The silence was heavy—thick with fear, tension, and the weight of too many losses.
Samuel broke it.
"We're not going to search endlessly," he said, voice low but unwavering, slicing through the anxiety like a blade. "Not through every corridor… not through every cell. That would be suicide."
The group turned toward him, their attention sharpening like blades being drawn from scabbards.
He paused, running a hand across the side of his temple. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the weight of what he was about to say. "We start with the cellblock."
A beat of silence passed.
"It's a checkpoint," he continued. "Think about it. Everything in this place revolves around that area. It's not just the only place where something familiar exists… it's the one place we've seen actual logic in this maze."
He glanced around the room. "We searched the cells. We searched the halls. But maybe… just maybe… we missed something."
A breath caught in Evelyn's throat. Lawren leaned forward slightly. Owen tilted his head, brows furrowed in silent thought.
"That's our first destination," Samuel finished.
A grim determination began to pulse through the group like a heartbeat returning after flatlining.
Samuel inhaled deeply, letting the stale air of the phase settle in his lungs like dust. "I have a plan," he said, scanning their faces. "A way to move fast, avoid the danger zones, and cover the whole block as efficiently as possible."
No one interrupted.
No one looked away.
This time, everyone was listening.
And in that moment, despite the fear still hanging over them like a guillotine, there was something else in the air:
Hope. Fragile. Flickering. But there.
Samuel's eyes narrowed as they locked onto Victor, a cold focus in his stare that didn't waver for even a second.
"You," Samuel said quietly, voice firm. "If you see a flaw in this plan—any flaw at all—you call it out. Immediately."
Victor, still carrying the residual tremble from earlier, blinked at him. But then, something shifted. The fear that had wrapped around his voice began to melt, replaced by a steadier undertone.
"Alright," he replied, nodding once. "Just tell me what the plan is."
Samuel turned his attention back to the rest of the group—Owen, Sierra, Evelyn, Ava, Victor, Callen, and Lawren. His gaze swept across each of their faces like a commander surveying his squad before a mission. Every second that passed under that silence only added weight to what he was about to say.
"There's eight of us," he began. "Including me."
His voice was clear, deliberate.
"Only four will come with me. The rest stay here—by the exit. In case something goes wrong. In case we run into the Warden."
His eyes shifted, landing on Sierra, Evelyn, and Ava.
"You three stay behind."
There was no judgment in his tone—only tactical calculation.
"It's not because you're weak. It's because your fear… is stronger. And in this place, that fear doesn't just make you vulnerable—it makes all of us vulnerable."
Sierra's lips parted slightly, her jaw clenched like she wanted to object. Evelyn's eyes flicked to the floor, shame painting shadows beneath her lashes. But neither of them spoke.
Because deep down, they knew it was the truth.
Bitter. Heavy. Inescapable.
Samuel turned to Callen and Lawren next.
"As for you two," he continued. "Decide between yourselves who's coming."
He held up a hand before either could respond.
"Don't think of it as bravery. Don't try to impress anyone. This is simple. If you feel ready—if you think you can walk into that darkness and not let it consume you—then step forward."
He paused.
"If you hesitate, that's fine too. That's honest. But the one who steps forward without needing a push… that's the one I want beside me."
He let that settle. A quiet passed over them, heavier than any scream.
"Me, Owen, and Victor—we're going either way," he added. "We're enough. But the more eyes, the more hands, the more chances we have of getting through that place… alive."
He looked around the circle one last time.
Then he said, simply:
"Decide. Now."
As Samuel finished speaking, Victor gave a slow, approving nod. He folded his arms, the corner of his mouth twitching with restrained thought.
"That's a good plan," he said with calm conviction. "Less people means less fear to manage. That's key. If we do run into the Warden, fewer minds to protect means more focus. More control."
His eyes glinted with something sharper—resolve. "And now that we understand our fear… we can use it. Either to escape—or fight, if we have to."
His voice faded, the silence that followed laced with weight.
Then, quietly—like a soft breeze cutting through a silent room—a voice spoke up.
"Um…"
Everyone turned.
