Evening brought all twelve chosen ones together for the first time in a circular chamber deep within the Sanctuary. Stone benches arranged in a perfect circle surrounded a central mosaic depicting the Maw as Church doctrine envisioned it—a swirling vortex of darkness punctuated by points of light, neither fully solid nor entirely ephemeral.


    Elias found Tavin already seated, expression thoughtful as he studied the others gathering in the room. The slum-born scholar nodded slightly as Elias took the place beside him.


    "Learn anything useful from the High Priestess?" Tavin asked quietly.


    "Nothing concrete," Elias replied, "but she believes the patterns in our markings indicate our potential paths through the trials."


    Tavin glanced at his own forearms, where the black swirls had formed angular patterns unlike Elias''s fluid whorls. "Coded information, perhaps. Biological signaling."


    "Or mystical nonsense," offered a new voice.


    Elias looked up to find the soldier-like man he''d noticed earlier settling onto the bench beside them. Up close, his disciplined bearing was even more evident—shoulders square, gaze alert, hands positioned for quick response.


    "Keldric," the man introduced himself, "former Sentinel captain."


    Elias felt a jolt of recognition. "You led the squad that captured me in the slums."


    "I did." Keldric showed no embarrassment at the connection. "You gave my men quite a chase. Impressive, for a slum thief."


    "Former thief," Elias corrected, feeling an unexpected flicker of amusement. "Current chosen sacrifice."


    Keldric''s mouth twitched in what might have been appreciation for the dark humor. "Former Sentinel, current chosen sacrifice," he acknowledged. "Seems we''re all reinventing ourselves today."


    "How does a Sentinel captain end up marked by the Maw?" Tavin asked.


    "The same way as anyone else—random cosmic joke." Keldric rolled up his sleeve further, revealing marks that formed distinct geometric patterns, almost militant in their precision. "Was investigating corruption traces in the Lower Market when these appeared. Reported to my superiors immediately, as protocol demands."


    "Voluntarily?" Elias couldn''t mask his surprise.


    "We''re not all brutes enforcing Church doctrine blindly," Keldric replied, a hint of defensiveness entering his tone. "I believe in order, in protection. The Maw''s chosen are the first line of defense against corruption. If I''m selected to serve in that capacity, I accept the duty."


    Before Elias could respond, a hush fell over the chamber as the final chosen one entered—a young woman with the weathered skin and calloused hands of the farming districts. She moved with quiet dignity despite the obvious fear in her eyes, taking the last empty place in the circle.


    Twelve chosen ones, completed as tradition demanded. The marks on Elias''s skin hummed in response, as though acknowledging the circle''s completion.


    He took the opportunity to study each of his fellow chosen more carefully. Besides Keldric, Tavin, and Maris, he identified several distinct types: the scholarly pair he''d noticed earlier, both women with ink-stained fingers and analytical gazes; three from privileged backgrounds who clustered near Maris, maintaining class solidarity even in the shadow of sacrifice; a weather-beaten man with a sailor''s tattoos visible at his collar; the farm girl who had just arrived; and a eerily calm young woman seated directly across from Elias.


    This last one drew his attention most strongly. Unlike the others, who displayed varying degrees of fear, resignation, or defiance, she seemed almost at peace. Her marks followed a pattern unlike any of the others—radiating outward from her wrists like unfurling wings. When she caught him studying her, she held his gaze with unsettling directness.


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    "You''re wondering why I''m not afraid," she said, her voice carrying easily across the circle.


    Conversations stopped as attention shifted to this unexpected exchange.


    "The thought crossed my mind," Elias admitted.


    "I volunteered." Her simple statement caused a ripple of shock through the circle. Even Keldric straightened in surprise.


    "Volunteered?" echoed one of the nobles incredulously. "For sacrifice?"


    "For transformation," she corrected. "My name is Lyara. I''ve spent my life preparing for this moment."


    Maris gave a derisive laugh. "The Church has a true believer among us. How fortunate."


    "I believe in the Maw''s purpose," Lyara replied without heat, "not necessarily in the Church''s interpretation of it."


