Chapter 37: Something Lurking Ahead!

Cecil opened his eyes. He had no idea how long he’d slept, yet the heavy exhaustion weighing down his body had been replaced by something soft. He glanced down at his outstretched hands — his fingertips were warm, with no trace of lingering frost. He felt far better than he had before falling asleep.

The first thing he noticed, however, was movement on his shoulder.

Gwendolyn was perched atop him, her blue‑and‑white scales glistening softly under the warm white lamplight. She had reverted to her lizard form, just as she always was, yet there was one difference. Her small claws rested lightly along the edge of his ear, and her tail curled around the back of his neck, winding half a loop more tightly than usual. Stranger still, her mouth was curved upward, like a small creature dreaming of something delicious.

She was smiling. Her lips stayed upturned even in slumber.

Cecil stared at her for several seconds, then shifted his shoulder ever so slightly.

Gwendolyn’s eyes flew open. They focused for a split second before widening sharply. She felt the curve of her own mouth and quickly straightened it. She leaped from his shoulder onto his knees, tail held erect, and stared up at him as if nothing had happened. Still, her claws unconsciously scraped at the edge of the straw mat, twice, before stilling.

"...What’s there to stare at?" she said. Her voice was half a note lower than normal, the ending laced with tightly suppressed tension.

"Nothing," Cecil replied. "I just woke up."

"Then look somewhere else. Look at the wall. Look at the floor. Why stare at me?"

The corner of Cecil’s mouth twitched. "Don’t be so hostile. We aren’t enemies."

Gwendolyn shot him a practiced glare — her classic retort‑ready expression. Yet right after rolling her eyes, the tip of her tail flicked lightly against his knee, half as forceful as it used to be, more like a gentle pat on the mat.

Freddy’s voice came from nearby, rough and groggy from sleep. "...What are you two bickering about?"

Cecil turned his head. Freddy was sitting up, rubbing his eyes. Turner poked his grey‑furred head out from Freddy’s arms, his tiny nose twitching. Lydia had also woken, leaning against the wall. Ivy slid down from her neck into her palm, its emerald body slowly unfurling.

"We aren’t bickering," Cecil said.

"You two were definitely‑‑" Freddy’s gaze darted back and forth between Cecil and Gwendolyn, "‑‑your tones are different from yesterday. You’re still sniping at each other, but it feels... how should I put it..."

"Feels what?" Gwendolyn’s blue eyes turned toward him.

Freddy shrank his neck under her stare. "N‑nothing. Probably just sleep‑fogged."

Lydia wrapped Ivy back around her wrist and shot Cecil a glance. She said nothing, yet her movements slowed for a beat, as if processing something unspoken.

Footsteps echoed from the far side of the chamber. Vera stepped out of the shadows, her amber eyes sweeping over the three who had woken, her usual half‑smile playing across her lips.

"You’re awake. Let’s go over today’s scouting plan." She brushed dust off her hands and unrolled an old sheet of paper on the ground. "While you were asleep, I mapped out the outer passageways. The seven entry routes each have different numbers and angles of turns, yet they follow certain patterns."

She crouched down and drew several lines with her finger, dotted lines marking intersection points between them.

"Us three long‑term survivors have traversed seven separate paths. Martha took four, Emon six, and I eleven. Every single one loops back to this stone chamber." Her finger paused on one dotted line. "But your path — the genuine Beast Gate route you took — does not appear on any of these maps."

Cecil sat upright. Gwendolyn stood on his knees, tail raised, her blue eyes fixed on the aged paper.

"So our route does not overlap with yours?"

"Exactly." Vera looked up at him. "Your path was opened for you by this maze itself. Everyone else’s routes are the maze’s default guiding paths — they lead you to this refuge, then trap you. Yours is different. Yours is‑‑" she chose her words carefully, "‑‑a passage carved out specifically for you."

A moment of quiet hung in the chamber.

Gwendolyn crouched on Cecil’s lap, her tail brushing lightly against his robes. Her voice returned to its customary steady cadence, with a slight pause added. "...So you are certain we can escape through the Beast Gate."

Vera met her gaze, her amber eyes brightening. "I cannot be certain. But I can say this — if you truly are a dragon. The maze’s foundational structure is woven from dragon‑kind runes. You can walk the true path."

Gwendolyn gave no verbal reply. Yet when her tail swept across Cecil’s robes a second time, it lingered for a heartbeat, as if saying yes.

