The planks clattered as Sonya dropped them on top of the pit's frame, and one by one, she and the brothers moved across, getting closer to the other side.

Millie and I continued to watch from our chain-linked confinement. I wished I could do more than just stand there, but I had to work with what I had. If I couldn't help in any other way, then it would benefit us to think about our next move.

The fog was fast approaching, and I wasn't sure what the plan would be if we were caught in it. Would it put us to sleep? Or was it harmless, just part of the ambience?

Sonya led the group over the pit, carefully placing the planks. Spencer stayed at the back, lifting the last plank and passing it forward. Despite the constant pain in his eyes from his wounded thigh, Dylan kept working, helping to move the planks forward while they all balanced on one at a time.

Sonya moved swiftly, her eyes fixed on the goal ahead, her determination evident as the countdown ticked away. A ruthless glint shone in her eyes. As they approached the end, the gap between the last plank and solid ground became visible. Only one last six-foot space remained from the edge of the pit and them.

In a final, decisive move, Sonya secured the plank and quickly ran across it to get to solid ground. Without a second thought, she yanked the last plank away, dropping it into the pit. The sound of it clattering against wooden walls below echoed ominously. From the depths, a menacing growl echoed in response, the Troll below stirring at the disturbance.

"Sonya, don't!" Spencer's voice echoed across the pit, but Sonya's expression remained resolute, her eyes cold and calculating. The brothers were left teetering on the narrow plank, their eyes wide with shock and betrayal.

"What the hell?!" Spencer shouted after her, but Sonya didn't look back. She sprinted towards the gate, leaving them to fend for themselves against the imminent danger below.

On screen the crowd gasped, the tension in the air thickened as Spencer and Dylan struggled to regain their balance on the final plank.

From watching the screen, the pit seemed to grow darker, the threat of the Grimm Troll lurking below became more real. Time was running out, and Sonya's betrayal left them in a risky position.

"Sonya, stop. What are you doing?" I shook my head, surprising myself that I could ever believe she would play fair.

Dylan held onto Spencer for balance as they teetered in the center of the remaining beam. "I'll kill her. I swear I will."

"Just calm down." Spencer tried to pacify the situation. "We're gonna get through this."

Sonya turned her back on the chaos. Before she got to the main gate she paused and pivoted, making a beeline to the center of the arena. I assumed her focus was now on retrieving her weapon from the place they placed them before the start of the game.

Dylan and Spencer stared at the wide gap as the fog crept closer and the Troll below grew more agitated by the second.

The host's voice crackled through the speakers, dripping with a mix of amusement and mock sympathy. "Well, well, folks! It looks like we've got ourselves a little betrayal on our hands! Sonya the Babysitter is not playing nice, is she? But hey, who said survival was ever fair?" He paused, letting the tension build.

"That's right," Sonya's voice was heard during the silence. "Survival of the fittest."

"Sonya's ruthless move just proved that in the Grimm Games, it's every player for themselves. She's taken the plank and left the poor Jeffrey duo high and dry—or should I say, dangling over the pit? Now, will they find a way out, or has Sonya sealed their fate with the Troll below?"

The audience's reactions, a mix of gasps and cheers, filled the air, underscoring the drama of the moment. The host's voice took on a darker, more gleeful tone. "It's clear that in Grimm Games, trust is in short supply. Let's see who has what it takes to outlast the rest!"

"Look at the countdown." As I watched the screen, I realized the last two minutes on the clock continually descended by the seconds. "It's not over yet."

The cameras captured Sonya at a table that held their weapons. And she used the opportunity to retrieve her knife and destroy Spencer's thorned club and Dylan's makeshift spear.

The host's voice resonated through the arena with a hint of cryptic amusement. "You know, sometimes the solution to a problem is right at the edge of your understanding. Just a little touch could go a long way." He let certain words linger, adding a subtle emphasis. "Remember, every step counts, and it might be worth making sure everyone is on the same page. Or should I say, the same edge." With a chuckle, he concluded, "After all, teamwork can open doors you never expected. Think about it, and good luck."

The automated voice activated. "Sixty seconds."

My jaw dropped at the realization. I turned to Millie, and like a mirror, we said in unison, "Touch the edge!"

I shouted to the brothers, pressing my lips through the metal links, "The countdown will stop as soon as you both touch the edge of the pit!"

Onscreen, Sonya looked back toward the gate's entrance, hesitation flickering in her eyes. I wondered if she regretted her betrayal, if she now realized that her actions had put them all in jeopardy. Afterall, the rules stated they had to work together. And I assumed the gates wouldn't open unless they all were off the pit.

She bit her lip, her gaze shifting from the brothers to the discarded plank now lying in the pit below.

