The maze was endless.

  Or at least it felt that way. Every hedge looked the same—the same glossy red leaves, the same impossible height, the same faint rustling that might have been wind or might have been something else entirely.

  "We've passed this corner before," Jay said.

  "No we haven't."

  "I'm telling you, I recognize that leaf."

  "They're all the same leaf, Jay."

  "That's what the maze wants you to think." He pushed his hood back—it had fallen again—and squinted at the hedge. "This is clearly a puzzle. We need to find the pattern."

  Maggie didn't bother responding. They'd been walking for what felt like hours, and so far the only pattern she'd found was that every path led to more paths.

  Locke padded alongside them, occasionally sniffing at corners but offering no guidance. Either he didn't know the way or he wasn't telling.

  "Hey, Gori."

  Maggie's eye twitched. "Don't call me that."

  "What do you think Mark went to do?" Jay ignored her complaint entirely. "You think he went back to see Alice?"

  "I don't know."

  "They definitely had a thing, right? Like, a thing thing. Do you think they're—"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "But—"

  "Jay. Drop it."

  Her tone made him actually listen. He fell silent, fidgeting with the hem of his robe.

  Maggie looked up at the towering hedges. An idea struck her.

  "I'm going to try something."

  She crouched, focusing on her legs. Enhancement. Power. She'd gotten good at this part. She pushed off—

  And shot upward like a rocket, easily clearing twenty feet.

  For one glorious moment, she could see over the maze. The castle spires in the distance, the winding paths below, the—

  The hedges grew.

  They shot up around her with a sound like a thousand whispers, leaves rustling furiously, matching her height and then exceeding it. By the time she reached the peak of her jump, the walls were thirty feet tall. By the time she landed, they were back to their original height, as if nothing had happened.

  "Well," Jay said. "That didn't work."

  "Thanks for the observation."

  "Maybe if you jumped higher—"

  "They'll just grow higher. That's obviously how it works."

  "Wonderland logic." Jay nodded sagely. "No shortcuts. We have to solve it the intended way."

  "There is no intended way. It's a maze. We just have to keep going."

  "That's what a non-gamer would say. There's always a trick."

  Maggie started walking again. "Less talking, more moving."

  · · ·

  The first card patrol found them an hour later.

  Six of them this time—all Diamonds, numbers ranging from seven to twelve. The twelve was new.

  "Wait, twelve?" Jay squinted. "That's not how cards work."

  "Wonderland," Maggie reminded him.

  "Right. Wonderland." He shook his head. "This place has no respect for game balance."

  The twelve moved faster than the others, its spear gleaming with an edge that looked sharper than the lower numbers.

  "I got the big one," Maggie said.

  "Wait—I want to try something." Jay stepped forward, hands raised. He'd been practicing during their walk, small flames flickering between his fingers. "I've been working on a new spell."

  "Jay, this isn't the time to—"

  "SUMMON: LESSER FLAME SPRITE!"

  Nothing happened.

  The twelve charged.

  "Jay!"

  "Hold on, hold on—" He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating harder. "Come on, come on—"

  A spark appeared between his palms. Then another. They swirled together, growing brighter, taking shape—

  A tiny creature materialized. It was about the size of a fist, vaguely humanoid, made entirely of flickering flame. It hovered in the air, looking around with what might have been confusion.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "YES!" Jay pumped his fist. "I did it! I actually—"

  The twelve was three feet away.

  Maggie grabbed Jay and yanked him sideways. The spear missed his head by inches. She spun, driving her elbow into the card's flat face, then followed up with a kick that sent it crashing into the hedge.

  The sprite, apparently understanding its purpose, launched itself at one of the lower-numbered cards. It wasn't strong—the card barely flinched—but the flames made it stumble back, buying Maggie time to deal with the others.

  Thirty seconds later, the patrol was confetti.

  Jay was staring at his hands. "I summoned something. I actually summoned something."

  "It was tiny."

  "It was a SUMMON. Do you know how advanced that is? That's like level-ten magic at least!"

  "It distracted one card for two seconds."

  "That's two seconds of strategic advantage!" He was practically glowing. "I'm evolving, Gori. Soon I'll be summoning dragons."

  "Don't call me Gori. And you're not summoning dragons."

  "Not yet. But give me time."

  Maggie rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help a small smile. He was annoying, but he was also genuinely happy. And the sprite had helped, even if just a little.

  · · ·

  Two days passed in the maze.

  Or what felt like two days. Time in Wonderland remained stubbornly inconsistent.

  They fell into a rhythm. Walk, fight, rest. Walk, fight, rest. The card patrols came regularly, and they got better at handling them together. Jay would open with his flame sprite—he could summon it reliably now, though it still only lasted about a minute—while Maggie engaged the stronger cards directly.

  He'd also discovered his limits.

  "I'm out," Jay said, slumping against a hedge after their fifth fight of the day. "No more mana."

  "Already?"

  "Summoning costs a lot. And the fireballs drain it faster than I thought." He held up his hand, tried to produce a spark. Nothing. "See? Empty."

  "How long to recover?"

  "I don't know. An hour? Maybe more?" He let his head fall back against the leaves. "This sucks. In games, you just drink a potion."

  "Can't you imagine a potion?"

  Jay paused. Then his eyes widened. "Holy shit. Can I?"

  "I don't know. Try it."

