The Broken Hourglass

The oppressive silence of the labyrinth gnawed at Evander's senses. Shadows twisted and pulsed along the cold stone walls, the eerie glow of embedded runes casting distorted reflections that seemed to watch their every move. Each step forward felt heavier, the weight of Maren's betrayal pressing against his chest like an iron vice.

Evander's gaze flicked toward him. Maren walked a step behind, arms crossed, his face a mask of feigned indifference. But Evander wasn't fooled. He could see the tension in Maren's shoulders, the way his fingers twitched with restless energy. A coward hiding behind bravado.

Iris's sharp voice cut through the gloom like a blade. "We could have died back there." Her amber eyes pinned Maren in place, cold and unyielding. "You knew that sigil was a trap, didn't you?"

Maren smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I did what I had to." His tone was casual, dismissive, but beneath it lay something else—resentment. "You wouldn't understand, Faelen. Some of us aren't born with a silver spoon in our mouths."

Evander clenched his fists. "And some of us don't sabotage our own team just to prove a point." His voice was measured, but the Arcane Weave stirred beneath his skin, itching to lash out. He reined it in, forcing himself to stay composed.

Maren's eyes flickered with something—anger, jealousy—but he only shrugged. "Survival of the fittest, Caldus. Or did you forget how the world works?"

Evander didn't answer. He didn't need to. He could see it now—Maren wasn't just desperate to prove himself; he was terrified of being left behind.

Iris exhaled sharply and turned away. "Enough. We move."

Callum lingered, shifting awkwardly between them, his hands fidgeting with his cloak. "We... we should stick together. That's what this trial is about, right?" His voice was unsure, lacking the confidence needed to hold the group together.

Evander sighed, nodding. "Let's go."

Maren fell in line behind them, his footsteps unnervingly quiet.

The Labyrinth's Challenge

The corridor stretched endlessly, walls shifting and rearranging behind them with every step. It was alive, feeding off their doubts and fears. Evander could feel it creeping under his skin, whispering his past failures into his ear.

Then, without warning, the passage opened into a grand chamber. Floating violet crystals pulsed ominously, illuminating the sleek, rune-carved construct standing at the center. Its featureless face turned toward them, and a low hum resonated through the air.

Evander's instincts screamed at him—this wasn't like the last one. It was faster, deadlier.

Iris read his thoughts, her body tensing. "This one's different."

Before she could issue an order, the construct moved. A streak of raw energy shot toward them, and Evander barely managed to dive aside as the blast scorched the ground.

Callum yelped, raising a barrier that shimmered weakly against the next attack. "I-I can't hold it!"

Iris wasted no time, her fingers weaving a sharp gust of wind that struck the construct's core, momentarily staggering it. "Evander, any bright ideas?"

He gritted his teeth, reaching for the Arcane Weave—but it slipped through his grasp, unstable in the labyrinth's warped magic. Damn it.

"I need a second," he muttered, trying again.

Maren scoffed from behind. "Looks like the Academy's golden boy is struggling."

Evander ignored him, forcing the magic into shape. A thin thread of energy coiled around his fingertips, and he sent it forward. It latched onto the construct's legs, binding them in place for a fleeting moment.

"Now!" he shouted.

Iris struck, unleashing another blast of wind, and the construct staggered. But it wasn't enough. It adapted, its runes flaring brighter as it surged forward.

Evander's heart pounded. They weren't coordinated enough—Maren's betrayal, Callum's hesitation, his own failure to control the Weave... it was all working against them.

And then he saw it.

A shadow.

Lingering at the edge of the chamber, barely visible in the shifting light. Evander's breath caught in his throat. The same shadow he had seen before—too familiar, too real.

No one else reacted. They couldn't see it.

Why am I the only one?

"Evander!" Iris's shout snapped him back just in time to dodge a crushing blow from the construct's arm.

Gritting his teeth, he forced the unsettling vision from his mind. Focus. He wove another thread of magic, this time forcing it to stabilize. He had to finish this.

Fractured Unity

As the dust settled and the construct lay in pieces, their victory felt hollow. Evander could see the cracks in their group widening.

Maren leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I don't need you. I can make it through this on my own." His voice was quieter this time, almost uncertain.

Evander stared at him, feeling exhaustion creep into his bones. "You might not need us. But we're in this together, whether you like it or not."

Iris wiped sweat from her brow, her gaze locked on Evander. "We're not out of this yet."

And deep inside, Evander knew—something far worse waited ahead.