In Silent Hands

5am

The hedges parted with a sound like heavy silk tearing, and Claire staggered into the glade, blinking against the sudden white of false sunlight. For a moment she stood there, spine rigid, tail raised in a question mark. Her glasses caught the glare and mirrored the sky above—an infinite blue, studded with the hard geometry of light. The air was warm, thrumming with the electric aftertaste of the Maze.

She held her left arm tight across her chest, her right hand braced for a blow that never came. The clearing was a perfect circle, lined with trimmed grass and ringed by hedges that stood too straight, too alert. In the center, an obscene statue, ancient-looking and entirely out of place, served as a fountain and centerpiece for the heart of the Labyrinth. It was the statue of a woman, or perhaps it could be more accurately described as a fertility idol gone haywire. Enormous breasts, swollen belly, head tilted back until the eroded face looked up, towards the sky. The statue knelt, legs spread wide, and water flowed from between her legs into a large pool that surrounded the statue’s pedestal. A stone plaque underneath the statue bore an inscription that was oddly out of place with the surroundings:

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

Claire thought she recognized the words, although she couldn’t quite place them. The world beyond the green was distant, blurred, as if a lens had been placed between here and reality.

Claire **** herself to breathe. In, out. Her chest hurt, the bruise beneath her ribs a stubborn ache. Those spikes of horror and grief she had felt earlier, from Andy, frightened her. Had someone been eliminated? Was her plan all for nothing? She pushed her glasses up with the back of her wrist and scanned the perimeter. There was no one else. Yet.

A faint rustle behind her, and she flinched, shoulders hunched, tail swishing so violently it knocked a spray of dew from the grass. From the breach in the hedge, Emi emerged—hair wild, ribbon tangled around her upper arm, six trembling hands clustered to her chest like a defensive lattice.

Emi’s eyes darted from edge to edge, skipping over the open space as if it were a frozen pond that might crack at any second. Claire nodded in silent confirmation, the motion sharp. She kept her eyes on the Labyrinth, half expecting the hedges to swallow Emi up again. Instead, the opening shivered and closed, leaving the two women alone in the strange, brittle peace of the glade.

Emi shifted her weight, not quite able to stand still. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off—Claire could smell it, a citrus tang under the sweat. Emi had a scratch along one cheek, red but not bleeding. Her magenta bikini was streaked with green from the vines that had pulled her under, but her ribbon was pristine, tied with obsessive precision.

For a minute, neither moved. Claire couldn’t speak, of course. Instead, she offered Emi a soft hug, careful not to trigger the flinch response that still jerked through Emi’s body every few seconds.

A new sound: footsteps, rapid, uneven. Claire stiffened, Emi shrank behind her. Through the hedge, Liesa burst forward—legs bare, hair plastered damply to her scalp. Her bikini was periwinkle, but most of the color had been washed to a muted, splotchy gray by the Maze’s humidity. Liesa’s skin was flushed, her eyes unfocused, mouth open in a slack, dreamy “O.” She reeled in a loose arc, half-skidding on the grass, and came to a halt with her hands on her knees, panting.

Claire reached for her, but Liesa straightened before she could make contact. Her gaze rolled upward, then found Claire’s, and the confusion gave way to a slow, syrupy smile. She stood there, dazed, not moving, just blinking at nothing and licking her lips.

Emi whispered, “She doesn’t look good,” voice so soft it almost didn’t exist.

Liesa tried to speak but only managed a giggle. She looked down, saw the bikini, and seemed to remember herself for a second. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and folded inward, knees knocking together. Then the sensation—whatever it was—seemed to catch up, and her whole body shivered, a visible ripple of arousal that left her breathing hard and trembling.

Claire didn’t know what to do. Her hands fluttered uselessly, then landed on Emi’s shoulder, grounding both of them.

From the opposite side of the glade, a different hedge parted, and a knot of three women tumbled through. Marissa led, long legs carving ground with clinical urgency, face set in a mask of ice. Behind her, Erin half-ran, half-staggered, sweat glistening on her skin, her enormous breasts barely contained by the bikini top. Sam brought up the rear, hair wild and spiky with blue dye and brambles, her navy ribbon flapping like a battle standard.

They burst into the sunlight, all three gasping, clothes torn and slicked with sap but otherwise unharmed. Marissa's white ribbon was knotted at her wrist, immaculate. Erin's teal was cinched just above the elbow, and Sam's was somehow still perfectly tied in a bow.

For a beat, all six women stood in place, eyes flicking from face to face, each registering the relief and the cost in turn. Sam's gaze locked onto Liesa, widening at the sight of her flushed skin and glazed eyes. Without hesitation, Sam darted forward, wrapping Liesa in a fierce embrace.

