Pippa gawked, and Mrs Strongmail’s lips pulled into a slight frown before the two of them broke into laughter. Mirae blushed sheepishly as she thought back to when their house had burnt down and those people had tried to attack the two of them. Because of that, they didn’t have much—though they had her and Hector, and Mirae hoped that was enough. At least for now.

  “Shall we be off then?”

  Pippa nodded.

  Then Mirae turned to Harry, who stood with a hand resting on his hip, glancing around. “Where do you think Emela’s brother went?”

  Mirae rolled her eyes, not wanting to dwell on such an annoying scum-sucker. She frowned at the word. While the word was bad, it seemed to describe him so succinctly that she couldn’t help but feel it was right.

  “I don’t know,” Mirae said. “I just hope we don’t pick the same door as he did.”

  Harry nodded, combing a finger through his red hair and letting out a sigh. “Me too. To be honest, no matter how crappy he is as a brother, I kind of have to admit he is incredibly strong. I can only hope to get to that level.”

  Mirae scrutinised the boy briefly. Harry still hadn’t broken into Gravity Forging-One yet, and neither had Pippa. While she was well on her way to Gravity Forging-Four, the difference in strength would probably keep rising as time went on.

  That could prove a problem, and not just because they would be vulnerable to the enemies that the Clear Sky mercenaries would no doubt gather as time went on. After all, their mother had said to take over not only Middlec, but the entire planet. That was a tall order, and a task that would no doubt breed plenty of hate.

  “You’ll probably reach that height one day,” Mirae said to Harry, not fully believing her own words, but she didn’t doubt that Hector would come up with something. The Talents always seemed to provide a way forward to those with no hope.

  With that, the group turned and made their way over to the door, stepping through. Mirae threw one last glance over her shoulder, where the two puppets stood behind her, and then tailed after everyone else and moved through the door.

  Her stomach lurched.

  The floor vanished beneath her sandals—or maybe it didn’t, and the world simply tilted sideways. Mirae’s mind screamed contradictions. Up became down. Forward twisted into something that had no name. Her gut clenched, bile rising in her throat as pressure built behind her eyes.

  Then—

  Solid ground.

  Her feet hit the stone with a jarring thud that rattled up through her knees. The whirling sensation snapped off like a cut thread, leaving only the ghost of vertigo trembling through her limbs. Mirae stumbled forward half a step, catching herself before she could fall outright.

  She blinked.

  Walls rose on either side of her—smooth grey stone that stretched upward until hedges took over at their peaks. The bushes grew thick and wild, spilling over the tops in gnarled tangles of branches. The walls climbed so high she couldn’t see past the hedges to whatever lay beyond, only the overcast sky pressing down from above. No sun. No stars. Just flat grey clouds that seemed to swallow any light that tried to escape upward.

  “What is this place?” Harry asked, stepping forward through mist that swirled past his knees. He moved over to the far wall, resting a hand against the smooth-looking stone. “It’s cold,” he said, turning back and pulling his hand away, rubbing his fingers. “And kind of wet, actually.”

  Mirae frowned. The place was chilly, to say the least, and seemed to be a long stretch of pathway. At the far end, she saw what looked to be a wall, though there seemed to be a T-junction there.

  “Where do you think we are?” She asked, turning to Pippa, who had taken a knee on the floor and was currently flipping through Kar’s journal.

  Mrs Strongmail stood over her daughter, a pensive look on her face, as if trying to work out how to help but not really understanding what she could do. Instead, she finally opted to step away, feeling she was perhaps crowding her little girl.

  Mirae nodded at the woman and signalled her puppets to take up either side of them, whilst the third stood in the middle of their little group. This made sure that if anything came from either side of the passage, they’d have a clear view of it.

