert tapped her shoulder — gently, mockingly — like a cat pawing a toy.
She spun.
He wasn’t there anymore.
He was behind her.
Leo, still recovering from his magical beating, spotted it.
“HARLADA! BEHIND YOU!”
Mouthless Bert froze mid-lunge, turning his faceless head toward Leo.
If a featureless smooth face could express emotion, his clearly said:
‘That is NOT FAIR.’
Harlada didn’t wait.
She spun her staff like a hammer lightning erupting from its tip, struck him full force in the ribs.
A second hit sent him stumbling.
A third knocked him to the floor.
He lay there, still, like a disappointed sack of potatoes.
Harlada exhaled. “Don’t sneak up on me.”
Leo dragged himself upright. “Everyone okay?”
Bert pointed at his defeated opponent. “He never answered my question.”
The Maze pulsed.
Combat resolved.
Puzzle time left: 30 seconds
“At least or duck integrity is intact,” Bert said cheerfully while pushing the last piece in place.
Leo groaned. “Please don’t talk about duck integrity ever again.”
