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But they don't.

Mom places her warm palm on my cheek. "Nora, do you feel like Alaska is truly what comes next for you?"

That ache returns as a full-blown gnawing.

Mabel's hand slides from my face into mine again, but this time she doesn't just hold it—she pulls me in the direction I could have sworn we just came from.

"Because sometimes it's not the maze you're in that's trapping you. Sometimes it's the path you decide you have to follow."

I glance around the towering corn.

"The one you think is right because it worked once," she continues. "Because you've convinced yourself it's the only way through."

We take one more turn that I would've assumed would put us right back in the middle. Instead, noises start to filter in from outside, the hay beneath our feet thinning with every step.

"But if you never stop to ask whether it's still the path you want…" She shrugs lightly. "You'll keep walking it until it stops leading you where you want to be. Until all you feel is… stuck."

I look up, and there's only a few more feet of stalks before an open field sits in front of us.

"How in the—"

"It's funny," she says, smiling. "Sometimes the only box you're trapped in is the one you built around yourself."

We step out into the open space, the maze suddenly looking much smaller behind us than it felt while we were inside. I try to wrap my head around how we even got here, but Mom's words keep stretching bigger in front of me.

I turn back toward the countless stalks—all those twists and turns. The dead ends. All that wandering.

For years after the memories of Jace and I forced me out, I told myself Mage was the thing that made me feel stuck. That I had to leave so I didn't disappear into a life I didn't even want anymore.

So I did.

I left.

And then I left another time.

I kept leaving—again and again—until I ended up here.

And only now is it hitting me that maybe this path I thought I was meant for… isn't the right one anymore.

I spin slowly, still trying to get my bearings.

What if it wasn't Mage that made me feel trapped?

What if it was me thinking I wasn't allowed to go?

My gaze drops to the dirt path beneath my shoes.

And now… maybe it's the opposite.

Maybe I've convinced myself that leaving is the only way forward. That staying anywhere too long means I've failed somehow. That choosing one place—one person—means I'm stuck… again.

A breeze ripples through the last few rows of corn, the dry leaves brushing together.

I glance at Mabel. "You really think that's what I'm doing?"

She simply grins, and somehow that's worse than if she'd answered.

Because for the first time since I sent that paperwork to Kent, I'm not entirely sure Alaska is the path I was supposed to take.