Owen's footsteps echoed against the cold stone floor as he cautiously moved forward. His grip tightened around his flashlight, his heartbeat drumming loudly in his ears.
He hated this.
He hated being alone.
Every shadow felt like it was watching him. Every step he took sounded like something else was walking with him. He tried to shake the feeling off—tried to not think about the way the prison halls had changed even though they had walked this path before.
"Wait… Victor was actually right?" he thought, swallowing hard. "The paths did change…?"
And then—he saw them.
Four girls.
They were standing near the edge of a hallway, huddled together, their backs to the wall. They were alert, scared—but not hopeless. Their eyes darted toward him the second they noticed movement. One of them, a girl with tied-up dark hair, immediately raised what looked like a makeshift weapon—a broken metal pipe.
"Who's there?!" she demanded.
Owen froze, quickly raising his hands.
"Whoa, whoa—relax!" he said quickly, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm not—I'm not a threat!"
The four of them stared at him, their expressions tense, cautious.
He hesitated before speaking again.
"I'm Owen. I—uh—I'm with a team. There's four of us. We split because we are trying to find a way out of this place," he explained, forcing himself to sound calm despite the fear lingering in his chest. "We think we know how to escape this phase."
The girls exchanged glances. They still looked wary, but there was a flicker of hope in their eyes.
"Escape?" One of them, a short girl with reddish-brown hair, stepped forward. "You're saying you actually know how to get out of here?"
Owen nodded. "Yes. We're planning to regroup and—"
"Then let us join you," the first girl interrupted firmly. "We've been stuck here for god knows how long. If there's a way out, we're taking it."
Owen blinked. That was… easier than he expected.
"I—uh, yeah. Yeah, of course."
Now that the tension had eased slightly, he got a better look at them.
The first girl, the one holding the metal pipe, looked like the leader. Strong-willed, dark hair tied in a ponytail, and sharp eyes that screamed determination.
The red-haired girl was shorter, with a round face and nervous energy—but her voice was loud, confident.
The third girl was quieter, scanning Owen as if trying to read his intentions. She had dark skin, braided hair, and held a small knife tightly in her hand.
The last girl was the tallest, with platinum blonde hair and a sharp, intimidating gaze. She crossed her arms, watching silently.
"Well?" the redhead smirked. "Are we just gonna stand here, or are you leading the way, Owen?"
Owen stiffened slightly at the way she said his name.
She noticed.
And so did the others.
"Oh my god," the dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow. "Are you nervous around us?"
Owen immediately tensed. "What?! No! What—what are you talking about?"
The blonde girl smirked."You totally are."
"I am NOT."
"Then why is your face red?" the redhead teased.
Owen clenched his jaw."It's NOT—" he exhaled sharply, realizing he was not going to win this. "Forget it. Just—just follow me, okay? We need to focus on getting out of here."
The girls exchanged amused glances but didn't push it any further.
"Alright, alright," the leader said, rolling her eyes. "Let's move."
And so, they started walking.
Owen cleared his throat, trying to focus.
They were following him now. That's what mattered.
He just had to make sure they survived long enough to find Victor and the others.
And hopefully—get out of this nightmare.
Owen walked ahead, trying to ignore the lingering smirks on the girls' faces. His face was still warm from their teasing, but he forced himself to focus. They had bigger problems than his embarrassment.
As they moved, the leader of the group glanced at him.
"So, Owen," she said, her tone sharp but not unkind. "Since we're gonna be working together now, we might as well introduce ourselves. My name's Sierra."
The red-haired girl grinned. "I'm Riley—no, not the same Riley you might know from your group, obviously."
The tall blonde girl, who had been the most silent so far, sighed. "Evelyn."
The dark-skinned girl with the braids nodded at him. "Noa."
Owen gave a small nod back. "Alright. Got it."
Sierra glanced at him. "Now, about this phase. What do you know?"
Owen tensed. He wasn't sure if he should tell them everything—but keeping information hidden wouldn't help them.
"We got some clues from something called the Echo Effect," Owen admitted. "It lets us hear things from people who were here before. Their last moments."
Sierra's expression darkened. "Their last moments?"
Owen nodded. "Yeah. They… They didn't make it."
The girls exchanged uneasy glances.
Evelyn scoffed. "Great. So we're standing in a fucking death trap."
"Pretty much," Owen muttered.
Noa frowned. "And this Warden…? What do you know about it?"
Owen hesitated.
He could still hear it in his mind.
That breathing.
The deep, hollow, methodical breaths.
Like it wasn't just killing, it was savoring it.
He closed his eyes for a second, and the memory slammed into him again.
The Echo.
The weight of the axe. The moment of impact. The sheer force that split bone and shattered ribs.
He felt the body break.
He felt the pain.
He lived the last second of that person's life—saw the blood, heard the gurgling gasp as their throat was crushed.
And worst of all—
He saw the Warden.
Owen exhaled shakily.
"The Warden isn't just some mindless monster," he said quietly. "It wants you to be afraid. It doesn't kill you right away—it waits. It lets you think you might escape. But the second you start panicking—the second you start thinking about how you're gonna die—"
He swallowed.
"That's when it strikes."
The hallway was silent.
