With a Herculean effort, Dylan managed to swing his leg back onto the board and haul himself up to stand. Spencer grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to the perceived safety atop the rigidity plank. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived as my vision focused on the dense layer of fog in the distance.

The Troll was still demanding a play date from the pit below, and they had to safely make it to the other side of the pit with only seventeen minutes remaining.

It was apparent the danger was far from over.

Although Dylan was on his feet, he couldn't put weight on his injured leg. The blunt metal prongs of the pitchfork had done significant damage, and it was clear he couldn't continue without assistance. But there was no time to rest. The game demanded their full attention, and any lapse could be fatal.

"We need to keep moving," Sonya urged, her face a constant mask of disgust and impatience. Although the cameras didn't broadcast her words, I heard the uneasy tremble in her voice as the plank wobbled beneath her weight. "I don't trust these flimsy boards."

Dylan nodded, grimacing in pain. "Let's go," he said through gritted teeth. "We have to win this shit."

With renewed determination and caution, they pressed on. The next plank was laid, and they carefully navigated their way across. Each step was a battle, not just against the physical challenge, but against fear that threatened to paralyze them.

After a few nervous minutes, they managed to close the last gap allowing Sonya to hop off the plank first. A victory grin swept over her face at first. Then she spotted the worn wooden trough feet away. The cameras focused on the contents inside of the long narrow box. Usually, the troughs were used to feed and water barn animals, but right now they contained a pile of red apples bobbing in murky liquid.

"Looks like our resident Babysitter has discovered the twist in our tale." Chuck was back on screen. The mischievous look in his eye angered me. "A game within a game? With roughly twelve minutes remaining, the contestants must complete this challenge before claiming victory."

I looked to Millie. "What happened to understanding the rules before the game?"

"This is entertainment," she said. "As long as it does the job no one cares if it's fair or not. Anyway, when was the last time you've experience anything close to fairness in this game?"

The rhetorical question struck a chord, especially since the Witch's Cottage challenge when they hadn't properly explained the game before thrusting us into it.

"It's a twist," I shook my head. "Of course that's how they'll justify it. Twists don't have to be explained at the start. They can shove them in anywhere they want to throw us off."

"Welcome to this mini challenge we call 'Bobbing for Apples,'" Chuck announced. "Your task is to find the riddle hidden inside the apples and answer it correctly. Each correct answer earns you points. Together, you'll need ten points to unlock the main gate before your time is up. The points vary depending on the difficulty of the question inside each apple. Time continues now!"

"What?! Wait." Spencer's deep voice carried over the arena, as he carefully helped his injured brother off the rim of the pit. "What if we can't answer? What if we run out of time?"

The clock on the edge of the screen continued counting down as closeup shots of the apple filled trough filled the screen.

Sonya wasted no time grabbing two apples in hand and beating them against the edge of the long wooden container. I was impressed with her quick thinking as she didn't use her mouth to bob for them. She managed to split one in half, revealing a rolled scroll in the center where the core should have been.

As she quickly unrolled the paper, Millie and I focused on the words onscreen: I'm tall when I'm young, and I'm short when I'm old. What am I?

I narrowed my eyes to Millie. "It's a riddle."

"Worth three points," she said, nodding to the screen.

At last, Spencer and Dylan reached the trough. Spencer took a few apples and dropped them to the ground, crushing them under his feet to speed up the process. This spared Dylan from having to participate in crushing them. He picked up the rolled papers from the center of the pulp and read aloud. "The more you take, the more you leave behind. What are they? Three points."

Spencer seemed strong and determined, but the fear and urgency in his demeanor couldn't be ignored. It was the same emotions I picked up in Sonya although subtly.

They focused on the tear in Dylan's thigh where the pitchfork penetrated, but it was difficult to make out how severe the injury was. The black fabric of the jumpsuit glistened from moisture, but I couldn't tell how much he bled.

I was surprised to see how flushed and pale Dylan appeared to be even as a dark-skinned man. He opened a paper he retrieved from an apple and followed suit, pushing through the pain to read his riddle out loud. "As a regular citizen, how do you expect to become a student athlete without prestige?" His voice grew hollow, defeated. "One point."

Spencer answered with the bass in his words, "We'll earn it by winning the Games!"

Sonya read another riddle she picked from an apple. "What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years? One point.'" Her eyes widened. "I know this one. The letter M."

Chuck finally chimed in with all his delayed glory, "Looks like the Fixer is fixing together the riddle in this one with his correct answer, acquiring one point." The number one appeared onscreen under the words Points Accumulated. "Remember, time's ticking, and they will need an additional nine points to open the gate or things may get a bit hectic for them."

With that, I looked as far as my eyes could see to see the approaching fog. My eyes darted to the countdown and panic began to race through me.

"Fog's rolling in," I told Millie. "We gotta help them or we'll all go down."

Millie nodded, thinking. "I'm tall when I'm young, and I'm short when I'm old. What am I?"

I shook my head. "Uh, a tree?"

"That doesn't make any sense. Trees can be tall and old."

"An old person?" I suggested.

"Being tall when young don't match up with that." She shook her head. "Come on, think. What starts out tall then goes short over time?"

My brain searched several scenarios involving people, characters, and object. Then like a fire, it lit up in my mind. "A candle! Starts short but as it burns—"

"It melts shorter!" Her eyes widened.

At the same time, we called out to Sonya and the brothers. "A candle. The first riddle is a candle!"

