Ethan had barely regained his footing in the pit when he heard the first unsettling sound. A distant echo, like someone whispering his name. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. His mind raced. Was it real? He had just fallen into a trap — was this another part of the maze? Or was he losing his mind? He couldn't afford to be weak now, not when he was this close to the end.
He slowly rose to his feet, brushing dirt and debris from his clothes. The pit was deeper than he thought, and the walls were slick with moisture. There were no obvious exits, no clues to how he could climb out. It was just a trap. A dead end.
Ethan's mind scrambled for a solution. His fingers brushed against the walls, searching for any grip that could help him ascend, but the stone was smooth, slick, impossible to scale. The whispering sound came again, louder this time, like a breath in his ear.
"Ethan…"
His heart skipped a beat. He whipped around, but there was no one. Just shadows. Just the deep, unrelenting darkness of the pit. He wasn't alone — he was never alone in this maze. But this time, it wasn't just the game playing tricks on him. Something else was happening.
The whisper came again, this time clearer, more distinct.
"Ethan, I'm sorry."
It sounded like his mother. Her voice had always been soft, kind, warm. But now, it was broken, strained, and filled with sorrow. His chest tightened. He hadn't thought about her in years. After the accident, after everything that had happened, he'd shut that part of himself away. But now, it was like she was here, with him, in the maze.
His breath hitched. Could it really be her? Was the maze pulling on his deepest memories, dragging out the people he had lost, forcing him to confront his past?
"Mom?" His voice cracked, the word barely a whisper.
Nothing. No answer.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This was the maze's doing, just a cruel illusion. It had to be. He couldn't let it control him. His thoughts began to race. Was this part of the game? Could they really manipulate his mind like this?
Suddenly, a figure appeared at the edge of the pit — his mother. Or someone who looked like her. She was standing there, smiling, her eyes filled with regret.
"Come back, Ethan. You don't have to fight anymore."
The image of his mother stretched toward him, her hand outstretched. For a brief moment, he considered it. To give up. To let go. But then he remembered what was at stake. He had to survive. He had to win.
"No," he whispered to himself. "I can't."
The figure of his mother began to dissolve before his eyes, her face twisting into something darker. The soft smile vanished, replaced by something cruel, mocking. The illusion broke. The walls of the pit seemed to fade, replaced by images of his past — memories of his childhood, his family, his failures. They came crashing down on him, each memory more painful than the last.
Ethan stumbled back, his head spinning. The walls were closing in. He could feel the weight of his past pressing against him, suffocating him. But this wasn't real. He forced himself to breathe deeply, trying to ground himself in the present.
"Get a grip," he muttered under his breath. "It's not real."
But the hallucinations continued. Now, other figures appeared in the maze — faces from his past, friends, family, even his ex-girlfriend. Each one was a reminder of everything he had lost, everything that had been taken from him. They all called to him, urging him to turn back. To give up.
The whispering voices grew louder, more frantic. The maze was playing tricks on him. The walls themselves seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Meanwhile, outside the pit, the others were facing their own challenges. Violet was alone in her section of the maze, the walls pressing in from all sides. Her steps were slow, cautious, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. She felt it, too — the weight of the maze's influence, creeping into her mind. The walls seemed to close in around her, twisting like a labyrinth of her worst fears.
Violet had learned long ago to keep her emotions in check. To build walls around herself. But the maze was different. It didn't allow walls. The deeper she went, the more her past crept into her thoughts, haunting her.
She saw her family — her father, a cold, distant figure who had never once shown her affection. She remembered the day he disowned her, throwing her out of the house. The humiliation, the feeling of being worthless. Her entire life had been shaped by that moment. It had shaped who she was, the walls she'd built, the guard she kept up. But now, in the maze, it all came crashing down.
"Violet…" her father's voice echoed, his tone cold and unforgiving. "You'll never be anything. Just like your mother."
Her chest tightened, the suffocating weight of his words pressing in on her. It wasn't real. She knew that. But it felt real. It felt like the maze was pulling on her insecurities, twisting them into something monstrous.
She shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She couldn't let it control her. Not now. Not when everything was on the line.
As she pressed forward, she could feel the maze's grip tightening around her. The hallucinations didn't stop. They shifted, each time drawing from a deeper part of her past. It was like the maze knew them all — knew their weakest moments, their deepest regrets. It preyed on their fears, forcing them to confront the parts of themselves they tried to forget.
Back in the pit, Ethan's head was spinning. His surroundings had shifted again, the illusion dissipating as quickly as it had come. He could feel the weight of the maze pressing on him, like it was trying to suffocate him. The walls were still there, but now they seemed even further away, like they were retreating into the distance.
He had to escape. He had to find a way out. He couldn't let this place break him.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. His hands shook, but he wiped away the sweat from his brow. The voices were fading, the hallucinations becoming quieter. He wasn't alone, but that didn't matter now. He had one goal: survival.
Ethan reached up to the walls of the pit, his hands searching for any kind of hold. There had to be something. A way out. He wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.