Ava stood there, her shoulders slightly hunched, her eyes flickering nervously between the group. Her hands were clenched together in front of her, fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleeves as if bracing herself for impact. Her voice was fragile, like it might shatter under pressure—but she didn't stop.
"If you don't mind," she said, swallowing hard, "I'd… I'd like to join too."
The room felt stiller than it had before, all attention falling squarely on her. The weight of their gazes made her flinch slightly. But she didn't back away. Instead, she took in a slow breath, gathering every shard of bravery she had.
"I know I haven't been the most helpful," she admitted, her voice growing quieter. "I know I've been… scared. A lot."
Her gaze fell to the floor, then lifted again, hesitantly locking with Samuel's. Her lips trembled as she spoke next.
"When Elliot was with me… when he got taken…" Her voice caught.
Her eyes fluttered slightly, blinking faster, as if she were watching it all over again—watching Elliot vanish, hearing his screams echo in her skull. She took a step forward, almost unconsciously, her breaths short and uneven.
"I froze," she whispered. "He was screaming—and I just… I didn't move. I didn't do anything."
Her whole body trembled now, like the memory had pulled her into a cold she couldn't shake off. She blinked, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes, but none of them fell. Not yet. Her voice cracked as she forced herself to go on.
"I think about that moment all the time. Every second we've been in this place. I see his hand reaching out, and I see mine—just hanging there, useless."
She looked down, ashamed.
"And ever since then, I've been stuck in that moment. Every time something happens, every time one of us is in danger—I keep hearing him. 'Help me.' And I just… I keep wondering what would've happened if I'd tried."
She shook her head slowly, then met Samuel's eyes again. This time, her gaze burned with something stronger than guilt.
"I don't want to be frozen anymore. I don't want to keep being the one who just watches."
A beat passed. Her shoulders were still shaking, but her voice had steadied.
"I need to make it right," she said. "Not just for Elliot. For me. For all of you. I want to prove that I can be better. That I am better."
A tear finally broke free, slipping down her cheek.
"I know I'm not the strongest, or the bravest, but I'm willing to try. I'm willing to walk into that fear. I just need one chance. One."
She let her hands fall to her sides, raw and open.
"Please. Let me come with you."
Everyone froze.
Ava's words had landed like a stone in a quiet lake—rippling through the room, leaving behind a stunned silence.
Samuel stood still, his expression unreadable. Owen's eyes lingered on Ava longer than usual. Sierra and Evelyn, seated close together, looked down at the ground. Callen and Lawren stood off to the side, unsure of what to do. None of them said a word.
They weren't just quiet.
They were speechless.
What Ava had just said—it hadn't been a plea, nor a simple request. It was a confession. A moment of raw, unfiltered truth carved out of guilt, fear, and courage. And none of them had expected it from her.
Ava looked around nervously, her eyes flickering from one person to the next.
First to Samuel—who still hadn't blinked. Then to Victor—whose usual mocking gaze had been replaced by something far more contemplative. Then Owen, then Sierra and Evelyn, then finally to Callen and Lawren.
Her chest tightened. No one was speaking. No one was moving.
She scratched the side of her temple with her index finger, anxiety welling up in her chest.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked hesitantly. "If I did, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
Her voice cracked slightly, unsure if she had just embarrassed herself—or worse, overstepped something sacred.
That's when Samuel finally stepped forward.
"Oh no, no," he said quickly, lifting a hand as if trying to ease her nerves. "Don't worry about it."
He paused, glancing at the others—Owen, Victor, the girls, then to Callen and Lawren. All of them shared the same expression: stunned silence.
Samuel turned back to Ava.
"We were just… speechless. That's all."
He exhaled lightly, almost like a laugh, but not out of humor—more from disbelief.
"It's rare," he said, "for someone to want to join something like this without being pushed or dragged into it. And here you are… stepping forward on your own."
His gaze softened.
"I admire that."
Owen chimed in, giving a nod. "Yup. I approve too."
He gave Ava a small smile. It wasn't bright—it didn't sparkle or bring warmth—but it was genuine. It was Owen's way of saying he meant it.
