The bright light in the Witch's cottage flickered ominously, casting elongated shadows that danced across the gingerbread walls.

Sonya tugged at the ropes that anchored her limbs down to the wooden table beside me, her face tense with a mix of fear and determination, mirroring my own feelings of being entangled in this malicious game.

As the timer counted down the seconds starting from ten, I quickly eyed the options.

What is the only way to get through this challenge alive?

a) Kill your opponent

b) Kill your opponent's sibling

c) Kill the Witch

d) All the above

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Kill the Witch," but the timer continued.

"Letter D," Sonya shouted. "All the above."

We rapidly iterated through the remaining options.

"Kill your opponent?"

"Kill your opponent's ... sibling?" The mere thought sent a visceral chill down my spine. Could they truly be pushing us to commit such wicked acts? Inviting us to initially cooperate with our siblings, only to twist the scenario into a macabre challenge of watching them die?

It seemed disturbingly likely. After all, why not? Such a dark twist would undoubtedly send their TV ratings soaring.

The seconds continued their relentless march, and Sonya and I exchanged a telling glance. "This is a test," she suggested.

"A test?" A thought flashed in my mind. "Maybe we need to commit to one of the options."

"We have four seconds." Her eyes widened. "The Witch?"

"The Witch." I nodded, suppressing the emotional implications of our agreement.

Simultaneously we called out, "Kill the Witch!"

The timer halted with a single second to spare. The options faded, replaced by the word "Correct" above the crackling fire.

For a fleeting moment, I contemplated what might have unfolded if we'd chosen differently. Would they have held us to our choices, refusing to advance the show until we embraced the option we'd agreed upon?

The overhead lights dimmed, but the fire continued to roar, casting flickering shadows that became our sole source of illumination.

"What's happening?" I called out, straining for an explanation from the silent speakers. The eerie quiet was my only reply.

No further words materialized, and an unsettling stillness settled in the room, causing my skin to prickle.

Then, with a woosh, the fire was extinguished, plunging us into dense darkness.

I turned my head toward Sonya, but her silhouette was barely discernible in the pitch-black. Distant voices reverberated, their words unintelligible and unsettling.

The creak of the door shattered the silence, freezing me in place. I lay motionless, ears tuned in to the footsteps approaching.

Sonya stirred, her struggle against the restraints painted a vivid picture in my mind. "Who's that?" she called out. "Fuck off, will you?"

I chose to remain still, listening intently, analyzing the darkness with my ears. The footsteps were familiar, heavy, with a lopsided gait and a subtle drag of the foot.

The Witch had returned.

The distinctive scent of stale dough and yeast confirmed my theory as she moved through the space, the putrid breeze following her.

The footsteps encircled us. The Witch's breaths were labored and unsettling. Every muscle in my body tensed, preparing me for whatever was to come. I reminded myself to be prepared for anything.

A mechanical symphony of moving parts filled the space. My eyes darted, trying to make sense of the darkness.

The sound of moving cogs and hefty chains commanded my attention. As the clamor persisted, I strained to decipher the source of the noises and their purpose.

Amidst this orchestra of mechanical clanks and squeaks, a sharp prick against my wrist abruptly halted me. Something prodded my skin in the same spot where the cord had bound me. Then the pressure of the rope released as if the Witch's long, bony fingernail had skillfully sliced through it, freeing my hand.

With a sudden, piercing cackle, the lights flashed back on, momentarily blinding us as the Witch shuffled away, back through the door.

The light returned, this time filling the room with an eerie red hue, casting long, ghostly shadows across the gingerbread walls.

But more notably, where the fire once roared, a towering twelve-by-twelve wooden wall stood displaying an array of weapons.

My gaze flicked between the display of weapons and Sonya, whose rope on her wrist had also been sliced loose. She frantically worked on her remaining restraints, her eyes shooting urgent glances my way.

In sync with Sonya's urgency, I launched into a frenzied struggle with the rope binding my other wrist, using my free hand to try to pull it through the tight loop.

The speakers came to life around us and Chuck Gillian's voice echoed through the room, cutting through the tension. "In this boss battle, you are faced with a formidable adversary—the Witch from the tale of Hansel and Gretel. To emerge victorious, you must face her with a weapon of your choice."

My eyes darted across the twelve-foot-tall wall, taking in the weapons neatly arranged from the top to the bottom of the wooden wall.

