Aster trudges down the path, her mind racing in an endless loop. 

Florian’s affair. The maze’s spirit. Florian’s affair. The maze’s spirit. Florian’s affair-

She stumbles right into a hedge, nose stinging as the leaves prick at her face. She swears that wall hadn’t been so close earlier. Was that petty old spirit playing tricks on her? 

If only she hadn’t gone into this stupid maze for it’s stupid, fake magical shortcut. If only she hadn’t gotten preoccupied at the magic tower and ended up running late for tea. If only she hadn’t bothered to stop and listen to Florian as he-

Aster has to stop in her tracks, dizzy from her own thoughts. She buries her face into her hands, desperate for some sort of respite.

What was she supposed to do now? Go see the queen like nothing happened? Make up an excuse for why she was late? Act like she hadn’t just seen Florian proclaim his love for a girl she didn’t even know? 

Aster’s throat is a coil of knots. 

She wishes she could scream.

Should she scream?

Will anyone outside hear her?

Does she want anyone outside to hear her? 

She scoffs bitterly into her palms. The prince’s cursed fiancé found lost and screaming in the maze? The palace rumor mill would have a field day. 

No, she’d have to find a way out of this maze herself. Besides…

The memory of Florian’s face flashes through her mind once more. Giddy with love. Broken with heartache. 

Her lungs shudder, struggling to draw breath. What if Florian is still in vicinity? How will she ever be able to face him?

“Tell me, little girl,” the spirit’s words echo menacingly in her head. “How does it feel, knowing that your betrothed is in love with another?”

The hot sting of tears pricks against the back of her eyes. 

Aster shakes her head furiously. 

No, no, no. She can’t cry. Not now. Not when she’s still stuck in this wretched maze. Not when there’s still the possibility of that nasty old spirit watching her even now. 

She suppresses a shudder at the memory of it. Of the wicked glint of its thorny smile. Of the pungent stench of roses still heavy on her tongue, more cloying than any perfume Han could ever concoct. 

Aster clutches at her arms protectively. What was she thinking, getting all cocky with it at the very end, acting like she had a clue? Where’s your bravado now, Aster Vastein? Where’s that misplaced confidence?

It’s a miracle that the spirit hadn’t put her in her place right then and there. 

She rises to her feet shakily. She can’t remain here, stuck within this maze. She has to get out. Even if the thought of facing the queen and answering for her absence made her insides writhe.  

Well, Aster thinks to herself somberly. At least Queen Annaliese might be merciful even if I start crying. Can’t say the same for that pest of a spirit. 

Slowly, she inhales, palms smoothing over her cheeks.

She exhales gradually. Lifts her hands away. 

And smacks them against her face sharply.  

She winces, cheeks stinging. But it does the trick. She feels more grounded than before, resolve gaining clarity.

Reinvigorated, Aster continues down the path, more diligent than ever as she scans her surroundings for an opening. For anything really. A breach in the maze’s walls that she can claw her way out of, a hole that she can use to stick her hand out and call for help.  

She rounds the next corner, arms swinging, feet practically marching. “There has to be a way out,” she thinks desperately as she swivels her head around, scrutinising every awful green hedge she passes by. “Just a single, tiny-“

She stops. 

“-opening.”

Maybe she’s imagining it. 

There. At the far end of the path she’s standing on.

A gap. A skinny, sliver of a gap, just wide enough for anyone who’s desperate enough to shimmy through and risk a branch to the face.  

It’s a good thing Aster’s dealt with worse. 

She takes off down the path, running like her very life depends on it. The hole is still miraculously, wondrously there by the time she makes it to the end. Aster throws herself through the gap recklessly, branches catching on her arms and dress before she finally manages to wrest herself from the hedge’s clutches, tumbling out onto the other side. 

She shakes the hair out of her face. Looks up. 

There is no green wall to welcome her. Only the patch of grass she’s huddled on and the trodden dirt path before her, whisking its way along the maze’s edge before it disappears past a turn. 

She made it. 

She’s out of the maze. 

Aster’s on her feet in seconds. She can’t celebrate now. Not until she’s put as much space as possible between her and the wretched green death trap behind her. 

She makes for the dirt road, stumbling in her panic. 

How far does she need to be to escape from that spirit’s evil little clutches? It can’t possibly reach her anymore now that she’s out, right?

Right?

She shoots a furtive glance backwards. 

Every taut muscle in her body hangs slack once she does, the tension leaving her like rising steam. The hole she’d escaped from is no longer there; not a single tear or break in the wall that Aster had thrashed through to escape. 

All that’s left is a single, perfect hedge. 

Yes!

She has to resist from dancing where she stands. She made it! Out of the maze, with barely a scratch at that!

She catches sight of the backs of her hands. 

Okay, maybe a few scratches. But unscathed nonetheless!

She glares at the maze’s hedge, before sticking her tongue out at it petulantly.

Sucker! See if I ever step inside your stupid, overgrown- 

CRACK!

A sharp pain explodes across the back of Aster’s skull, accompanied by the sound of something splintering. 

Her knees buckle, vision swimming. The last thing she hears before she hits the ground is a loud and startled, “FUCK!”

And then the world turns to black.