  A moment later, Pippa’s flapping stopped, and she looked up. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  Mirae sighed. Was there really a need to pick between the two? In her opinion, this was all bad news. Inside another place that they couldn’t get out of, with no way to even navigate their location. This was becoming a running theme, and she was frankly tired of it. And worst of all, there weren’t even any plants to look at, aside from the bushes at the far heights of the wall. And even from here, she could tell they were dull, grey, lifeless things.

  “I’ll take the bad news first,” she sighed, figuring at least the good news might sweeten the horrible taste that all of this would no doubt leave in her mouth.

  “Well, the bad news is I have zero idea where we are, and to be honest, Kar’s diary doesn’t mention it at all.”

  Mirae rolled her eyes. Really? The bad news was that? That was nothing new. She found herself hopeful for the good news. Perhaps it would actually be something quite substantial.

  “The good news is,” Pippa continued, “I know exactly where to go.”

  “You do? Another pulling feeling?” Mirae scratched her neck.

  “Kind of. Let’s just go with that, yes, because what I’m feeling now…” Pippa bit her lip, resting a finger on her chin. The freckles on her face scrunched as she seemed to put together her words. “I can’t quite explain, but you just have to trust me.”

  She then got off her knees and flipped the book closed, resting it at her side before raising her other hand and pointing down the long pathway.

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  “That way?”

  Pippa nodded. “I’m sure of it.”

  The group spent the next hour walking through passages that all looked identical.

  Mist clung to their ankles with every step, swirling lazily and never quite dispersing. The light—what little there was—came from nowhere and everywhere at once, a dim grey glow that seemed to seep from the stone itself. Shadows pooled in corners but never moved, fixed in place like they’d been painted there.

  Left turn.

  Another stretch of smooth stone walls.

  Right turn.

  The hedges overhead rustled occasionally, though no wind touched Mirae’s face.

  Straight for what felt like fifty steps.

  T-junction.

  Pippa would pause at each intersection, journal clutched to her chest, eyes unfocused as if listening to something none of them could hear. Then she’d point, and they’d follow.

  Mirae’s suspicion solidified around the fifth turn.

  A maze.

  By the Great Lake, they were in a maze.

  The realisation settled in her stomach like a stone. Of course, it was a maze. Why wouldn’t it be? Everything in this trial realm seemed designed to make their lives as difficult as possible. She glanced up at the hedges, their grey-green leaves dull even in the strange ambient light. At least the passages were wide enough that she didn’t feel trapped. Small happiness.

  Another right turn.

  Harry’s boots scuffed against stone behind her. Mrs Strongwell’s breathing had grown slightly laboured—not from exertion, but from the tension of walking through unchanging corridors with no end in sight.

  Pippa led them left.

  Then—

  Grinding.

  Stone scraping against stone, the sound sharp enough to make Mirae’s teeth ache. She whipped her head upward.

  Three shapes detached from the walls above. They’d been part of the walls, camouflaged against the grey stone until movement gave them away. Humanoid forms, each easily six feet tall, composed entirely of interlocking stone plates. They dropped.

  The ground shuddered as they landed, with cracks spider-webbing outward from where the golems slammed down. Mist exploded away from the impact points in billowing clouds. The three constructs straightened from their landing crouches, stone grinding as joints moved. Their eyes—green and glowing—fixed on Mirae’s group.

  Then one step forward.

  Then Two.

  They shifted into formation, spreading out to block the path ahead.

  Mirae didn’t hesitate. Her puppets were already moving.

  “What should we do?” Harry asked, raising his fists and getting ready for a fight.

  “Nothing,” Mirae snapped.

  She didn’t need the boy getting in the way and getting himself hurt. It was bad enough that these things were attacking them. The last thing she needed was for him to be carried around after getting injured.

  The first puppet closed the distance in three bounding strides, pale motes of light trailing from its form like ribbons. It slammed a fist into the nearest golem. Stone cracked. The golem staggered but didn’t fall, swinging a massive arm in retaliation. The puppet ducked, drove its shoulder into the golem’s midsection, and shoved.

  The golem’s feet scraped backwards across stone.