"Thank God," Sam whispered, pressing her cheek against Liesa's temple.

Liesa's body went rigid, then melted against Sam with a sound caught between a whimper and a moan. Her fingers clutched at Sam's shoulders, nails digging in as she shuddered. The contact sent a visible wave through her body, and she buried her face in Sam's neck, breath coming in shallow, **** pants.

"S-Sam," she managed, voice thick and slurred. Her hips pressed forward involuntarily, seeking pressure.

Sam pulled back just enough to see Liesa's face, concern replacing relief. Meanwhile, Marissa made for the center, her eyes fixed on Claire.

Claire met her, arms open, and for the first time in her life, Claire let herself be pulled into a hug that was full-body and earnest and a little too tight. Marissa held on for three breaths, then released, stepping back with a clinical nod. “You made it,” Marissa said, and it was both a question and a diagnosis.

Claire nodded. She felt Emi hover behind her, and Liesa at her left, swaying gently.

Sam grinned, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit, that was—" She broke off, breathless. "Are we the first ones here?”

Emi glanced around. “No Dawn? No Norah? And where’s… where’s Chloe?”

No one answered.

A hush settled. The light in the glade felt wrong, like the hours were out of order. Even the air was suspiciously still.

Erin found her feet, did a quick headcount, and shrugged. “We’re missing three. Either they're coming, or something went sideways.” Her nipples were hard enough to poke holes through the fabric, and she scratched at her shoulder as if trying to calm herself. She did not, however, let go of her ribbon.

Liesa watched the group with glazed, heavy-lidded eyes, biting her lower lip. She didn’t speak, but her hips swayed minutely with each breath, as if she was riding out an invisible wave.

Sam noticed. “Is she… is she okay?”

Emi shook her head. “It’s her transformation. She’s only wearing a bikini.”

Liesa giggled again, hugging herself tighter. Sam remembered her upgrade and held her, and Liesa seemed to relax. “Thank you.” She whispered.

Marissa approached, gently touching Liesa’s wrist. “You’re safe,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “Just keep breathing, okay?”

Liesa nodded, then closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and shivering once more.

Claire felt the heat rising off Liesa’s body, the musky, floral scent of whatever was driving her system wild. She wanted to help, but all she could do was offer her sleeve, which Liesa clung to as if it might anchor her to the earth.

In the far corner of the glade, the hedge pulsed and a sobbing sound floated through—a child’s gasp, wet and ****. Another voice yelled, at the top of her lungs, “MOOOOOO!”

Everyone turned at once, nerves snapping to full alert.

The Labyrinth had not finished with them yet.

The sobbing drew closer, swelling from a faint hiccup to a full-bodied wail as Dawn crashed through the hedge and collapsed onto her knees in the middle of the glade. Behind her, the foliage thrashed violently. Moory burst through the same opening, her face contorted in a feral snarl, hair wild with leaves and twigs. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, scanned the clearing until they locked on the gathered women.

"Run!" Dawn screamed, but too late.

Moory launched herself at the group with animal ferocity. The women scattered like startled birds. Erin dove left, Marissa right. Claire pulled Emi behind her as Moory pivoted, momentarily confused by the multiple targets. Her gaze settled on Liesa, who stood frozen, still dazed from her transformation.

“Liesa!” Sam cried out. She intercepted Moory mid-lunge, tackling her to the ground. They rolled across the grass, a tangle of limbs and curses. Moory's fingers clawed at Sam's arm, ripping the navy ribbon free. Sam's face went white with shock, but she didn't release her grip. With a grunt of effort, she dragged Moory up by her shoulders, then locked her arms around Moory's waist from behind. “Sam!” Emi called.

"Everyone stay here," Sam commanded, her voice strained as Moory thrashed against her hold. "I'm taking her away from the clearing."

Sam half-dragged, half-carried the struggling woman toward the far hedge, muscles trembling with the effort. The distance seemed to stretch forever, each step slower than the last.

"Help me!" Sam called. Marissa and Erin rushed forward, each grabbing one of Moory's flailing limbs.

"We need to get her farther away," Sam panted. "She's too dangerous."

They'd barely made it twenty yards when Moory's foot connected with a low-hanging fungal pod. It burst with a soft pop, releasing a cloud of glittering pink spores. Marissa and Erin caught the full blast, their bodies going rigid before collapsing to the ground.

"Oh God," Erin gasped, her back arching off the earth, fingers clawing at her own thighs. Beside her, Marissa writhed, teeth clenched against the waves of unwanted pleasure, a high keening sound escaping her throat.

Sam gritted her teeth and continued alone, Moory's nails raking bloody lines down her forearms. The woman thrashed wildly, all muscle and fury, but Sam noticed something—when a few stray spores drifted toward Moory's face, she froze for a heartbeat, pupils dilating in unmistakable fear. Sam's mind flashed to the patch of luminous pink flowers she'd passed earlier, tucked in a shadowy alcove of the Labyrinth.

