The cold night air hit me like a slap as we stumbled into the Enchanted Forest, the dark, twisted trees towering over us, their branches twisted together like skeletal hands confining us.

A single spotlight shone down, isolating us in the middle of the darkened woods. It felt rushed, impulsive, like we were actors thrust onto a set, unaware of our lines. My heart pounded, and the adrenaline pumped through my veins as I scanned our surroundings, desperate to find an escape, a hiding place, anything.

An automated voice crackled through hidden speakers, smooth and mechanical. "Welcome, contestants, to the ultimate challenge. The final test of the Games. This is no ordinary competition, it's a battle of the soul, the heart, and the mind, to be fought until only one—or one sibling duo—remains. Let the personal trials begin."

Before I could fully comprehend the words, the familiar sound of our own voices played back over the speakers, distorted and eerie.

My voice echoed first, taking me aback with its clarity. "A weakness?" I started. "I care for people too much. A strength? I care for people too much."

"You're legally blind in one eye, remember?" Millie's voice came through as she talked about Sonya. "My strength is that I have perfect vision." Then came more. "I hold grudges and I can adapt to any situation."

Next was Sonya's voice, tinged with a smug defiance. "I'm a good liar."

Finally, came Spencer's voice, shaky but determined. "I can run a mile in four, but I hate being paired up because it drags me down."

Their words hung in the air like a taunt, a sinister reminder that nothing we said had ever been private. Every fear, every strength, every crack in our armor had been laid bare for the world to see and weaponized against us.

Millie's face tightened in anger. "Not surprised they've been listening to everything. All of it."

Spencer cursed under his breath, glancing around as if expecting another trap. "We're on stage twenty-four-seven. Even when we're not playing it's all a game to them."

A new voice broke in, smooth as silk but laced with mockery, the host, Chuck Gillian. There was no screen around, but I could see his smile and demeanor in my mind's eye. Too perfect, too calculated. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the main event! The popular underdogs, the twins! Everyone's been waiting for this. We've had our doubts, but Kamila and Millicent... I think you're going to give us the performance of a lifetime."

I imagined his eyes gleamed with greed, the same predatory look I'd seen in every person I encountered that were part of the production. I imagined fans and critics alike would forever tear our reputations apart, all for the sake of entertainment.

"You see," Chuck continued, his voice oozing with charisma, "the people love a good story—sisters fighting the odds, survival against all expectations. And the lightning-fast runner who's always just a step ahead, except when it comes to those he can't leave behind. And the smooth-talking strategist, but half-blind to the truth of her own choices. Together, you all make for one hell of a spectacle. And the audience? They can't get enough. But here's the twist: it's not just about surviving the woods or beating the other contestants. It's about facing yourselves. And that... well, that's the kind of drama that keeps the lights on here at the Grimm Games."

I gritted my teeth, the weight of his words settling in. The show wasn't just exploiting our skills for personal profit, it was exploiting us, our bond, our past, our mistakes. We were no longer just players, we were the game.

"Now, let's see if you can live up to the hype," Chuck said. I could hear his smile widening, the perfect blend of charm and menace. "We've got the cameras rolling, the audience on the edge of their seats. And remember... there can be only one victor."

The voice went silent, leaving us isolated under the spotlight, surrounded by the oppressive silence of the forest. Millie's hand tightened on her flute, her knuckles turning white. Spencer shifted uneasily, and for the first time, his usual bravado seemed to weaken. Instinctively, I scanned the area for any sign of Sonya and failed to locate her.

Millie, Spencer and I were in this together—but we were also very much alone.

My pulse quickened as the realization settled in. They were forcing us into the final game even if we wanted to play or not. A mix of fear and determination surged through me. This was it. The finale had begun.

It was clear they were desperate to wrap up the season. Things had been spiraling out of control at every turn, and it wasn't just us struggling to survive. With the showrunner dead in secret, they were scrambling to save face, eager to clean up their mess and serve up the grand finale they so desperately needed.

And every step, every decision from here on out would be a battle against not just the twisted forest or the other competitors—but against ourselves.

