The door groaned open, spilling out mist and noise.

  They stepped through—and stopped.

  Before them stretched a river the size of an argument with physics. It wasn’t so much flowing as thrashing. White foam clawed at jagged rocks, entire trees spun helplessly in the current, and spray drifted like angry rain.

  Bert whistled. “That’s… not a puzzle. That’s a blender with scenery.”

  The Maze pulsed.

  Environmental description confirmed: Hazardous.

  Across the churning expanse, barely visible through the spray, stood another stone platform. Upon it, gleaming innocently, sat a crystal pedestal with a single glowing gem. Above it shimmered a door—the kind of door that whispered next level if you squinted optimistically.

  Leo frowned. “So. Obvious goal. Obvious danger. Classic design.”

  Harlada shaded her eyes. “Any chance the water’s just decorative?”

  No.

  She sighed. “Figures.” Then, with a casual lift, she rose a few meters off the ground, hovering above the rushing current. The wind whipped her hair and hat into chaos.

  Bert stared, impressed. “You can just float over?”

  Harlada glanced down. “Technically, yes. Practically, no. I can’t carry either of you without dislocating something expensive.”

  Bert looked offended. “I’m light!”

  “You’re loud,” she corrected.

  The Maze pulsed.

  Weight check unavailable. Ego check: Failing.

  Leo studied the raging current, hands on his hips. “All right. Bridge? Ferry? Secret path? Something puzzly.”

  Harlada pointed downstream. “Unless the puzzle is ‘don’t.’”

  The Maze pulsed again, almost cheerfully.

  Objective: Reach the opposite bank. Method: Your problem.

  Leo sighed. “Of course.”

  Bert peered across the chaos. “At least we can see the door this time. That’s progress!”

  Progress metric: Philosophical.

  They stood together, wind whipping their hair, staring at the furious river between them and survival.

  Leo adjusted his grip on the swatter. “All right. Think. We’re clever, capable, and mostly waterproof.”

  Harlada groaned. “You’re about to make this worse, aren’t you?”

  The Maze pulsed, dry as ever.

  Prediction: 97% confidence.

  ***

  The roar of the water made conversation feel like yelling into a hurricane, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Leo pointed across the wild current. “All right, we need a plan. We can’t just charge in like idiots.”

  Bert nodded seriously. “So we split up!”

  Harlada groaned. “That is literally charging in like idiots, just less together.”

  “No, no,” Bert insisted. “Two groups. One goes right, one goes left. We see which side has a better crossing point.”

  Leo tilted his head. “That’s… not terrible.”

  “See?” Bert said proudly. “I volunteer to go with Harlada.”

  “I veto that immediately,” Harlada said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you radiate unfortunate outcomes.”

  Bert frowned. “That’s prejudice.”

  “That’s experience.”

  The Maze pulsed.

  Internal conflict detected. Team cohesion: Circling the drain.

  Leo stepped between them, raising both hands. “Enough. We’re not fighting next to a river that eats rocks. We’ll go together—first right, then left. No splitting up until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Bert looked disappointed. “But then who scouts ahead dramatically?”

  “You can scout loudly behind me,” Leo said.

  Harlada floated a few inches higher, arms crossed. “Fine. Group adventure. Democracy wins again.”

  “Exactly,” Leo said, straightening his shoulders. “We take our time. We observe. We think.”

  The Maze pulsed, skeptical.

  Observation timer started. Expected outcome: Regret.

  They turned to the right, following the roaring bank, mist spraying their faces like the river’s laughter.

  Bert leaned toward Harlada. “You know, this teamwork thing really works when you stop resisting it.”

  She didn’t even look at him. “If I fall in, I’m haunting you first.”

  ***

  They followed the riverbank until the chaos softened—if a hurricane could be said to soften.

  Here, the current still thundered, but the foam looked merely fatal instead of apocalyptic.

  A few scattered stones broke the surface like cautious optimism.

  Leo pointed. “There. Slower water. That’s our spot.”

  Harlada frowned. “That’s still moving.”

  “Everything moves,” Leo said, already stepping forward. “We adapt.”

  Bert grinned. “Finally, some action!”

  The Maze pulsed.

  Observation: Confidence detected. Forecast: Short-lived.

  Leo tested the edge with one boot, then committed.

  The water hit him like a wall made of angry glass.

  He managed a single heroic gasp before the river folded him under and spun him away like punctuation.

  Bert blinked. “He went fast.”

  “Heroically fast,” Harlada said. “All right—my turn.”

  She looked at the current, sighed, and started wading in after him.

  The Maze pulsed.

  Attempt: Leo terminated. Rating: Pathetic.

  Bert grabbed a half-submerged log, fighting his way forward. The current clawed at his legs, tugged at his waist, then tore him loose entirely.

  “Tell Leo I—” he began, before vanishing into white spray.

  Attempt: Bert completed. Respiration: Zero.

  Harlada hovered above the water, grim-faced. “Amateurs.”

  She glided out across the torrent, steady at first, cloak snapping in the wind.

  For a glorious few seconds she was grace incarnate—until the wind changed.

  The gust caught her sideways like a slap from nature itself.

  She spun, over-corrected, and the river reached up to claim her.

  The Maze pulsed, unhurried.

  Attempt: Harlada failed. Cause of death: Aerodynamic overconfidence.

  Foam swallowed her hat last.

  Silence reclaimed the shore—only the roar of water and the quiet, professional satisfaction of a level doing its job.

  After a long pause, the Maze pulsed once more, politely:

  Well. It took them a long time to die this time. Perhaps there is hope for them.