The alarms screamed long before the flames reached the emergency ward. Bruce Willis pushed through the smoke, sleeve over his mouth, voice hoarse. “Move the kids out first! East stairwell’s still clear!”“Bruce, that corridor’s collapsing!” someone shouted behind him.“Then run faster!”The fluorescent lights flickered above the haze. The world smelled of burning plastic and oxygen tanks leaking doom.Halloween decorations, paper skeletons, fake cobwebs, curled and blackened along the walls as if mocking the chaos. A nurse stumbled toward him, carrying a little boy in her arms. “The elevator’s jammed!” she gasped.Bruce took the child. “Stairs. Now. Don’t stop for anything.”The boy coughed against his shoulder, face streaked with soot. “It hurts,” he whispered.“Yeah,” Bruce muttered. “That means you’re alive.”They reached the stairwell, but the upper landing had caved in. A steel beam lay twisted across the steps. Flames licked through the gap like the tongues of some angry god.“G

The first impact cracked the ceiling. Dust fell in gray sheets. The hum of the machines cut out. Then, silence. Bruce’s voice barely carried. “Was that an earthquake?”Lena drew her pistol again, eyes fixed on the door. “No. That was them.”A second strike tore through the outer wall. Sparks burst from the conduits, lighting the room in stuttering flashes.For a heartbeat, Bruce saw shapes in the darkness, figures moving like shadows through smoke, their bodies twisted by something not human.The relic in his chest began to pulse faster. “They smell us,” it whispered. “They want the fire back.”Bruce pressed a hand against his sternum. “I can feel them, like static crawling up my skin.”Aimes backed toward a control panel. “They shouldn’t be able to find this place. Not unless someone”“Save the theories,” Lena snapped. “Get the exit sealed.”“They’ll breach it in seconds!”“Then buy me ten.”A clang echoed through the corridor outside, metal screaming as claws scraped it apart. A shr

When Bruce opened his eyes, he was lying on a leather couch under soft amber light. For a heartbeat he thought the nightmare was over, until he noticed that the light didn’t have a source.It just existed, glowing from nowhere. He sat up slowly. The air smelled of rain and antiseptic. A hospital? he thought.No machines beeped. No footsteps. Just the faint hum of silence stretched too tight. Then a voice came from behind him. “Welcome back, Mr Willis.”Bruce turned. A woman in a gray suit stood beside a polished desk. Her face was calm, symmetrical, too symmetrical. Her eyes, pale green, never blinked. “Who are you?” he asked.“Dr Sera Hollis,” she said. “Cognitive restoration specialist. You were brought in after an… incident.”He rubbed his temples. “Where’s Lena?”“Lena?” She frowned slightly. “You were alone when the rescue team found you.”“That’s not possible. She, she pulled me out”“You suffered severe delusions from neural overburn. Hallucinations are expected.”Bruce laughed

The first thing Bruce felt was breath. His own. Slow, ragged, real. He opened his eyes to a hospital ceiling, white tiles, humming fluorescent light.He tried to sit up; tubes tugged at his arms. Machines beeped in arrhythmic patterns. He was alive. Maybe.A nurse entered. Smiling, efficient, eyes just slightly off. “Good afternoon, Mr. Willis. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”“How long?” he croaked.“Eighty-four days.”Her voice was calm, but her smile didn’t fade. Not once. “Where’s Lena?”“Resting,” she said. “She visits often.”He frowned. “She’s dead.”“Not anymore.”He stared. “Say that again.”She tilted her head. “Not anymore.”And then the power flickered. The room dimmed for half a heartbeat. In that heartbeat, the nurse’s face split, half flesh, half reflection.When the lights returned, she was normal again, smile intact. Bruce whispered, “Still the maze.”Half right, murmured the relic. You’re between.He froze. “Between what?”Sleep and waking. Mind and body. You fel

The sky looked sick. Ash hung where clouds should have been, glowing faintly red like the last embers of a dying fire.Bruce stood in the middle of what used to be downtown, buildings warped into glassy skeletons, cars melted into the pavement. The wind moaned through empty towers. You’re home, the relic whispered.He frowned. “Doesn’t look like it.”Home changes when you do.A faint crunch sounded behind him. He spun, hands raised, ready to summon flame if he needed to.A figure moved through the haze, wrapped in a torn coat, gas mask covering their face. “Easy,” they said, voice muffled. “If you’re alive, you’re a miracle.”Bruce stayed silent. “Alive’s a flexible term.”The stranger lowered the mask just enough to speak, dark skin, eyes like dull copper. “Name’s Mira. You don’t look like one of the glassers.”“The what?”She gestured toward a collapsed overpass. In its shadow, half-melted people shimmered faintly, bodies turned to translucent stone mid-motion. “They burned when the