HOPE
As usual, I'm the last to step into the maze—but this time, that hesitation doesn't work in my favor, because the moment my foot crosses the entrance, everything vanishes. Instantly. My sight. My hearing. Even the steady beat of my own fucking breath.
We've been told that the maze's game would be made fair enough so that humans can have a chance. Every one of our gifts is reduced by the impact, and our wolf won't be able to surface. The lucky few with inherited gifts could use that to their advantage.
At least, I hope it's happening to everyone and not just me.
It's like being dropped into a void—disorienting and cold, as if my body still moves but my mind can't anchor itself to anything. There's a faint pressure under my boots that tells me the ground is still there, but beyond that, I might as well be floating.
If I had to guess, this is what a vegetative state must feel like—cut off from the world, aware but powerless.