"You've already proven that you can hold your fear when it matters."
He raised a hand and gave her a quiet thumbs-up.
"Proud of you, Ava."
Her heart fluttered—not because of praise, but because they believed her. She felt the weight lift from her shoulders, even if just a little.
Across the room, Sierra and Evelyn sat still. Sierra's head lowered even more, her hands folded in her lap. She bit her lip, trying to swallow down the rising guilt.
"I'm sorry, guys," she muttered, barely above a whisper. "I think I might be the weakest among all of you now."
Her voice trembled like she was revealing something shameful.
Evelyn looked at her, visibly pained but silent.
No one else spoke.
Except Ava.
"No, Sierra," Ava said softly, stepping toward her. "Please don't blame yourself for anything."
She knelt beside her and gently wrapped her arms around Sierra, holding her close. It was a quiet, simple embrace—but filled with intention.
"You were there when I was falling apart," Ava said. "You hugged me when I needed it. When I felt like I couldn't go on."
She smiled gently, resting her chin on Sierra's shoulder.
"Let me do the same for you. That's what friends do."
Sierra's eyes widened, lips quivering. The warmth of Ava's embrace, the kindness in her words—it broke through the emotional wall Sierra had built up. Choked sobs slipped past her lips as she leaned into the hug, tears flowing freely.
Evelyn joined them silently, placing an arm around both. A triangle of comfort amidst the chaos. For a moment, the horror outside the walls didn't matter. Just warmth. Just solidarity.
Samuel, Owen, Victor, Callen, and Lawren stood quietly, watching the moment unfold. No one interrupted it.
Victor finally broke the silence.
He glanced sideways at Callen and Lawren.
"You two should stay here," he said. "Four of us is enough for the search."
Callen looked like he wanted to argue, but hesitated. Lawren dropped his head slightly, ashamed.
"Yeah," Callen muttered. "Understood."
Lawren gave a nod, his voice quiet. "Sorry. We've been more like… dead weight than anything else."
Callen added, "Even a fragile-looking girl like Ava has more guts than us."
Victor raised an eyebrow but didn't mock them this time.
He simply said, "Then make sure you don't waste the chance we're giving you. Keep everyone safe while we're gone."
The scene faded into a strange stillness.
But now… there was something different in the air.
Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was resolve.
Or maybe, just maybe—it was the first sign that the weakest weren't always who they seemed.
After everything calmed down… it was time to move.
The warmth of the hug still lingered between Ava, Sierra, and Evelyn, but reality was beginning to set in again. The clock was ticking, and they had a goal—a key to find.
The group split.
Those staying behind, close to the exit—Sierra, Evelyn, Callen, and Lawren—watched in silence as the search team prepared themselves: Samuel, Owen, Ava, and Victor.
No one spoke for a moment. The quiet was heavy, but not tense. It was the kind of silence that came before a storm, a collective breath held by people who didn't know when—or if—they'd see each other again.
Samuel adjusted the strap on his shoulder and glanced back at the others one last time.
"Make sure to be safe until we come back," he said, voice calm but firm. "Don't do anything reckless."
The remaining group nodded in sync, their expressions a blend of anxiety and determination.
Sierra forced a small smile, Evelyn reached out to squeeze her hand. Callen gave a faint nod, and Lawren avoided meeting anyone's eyes.
Then came the final moment.
Samuel, Owen, Ava, and Victor turned to face the path ahead—the cold corridor that would descend into the Hollow Prison once again. A place of shadows, echoing cries, and long-buried secrets.
Owen stretched his arms slightly and glanced at the others. "Let's get moving, guys?"
Samuel nodded silently.
Victor cracked his neck and gave a crooked half-smile.
And Ava... she took one last look at the people staying behind—her eyes lingered briefly on Sierra, then turned forward. Her fists clenched softly, heart pounding against her ribs.
This time, she wasn't being dragged in.
She was walking in willingly.
And so, with no more words left to say, the four of them stepped into the darkness—into the unknown depths of the Hollow Prison. Their footsteps echoed behind them, slowly fading into silence.
Their goal?
To find the key.
To reach the exit.
To survive.