I looked over my shoulder at Sonya who had both arms free and was working on the rope at her ankles, both shoes lay beneath her on the ground.

Adrenaline rushed through me from seeing her progress. Fired up, I pulled my hand free from the cord even though the fibers scratched my delicate skin in the process. It was a race against her as well as the invisible clock, so I knew I had to hurry and get free.

The look in Sonya's eyes warned me that I didn't want her to reach the weapons before I did.

"Behold the results of your choice to collaborate during the maze challenge," the host continued. "Feast your eyes on what awaits you."

We continued to work on the restraints, but I managed to stay alert to the happenings surrounding us.

"Before you, a range of weapons awaits. From primitive tools to modern marvels, the choice is yours. Will you opt for the simplicity and familiarity of a slingshot, hearkening back to ancient times? Or perhaps the power and precision of a crossbow, a timeless weapon of hunters and warriors?

"For those seeking a blend of tradition and innovation, we offer a katana, a blade that embodies the spirit of discipline and sharpness. Or maybe you'll embrace the modern world's technological marvels and wield a pistol, a tool of precision and firepower."

As I kicked and tugged at the rope on my ankles, I took note of the placement of each weapon as he announced them. Simple tools like clubs and blades rested toward the bottom of the vertical slab, while modern marvels like handguns and fancy swords were perched toward the very top.

"The stakes are high. The Witch is cunning, and your choice of weapon will determine the outcome. Make your selection wisely to triumph and continue your journey through this perilous, twisted game. Let the battle against the Witch begin!"

I yanked my ankle from the rope after loosening it, causing my shoe to tumble off and land on the ground. "Fuck!" I yelled when Sonya managed to get free from her chopping block and stagger to the wall of weapons.

The way her legs nearly gave out upon standing clued me into her physical condition. Had she been injured while trying to free herself or were the drugs from the tainted apples still in her system?

I used my hands and fingers to try and pry the rope from my ankle, struggling against the tension.

Sonya rested against the wall and gazed up. Her target set on one of the guns anchored at the top. Her eyes flicked between me and the door behind me as she lifted her leg to climb. The handle of a blade attached to the wall caught her socked foot, causing her foot to slip and she cried out in pain.

I could tell she was in no hurry or position to assist me. She could have used one of the blades within her reach to cut my final rope, but her focus was on attaining the guns instead.

I didn't want to call for her help or plead with her to assist me when it was apparent she didn't want to. Also, who knew what noises or commotion would cause the Witch to return?

If I yanked my foot through the tight loop, I might end up in a similar painful predicament as Sonya. So, I pushed my other shoe off and slipped my fingers under the rope, pulling and guiding my foot through bit by bit.

When finally able to stand, my knees wobbled too but I managed to make it to the wall of weapons, zeroing in on the variety of clubs and blades within my reach.

But as my hand grazed the wood, the door burst open behind us with a thud, instinct urged me to stay alert, just as Millie had warned.

As I turned, the imposing figure of the Witch filled the doorway. Anger blazed in her eyes, her breaths reverberating like growls throughout the entire gingerbread space and down my spine. Her stained apron and matted, wiry hair grasped my focus in an unsettling mix of fascination and repulsion.

With my hand on a random piece of metal on the wall and my gaze glued to the Witch, I was transfixed, waiting to gauge her next move so I could play defense and counter it.

Then she slowly approached, stomping forward, eyes on me with her hand raised. She showcased her sharpened, yellowed fingernails that resembled long razor blades.

With my hand gripping a piece of metal on the wall, I hurled it toward her. The crescent-shaped blade flew, narrowly missing her but returning like a boomerang, slicing through her earlobe before heading back toward me.

I ducked just in time, and the blade perfectly landed along the magnetic cuff on the wall, right where it had originated.

The Witch howled in pain as blood oozed from her ear, matching the red hue of the room. Without hesitation, she turned and vanished through the door, leaving it creaking on its hinges.

I ignored Sonya who was determined to climb and turned my attention to the brass arm cuff and the crescent-shaped blade that snuggly rested within it in its proper place.

A surge of excitement coursed through me as I considered the deadly, elegant weapon and its matching forearm glove. An unshakeable sense of destiny whispered that this was the perfect tool to assist me in this grim game.