She glanced back once—Marissa and Erin writhing on the ground. She had to take advantage of Moory’s momentary shock.

She adjusted her grip, muscles screaming. Her body had never felt so small against another's, yet somehow her arms didn't give. With each backward step, she mapped the route in her mind—left at the split trunk, right at the stone, twenty paces to the alcove. Far enough.

"Sorry about this," Sam muttered, and with a final surge of strength, dragged Moory back through the hedge opening. Three turns later, she found what she sought and shoved Moory directly into the bloom. Pink clouds billowed upward, engulfing Moory's face. Her eyes widened in terror, pupils blown black as the spores settled on her skin. Her scream of rage choked off, replaced by a horrified gasp that melted into an unwilling moan.

She thrashed violently, heel connecting with Sam's stomach, sending her sprawling backward into another patch of blooms. As Sam crashed into the flowers, a fresh cloud erupted around her. The effect was immediate—electric pleasure shot through her limbs, her back arching involuntarily as she cried out.

Through half-lidded eyes, she watched Moory stagger away, the woman's body convulsing between fury and ecstasy, hands clawing at her own skin as she fled deeper into the Labyrinth, her howls fading into distance.

Sam lay dazed, aftershocks rippling through her body, vision swimming with pink sparkles. When she finally managed to stand on trembling legs, she realized her ribbon was gone. A timer on her hand read 0:43. The rules were clear.

She ran at breakneck speed back to the glade. 0:03. She reached Liesa first, cupped her flushed face between trembling hands. Before anyone else could dash forward or offer their ribbon, Sam kissed Liesa deeply. "Worth it," Sam whispered against Liesa's lips, before the Labyrinth pulled her backward into elimination.

Achievement Unlocked (Sam): Unshakeable Roots +5 VP

Emi hovered at the edge of the group, uncertain whether to help or to hide. Liesa, still nearly incapacitated by her arousal, stared at the spot where Sam had disappeared, her tongue caught between her teeth. Marissa moved first, crouching beside Dawn and laying a hand on her shoulder, light and careful as a moth. Dawn jerked, almost pulled away, then let herself collapse against Marissa’s side, sobbing even harder.

Marissa smoothed Dawn’s hair, whispering something too quiet for the others to hear. After a minute, Dawn’s cries tapered off to a series of snuffling, congested breaths. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and looked up, her eyes red and swimming.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Emi knelt down on Dawn’s other side, rubbing her back in slow, even circles. “Hey, hey, you made it. That’s all that matters right now.” She looked around at the others, her face tight and pale. “Where’s—” She cut herself off, but everyone knew the question.

Dawn coughed, then choked out, “Norah’s gone.”

The words landed like a body dropped from a rooftop.

Erin stared, blinking hard. “Gone how?”

Dawn tried to answer, but her voice dissolved again into a wet, breathless sob. Marissa squeezed her shoulder, gentle but insistent. “Start at the beginning,” Marissa murmured.

Dawn nodded, sucked in a few breaths, and started over. “I lost my ribbon. Someone grabbed me, took it off my arm. I—I tried to run, but I didn’t see who it was. I panicked. I thought I was done, I thought I’d let everyone down.” She looked down, nails digging into the skin of her palm. “I was in the Maze for hours. I could hear the others, but I couldn’t get to anyone. Then Norah found me. She wasn’t angry. She just… she hugged me and told me it was okay.” The tears welled up again, and she pressed the heel of her hand to her nose. “She put her own ribbon on my arm. Said I had to keep going. That I had to finish.”

A stunned silence settled over the group. Emi’s lower hands twisted around one another, squeezing so hard her knuckles blanched. Liesa swayed, wincing, eyes fixed on the far edge of the glade, as if expecting Norah to appear and make it all a joke.

“She just—she just left?” Erin demanded, her voice breaking at the end.

Dawn shook her head, voice flat and toneless. “She went back into the Labyrinth. I called after her, but she didn’t answer. I waited. Then I heard the chime and had to get here.” She shivered, pulling the ribbon tighter around her arm. “Norah’s gone.”

Emi’s face went slack, eyes unfocused. She touched her own ribbon, then looked at Dawn’s, as if seeing it for the first time. “She did that for you?” Marissa asked.

Dawn nodded.

“She said you’d need me,” Dawn added, softer. “That she was bottom of the polls anyway.”

No one knew what to say. The Maze’s hedges rustled in a breeze that didn’t touch the air in the glade.

After a long silence, Marissa said, “I think that angry cowgirl took Chloe.”

Erin hesitated, then nodded grimly. Emi and Dawn stared at the therapist, eyes wide as saucers.

