The first mistake was stopping to listen.
Joren realized that much too late.
They had been running for a long time, long enough that his legs had stopped complaining and settled into a steady burn that felt almost manageable. The corridor twisted downward in shallow curves, wide enough for three people side by side if they were desperate, which they were.
The air vibrated.
Not loudly. Not urgently. It crept into the body the way cold did, bypassing thought and going straight for muscle.
Joren slowed and raised a hand.
They stopped behind him without being told.
That alone said a lot about how long they had been together.
The group stood pressed against the right wall, breathing quietly. Six of them, counting Joren. He did a quick head check, eyes flicking from face to face. Everyone was still there.
For now.
The vibration deepened.
Someone behind him whispered, barely moving their lips."Do you hear that"
Joren nodded once.
He had heard it for a while. The mistake was believing it was safe enough to acknowledge.
The sound came again, closer this time. Stone grinding against stone, layered with something softer underneath.
An Artifice was moving.
Joren closed his eyes for half a second and counted his breaths. He forced himself not to rush. Panic made noise. Noise drew attention.
He opened his eyes and leaned back toward the group.
"Slow pace" he murmured. "No sudden turns. If it sees us we split, same paths as before"
A few nods. One girl swallowed hard and wiped her palms against her pants.
They started moving again.
The corridor widened gradually, opening into a junction where several paths branched out like veins. The floor here was smoother, polished by passage or design. Joren did not like it.
Open spaces gave Artifices room.
They crossed halfway when the vibration spiked.
Something shifted behind them.
Joren did not turn.
The girl at the back did.
Her breath hitched. That sound carried.
The Artifice emerged from the corridor they had just left.
It did not crawl or walk in any recognizable way. Its movement resembled correction rather than locomotion, as though reality adjusted itself around its presence. Plates of pale material folded and unfolded along its surface, revealing inner structures that pulsed faintly. Not organs. Not machines. Something in between that refused clear classification.
Its outline evoked familiar shapes without committing to them. A suggestion of limbs that bent too many times. A curve that reminded Joren of a rib cage seen from the wrong angle. A hollow space where a face might have been, filled with rotating segments that reflected the corridor in fractured pieces.
It paused.
The vibration dropped into silence.
Joren felt the moment stretch thin.
Then the Artifice moved again.
They ran.
The group scattered exactly as planned, splitting into two paths. Joren took left with three others. He did not look back to see who went right. Knowing would not help.
The corridor narrowed quickly, forcing them into single file. Their footsteps echoed unevenly, swallowed and returned by the walls. Joren focused on breathing through his nose, keeping his pace just under reckless.
Behind them, the sound followed.
The Artifice did not chase in a straight line. It flowed. It adjusted. It learned the shape of the corridor as it moved, filling it without touching the walls. The vibration returned, stronger now, layered with faint clicking sounds that reminded Joren of joints testing their limits.
A turn appeared ahead.
Joren took it hard, shoulder scraping stone. The man behind him stumbled but recovered without speaking. They kept moving.
The corridor dipped sharply, then leveled out into a long stretch that sloped downward.
Joren risked a glance over his shoulder.
The Artifice had slowed.
That was worse.
It tilted, parts of its structure shifting inward. The rotating segments in its hollow center rearranged themselves. The vibration changed pitch.
"I-Is it thinking?!" someone whispered.
Joren did not respond.
He pushed harder, lungs burning now. The corridor opened suddenly into a vertical drop bridged by a narrow span of stone.
They did not slow.
Joren crossed first, feet finding balance instinctively. The stone flexed slightly beneath him. He reached the far side and grabbed the next person by the arm, pulling them through. The bridge shuddered as the third crossed.
The Artifice reached the edge.
Its structure elongated, plates unfolding into a shape that spanned the gap without touching the bridge. It did not fall. It simply occupied the space between.
The bridge cracked.
Joren shoved the last person forward and leapt away as the stone gave out. The sound of breaking echoed upward and downward, swallowed by darkness.
They ran again.
The corridor ahead spiraled upward now, tighter and more irregular. Joren's chest burned. His vision narrowed. He could hear the others struggling to keep up.
A memory surfaced unbidden.
A different run. A different place. He remembered someone telling him to slow down. He remembered ignoring them.
The memory dissolved as quickly as it came.
They burst into another chamber.
This one was smaller, cluttered with uneven stone pillars and broken segments of wall that suggested collapse or design meant to mimic it. Joren slowed, forcing the group to spread out among the cover.
"Quiet" he whispered.
They pressed themselves into shadow.
The Artifice did not enter immediately.
The vibration lingered at the edge of perception, circling the chamber. Stone groaned faintly as something heavy shifted outside.
Joren counted heartbeats.
One. Two. Three.
A limb slid into view between two pillars.
It resembled an arm only in the sense that it extended. Segmented plates rolled over one another, revealing layers beneath that pulsed in slow rhythm. The surface glistened faintly, catching the ambient light.
The limb withdrew.
The Artifice waited.
Joren's jaw clenched.
It was listening.
The maze itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then something changed.
The vibration faltered.
The Artifice withdrew completely.
Silence settled.
No one moved.
Joren waited longer than felt comfortable. Then longer still. Finally, he exhaled slowly.
"It is gone" someone whispered.
"Moved" Joren corrected. "Not gone"
They regrouped near the center of the chamber. One of them leaned against a pillar, shaking. Another sat on the floor, head in hands.
Joren scanned the exits.
Too many.
That was when he noticed the figure at the far end of the chamber.
A boy stood there, half in shadow.
White hair caught the ambient light, impossible to miss. His eyes reflected faint bands of color when he shifted his gaze. He stood still, watching them with open curiosity rather than alarm.
He did not look injured. He did not look frightened.
He looked like he had just been exploring.
Joren's grip tightened around the piece of stone he carried as a weapon.
The boy raised one hand slowly, palm open and waved with a soft smile.
No one spoke.
The silence stretched, heavy with recent fear.
Joren took a cautious step forward.
The boy did not retreat.
Behind Joren, someone whispered, barely audible.
"Is he real...?"
Joren studied the boy's posture, the way his weight rested evenly, the way his eyes tracked movement without darting.
He clearly had not been running.
That alone made him dangerous or valuable.
Or both.
Somewhere far away, stone shifted.
The maze listened.