Chapter Text
The day began the way quiet days often did in Maze X—with dust motes drifting lazily in a shaft of sunlight, and Ivy asking too many questions.
“Grandpa,” she said, perched cross-legged on the floor, “how did the Circle people know they were first?”
Her grandfather raised a thick, grizzled brow as he shifted in his chair. His hands, knotted with age, worked at carving a small wooden charm. “Because there weren’t any others here before them, little fang. When they woke up, this maze was empty. No walls. No food. Nothing but stone, darkness, and strange monsters in the far reaches. They survived when no one should have.”
“That’s why they get the Circle mark?” Ivy traced a finger on her inner wrist where her skin was still bare. “A big round one?”
“Yes. A circle with a line across it.” He leaned forward and drew the shape gently on her wrist with his thumb. “It shows they are the First. Builders. Protectors.”
Her brother Kael, sitting a few feet away, gave an exaggerated groan. He tossed a rubber ball against the stone wall, catching it on the rebound. “Don’t fill her head with too many stories, Grandpa. She’s gonna start thinking she’s a Circle reborn or something.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Ivy muttered. “Circles are brave. They made this place safe.”
Kael grinned at her, tousling his already-messy dark hair. “Yeah? Well, they didn’t have to fight the way we do now. Second gen was tougher.”
“The explorers,” Ivy said, miming an X with her fingers. “They get the cross mark. That’s Mama and Papa’s group, right?”
“Right.” Her grandfather nodded. “They ventured into the unknown, mapped these twisting paths, found weapons, food, medicine. The maze wasn’t so tame for them. If not for their sacrifices, there wouldn’t be a third generation at all.”
Kael caught his ball again with one hand. “That’s us.”
“That’s you,” Ivy corrected. “I’m still waiting for my mark.”
“You’ll get it when you’re five,” her mother called from the corner, where she was mending a worn shirt. “And it’ll sting for a moment, but then you’ll be a true third-gen.”
“The fang mark,” Ivy whispered with wide eyes. “Because we hunt.”
“Exactly.” Her grandfather’s tone softened. “Fangs for hunters.”
Ivy wasn’t scared of pain. She wanted her fang mark more than anything. She wanted to be strong, like the hunters she watched striding back into the settlement with their monster trophies. She wanted to wear the mark proudly, to join their ranks, to prove she wasn’t just a child.
But there was something else too. Something more.
“Kael,” she said suddenly, “when I turn ten, my eyes are gonna change, right? Like everyone’s do?”
“Yeah.” He tossed the ball again, a little harder this time. “Third-gen kids get their colors at ten.”
“Blue.” Ivy’s voice was soft but certain. “I want them to turn blue.”
Kael snorted and caught the ball on its rebound. “Don’t get your hopes up, Ivy. You know how rare blues are.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. If you turn blue, you’re not gonna fight. You’ll be a healer. Always kept safe. Always protected.”
“So?”
“So… you can’t have it both ways. Either you fight and you’re purple, or you heal and you’re blue. Blues don’t go out there.”
“I’ll be different.” Ivy clenched her little fists. “I’ll be a blue, and I’ll fight too. I’ll be the strongest of all of them.”
Kael just shook his head. “You’re a dreamer. That’s gonna get you eaten.”
---
Later that evening…
The hunters came back at dusk, boots heavy with blood and mud.
Ivy heard them first—the clatter of weapons, the low murmur of voices echoing through the tunnels. She slipped from her blanket, bare feet silent as she padded to the doorway.
“Ivy,” her mother called softly. “Don’t get in the way.”
But Ivy couldn’t help herself. She crouched near the corridor’s edge, peeking around the corner.
The second-generation hunters moved like predators, their shadows stretching long in the torchlight. They carried the corpse of a monstrous creature—scaled, hulking, its jaw full of jagged teeth. Its massive head lolled limply, black blood dripping onto the stone floor in sticky puddles.
Other children shrank back, faces pale. Even Kael stood a little further away, his fingers tightening around his ball.
But not Ivy.
Her eyes were wide and unblinking, her heart thrumming not with fear but excitement.
They were terrifying. Beautiful. Powerful.
“I’m gonna be one of them,” she whispered fiercely.
“You?” Kael asked, stepping up behind her. “Ivy… you’re small. And blues don’t hunt.”
“Then I’ll be small and hunt anyway. I’ll be blue and purple at once.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“I’ll make it work.”
Kael sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re boring.”
---
The next morning…
Ivy knelt in the garden, her small fingers digging into the earth. Dirt smudged her cheeks as she pulled up a sprig of bitterleaf, holding it to the light.
“You’re always playing with plants,” Kael muttered, sitting nearby.
“They’re not just plants,” Ivy said seriously. “This one makes big monsters sleepy. Mama said the hunters use it in darts.”
“So you’ll poison monsters to death? Real heroic, Ivy.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she replied.
Kael smirked, shaking his head. “You really think you’re gonna be the first blue to fight, huh?”
“I know I will.”
---
That night, Ivy sat staring at her bare wrist, tracing the place where her generation mark would go.
“I’ll get the fang mark,” she whispered to herself. “And then I’ll be strong enough to protect everyone. No matter what.”