They sprinted through the final stretch of corridor, heartbeats pounding in sync with the Maze’s low hum.

  The air grew colder.

  Sharper.

  The faint hiss of something corrosive echoed faintly ahead.

  Leo skidded to a halt, holding up a hand.

  “There it is,” he whispered.

  The acid trap corridor.

  The long, narrow hallway where Bert’s “trap disarming” had previously unleashed a slow-moving wall of bubbling death.

  Bert leaned forward, squinting at the floor. “Okay… okay… no pressure plates. No runes. No—WAIT.”

  He lowered himself to a full squat.

  Harlada raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

  “Rogue things,” Bert said, touching the stone lightly, as if trying to sense its emotions.

  Leo peeked over his shoulder. “Is that a real technique?”

  “Absolutely not,” Harlada said.

  Bert ignored them.

  Then — very carefully — he tiptoed across the corridor.

  Nothing happened.

  No click.

  No hiss.

  No acid wall.

  He turned around, arms spread wide. “SEE? I AM A ROGUE!”

  Leo and Harlada crossed the corridor with equal caution — Leo holding his notebook like a shield, Harlada scanning the ceiling.

  They made it.

  They made it without triggering the trap.

  And in the small chamber at the end of the hallway — the one that had been their emergency refuge last cycle — they all broke into proud grins.

  Harlada placed a hand on her hip. “We’ve grown. Look at that. First try.”

  Leo nodded deeply. “We’re smarter. Stronger. Organized.”

  Bert puffed out his chest. “We are going to WIN this run.”

  Leo pointed at him. “YES. Exactly. We move with purpose, we avoid the dangerous groups, we actually use our skills—”

  “We learn from our mistakes,” Harlada added.

  Bert nodded. “We are unstoppable.”

  All three stood tall, chests out, glowing with pride.

  “Absolutely unstoppable,” Leo repeated.

  “Untouchable,” Harlada agreed.

  “Champions of the Maze,” Bert declared dramatically.

  Then Leo’s face dropped.

  Harlada’s smile flickered.

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  Bert’s posture collapsed like deflated pastry.

  Because in the shadows of the chamber —

  sitting cross-legged on the floor, beard pooled sadly around him —

  was the lonely bearded Leo.

  He glanced up at them with hollow, weary eyes.

  Bert whispered, horrified:

  “…Oh no.”

  ***

  Bearded Leo didn’t look up right away.

  He simply sat there, cross-legged, beard pooled in a heavy river across the floor, staring at nothing.

  Harlada took a hesitant step forward.

  “Bearded Leo… what happened?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She opened her mouth again — her lip trembled just a bit — but she swallowed whatever she wanted to ask about the children.

  She didn’t dare.

  Not yet.

  Leo cleared his throat softly.

  “We… saw only you left at the window. Are the others…?”

  Bearded Leo finally lifted his head.

  His eyes were tired.

  Not defeated — just exhausted in a way only the Maze could create.

  “We ran into the dual wielders,” he said quietly.

  Bert flinched as if stabbed. “Oh no.”

  Bearded Leo continued, voice steady but hollow.

  “We tried to avoid them. We thought they didn’t see us. But they did.”

  He rubbed his face, fingers brushing through the dense beard.

  “The fight lasted seconds. That’s all. We… we never even had a chance. They were faster than us. Stronger. More coordinated.”

  Leo swallowed. “They left you alive.”

  Bearded Leo nodded slowly.

  “They always leave one alive.”

  The silence that followed was heavy.

  Leo’s voice cracked. “Why? Why one?”

  Bearded Leo didn’t look up.

  He stared at his own hands.

  “I don’t know. Maybe they want someone to remember. Maybe they want someone to be afraid.”

  He exhaled shakily.

  “Maybe they just didn’t care enough to kill me.”

  Harlada clenched her fists, jaw tightening.

  She still didn’t dare ask about the children.

  Then Leo turned to Bert.

  Bert — who was hugging himself, looking anywhere but at Bearded Leo.

  “Bert,” Leo said gently, “what’s wrong?”

  Bert’s voice came out small.

  “I… I said they should let one of us live.”

  He swallowed.

  “That the logical choice was to… to kill two of us and leave one alive.”

  Harlada winced.

  Leo closed his eyes.

  Bearded Leo looked up at Bert — tired, worn down, not angry, just carrying too much.

  “That’s exactly what they did,” he said.

  Bert’s face crumpled.

  “I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying— I just—”

  Bearded Leo held up a hand.

  “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t make them who they are.”

  But Bert still looked like his soul had been lightly stabbed.

  Bearded Leo leaned back against the wall.

  “So be careful,” he murmured.

  “They don’t let many people walk away. And when they do…”

  He tapped his chest.

  “…it doesn’t feel like mercy.”

  The three shared a silent look.

  And for the first time this run… they wondered if the Maze wanted them to fight or just survive long enough to regret things.

  ***

  Bearded Leo shifted slightly, pushing himself upright against the wall.

  His beard draped across his lap like a heavy blanket of regret.

  He looked at the three of them — the healthier, luckier, less-traumatized versions — and managed the faintest hint of a smile.

  “Listen,” he said quietly. “I can’t go with you. Not like this.”

  Leo nodded slowly. “We understand.”

  “But,” Bearded Leo continued, “I can keep your rear safe.”

  Harlada frowned. “You… you’d do that for us?”

  He chuckled, a dry rasp. “We’re all the same person in the end. Different choices. Different bad days.”

  He pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall for balance.

  “Someone needs to cover your back. I can at least do that.”

  Bert still looked miserable. “But you’re— you’re just—”

  “Alive,” Bearded Leo finished. “And sometimes that’s enough.”

  He glanced toward the corridor ahead, eyes narrowing with experience the trio hadn’t yet earned.

  “Now listen carefully,” he said. “The path ahead forks twice. At the first fork, you keep left. Always left.”

  Harlada leaned in. “Why?”

  Bearded Leo’s expression darkened.

  “Because the right path leads close to the Rat People’s starting room.”

  Harlada nodded firmly. “Left. Got it.”

  “Second fork,” Bearded Leo continued, “you also take left. That route gets you closer to Progression. Not cleanly — there’s a room with pillars, and a trap you won’t like — but it avoids the other groups.”

  Leo rubbed his temples. “Okay. Left, then left. Pillars and trap. Avoid Rat People. Understood.”

  Bearded Leo exhaled, relieved they were listening.

  He placed a steadying hand against the wall and turned to face the way they’d come.

  “I’ll stay here,” he said. “I’ll make sure no one follows you in. Not the Gnomes, not the Wizards.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Leo’s eyes.

  “Go. You still have a chance. Don’t waste it.”

  Leo swallowed. “Thank you.”

  Harlada gave him a warrior’s nod.

  Bert stepped forward and hesitated — then quickly hugged him around the middle.

  Bearded Leo blinked. “…Okay. That’s… unexpected.”

  Bert mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

  Bearded Leo patted him awkwardly. “there’s no sorry in the maze.”

  Then he squared himself toward the corridor and lifted his chin.

  “Go,” he said again. “And remember — left.”

  Harlada tapped Leo and Bert on the shoulders.

  “Let’s move.”

  And with one last look at the lone figure guard

  ing their escape, the trio headed toward the next fork — hoping the map in their heads and the courage in their chests would be enough.