Zabo stirred awake, gasping for breath as though he had just been pulled from the depths of an icy sea. He sat upright, the cold, damp air of the room pressing heavily against his skin. Briefly, his mind was blank, the horrors of the dream slipping away like water through his fingers. But reality quickly settled in, and he realized he wasn’t alone.


    “Sabir?” he croaked, his voice rough and strained. His gaze fell on Sabir, who was curled on the ground, clutching his chest as if trying to protect something unseen. Tears streamed down his face, his eyes squeezed shut as he muttered incoherently.


    “Hey, come on, snap out of it,” Zabo said, crawling over to him. He reached out to shake Sabir, but the boy flinched violently, swatting Zabo’s hand away.


    “Leave me alone,” Sabir choked out, his voice raw and broken. His grip on his chest tightened, and his body trembled with sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep within, somewhere no one could reach.


    Zabo backed off, his lips pressing into a thin line. He glanced around the chamber, his eyes catching on Elektra and Warren. They were sitting against one of the moss-covered walls, their arms wrapped around each other in a tender embrace. Their foreheads were touching, their expressions eerily peaceful, as though they had found solace even amid this nightmare.


    “Well, that’d be real cute if this place wasn’t so terrifying,” Zabo muttered, his voice laced with dry humor, though his hands were shaking.


    Determined, he pushed himself up and shuffled over to the pair. He shook Warren by the shoulder, then Elektra, but neither of them stirred. Their breathing was slow and steady, their faces serene. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder.


    It was then that his gaze landed on Saliba. The man was upright, restrained by the twisting, living vines Maize had placed on him earlier. But something was wrong—very wrong. Saliba’s body convulsed violently, his head jerking back and forth, his mouth frothing as though he were choking on his own saliva.


    “Jesus, is he dying?” Zabo whispered, momentarily frozen in horrified indecision. His heart hammered in his chest as he took a cautious step closer, unsure whether he could—or even should—do something. He placed a tentative hand on Saliba’s shoulder, trying to steady him, but the man’s spasms continued unabated.


    Before Zabo could decide what to do, he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He whipped around to see Maize sitting up, her piercing green eyes fluttering open. Her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat, and she looked as though she had just fought her way out of some terrible place.


    “You got out of it too?” Zabo asked, relief slipping into his tone despite himself.


    Maize rubbed her temples, her face darkened with lingering tension. “You too?”


    Zabo nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure I was asleep or... something. But I woke up.”


    “Right,” Maize muttered, her tone flat but tinged with unease. “Makes sense.”


    Zabo tilted his head, studying her. “Out of curiosity, what did you see? You know, just so we can, uh, compare notes.”


    Maize hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, she seemed to weigh her words carefully. Then she sighed. “I became the matriarch of the Gaian family,” she said, her tone bitter. “But my rise to power came at a cost. The entirety of Sector 3 burned to ash under my leadership. At first, it felt real, but then I realized it was just a dream... or a nightmare. Once I rationalized it, everything crumbled away, and I woke up.” She glanced at Zabo. “What about you?”


    Zabo shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... something similar.” He avoided her gaze. “So... why do you think this happened? What’s the point of these dreams—or whatever they were?”


    Maize leaned back, her eyes scanning the chamber. Her gaze fell on the eerie goat-headed statue at the center, its hollow eyes staring into the void. “Well, first of all, it’s a punishment,” she said, her voice cold and matter-of-fact.


    Zabo snorted, cutting her off. “For getting the riddle wrong? Yeah, that’s obvious. And thanks for that, by the way.”


    Maize scowled, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, her eyes drifted to the ornate sea-themed carvings that adorned the chamber walls. Waves, ships, and storm clouds were carved into the stone with haunting precision, as though they were alive.


    “I think these dreams are meant to break us mentally,” she said after a long pause. “To twist an important aspect, that makes us who we are. A twisted journey, if you will.”


    Zabo raised an eyebrow. “Twisted journeys? What does that even mean?”


