They found themselves back in the starting room.

  A new run would begin soon.

  Leo lay on the floor, cradling his ribs. Harlada sat slumped nearby, her back against the wall.

  Silence filled the room—broken only by Harlada’s wet coughs and Leo’s sharp gasps of pain.

  The third face was frozen in time.

  Not from pain.

  Not from discomfort.

  But from sheer flabbergastinisation.

  (I completely rule at Scrabble.)

  “I can’t believe that worked,” Bert finally blurted out.

  “I can’t believe we survived,” Leo followed, his voice hitching with every breath.

  “I can’t believe how much this hurts,” Harlada added last, spitting blood to the side.

  Slowly, Bert pushed himself upright. The shock still clung to him—knees wobbling, head swimming. He staggered toward the window.

  “They’ll want revenge,” he said, staring at the monks beyond the glass. Their faces betrayed nothing.

  “They’re monks,” Harlada said, joining him despite the pain. “They don’t have feelings.”

  “But just to be safe,” Leo said from the floor. He tried to rise, cried out, and decided his current spot was the best place in the room.

  “Don’t show them the pouch.”

  ***

  The maze, with zero remorse, pulsed.

  Maze run #70842 commencing in 5 minutes.

  Bert waved at the dumb trio, who were still there. They pointed at Harlada’s bruised, blood-streaked face—then pressed their hands together against the glass, forming a heart.

  “I do like them,” Bert said.

  “Let’s get some healing potions out of the loot,” Harlada replied, blowing the trio a kiss.

  “I think I’ll sit this one out,” Leo said from the floor.

  “Lie this one out,” Bert corrected cheerfully, opening the shop menu.

  Harlada weighed the pouch in her hands. It was heavy. Much heavier than they were used to.

  “How much did you steal?”

  “Enough,” Bert said, purchasing five healing potions.

  “Two now. One each for later,” Leo said. “If we ever get into a fight like that again, waiting for the reset is the only option.”

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  The others nodded.

  “We still need to get better,” Harlada sighed.

  “In everything but,” Bert said, leaning close. “Sneak mode.”

  “Now I know you’re doing it on purpose,” Harlada laughed, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

  The healing potions tasted sweeter than ever.

  They let them sink in—bones knitting back together, bruises fading, joints snapping into place. Slowly, the pain retreated, until nothing remained but exhaustion.

  The maze pulsed, indifferent as ever.

  Maze run #70842 commencing in 1 minute.

  ***

  The trio sat with their backs against the wall.

  The doors had already been open for several minutes.

  They did not move.

  Bert stared at the ceiling. Leo flipped through his notes, doodling in the margins. Harlada closed her eyes, breathing slowly.

  The room changed.

  The tension drained away. The air grew fresher. The light warmer. The space felt… safe. Unrecognizable from what it had been before.

  One by one, sleep took them.

  Footsteps echoed in the corridor.

  Unhurried. Measured. Like a metronome set to boring.

  A bald head peeked around the doorway.

  Monk Bert.

  His eyes narrowed, sharp as a hawk searching for prey. His gaze settled on the three bodies sprawled on the floor.

  Sleeping.

  His shoulders tensed.

  He glanced back and made a small beckoning gesture.

  The other two monks entered without a sound.

  They stood there for a long moment, looking down at their sleeping opponents—waiting, perhaps, for them to wake.

  They did not.

  After a while, the bald woman—Monk Harlada—gave a slight nod and turned away.

  Monk Bert followed, silent as stone.

  Monk Leo lingered.

  Emotionless, he wrinkled his nose in something vaguely resembling disappointment. He tore a small strip from his robe and placed it carefully on the threshold.

  Then he turned and walked after his companions.

  Leaving the sleepers behind.

  ***

  Violently, they were woken.

  The maze pulsed—louder than ever before.

  Maze run #70842 completed.

  Reset in 1 minute.

  “We slept the whole run?” Bert stretched, then winced as a muscle spasm shot through his back. That answered the question.

  Leo scanned the room. “We were lucky no one came in. We’d have been easy targets.”

  “Awake, we’re also easy targets,” Bert said. He glanced at the window and frowned. The three with the heavy foreheads and single unibrow were still there.

  “Wait. They don’t leave the room?”

  He waved Harlada and Leo over.

  “Perhaps they’re smarter than we thought,” Leo said with a weak laugh. He waved at them.

  They noticed.

  Immediately, they began moving their hands—fast, exaggerated gestures. Pointing. Tapping. Mimicking shapes.

  “Something about… door?” Bert squinted. “Eyes? Looking?”

  “Look at the door, genius,” Harlada said, already moving.

  She bent down.

  A strip of cloth lay on the threshold.

  As she picked it up, blood rushed to her head, and she swayed slightly.

  “They watched us sleep,” Leo said, eyes wide, hands threading through his hair.

  The maze pulsed, utterly indifferent.

  Reset in 5… 4… 3…

  “We need to run next time,” Leo said, his voice shaking.

  Harlada sat down again. “One run of peace,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

  “And the Maze calls us back.”

  2… 1…