They tricked us.

We were too ambitious to know better.

The speakers crackled, filling the air with a grating static that sent a chill down my spine. Suddenly, the voice of the unseen host cut through the noise, sharp and unnervingly cheerful.

"Welcome to the Labyrinth of Shadows, contestants," the voice boomed, echoing through the forest. "Each of you will face a path tailored just for you, crafted from your deepest fears and darkest truths. The only way out is through, and your trials are as personal as the choices you've made."

I exchanged a wary glance with Millie, who clutched the flute at her chest, her face pale but determined. Spencer stood tense, his eyes scanning the trees as if answers would be written in the branches above.

"The rules are simple," Chuck continued, a mocking rhythm in his tone. "Each path is yours alone, designed specifically for your strengths and weaknesses. No one else can walk it for you. Complete it, and you may just live to see another day. But remember, this is a game of survival, and the game does not end until there is only one left standing. Or, if you're lucky enough to have a partner, until there's no one else but you and them."

The words hung in the air, heavy and threatening.

"And so begins the Labyrinth of Shadows."

His voice abruptly stopped, leaving us in a suffocating silence as the forest around us seemed to grow darker, the twisted trees looming like silent judges.

All this time they were planning something elaborate and personal, and just the anticipation of what we may encounter sent chills down my spine.

We continued down the short path until it split into four distinct trails. At the entrance of the leftmost trail, something glinted under the overhead lights—a brass object unmistakably mine. It was my crescent blade and brass cuff, lying there like bait. The way the light hit it left no doubt that it was the weapon they had taken from me.

Millie's trail was marked just as clearly. In the center of the path lay the broken chair leg she'd wielded before, waiting for her to pick it up once again. Spencer's trail was marked by a thorned club, perfectly intact, resembling the one he'd lost. The fourth trail was empty, but I didn't need to see it to know that Sonya had already claimed her blade and vanished down her path.

A thought nagged at me, a desperate flicker of hope. "What do you think happens if we just stay together?"

Millie didn't hesitate, her voice edged with grim certainty. "They'd tear us apart. Don't underestimate them. They got us back in the game even after we swore we were done. They'll do whatever it takes to keep us playing by their rules."

Even though Ms. Holle was no longer calling the shots?

I stepped toward the brass object gleaming on the ground. My fingers curled around the familiar grip of the aeroblade, the cool metal and weight of it grounding me. As I lifted it to place the cuff back on my arm, I caught a glimpse of dried blood at the tip, a sick reminder of its last use against the Piper. There was no time to process it, though, because the door behind us exploded open with a deafening crash.

The Wolfman barreled through, splintering the doorjamb as if it were paper. His eyes were wild and rabid, zeroing in on us like prey. We staggered back, fear rippling through each of us as we gasped, but I knew I had to act fast. The Wolfman's growl filled the space, vibrating the ground beneath our feet as he stalked closer. I raised the crescent blade, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Go!" I shouted to Millie and Spencer. "Get down your paths!"

Millie hesitated, but Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He gave us one last glance as he tested his leg strength by sprinting toward the club to pick it up and disappear down the dark trail.

Hesitating, Millie shot me a worried glance. "Kam, don't—"

"Just go!" I insisted, my eyes locked on the Wolfman as he edged closer, saliva dripping from his fangs. Millie darted toward her trail, taking the chair leg before disappearing into the shadows, leaving me alone with the creature.

I gripped the blade tighter, ready to strike when needed, but just as the Wolfman lunged, an additional presence filled the space. Out of the corner of my eye emerged the Witch, her once severed arm somehow reattached, the stitches visible and pulsing with black slime.

And lumbering in behind her was the Troll, wielding a rusted pitchfork that looked more like a medieval torture device than a weapon. He moved slow, crouching as he exited the cramped doorway.

The three of them stood there, predators eyeing their prey.

Observing...me.

For a moment, even the Wolfman seemed startled by their appearance, his growls pausing as if he hadn't expected company. I took a step back, surrounded by entangled trees and darkness, with the crescent-shaped blade my only defense.