    Maize turned to him, her expression unusually solemn. “Everyone in life has a journey, a path they’re meant to follow. This chamber—look at it. It’s all about sea travel, about voyages and storms. Life itself is a journey, and the punishment here is to show our life’s journey, everything our lives amounted to—twisted, corrupted. It’s meant to bring us to our least desired destination.”


    Zabo frowned, his thoughts swirling. “But... what if it shows us the past? What if it’s not about the future at all?”


    Maize tapped her chin, considering his words. “Hm. If it’s the past, then maybe your fate is already set in stone. There’s no twisting it—because it’s already happened.”


    “I didn’t say it was my past,” Zabo shot back defensively, crossing his arms.


    Maize shrugged. “Sure,” she said, her tone indifferent, though the faintest smirk tugged at her lips. She turned her attention back to the room, her eyes landing on Sabir, still clutching his chest and crying out softly. Elektra and Warren remained locked in their embrace, unmoving, while Saliba’s frothing mouth and violent convulsions only seemed to worsen.


    “Well,” Maize said, pushing herself to her feet and brushing off her pants, “Chain Boy, we’ve got a riddle to figure out.”


    Zabo groaned, glaring at her. “I’m not called Chain Boy.”


    Maize ignored him, striding toward the centerpiece goat statue of the room. “If we don’t solve it, they’re going to be stuck in those dreams forever. So, unless you want that on your conscience, I suggest you help.”


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Zabo sighed, reluctantly following her. “Fine. But stop calling me Chain Boy.”


    Maize smirked, her fingers brushing against the cold stone of the statue. “We’ll see.”


    Together, they turned their attention to the task at hand, the weight of the chamber pressing down on them like the crushing depths of the sea. Whatever the answer was, they had to find it—and fast.


    Maize’s voice echoed in the cavern as she muttered the riddle for what felt like the hundredth time, her frustration growing with each repetition:


    “To unlock the path, arrange the stars;


    What was divided, align as they are.


    Speak the word that ends all,


    And the path shall open.”


    She exhaled sharply, gripping her hair in exasperation. “What constellation could we possibly rearrange it to?” she demanded, staring at the statues in front of her. The goat statue, smug and unyielding, seemed to mock her from its pedestal. Its carved face was expressionless, yet its presence felt eerily taunting.


    Before Zabo was able to respond with one of his usual snarky remarks, the goat statue’s eyes glowed an ominous red, casting a sinister light across the chamber. With a deep rumble, the door behind them creaked open.


    Both Maize and Zabo turned sharply, only to see the monstrous crab they had hoped was long gone. It skittered into the chamber, its jagged claws coated in fresh blood. Rudiger’s blood.


    Zabo’s face hardened. “Shit.”


    The crab hissed, its grotesque, chitinous body glinting under the dim light of the chamber.


    Maize tightened her grip on her satchel of beans. “We are so screwed.”


    Zabo, however, took a step forward, his chains clinking ominously. “I can probably beat it. You work on the statues. I’ll fight the crab.”


    Maize whipped her head toward him, incredulous. “You’re going to die! That thing isn’t just a monster—it’s like it’s from a whole other world.”


    Zabo smirked, raising his chains. “I’m not dying to a glorified spider with claws.”


    Without another word, he lunged at the crab. His chains roared to life, glowing faintly with the power of his aura. Each swing was deliberate and brutal, the chains cracking like whips and slamming into the crab’s armored body. The force of the attacks caused sparks to fly, and the ground trembled beneath them.


    The crab screeched in rage, retaliating with rapid swipes of its claws. Zabo ducked and weaved, his chains moving in a flurry of destruction.


    Maize hesitated for only a moment before refocusing on the statues. Her hands moved swiftly as she examined each figure, their star-like designs etched into the stone. She tried rearranging them again, moving them into what she thought might represent a constellation, but nothing happened.


    Behind her, Zabo was still locked in combat. The crab, realizing it couldn’t overpower him, turned its attention to Maize. With a guttural roar, it charged at her.


    “Watch out!” Zabo yelled, but Maize was already moving. She tossed a handful of beans onto the ground, and a shield of thorny vines erupted ahead of her. The crab’s claw smashed into the shield, breaking through and sending Maize flying backward.