Marissa’s lips pressed together, searching for words. “There was that scream. Sam said she was close, but she couldn’t get to her.”

The group digested this with a kind of numb horror. They all looked down at their ribbons, suddenly precious and fragile.

Claire’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. She pressed her lips into a line, pushed the bridge up her nose, took a deep breath, and then began to sign, sharp and deliberate.

She started with a swift, slicing motion across her throat, then pointed to the Labyrinth, Dawn and Marissa, then curled her fingers in a tight spiral, repeating it twice for emphasis. She pulled out the note she had shown Emi and made a show of tearing it in two.

Marissa watched, tracking every gesture. When Claire finished, Marissa cleared her throat. “The original plan is out?” Claire nodded somberly. She pointed to the Labyrinth again, then lifted up nine fingers, and closed three. “She’s saying—” Marissa paused, brow furrowed. “Out of the nine of us, three are out.” Claire nodded again. “Norah’s already out. Chloe and Sam, too.” Marissa turned to the others. “She’s right. The elimination slot is filled. Claire’s original plan doesn’t work anymore.” Sunrise started staining the hedges, and the women knew their time was growing short. They fidgeted, watching Claire. The catgirl knelt on the ground and used her finger to trace the word ‘POINTS’ on the soil. She met the eyes of each woman in turn.

Marissa hissed. “She’s right. We can’t do what Andy did last time anymore. What matters now is points.”

Erin exhaled, a long hiss through her teeth. She looked at the others, the lines of her body relaxing for the first time all day.

Dawn huddled smaller, as if she might disappear.

Emi drifted close to Claire, touching her arm with two hands. Liesa, still swaying, shivered again, her skin slick with a visible sheen of sweat.

The group circled, each woman wary, as Claire raised her hands again, this time slower and more deliberate. She tapped three fingers to her shoulder, pointed at Erin, then pointed at the ground—hard, twice. She mimed untying a knot, then drew a line through the air, passing her hand to Marissa, then to Liesa, then to Emi. She finished with a wide, open gesture toward Dawn.

Marissa tracked every movement. “Erin first,” she said, voice firm. “Then Claire. Then me, Liesa, and Emi. Dawn last, so she gets the most points.”

Erin arched an eyebrow, skeptical. “You sure this will work?”

Claire stared at her, unblinking.

Marissa rubbed the back of her neck, chewing her lip. “If the slot’s already filled, it makes sense. We just need to maximize the points. Those of us with the most points can take a small hit, and it will help those with fewer points.”

Liesa nodded, though her eyes rolled slightly, distraught, the aphrodisiac still pulsing through her like a fever.

Emi hovered behind Claire, all six arms tangled together, as if afraid one might act out on its own.

For a few seconds, no one moved.

Then Erin drew a long, shaky breath, braced her feet, and pulled the teal ribbon from her arm. She held the strip of color in her palm for a second, thumb stroking the edge, then let it drop onto the grass.

Nothing happened.

Claire went next. She unfastened her ribbon with the brisk, clinical efficiency of someone used to surgery. It fell, silent, joining Erin’s on the turf.

Marissa followed, white-and-black piped ribbon fluttering as she untied it and let it fall. Her lips were tight, but she did not look away.

Liesa hesitated, swaying on her feet. Sweat glistened on her brow, and her pupils were huge. For a moment it looked like she might refuse, but then she gritted her teeth, tugged the periwinkle band loose, and let it tumble from her fingers. She watched it fall, then stared at the ground as if daring it to take her, too.

Emi was fifth. Her hands trembled—actually, all six of them trembled, which made the task difficult. She picked at the knot, tears springing to her eyes, and for a second she seemed on the verge of panic. Claire reached over, used her own hands to steady Emi’s, and together they worked the knot free. Emi dropped the ribbon, then hugged herself, arms wrapping tight.

Dawn exhaled, long and slow, eyes glistening with tears. “Here goes nothing.” She slipped the ribbon from her arm, held it out to Dawn. Dawn stared at it, eyes wet, then did the same. They exchanged a look—one of those deep, unguarded glances that says everything words can’t—and then, together, let go.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, as sunlight finally peaked through the hedges, the clearing erupted in light.

The ribbons, now scattered in the grass like spilled paint, began to glow—first a soft shimmer, then a radiant pulse, each color flaring brighter than the sun itself. The glade seemed to lift, the hedges around them trembling, the stone in the center humming with energy.

The Labyrinth began to unravel.

Walls of hedge peeled away, dissolving into mist. Paths that had been impassable seconds before crumbled to nothing. The false sun above them flickered, then reset, bathing the glade in a perfect, impossible golden hour. And around them, at dawn, the gazebo slowly reformed itself.