“Now that’s not fair at all. You cheated,” the King accused, standing tall as if his wound had never existed, his mischievous grin widening.
Jaeden’s eyes narrowed. “I did not cheat. I played by the rules. You’re the one who cheated, bringing in cards that don’t exist.”
The Trickster King waved his hand dismissively, his smile faltering slightly. “That’s not true. Of course, they exist. Just because they don’t exist in your game doesn’t mean they don’t exist in mine. I have many cards you’ve likely never seen before,” he argued petulantly, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance.
Jaeden rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Typical."
Xander, still riding the high of their win, stepped forward. “Anyway, we won fair and square. What do we get?” His voice was firm, and expectant, like someone demanding payment after a job well done.
The Trickster King sighed dramatically, clutching at his chest as if deeply wounded by their lack of appreciation for his hospitality. “You get to go free. Congratulations, Whoop Dee Doo.” He gave them a half-hearted golf clap, his shadowy partner already fading away into the thick mist.
Before either Jaeden or Xander could react, the scenery shifted. The walls of the maze that had been closing in on them earlier were gone, replaced by twisting paths of stone and hedgerows towering above them. The air felt heavier here, the weight of ancient magic pressing down on their shoulders.
The Goblin King turned on his heel, his form flickering like a dying flame. “Well, goodbye. It was fun gaming with you. Not,” he muttered sarcastically, his laughter echoing like distant thunder.
“Wait, what? Wait, where are you going? We beat you!” Xander shouted, bolting toward the retreating figure, frustration bubbling in his chest. His footsteps pounded against the uneven stone, the maze walls seeming to stretch and shift with each stride he took.
“Oh, pish tosh,” the Trickster King called over his shoulder, waving his hands in the air as if shooing away an annoying fly. “Your victory isn’t as grand as you think.”
With a lazy flick of his wrist, the Trickster King tossed a card high into the air. It spiraled upward, caught by an unseen wind, twisting and turning before gently descending, like a leaf falling in autumn.
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Jaeden watched as the card drifted past his head, landing softly at his feet. He reached down, curiosity gnawing at him as he turned it over. “What the hell is this?” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
The faceless card was larger than any they had used in the game, twice the size of a playing card, but completely blank. Its only defining feature was the intricate symbols and runes scrawled across the back, shimmering with a metallic light as he angled it back and forth.
Jaeden’s brow furrowed. There was something unsettling about it. The more he studied the card, the more it seemed to pulse in his hand, as though it were alive, reacting to his touch.
He glanced up to show it to Xander, but his brother was nowhere in sight.
“Xander?” Jaeden’s voice echoed in the empty maze. His eyes darted around, but all he could see were the towering walls of stone and hedges, their twisting paths spiraling into shadow.
“Xander!” he called again, louder this time, but only the silence of the maze answered him.
The faint breeze that had carried the Trickster King’s voice moments before now felt colder, more oppressive. Jaeden’s fingers tightened around the card, a knot forming in his gut. Something was wrong, this wasn’t just another trick of the maze. He felt it deep down, in the marrow of his bones.
The maze had changed, its passages darker, the air thick with a tension that hadn’t been there before. The ground beneath his feet felt unsteady, as if the earth itself was shifting ever so slightly.
He spun around, heart racing, searching for any sign of Xander. The paths stretched out before him, unfamiliar and distorted, no longer matching the maze they had fought their way through before.
His grip on the card tightened as if it might provide him some sort of clue, some kind of protection. The runes on its surface flared briefly, casting a pale light around him, but the symbols remained unreadable, a language lost to time.
“Damn it,” Jaeden muttered under his breath. He had no choice. His brother was out there somewhere, and standing still wasn’t going to help. The Trickster King might have vanished, but his games were far from over. He could feel it, the pulse of the maze, the heartbeat of whatever ancient magic lay beneath its surface.
Taking a deep breath, Jaeden shoved the card into his pocket and set off down the nearest path, the walls towering over him like silent sentinels, watching, waiting. Every step felt heavier, as though the maze was resisting him, trying to pull him deeper into its winding trap.
His mind raced with possibilities. What had the Trickster King meant by “Your victory isn’t as grand as you think”? What kind of twisted game was he still playing?
The path ahead darkened, shadows stretching long and cold across the stone floor. Jaeden felt the card in his pocket pulse again, its light dim but steady. He glanced back one last time, hoping to see Xander charging up behind him, laughing at how easily they had been fooled.
But the path remained empty, and Jaeden was alone.