    She hit the ground hard, pain shooting through her body. Ignoring it, she scrambled to her feet, her eyes flashing with determination.


    “Let’s switch!” she shouted to Zabo. “You work on the riddle—I’ll take the crab!”


    Zabo hesitated. “Are you sure?!”


    “Just do it!”


    Grumbling under his breath, Zabo retreated to the statues while Maize faced off against the crab. She flung another handful of beans, and more vines erupted, snaking toward the creature. The crab snapped its claws, cutting through some of the vines, but others wrapped around its legs, anchoring it in place.


    Meanwhile, Zabo stared at the statues, his frustration mounting. The riddle swirled in his mind, mocking him with its cryptic nature.


    “Arrange the stars… What was divided, align… Speak the word…”


    “None of this makes sense!” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “Screw it.”


    He began moving the statues into a straight line, his patience completely gone. Behind him, Maize was locked in a desperate battle. The crab was relentless, breaking free of the vines and lunging at her with terrifying speed. She barely dodged, throwing more beans to summon another wave of thorny plants.


    “Have you figured it out yet?!” she yelled over her shoulder.


    Zabo glanced at his haphazard arrangement. “I think I’m done!” He placed them in a straight line.


    Maize turned her head to look, her jaw dropping. “Are you serious?! That’s the best you could come up with?!”


    Before Zabo could defend himself, Maize’s frustration boiled over, her breath ragged and eyes blazing with fury. She thrust her hand into her satchel, clutching a single bean as if it were her last weapon. Without hesitation, she hurled it toward the crab with all her might, her voice ringing out in defiance.


    The bean struck the ground with a sharp crack, and for a split second, there was silence. Then, the floor beneath the crab trembled violently. A deep rumble echoed through the chamber as the ground split apart, and from the fissure, an enormous vine erupted with explosive force.


    The vine was not merely a plant—it was a living weapon, twisting and writhing as if possessed. Its thorn-covered surface glinted like blades, each movement accompanied by the sound of tearing stone and air. It surged toward the crab at lightning speed, its shadow engulfing the creature.


    The crab shrieked in terror, its claws snapping wildly in a futile attempt to ward off the attack. The vine coiled around its legs, tightening with bone-crushing force. The creature thrashed, its body convulsing as the vine constricted, dragging it backward.


    But Maize wasn’t done. She clenched her fists, her Esper powers flaring like wildfire. The vine obeyed her command, surging upward and impaling the crab with a sickening crunch. The power of the attack lifted the monstrous creature off the ground, its massive body writhing in agony as the vine skewered it completely.


    A final, guttural screech escaped the crab’s mandibles, its claws twitching weakly before falling limp. The beast hung suspended for a moment, the vine holding it aloft like a trophy of Maize’s wrath. Then, with a loud crash, the vine retracted, slamming the lifeless creature to the ground.


    Dust and debris filled the air as silence settled over the chamber. The once-terrifying crab lay motionless, its blood pooling around the twisted remains of the vine. Maize stood amidst the chaos, her chest heaving as she glared at the defeated beast, her anger still simmering beneath the surface.


    Zabo could only stare, wide-eyed, his earlier smugness replaced by sheer awe. “Holy shit,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You’re terrifying.”


    Maize marched toward him, panting heavily and glaring daggers. “I have to do everything around here, don’t I?”


    As Zabo was about to respond, he noticed something behind her. His eyes widened, and he started pointing.


    “What?” Maize snapped, turning around.


    Elektra and Warren were stirring, their bodies tangled together as they slowly woke up. They seemed to realize their closeness at the same time and hastily pushed away from each other, their faces flushing with embarrassment.


    Maize’s jaw dropped. “Wait… you solved the riddle?”


    Zabo crossed his arms, smirking. “Of course I did. I’m a genius.”


    Internally, though, he was screaming. I have no idea what I just did!


    Before they could check on Sabir, a chilling breeze swept through the chamber. Zabo felt the ground beneath him tremble and looked down. His heart sank.


    The floor was vanishing.


    “Uh, guys?”


    The others looked down just as the ground gave way completely. With a collective cry, they plummeted into the darkness below, the chamber disappearing into the abyss.