  He focused, hands cupped like he was holding something. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then—slowly—a faint blue glow appeared between his palms. It flickered, unstable, but it was there.

  "It's working," he whispered. "It's actually—"

  The glow fizzled out.

  "Damn it."

  "Close, though."

  "Close isn't good enough." He kicked at the ground. "I need to be stronger. Faster. If we fight something really dangerous, I'll be useless after two minutes."

  Maggie didn't argue. He wasn't wrong.

  While Jay rested, she practiced. The ranged attack still eluded her, but she'd gotten better at air-stepping—five steps now before falling. And there was something else. Something she'd felt during the fights but couldn't quite grasp.

  When she punched a card, sometimes there was a moment where it felt like she could... impose something. Like the card had to obey a rule she was declaring. Stay still. Don't dodge. Fall.

  It never worked. But she felt it. The potential.

  She tried again now, focusing on a fallen leaf. Stay, she thought. Don't move.

  The wind blew. The leaf tumbled away.

  "What are you doing?" Jay asked.

  "Practicing."

  "Practicing staring at leaves?"

  "Something like that."

  She'd figure it out eventually. She had to.

  · · ·

  On the third day, they encountered the Ace.

  It was different from the other cards. Larger. More detailed. The single diamond on its face seemed to pulse with dark energy, and instead of a spear, it carried a long staff topped with a crystalline orb.

  "Oh shit," Jay breathed. "That's a boss."

  "It's a card."

  "It's a BOSS card. Look at it. It's got a special weapon and everything."

  The Ace raised its staff. The orb glowed.

  "Move!" Maggie grabbed Jay and dove sideways as a beam of dark energy scorched the ground where they'd been standing.

  "It has MAGIC?!" Jay scrambled to his feet. "Cards aren't supposed to have magic!"

  "Tell that to the card!"

  The Ace fired again. Maggie rolled, came up running, closed the distance. She swung at its midsection—

  And the card blocked with its staff, moving faster than anything that flat should be able to move.

  They traded blows. The Ace was strong. Stronger than the numbered cards by a significant margin. Maggie had to actually try, ducking and weaving, looking for openings that kept closing.

  "Jay! Help!"

  "I'm trying!" He had his flame sprite out, but it couldn't seem to get close—the Ace's dark energy repelled it. "My fire's not working!"

  The Ace swung its staff. Maggie caught it on her forearm, grunting at the impact. She needed to end this.

  Stay still, she thought desperately. Just for one second. Don't move.

  Nothing happened.

  She dodged another swing, barely. Then she saw her opening—the Ace had overextended, its guard down for just a moment.

  She didn't punch. She grabbed the staff and pulled, using the Ace's momentum against it. The card stumbled forward, off-balance.

  Her fist connected with its face.

  The Ace crumpled. Unlike the other cards, it didn't dissolve into confetti—it folded in on itself slowly, dramatically, until only the staff remained, clattering to the ground.

  Maggie stood there, breathing hard. "Okay. That was harder than the others."

  "DROP!" Jay shouted, running forward. "It dropped loot!"

  He grabbed the staff, holding it up reverently. The crystal orb at the top glowed faintly.

  "This is a mage's staff," he said, voice hushed with awe. "A real one. It'll increase my mana pool and regeneration rate."

  Maggie looked at the staff. It looked like a stick with a fancy rock on top. "It's just a staff."

  "It's not just a staff. It's a catalyst. A focus for magical energy." He clutched it to his chest. "This is the best day of my life."

  "You almost died five minutes ago."

  "And now I have a legendary staff! It balances out!"

  "It's not legendary. It's just a random staff."

  "It's legendary TO ME."

  Maggie sighed, but she let him have his moment. If he believed the staff would make him stronger, maybe it actually would. That seemed to be how the Dreamscape worked.

  They kept walking.

  · · ·

  Another day passed. The maze continued.

  Jay was insufferable with his new staff, but he was also undeniably more effective. His spells lasted longer, and the mana exhaustion that had been crippling him before was now just an inconvenience. Whether that was because of the staff or because he believed in the staff, Maggie couldn't say.

  She'd made progress too. Seven steps in the air now. And the feeling—that sense of being able to impose rules—was getting stronger. Clearer. During their last fight, she'd felt a card hesitate for just a fraction of a second when she willed it to stop.

  It might have been her imagination. But she didn't think so.

  "Hey, Gori."

  Maggie didn't even bother correcting him anymore. "What?"

  "Look."

  She looked.

  At the end of the path, barely visible through the red leaves, was a gate. Massive. Iron. Covered in heart-shaped decorations that seemed to pulse with faint red light.

  "Is that...?" she started.

  "The exit." Jay's voice was a mix of relief and excitement. "We actually found it."

  They approached slowly. Locke's ears were perked, alert, but he didn't seem alarmed.

  The gate was even larger up close. Twenty feet tall at least, with doors that looked like they'd take an army to push open. The heart decorations were definitely glowing now, casting strange shadows on the hedge walls.

  "There's definitely a boss behind that door," Jay said.

  "Not everything is a boss fight."

  "A giant glowing gate at the end of a maze? That's literally boss fight 101." He gripped his staff tighter. "I've played enough games to know how this works."

  Maggie looked at the gate. Then at Jay. Then at Locke, who sat calmly, waiting.

  "Only one way to find out," she said.

  She stepped forward and pushed.

  The doors swung open with a groan of ancient metal. Red light spilled out.