The darkness in the chamber was suffocating, pressing in on Jorel, Ryen, and Jain from all sides as they slowly regained their footing. Their breaths were ragged, their bodies trembling from the emotional ordeal they had just endured. But there was no time to rest—Jorel knew that the final section of the maze was upon them, and it would be their most dangerous trial yet.
The oppressive silence was shattered by the low rumble of the stone walls shifting, revealing a narrow passage that led deeper into the heart of the maze. Jorel exchanged a grim look with his companions, their resolve hardening as they realized there was no turning back. With a silent nod, they moved forward, each step echoing through the cold, dark corridor.
As they made their way through the passage, the air grew thick with tension, the sense of foreboding growing stronger with every step. The walls seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, the stone surfaces slick with moisture that glistened in the faint light from the glowing symbols embedded in the walls. The temperature dropped further, the chill seeping into their bones as they approached the final chamber.
The passage opened into a massive, circular room with a high, vaulted ceiling. The chamber was dimly lit by torches mounted on the walls, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the floor. In the center of the room was a raised stone platform, its surface stained with dark, dried blood. The sight sent a shiver down Jorel's spine, a grim reminder of the countless students who had faced this trial before them—and failed.
The room exuded a sense of ancient power, a malevolent force that seemed to resonate with the very stone itself. The air was thick with the scent of iron and decay, the stench of old blood mingling with the acrid odor of burning torches. Jorel could feel the weight of the room pressing down on them, as if the very walls were watching, waiting to see if they would survive.
But before they could take in their surroundings, the sound of footsteps echoed from the far side of the chamber. Jorel's heart sank as he recognized the figures emerging from the shadows—Drain VanHeart and his team.
Drain stood at the head of the group, a smug grin plastered on his face as he took in the sight of the battered trio. His appearance was immaculate, his dark hair slicked back, and his uniform unblemished, a stark contrast to Jorel, Ryen, and Jain, who were covered in cuts, bruises, and dried blood. Behind him were two other students, their expressions just as arrogant as their leader's. Each of them radiated confidence, the kind that came from a lifetime of being told they were superior.
"Well, well, well," Drain drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "Looks like the little mice have made it to the final section of the maze. I have to say, I'm surprised you've lasted this long."
Jorel's eyes narrowed, his hands clenching into fists. Drain's presence here was no coincidence. He had been waiting for this moment, to confront them when they were at their weakest. But despite his weariness, Jorel felt a spark of defiance ignite within him. He wasn't about to let Drain get the better of them.
"We're not here to play your games, Drain," Jorel shot back, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "We're here to finish the maze."
Drain's grin widened, a cruel light dancing in his eyes. "Oh, I'm afraid you've misunderstood, Drecan. This is my game now, and you're just the final pieces on the board."
With a swift motion, Drain reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial filled with a bright blue liquid. He held it up for the trio to see, the liquid glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Do you know what this is?" Drain asked, his tone almost taunting. "It's a special concoction—one that triggers neuropathic pain at an extreme level. Most people would pass out from the intensity, but for someone like me… well, let's just say it unlocks a whole new level of power."
Jorel's stomach churned as he realized what Drain was about to do. Neuropathic pain was one of the most dangerous types of pain magic, as it involved the nervous system, sending signals of extreme pain throughout the body. The kind of power it could grant was immense, but it came at a steep cost.
Before Jorel could react, Drain uncorked the vial and downed the blue liquid in one swift motion. The effect was immediate. Drain's body convulsed, his muscles tensing as if struck by lightning. His arms dropped limply to his sides, hanging like dead weight as his face twisted in pain. But instead of collapsing, Drain let out a low, guttural laugh.
The blue liquid pulsed through his veins, making them glow faintly under his skin. His eyes blazed with an eerie light as two ghostly, translucent blue arms materialized beside him, connected to his body by faint, glowing tendrils. The arms floated just above his real ones, their ghostly fingers twitching with anticipation.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Drain sneered, his voice laced with madness. "These ghost arms are an extension of my pain. And trust me, they hit a lot harder than you'd expect."
Before Jorel could respond, Drain lunged forward, the ghostly arms moving with blinding speed. One of the arms lashed out, striking Jorel in the chest with a force that felt like a sledgehammer. The impact sent him flying backward, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in his ribs, stealing his breath as he struggled to regain his footing.
Jain and Ryen barely had time to react before Drain turned his attention to them. The second ghostly arm swung toward Ryen, striking him in the side with a force that made him cry out in pain. Ryen crumpled to the ground, clutching his ribs as he gasped for breath.
Jain managed to dodge the first blow aimed at her, but the second ghost arm caught her in the shoulder, sending her spinning to the ground. The impact was so intense that it felt as though her bones had shattered, the pain radiating through her entire body.
Jorel struggled to his feet, his vision swimming from the impact. The pain in his chest was nearly unbearable, but he forced himself to focus. They couldn't afford to be reckless. Drain was too strong, too powerful for them to take head-on. If they were going to survive, they needed to outthink him.