  The second puppet hit the group from the side, tackling a different golem at the legs. They went down together in a tangle of limbs—pale luminescence and grey stone rolling across the passage. The puppet got its hands around the golem’s head and slammed it into the ground once, twice. Stone fragments scattered. The golem bucked, throwing the puppet off, but the construct was already scrambling back to its feet.

  The third puppet engaged the last golem head-on. Fists flew. Stone against luminous construct, each impact echoing through the passage like hammers on anvils. The puppet grappled, got an arm around the golem’s neck, and wrenched sideways. The golem twisted, broke free, grabbed the puppet’s arm and yanked.

  The puppet’s feet left the ground as the golem hurled it into the wall. With a low boom, cracks bloomed where the puppet struck. It slid down, limbs jerking, then pushed itself upright, rushing to get back into the fight.

  Mirae caught movement to the left—two golems converging on the first puppet. One grabbed its arm. The other seized its leg. They pulled in opposite directions. The puppet thrashed, light flickering as it struggled against the combined strength.

  She couldn’t let them destroy it; she had to do something. Mirae raised her hands.

  Mana answered with the familiar rush of energy flooding through her chest, her arms, then pooling in her palms before she clenched her fist and raised her hands to the sky. Roots stirred beneath stone. Vines erupted from cracks in the passage floor—thick purple lengths wrapped in leaves whipped outward like striking serpents. They coiled around the two golems holding her puppet, wrapping legs, arms, torsos in ever-tightening loops.

  The golems’ movements slowed, jerked and then stopped, the two of them bound.

  Her puppets converged.

  The first puppet ripped free from the golems’ grip and immediately drove its fist into one golem’s face. The stone head snapped back. Another punch. The golem’s head cracked down the middle. Then, with a third punch, the head shattered, fragments scattering across the ground. The golem’s body went limp, collapsing into a pile of stone.

  The third puppet grabbed the other bound golem, got both hands on its head, and twisted. Stone screamed. The head came free with a grinding crack. The puppet dropped it and moved to the next golem.

  The last golem—having once again shaken off the second puppet—lunged forward.

  Met the third puppet head-on.

  They grappled. The puppet got inside the golem’s guard and drove repeated strikes into its torso. Cracks spread across the stone surface with each impact. The golem tried to grab the puppet’s head. Missed. The puppet ducked, came up with an uppercut that caught the golem under what passed for a chin. The head snapped back. Another strike. Another. The golem’s torso cracked open. One more punch and it crumbled, pieces clattering to the ground.

  As the fight ended, a scream cut through the passage.

  Mirae spun.

  Harry shoved Pippa to the side, the girl stumbling as another golem dropped from the wall behind them. It landed directly where Pippa had been standing a breath earlier, its stone fist cratering into the ground. The golem straightened, green eyes locking onto Harry as the boy raised his fists.

  No.

  Mirae was already running.

  “Harry, get back!” she said, heart racing as she pumped her legs towards the creature, its green eyes glowing with menacing light.

  Realising she wouldn’t make it in time, Mirae pulled on the mana deep inside of her, willing it forward.

  Mana surged through her body. Vines burst from the wall behind the golem in an explosion of purple, thick ropes of plant matter that shot forward like spears. They wrapped around the golem’s arms, its torso, its legs, coiling tight before yanking backwards. The golem slammed into the wall with a crack that echoed through the passage. Stone ground against stone as the vines constricted, pinning the construct in place.

  Mirae skidded to a stop just in front of Harry, her sandals scraping across stone. She shoved her palm against him, pushing him backwards.

  The boy’s chest pressed against her palm, his heart hammering within. Without sparing him a glance, she shoved harder. “Get back,” she hissed.

  “Mirae!” She heard Pippa’s voice over the stomping on stone as her puppets closed in.

  The golem struggled against the vines, its arms straining. Leaves tore. Stems stretched. One vine snapped with a wet pop. Then another. Green eyes blazed as the golem pulled one arm free.

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