The eerie glow of two full moons enveloped the forest. Their silver light filtered through the dense canopy, casting long, twisted shadows on the ground.
In a clearing near the floor gate, a group of seven Olympian guards had set up camp. They were waiting for anyone who might emerge from the second level, specifically hoping to catch Adrian before he could slip past them.
It had been over a week since Adrian had entered the maze of the second floor. The guards, confident that no one could survive that long in such a perilous environment, had grown complacent and thought they were wasting their time waiting for a dead man.
The officer on night duty, a burly man named Hector, leaned against a tree on top of a branch, struggling to keep his eyes open. His companions were similarly relaxed, some chatting quietly, others dozing by the fire.
"He's definitely dead by now," one guard muttered, poking at the fire with a stick. "No one lasts that long in the maze."