    This distinction sparked Elias''s curiosity. "You sound like you know something about the trials that we don''t."


    Lyara''s gaze returned to him, assessing. "My family has maintained certain... independent knowledge about the Maw. Knowledge the Church either doesn''t possess or chooses not to share."


    "Heresy," muttered one of the nobles.


    "Perhaps," she acknowledged. "Or perhaps a more complete understanding."


    Keldric leaned forward. "If you have information that could help us survive, sharing it would be the honorable course."


    "Honor won''t matter much if we''re all consumed," added the sailor gruffly.


    Lyara considered them all for a moment before speaking. "The trials are not what the Church describes—not entirely. They test more than faith or strength or intelligence. They test purpose and identity in ways that strip away pretense."


    "That''s rather vague," Tavin observed.


    "Because the trials themselves are fluid, adapting to those who enter them." Lyara''s fingers traced the wing-like patterns on her wrists. "But certain constants remain. Twelve enter together. The weak of purpose are consumed first. Those who sacrifice others for personal gain rarely survive. Those who sacrifice themselves for others sometimes return with the greatest power."


    Maris scoffed openly now. "Self-sacrifice? Is that the secret? How conveniently aligned with Church teaching."


    "I said nothing of the Church," Lyara replied calmly. "This knowledge comes from direct accounts of the Returned—those few who could articulate their experiences beyond religious interpretation."


    The scholarly woman nearest Elias spoke up. "You''ve spoken with Returned ones directly? Outside Church supervision?"


    "My family has documented their accounts for generations." Lyara''s expression remained serene despite the increasingly hostile atmosphere. "The Maw''s purpose is not punishment or reward, but transformation. Its trials reveal who we truly are beneath our masks."


    "Assuming any of this is true," said one of the nobles, "why share it with competitors? Surely fewer survivors benefits those who remain."


    Lyara''s gaze hardened slightly. "That thinking is precisely what leads many to be consumed. The trials are not a competition, but a shared journey. Those who understand this have greater chance of return."


    Elias watched the others'' reactions carefully. Keldric appeared thoughtful, weighing Lyara''s words against his own knowledge. Tavin was openly curious, storing the information for later analysis. Maris and her court remained dismissive, while the scholars exchanged meaningful glances. The farm girl and sailor seemed equally troubled and hopeful.


    "You said you volunteered," Elias said, drawing Lyara''s attention back to him. "Why?"


    Something complex passed behind her eyes—determination, certainly, but also secrets held in reserve. "To fulfill a purpose generations in the making," she answered finally. "My family has maintained knowledge of the Maw''s true nature since the early days of corruption. I am here to continue that work."


    "By dying in the trials?" challenged one of the nobles.


    "By returning transformed," she corrected. "As I intend to do. As some of you may also do, if you understand what truly awaits us."


    Before the conversation could continue, Church acolytes entered the chamber, signaling the beginning of the evening''s ritual preparations. Elias caught Lyara''s gaze once more before they were separated, sensing that of all the chosen ones, she would be most crucial to understanding what awaited them beyond the Maw''s embrace.


    As he followed his assigned acolyte toward the purification chambers, he felt Keldric fall into step beside him.


    "She knows more than she''s telling," the former Sentinel muttered.


    "Obviously," Elias agreed.


    "Do you trust her?"


    Elias considered the question carefully. "Trust is a luxury in the slums. But of everyone here, she''s the only one who entered this willingly with eyes open."


    "Or she''s delusional," Keldric countered. "Religious fanatics often are."


    "She doesn''t strike me as a fanatic. More like someone with a mission." Elias glanced at the former Sentinel. "Either way, I intend to learn more before dawn."


    Keldric nodded slowly. "As do I. Between the Church''s doctrine, her family''s knowledge, and our own observations, perhaps a useful truth can be assembled."


    They separated at a junction in the corridor, each led to individual chambers for the night''s preparations. As Elias followed his acolyte, he found his thoughts returning to Lyara''s words: The trials reveal who we truly are beneath our masks.


    He wondered what the Maw would find beneath his carefully constructed mask of survival—and whether that discovery would lead to his transformation or his consumption when dawn finally came.