The Last Move

Xyro didn't know how long they had been walking.

And Veynn…

She hadn't said anything since the shift.

Not since he had seen—or imagined—that memory.

But Xyro wasn't stupid. She was waiting.

Waiting for him to speak first.

And he hated that it was working.

His mind kept circling back to what she had said earlier.

"You told me you wouldn't forget me."

He needed to push back. Reclaim control.

"Why do you know so much about this place?" Xyro finally asked, his voice even.

Veynn glanced at him, her golden eyes unreadable. "I don't. I just understand it better than you."

Xyro's jaw tightened. "That's the same thing."

Veynn smirked. "Not really."

Her pace didn't slow, didn't falter. She was leading now.

And somehow, Xyro had let it happen.

Veynn continued, her tone soft, smooth. "Do you know what your problem is, Xyro?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

She let out a breath of laughter. "You still think you're in control of yourself."

Xyro didn't respond.

Because she was right.

And she knew it.

The Heat.

Her voice lowered, gentler now. "But that's a good thing. You don't break easily."

A small compliment. Building him up.

"That's rare."

Then—The Cold.

Her next words came sharper. "But that won't save you."

Xyro exhaled slowly. He could feel it happening now.

The push and pull.

The slow, invisible hand pulling strings in his head.

But knowing it was happening didn't stop it.

Veynn's smirk faded slightly, replaced by something quieter.

"Let me ask you something real, Xyro."

She stopped walking.

Xyro stopped, too.

Her golden eyes locked onto his, unblinking.

"If I told you I could make you remember—would you want to?"

The air felt too thin.

Xyro's throat tightened. "I already remember."

Veynn tilted her head slightly. "Do you?"

The words stung.

Because no. No, he didn't.

Xyro's mind wasn't his own anymore.

Not fully.

Not completely.

But just enough for him to wonder—

How had it happened?

He hadn't agreed to trust her.

He hadn't wanted to.

And yet—

Here he was.

Standing exactly where she had told him to stand.

Holding the dagger exactly how she had told him to hold it.

Not questioning. Not resisting.

Because somewhere along the way, she had made it his idea.

Veynn's voice was soft now.

"You understand now, don't you?"

He did.

"You see why you need me?"

Xyro's grip on the dagger tightened.

Veynn stepped closer.

And for the first time, she whispered something only for him.

A single command.

"Kill it."

Xyro's body moved before he could think.

He turned, blade flashing downward—

And plunged it into the creature behind them.

The thing that had been waiting.

The thing that had been watching.

It made no sound as it collapsed into the ground.

The trial had ended.

And Xyro had obeyed.

____________________________________

Orris – The Cost of Sound

Orris's fingers twitched.

The silence had grown heavier.

Like a living thing pressing against his skin.

The game was simple.

Don't speak. Don't react.

But the space around him wasn't empty anymore.

Something had stepped closer.

Not moving, not touching—but close enough that he could feel the air shift.

It wasn't waiting anymore.

It was expecting.

Orris exhaled softly, steady.

Then—

Something brushed against his arm.

Not wind. Not air.

Fingers.

Too many fingers.

His breath caught.

His voice slipped out before he could stop it.

"Don't touch me."

The words barely left his lips—

And the world collapsed.

Orris's lungs locked.

The silence ripped itself apart.

The air shattered with a sound too vast, too deafening to exist.

His ears rang violently.

The ground split beneath him.

And then—

He was falling.

He actually FAILED!

Silence

Then, in a single, unbearable moment—he landed.

Not on stone.

Not on sand.

On something that moved.

The ground beneath him was soft. Pulsing. Like flesh.

Orris didn't move.

Not because he was frozen in fear.

But because he could feel something breathing beneath him.

A slow, rhythmic expansion.

Like a sleeping thing.

Then—

A whisper.

Not from the air. Not from the walls.

From the ground.

"Why did you speak?"

Orris's hands curled into fists.

He didn't answer.

The whispering voice grew louder.

"You were supposed to listen."

The ground shuddered beneath him.

Orris exhaled slowly.

His mistake had been speaking.

But now, he had another choice.

Either he could play their game.

Or he could rewrite the rules.

He parted his lips—but didn't answer.

Instead—

He screamed.

A raw, piercing sound, tearing through the thick air like a knife.

The whisper immediately stopped.

Orris kept screaming.

Because the rules never said what kind of sound he had to make.

And in the end—

It wasn't his silence they wanted.

It was his voice.

_______________________________________

Zkarn

The eyes blinked.

A thousand golden irises fixated on him.

Their presence rippled through the air, a silent demand waiting for him to continue.

Zkarn ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Well, I do love an audience."

Silence.

Then, a sound.

The first sign of reaction.

A single clap.

Slow. Deliberate.

Zkarn smirked. "Oh, applause already? I haven't even started."

More claps.

Not in unison.

Not from hands.

Somewhere in the dark, something laughed.

Zkarn's grin sharpened.

"I get the feeling you don't actually care about my story."

Silence.

Then—

"We care about the ending."

Zkarn's pulse hitched.

Not because of what was said.

But because the voice had been his own.

Another laugh.

This time—closer.

The theater warped.

Zkarn took a slow breath, his heartbeat too steady.

They wanted a story.

Fine.

He'd give them one.

But he'd make sure it was his own.

The audience wasn't clapping anymore.

They were waiting.

Judging.

His words were the only thing keeping him here. Alive.

He knew that now.

The moment he stopped talking—they would decide.

He exhaled sharply. "You want an ending?"

The seats shifted.

A hundred golden eyes blinked in unison.

Zkarn grinned.

"Alright. Here's how the story ends."

The lights flickered.

The audience leaned forward.

And then, in the last moment—Zkarn laughed.

"The story doesn't end. Because I refuse to let it."

_______________________________________

THE TRIAL ENDS

Three choices.

Three endings.

Orris had changed the rules.

Xyro had obeyed.

Zkarn had broken the game itself.

The labyrinth had its answer.

A single, final voice whispered through the air.

"Judgment complete."

The world collapsed.

And all three woke up somewhere new.