No one objected. The five filed into the passage, their footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floor. The tunnel stretched longer than they had expected. After two turns, the slope levelled out, and the space suddenly opened wide.
They stood before a maze.
Not a figure of speech, an actual maze. The chamber was overwhelmingly vast, capped by a high‑reaching, edge‑less, deep‑grey vaulted ceiling.
Countless tall stone walls divided the ground into a tangled network of corridors. Every wall was built from pale grey stone bricks, overgrown with dark‑green moss.
The passages varied in width; some could fit three people walking side‑by‑side, while others were so narrow only one could squeeze through sideways. Runes carved into the walls glowed with faint blue light in the dimness, as though a long‑dormant ancient mechanism had finally stirred to life.
And it was moving.
Cecil stared at the nearest wall for three seconds to confirm he was not imagining things. The wall slid slowly left by roughly the width of a palm, then halted. The next second, another wall shifted right. One previously sealed corridor opened up, while another was blocked off by the movement.
"It’s moving," Oliver said, his throat dry. "This maze is shifting."
"A moving maze," Lydia murmured. "I have read of these in old legends. Some ancient ruins use shifting labyrinths as a guardian mechanism for their entrances. The walls rearrange themselves every so often, and the paths never stay the same."
Gwendolyn rose from Cecil’s shoulder, resting her front paws against his ear. Her blue eyes swept over the nearest stretch of stonework. "These runes are an early form of dragon script, two generations older than my mother’s era." A rare note of gravity coloured her tone. "This is not a trial ground. It is a seal site, a place built to contain something."
Cecil was about to step into the closest corridor when footsteps echoed from behind.
The sound was deliberate, neither quiet nor heavy — meant to be heard. Cecil stopped and turned. Through the glow at the tunnel entrance, seven or eight figures emerged one after another from the sloped passage. They wore grey‑blue academy uniforms, each accompanied by their spirit‑beasts. Cecil recognised the one leading them.
Leon von Grey.
His thunder griffin walked at his side, its golden feathers shimmering softly beneath the faint rune‑light. No surprise crossed Leon’s face upon seeing Cecil, as if he had known they would be here all along.
"Ashford," Leon began, his tone casual, almost conversational, yet an underlying edge hung heavy on every word, "Did you truly think you had stumbled across some secret entrance?"
One of the Group‑A students behind him stifled a laugh. The low rumble of the thunder griffin reverberated through the tunnel.
"Did you assume Group‑A would never find this portal?" Leon took two steps forward, stopping about five paces away from Cecil. "You fools from Group‑B. "
Cecil did not move. Neither did the four behind him, though Cecil could feel Freddy’s breathing grow heavier.
"So you followed us here?" Cecil asked.
"Followed?" Leon let out a short laugh. "No. We merely came to see what you Group‑B misfits were up to. After all, any zone you can unlock, we can enter whenever we please." He glanced toward the colossal shifting maze, genuine curiosity flickering across his features. "Though this... this is something new. You really lucked onto quite the discovery."
He gestured to the Group‑A students behind him. The seven spread out, three to the left and four to the right, forming a semi‑encircling formation before the maze entrance. Their spirit‑beasts slipped into combat stances: a silver‑maned wolf lowered its body, a fire‑feathered hawk spread its wings, and a rock tortoise’s shell took on a dull grey sheen.
"Group‑B," Leon said, "Stand aside. This maze belongs to us."
Cecil held his ground. His four companions did not retreat either. Moonlight and rune‑light wove a patchwork of light and shadow across the ground between the two groups, resembling an unfinished chessboard.
Gwendolyn crouched on Cecil’s shoulder, her tail hanging loose, her blue eyes watching the thunder griffin across the space. The griffin’s golden gaze met hers. Neither spirit‑beast made a sound, yet the air grew taut with unspoken tension.
Cecil stepped back once.
Then a second time, a third. He retreated slowly, unhurried, as if strolling through a garden while pausing to admire a flower. He moved to the centre of his group, then shifted sideways and made a sweeping, open‑hand gesture toward the maze entrance.
"Very well. The maze is yours," he said, with an easy, cooperative readiness Leon had never seen from him before. "Go explore. We will not stop you."
The four behind him froze for a split second.
Freddy recovered first. His mouth fell open, then snapped shut. His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, and he fought down a rising smirk. He stepped aside, clearing a wider path for the Group‑A students. Lydia moved to the other side, Ivy crawling back calmly onto her wrist. Oliver lifted Robin from his shoulder, held the falcon close, and stepped back against the wall. Edwin was the last to move. He glanced down at Rust at his feet; the beetle twitched its antennae. Without a word, he retreated to the wall’s base.
The whole group drew back, leaving a wide, unobstructed path leading to the maze entrance. Clear empty ground stretched from the opening all the way to the first shifting wall.
Leon stood five paces away, his expression hardening.
The seven Group‑A students behind him exchanged confused glances. Their semi‑circle formation wavered; some stepped inward, one recalled the silver‑maned wolf. The fire hawk folded its wings, and the dull glow on the rock tortoise’s shell faded.
"What is your game?" Leon’s voice dropped half an octave.
"It means exactly what I said. The maze is yours." Cecil slipped both hands into the pockets of his robe, his posture relaxed as though waiting for dinner. "You wanted in. The entrance is right here, the path is open, and the shifting walls are in motion. After you."
Leon stared at him. Ice‑blue eyes burned with a mix of frustration and hesitation, like damp firewood smouldering without catching flame.
Silence settled over the tunnel for several seconds.
"Do you think I dare not go in?" Leon challenged.
Cecil gave no verbal reply, only a small shrug that spoke volumes.
One of the Group‑A students behind Leon whispered, "Leon, we know nothing about this maze... maybe we should head back and look up records first?"
Another added, "He has a point. Who knows what lies inside. What if we cannot get back out‑‑"
"Silence," Leon snapped, without turning his head. Still, his formation continued to unravel. Two students inched backward, and the silver‑maned wolf whimpered, tucking its tail.
A deep rumble echoed from the maze entrance. Another wall slid into motion. A one‑person‑wide gap opened along one side of a narrow corridor, while the opposite passage slowly sealed shut. The labyrinth rearranged itself once more, like a deck of cards being shuffled anew.
Cecil watched the moving wall, his tone still calm and unrushed. "You should hurry if you mean to go inside. From what I have observed, the walls rearrange roughly every two minutes. The corridor in front of you is open now." He tilted his chin toward the newly formed gap. "But it might seal itself before long."
Leon clenched his fists. He stayed rooted in place, his gaze darting repeatedly between Cecil and the maze entrance.
"Are you going first?" Cecil added dryly. "Or would you like us to fetch you a chair to wait?"
Freddy could not hold back a quiet, stifled laugh, a muffled, strangled sound. He quickly covered his mouth with the back of his hand, yet his shaking shoulders gave him away.
None of the seven Group‑A students moved.
They wanted to enter, of course they did. This was clearly a high‑rank seal site, almost certainly brimming with rare resources, and whoever went in first would claim them. But they had witnessed the walls shift for themselves. The low, grinding rumble of massive stone scraping against the earth had sounded like a giant beast rolling over in its sleep. If they stepped inside and the walls locked them in, with no map, no guide, and an exit that could turn into solid stone in two short minutes‑‑
Leon held Cecil’s gaze for a long time.
Cecil met his eyes steadily, hands still tucked in his pockets. Up on his shoulder, Gwendolyn yawned, resting her chin against his collar and lazily closing her eyes.
"You play dirty," Leon finally said, his voice low, each word spoken softly, as if holding a shard of ice he could neither swallow nor spit out.