"Sonya," I called out, hoping to reach whatever part of her still cared. "It's not too late. Help them finish this."

Her expression hardened again, and she rushed toward the locked gate door with her knife in hand.

"We have to jump," Spencer told Dylan. "We're out of planks and there's no other choice."

Dylan didn't even hesitate, which brightened my heart and somehow gave me courage. "You go first."

Spencer nodded, gently guiding Dylan to the back of the plank to give himself enough space for a running start. I waited, nearly holding my breath as we were about to witness what the brothers had always boasted about: their strength, speed, and agility.

Spencer's chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing with purpose. He positioned himself near the edge of the plank where Dylan balanced, muscles tensed and ready to spring into action. Onscreen the crowd's tension was obvious, a collective gasp hanging in the air as Spencer launched himself forward. His feet pounded the wood, the plank wobbling slightly under his weight. As he neared the end, he leapt, sailing over the gaping pit below.

Time seemed to slow as Spencer's body arched gracefully through the air. His form was perfect, honed by years of training and natural athleticism. He tucked his body into a roll just as he reached the other side, absorbing the impact and coming up on his feet in one fluid motion. The crowd onscreen erupted into victorious cheers as well as a few angered taunts, but Spencer's focus was solely on Dylan.

"Come on, brother. You've got this." Spencer assured him, his voice full of encouragement. He extended his hand towards his brother, urging him to take the leap.

The automated voice interrupted the brief silence. "Fifteen seconds."

The fog crept closer, now even visible in certain angles on screen.

Dylan's face contorted in pain from his wounded thigh, but he took a deep breath. He positioned himself at the back of the plank, just as Spencer had. Every step he took was measured, careful. As he approached the edge, he pushed off with all his might, his body launching into the air.

For a moment, it seemed like Dylan would make it. But at the last second, his eyes widened in realization, and he fell short. His hands frantically grabbed for the edge, fingers clawing at the ledge. The audience gasped in horror as Dylan dangled precariously, his grip slipping bit by bit. The camera zoomed in, capturing every tense second of his desperate struggle to hold on.

"Shit, Dylan!" Spencer yelled, rushing to his brother's aid. He reached down, grabbing Dylan's wrists with a firm grip, using his legs to stabilize them. As Spencer tried to pull Dylan up with a grunt of effort, the main gate enclosing the arena creaked open. The loud, metallic groan echoed through the arena, signaling the end of the challenge.

Sonya's eyes widened. Seeing the gate open, she seized the opportunity and sprinted towards it, her feet pounding against the straw covered ground. Only seconds later, our door opened too, releasing Millie and I from our confinement. Without hesitation, Millie darted out and charged Sonya.

I stood frozen for a moment, my eyes darting between the unfolding chaos. Millie and Sonya were rolling on the floor, locked in a fierce struggle, while Spencer's desperate call for help rang in my ears.

"Help us," he cried out, his voice strained with urgency.

I snapped out of my paralysis, my body moving on instinct. I rushed toward Spencer and Dylan, my heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through me. Reaching them, I grabbed Dylan's other arm with both hands, grunting in pain from my wounded hand as I helped Spencer lift him over the lip of the wooden pit.

Strength in numbers, I repeated in my head. "You okay?" I quickly assessed Dylan's condition.

He nodded weakly. His face contorted in agony. "I'll manage," he said through gritted teeth.

"Die, you bitch!" Sonya managed to pin Millie to the ground by her throat, apparently losing her knife in the struggle.

I rushed toward them, making my way through the main gate. Millie managed to land a few hefty blows to Sonya's ribcage before I enclosed my arms around Sonya to yank her off.

Sonya butted my temple with the back of her head before we both hit the ground. Everything went blurry and the sound of Chuck's voice was distorted as it traveled all around me. It sounded like he declared it the end of the challenge, but I was unsure.

I stared up at bright stage lights that shifted into intense medical lights and back again. A familiar pair of eyes blocked the brightness to gazed into mine, examining. They resembled mine. Millie? She spoke but I couldn't make out the gibberish.

The eyes changed again, shifting into another familiar pair. This time when I blinked, Ms. Holle's angry glare stared back. "End it! Now."

I shut my eyes again and a warm sensation washed over me. When I looked again, I encountered the most beautiful brown eyes I've ever gazed upon. "Jade? Babes, is that you?" I tried to lift my fingers to her face, but my entire arm felt like lead.

Amidst her concerned gaze, they transformed into another pair of eyes–dark, mysterious, and piercing. They seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity, and a shiver ran down my spine. "Jade?" I called out, confused.

An ethereal voice answered, "To those who seek the truth in rhyme, I am the Piper of the Grimm's design."