Sonya heard our cries and nodded, lifting the paper in hand. "A candle."

Chuck continued to call out correct answers, as they accumulated nearly half of the points.

"What's the other one?" I turned to Millie again.

"The more you take, the more you leave behind. What are they?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Leaving something. Walking away. Oh, Footsteps."

"Yes, that's it!"

We both turned to the back of the chain linked fence, simultaneously calling out, "Footsteps!"

Spencer nodded. "The answer to the other riddle is footsteps."

After a few seconds delay, Chuck agreed. "They've now accumulated eight points out of ten, and they still have to traverse the pit with the playful Troll and do it all in less than seven minutes to avoid failing."

"The fuck?!" Sonya didn't hold back her shock.

"What?" Spencer called out.

Millie grunted, "That's impossible. They already failed then."

But the fired burned in Sonya as she took Spencer's technique and began smashing the apples underfoot. "We just need one more three-pointer."

Dylan screamed in pain. "These are too hard! I can't think." He collapsed to the floor in the sitting position. He wobbled as if he was forcing himself to remain upright and not pass out.

The pit in the center of the area was not as deep as the pit forming in my gut.

Under my breath, I urged, "Get up, damn it. Don't give up yet."

Millie and I looked at each other, as if coming to an understanding that the more allies we had in the Game the greater chance we had of eventually getting out alive. There was strength in numbers. We just had to prevent the numbers from dwindling.

Sonya read another riddle. "What item did Spencer and his father sell for twenty dollars? One point." Sonya glanced to Spencer, before continuing to move on in search of an easy three points.

"Huh?" Spencer looked to the screen. "Me and my dad never sold anything." The confused look on his face said so much.

On screen, Chuck Gillian marched to the front row of the studio audience where an older man sat in one of the many chairs. His dark complexion mimicked Spencer and Dylan's as well as the shape of his nose and eyes. "Grimm Games enthusiast, we have a special guess visiting us in today's studio audience. Hello Mr. Jeffrey."

The man stood and leaned into the host's microphone. "Call me Jugs, everybody else do."

"Good to know, Jugs." Chuck tilted the microphone back and forth between them as they spoke. "You are the biological father of Dylan the Sick and Spencer the Fixer. Is that correct?"

"That's right." He nodded, standing with his hands cupped together in front of his groin as if it made him look tough. "I'm proud of them boys right there. I'll tell you now, they're set to win this whole thing. Big, strong black men. This game is perfect for them. I'm telling you. Fate already handed them the victory."

The audience clapped out of sync and unenthusiastically.

"I'm glad you have a strong belief in your boys and their ability," Chuck said. "Tell me, how do you feel about the injury your youngest sustained?"

"Oh, that old thing." He swiped the air dismissively. "It ain't nothing but a scratch. Come on, boy. Get up and get this win!"

Again, the audience clapped as if they were instructed too.

"So, what is the answer to the one-point question, 'What item did Spencer and his father sell for twenty dollars?'"

"Oh, that's an easy one." Jugs nodded. "Uh, that would be his brother's medicine." The shock of the audience was loud. "Yeah, yeah. Uh, Spencer was stealing and selling some of Dylan's crazy pills as soon as the community clinic handed them over."

Crazy pills? What kind of father would do that to a son?

I saw the anger on Spencer's face as he watched the screen, distracted. Was the anger because his father was lying or revealing a secret?

"I believe that is the true nature of Spencer's moniker, the Fixer, folks." The oohs and aah permeated the studio audience. "Thank you for being here, Jugs. And good luck to you and your boys."

Spencer threw an apple toward the screen. "That's a fucking lie! You assholes."

"Hey bro, focus," Dylan said. "That sketchy fog is coming this way. We don't have time for this. We'll deal with it later."

With that, Sonya and Spencer finally looked at the approaching fog in the distance.

Sonya spoke up. "Go get the planks ready, I got this." She continued searching through riddles, looking for one she could easily answer.

"Fuck that." Spencer sneered. "Don't tell me what to do. I don't trust you."

"What's there to trust?" Sonya continued stomping apples and bending to retrieve the riddles inside. "We answer questions, get points, work together, and get the hell out of here. Sounds simple to me. But we need each other to get across. So, move it!"

As Spencer helped Dylan to his feet, Sonya found a riddle and the screen captured it as she skimmed it: How does the three Billy Goats defeat the troll in the classic tale Three Billy Goats Gruff?

She raised the paper. "By pushing the troll off of the bridge." She dropped the paper and rushed toward the brothers and the planks just as the accumulated points changed to ten onscreen. "Let's move. Come on. I'll go first." She moved quickly, putting their tried-and-true system into action, grabbing the last board from the brothers to secure it across the beams before her.

"Play," the Troll called from deep in the pit. The cameras showed it pick up another farming tool, a shovel and throw it toward the three. Thankfully, it missed, and they continued moving just as swift as the countdown.

"They're not gonna make it," Millie confirmed. "Look at the clock."

Three minutes remained, and they had two more moves to make. If they dropped a plank or brought the board in the back to the front to slowly, it was over. And worse, if they remained stuck over the pit when the fog closed in, there would be no getting out of it.

But something told me that Sonya's last question had less to do with a falling troll and more to do with a subliminal strategy. Afterall, I was more than sure Arcanum viewed her as the overall victor and would go to any length to see that come to fruition.