Even Riley, who had been the most lighthearted, looked unsettled.
Sierra clenched her jaw. "And you've seen it?"
Owen met her gaze.
"…Yeah."
Something in his tone made the girls tense.
Evelyn furrowed her brows. "What does it look like?"
Owen's grip tightened on his flashlight.
"I wish I could forget."
Owen kept walking, his steps steady but cautious. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was heavy. Each of them trapped in their own thoughts, their own fears, as they looked around the hollow prison. The air was thick with something unspoken, like the walls themselves held onto the echoes of the dead.
The only sounds were their footsteps.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Then—Owen suddenly paused.
His brows furrowed.
"Oh, wait…" he muttered, glancing around. "I recognize this."
The girls all turned to him, their eyes sharpening.
Sierra stepped forward. "You know the way?"
Owen gave a small nod, adjusting his grip on his flashlight. "Yeah. We've been stuck here before. My friend Victor… he predicted this would happen."
Evelyn raised a brow. "Victor?"
Owen sighed, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah. That asshole was actually right."
Riley grinned. "Damn. Sounds like you don't wanna admit that."
"I don't," Owen muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "But here we are."
Noa exhaled, relieved. "So, if you recognize this place, then what's the plan?"
"We keep moving," Owen said. "If I'm right, we should be close to where we were before. Let's pick up the pace."
They walked faster now, a renewed sense of urgency pushing them forward.
And then—
They saw him.
Victor.
Standing near the rusted jail bars.
The flickering light from his lantern cast long shadows against the walls, making his expression unreadable. But it wasn't him that made Owen's stomach tighten.
It was what he was standing next to.
The skeleton.
The same cell.
Of course.
Owen stopped walking, the girls halting behind him.
Victor didn't move.
He simply glanced up at them, his lips curling into an unreadable smirk.
"Well, well," Victor drawled. "Took you long enough."
Owen exhaled.
"Yeah. Good to see you too, Victor."
Owen sighed, running a hand through his hair before gesturing toward the girls. "Alright, listen up. These four are with us now. We're sticking together."
Victor raised an eyebrow, scanning the group like he was sizing them up for a bet he hadn't placed yet. He shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked. "Huh. Didn't think you'd be the type to gather a fan club, Owen."
Owen groaned. "Shut up, Victor."
Victor chuckled before tilting his head at the girls. "So? Names?"
Sierra folded her arms, already not impressed."Sierra."
"Riley," the redhead said, watching him cautiously.
"Evelyn," the blonde muttered, barely sparing him a glance.
"Noa," the girl with braids added, her expression neutral—but she was already stepping slightly behind Sierra.
Victor nodded slowly. "Huh. So four new faces. All girls."
There was a pause.
Then Riley spoke, squinting at him. "Okay, why did you say it like that?"
Victor's smirk widened. "Like what?"
"Like you're some shady villain who just found new test subjects," Noa muttered.
Victor blinked, then grinned. "That's because I am a shady villain."
Evelyn scoffed. "Wow. At least you're self-aware."
Sierra exhaled, rubbing her temples. "Great. We have a creepy bastard on our team. Just what we needed."
Victor placed a hand over his chest, gasping dramatically. "I'm offended. You haven't even gotten to know me yet."
Riley rolled her eyes. "I think we got the general idea."
Victor snorted but didn't argue. Instead, he glanced at Owen. "Well, your luck just keeps getting worse, huh?"
Owen sighed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we focus now?"
Victor smirked but nodded, stepping away from the skeleton and finally getting serious."Fine. Now that we're all here, let's talk. Because I think I just figured out something important about this phase."
The teasing atmosphere dropped slightly as the weight of the situation settled back in.
Sierra crossed her arms. "We're listening."
Victor's words hung in the air like a slow-creeping poison.
"Before we start… we should wait for Samuel and Jace… they are our beloved, lovely team members as well… right?"
Something about the way he said it—the tone, the pacing, the unnatural lilt at the end—felt wrong.
Not just wrong. Deeply unsettling.
The hallway, already cold, seemed to drop several degrees.
Noa instinctively took a small step back. Sierra's arms, which had been confidently crossed, tightened slightly. Riley, who had been smirking and rolling her eyes at him earlier, wasn't smiling anymore. Even Evelyn, the most detached of the group, seemed to notice something off.
It wasn't just the words.
It was the way Victor stretched them out, like he was chewing on the syllables, like he was playing with something delicate and sharp between his teeth.
The way his voice dipped—not quite mocking, not quite amused, but something far more unreadable.
Something inhuman.
Owen felt his stomach turn.
For all of Victor's annoying smirks, sarcastic comments, and fake bravado—this was different. This wasn't Victor teasing. This wasn't Victor being dramatic.
This was something else.
For the first time, Owen felt like they weren't just talking to a guy in their group.
He felt like they were talking to something watching them.
Waiting.
Calculating.
The silence stretched too long. Too thick.
And then Victor's lips curled slightly, like he was enjoying the discomfort he just created.
"Well?" he drawled. "Why does everyone look so tense?"
No one answered.
Owen swallowed.
And somewhere, deep in his gut, a horrible thought twisted into existence—
What the hell is wrong with Victor?