Cecil smoothed the creases of his robe. Freddy and Lydia rose to their feet, their spirit beasts returning to their usual perches. Martha walked over and knelt before the map. Emon lifted Silver‑Eye from the beam and settled the falcon on his shoulder. Lena stood half a step behind her sister, holding her book, her colourful butterfly resting in her braid, wings opening and closing slowly.

The seven of them gathered around Vera’s old map. Its lines glowed with the faint brown tint of aged parchment beneath the warm lamplight, every dotted line representing nights of trial and futile return.

"Our goal for today‑‑" Vera’s finger rested on the centre of the paper, "‑‑is to find where the genuine Beast Gate path extends. We failed to get further yesterday; today we will try again."

Cecil studied the lines for a moment, then glanced at Gwendolyn perched on his shoulder. Her blue eyes were fixed on the map, tail swaying gently.

"Let’s go," he said.

And so the seven set off in earnest. Vera took the lead, Martha close behind, Emon in the middle of the group, Lena following half a step behind her sister. Cecil brought Freddy and Lydia at the rear, Gwendolyn perched on his shoulder, her tail swaying softly along the edge of his collar.

The corridor was wider than the ones they had passed through yesterday. Runes on the walls glowed with steady silvery‑grey light. After walking roughly two minutes, Vera halted at a fork. She checked the newly charcoal‑marked routes on her map and turned left.

"I have never taken this way before," she said. "Judging by the rune patterns your lizard detected, this area should remain unaltered."

Gwendolyn leaned half‑way out from Cecil’s shoulder, her blue eyes scanning the runes on the corner wall. "Left is correct. The runes beneath the right passage show signs of splicing; someone tampered with them."

"Very well, left it is."

The seven filed into the left passage. Beyond the fork, the space narrowed abruptly. What had been wide enough for two people to walk side‑by‑side shrank after one bend to barely fit a single person. Moss thinned on either stone wall, revealing pale‑grey rock etched with dense fine lines. Unlike the disguise runes around the Beast Gate, these markings were neatly arranged, as if carved stroke‑by‑stroke with an extremely delicate chisel, each line ending in a tiny circular knot.

"...These are the original runes," Gwendolyn said, her voice lowering. "No tampering. These were carved when the maze was first built."

Lena, walking behind Vera, slowed her steps at those words. Her colourful butterfly took flight from her braid and circled slowly in the air, as if greeting the carvings on the wall.

The passage kept narrowing. After another thirty‑to‑forty steps, an extremely tight stretch appeared ahead. The gap between the stone walls narrowed to only one shoulder‑width. Anyone passing would have to shuffle sideways, shoulders pressed against one wall, back scraping the other, moving like a crab.

The seven halted at the entrance.

Martha stepped forward and knelt to inspect the ground. "The floor is dry. No footprints. No one has come this way before yesterday."

Vera held her hand into the passage to test the air. "There is airflow coming from the far side. This is not a dead end; there is an exit ahead." She edged sideways half‑step inside — the stone walls nearly pinched her shoulder blades. She frowned slightly and pulled back out. "We can get through, but one at a time. If something goes wrong inside, the person ahead cannot turn around, and those behind cannot push through."

They exchanged uneasy glances. A newly uncovered path, barely wide enough to turn around, with completely unknown dangers ahead. It might lead through, or it could trap them halfway.

Emon stepped forward from the middle of the group and studied the narrow opening. Silver‑Eye flew down and perched on a rocky protrusion above the passage, its pale‑gold eyes peering deep inside and letting out a short cry.

"Silver‑Eye says it is roughly twenty steps long, and light is visible at the end," Emon said. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, folded it neatly, and handed it back to Martha. "As the oldest man here, it falls to me to take the risk. I will go first."

Martha took the jacket and gave him a look. "Think this through. If you get stuck mid‑way, none of us can pull you free."

Emon unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing defined forearms. "I’ve thought for two minutes. That is more than enough." He turned sideways, shoulder against the left stone wall, back pressed to the right, and began inching forward at a steady, slow pace.

His body inched onward through the narrow stone crevice. The soles of his boots scraped faint rustling sounds across the dry pale‑grey stone. His breathing amplified inside the confined space, sounding as though someone was panting right beside his ear. Silver‑Eye flew down and hovered a short distance above his head, keeping pace, its pale‑gold eyes fixed forward.

Those waiting outside fell silent. Only the soft scrape of fabric against rock could be heard.

"‑‑Fifteen steps in," his voice echoed from deep within the passage, muffled by the tight walls. "There is light ahead. It truly is an exit‑‑"

He shuffled a few more steps. Then his movement stopped.

"...There is something down below."