Chapter Text
Owen sighed as he opened his eyes, light revealing his humble house. He was still sore from his excursion into the maze with Magic the day prior, his almost death from falling was taking a toll on him. Lazily, he rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up on his bed. His house was, as usual, quiet. It was cluttered but not so messy that it actually seemed lived in; Owen spent most of his time at the maze to be worrying about making his house into a proper home.
Getting up was a task he barely managed. He did not want to do anything today except lazily lounge about. That would be impossible however because he was not going to be unproductive and he needed to remain strong as leader of the maze- especially after his fluke of quitting earlier in the month.
Slowly, he got out of bed and began to begin his morning routine. Once he was ready he made his way to the door, before suddenly halting.
‘Ok Owen, just smile. Do what Ayngel told you to do and just be happy.’ He thought to himself, sighing once again, and exited his house- a shaky smile etched onto his face.
The clearing was, as usual, quiet. The sound of Owen’s own feet on the dry grass and the wild rushing of the waterfall behind his house was all the noise that filled Owen’s ears. He supposed that he missed when the idle chatter- or arguments- of his fellow clearing members would be amongst the noises he heard on his everyday walks to and from the maze. He also supposed that he shouldn’t dwell on that, less he ignored Ayngel’s advice.
It was a quick journey to the maze entrance where the levers stood. It always had been, his house being exclusively built where it was to ensure Owen could run to the accursed maze if anyone was in danger. ‘Not that it ever helped.’ The thought came all too quickly and, forcing him not to dwell on it any longer than a few milliseconds, he began making his way to the entrance of the maze.
Suddenly, an overbearing, all-encompassing pain burst out from Owen’s head. It was worse than anything he could remember feeling. Over his time in the maze, Owen had grown accustomed to being hurt and in pain. This was nothing like anything in the maze. The breaking of his leg and the chronic pain it left him with was just a scratch in comparison to this.
It was akin to branding a red hot poker into his skull. Owen could barely feel anything other than the searing pain in his head, but he could tell from the way he felt a lingering pain in his shoulder and his blurry vision that he had collapsed into the levers.
He thinks he might’ve been screaming, he might’ve been crying. He couldn’t tell anymore. All Owen could think about was the pain. His vision went from blurred to non-existent as it turned white from the pain.
Then, as soon as it came, it was gone. It vaguely lingered but the searing hot pain had vanished.
Owen shakely sighed, it was obvious that he had, indeed, cried. He also discovered that his ears were ringing and that the blurry fake sunlight above him made his eyes water up more than they already had. A soft smile slowly crept onto his face- ‘he had to remain positive as per Ayngel’s advice’ was the first cohesive thought that entered his mind since his collapse.
He faintly heard footsteps approaching and muffled cries for what he assumed was help.‘It must be Magic’ he innocently thought, ‘she’s always entering the maze around this time.’.
Owen felt someone- probably Magic as his mind had supplied- poke and prod, attempting to position him into a more comfortable position than the one he had pathetically crumbled into. He thinks they were speaking to him, but it was hard to hear over the constant ring in his ears. Slowly, his vision began to return fully, and the high-pitched sound blocking his hearing died down.
Slowly, he spoke, though his voice was broken and hoarse from his past screaming.
“M-Magic,” He started before breaking out into a hearty cough. He was swiftly manoeuvred into a better position, and after regaining his composure after his coughing attack he spoke again.
“I’m alright, Magic. You don’t have to manhandle me like this.” He meant it in a light-hearted way, but a loud spluttering sound finally broke the spell that the ringing had on his ears.
“Sir?” The voice that made the spluttering noise -and was very evidently not Magic- said. A chill shot through Owen’s spine. This voice was new, it didn’t sound like anyone in the clearing or beyond in his memories.
“Sir, do you know where you are?” The voice, which was deep and clearly worried, spoke with utmost certainty and had a sense of authority to it. It sounded old, probably older than himself. At this point, Owen’s vision finally cleared up.
He was still lying on a cold floor, but he was surrounded by a group of people. It reminded him of arriving in the elevator years prior. The man who was checking up on him was closest, kneeling down beside him. He had a short, greying buzzcut and wore a golden monocle. He had a large scar that spanned most of his face,‘similar to the scars that Krow can give’ Owen’s mind supplied. As for this man’s question, Owen guessed he must still be in the clearing and that this group were newcomers that got to him before the rest of his own clearing.
“We’re in the clearing? By the maze, of course.” Owen said calmly and plainly.
The man’s eyes widened, and the group began muttering loudly- as if the man below them couldn’t hear them.
“No sir, you’re not in any clearing and certainly not near any maze.” The man supplied. Now it was Owen’s turn for his eyes to widen. A cold, numb feeling captured his body.
“I’m not… I’m not in the clearing?” Owen hastefully asked, panic lacing his voice.
“No, you’re in Oakhurst, we found you lying on the ground in pain.” The man answered.
Owen’s reality shattered in an instant. The words of ‘you’re not in any clearing’ kept playing over and over again. His breath began to pick up in speed, something it hadn’t done before and something that obviously alarmed the man.
“OK, OK, calm down alright? Just breathe, trying breathing alongside me.” He swiftly spat out, panic clear in his tone. He began to overexaggeratly breathe in and out, but Owen couldn’t seem to follow his rhythm. This was all too much for him, and Ayngel’s advice was thrown to the wind in this moment.
He couldn’t breathe, at least not in any way that mattered.
Small, black spots began to fill his vision and the voices of those around him that were beginning to get louder suddenly became muffled. His breathing became quicker and quicker without any oxygen seemingly reaching his lungs.
Black overtook his vision, and Owen fell into a slumber.