The inside of the Grand Cathedral was even more overwhelming than the outside. The ceiling soared so high above that it vanished into shadow, despite thousands of candles lighting the space. The walls were covered in intricate mosaics showing humanity''s struggle against corruption and the Maw''s interventions throughout history. The air felt heavy with incense and anticipation, with Church leaders arranged in perfect circles around a raised platform in the center.
On this platform stood something unlike anything Elias had ever seen – a crystal structure that seemed to drink in light rather than reflect it, its surface rippling like liquid despite appearing solid. The twelve chosen ones were led to specific positions around this artifact, each spot marked with symbols matching the patterns on their skin.
Elias found his place, noticing how the formation created a perfect copy of the Maw''s symbol when seen from above. The High Priestess took her position at the head of this living diagram, her elaborate robes now flowing with subtle patterns of light that matched the rhythm of the crystals each chosen one wore.
"Since the Fall, the Maw has stood as gateway between humanity and annihilation," Seraphina''s voice filled the Cathedral without her seeming to raise it. "Its judgment is perfect, its purpose divine. Those worthy return as champions against corruption. Those unworthy serve through their consumption."
The crystal at Elias''s throat grew uncomfortably hot, its pulsing speeding up to match his quickening heartbeat. Around the circle, the other chosen ones showed similar discomfort – adjusting their collars, touching the crystals with uncertain fingers, shifting their weight like they wanted to step away from their assigned spots.
Acolytes moved among them, applying sacred oils to their foreheads, throats, and palms. The oil burned briefly when it touched skin before sinking beneath the surface, joining the black marks in their constant movement. Each application brought a flash of vision – glimpses of places Elias didn''t recognize, buildings that shouldn''t exist, faces both human and disturbingly not.
"Salvation requires sacrifice," the High Priestess continued, stepping toward the central artifact. "Transformation demands surrender. The path through the Maw''s embrace isn''t walked with feet, but with will and purpose."
She placed her hands on the crystal''s surface, which immediately responded – rippling more violently, colors shifting through its depths like oil on water. The gathered Church hierarchy began a low, humming chant that seemed to vibrate through the Cathedral''s very foundation.
"The Maw knows your true nature," Seraphina''s voice took on a rhythmic quality that seemed to match the pulsing of their marks. "It sees beyond flesh, beyond thought, to the core of your being. Pretense falls away within its embrace. Only truth remains."
The floor beneath their platforms shifted slightly, revealing concentric circles inscribed with symbols matching those on the High Priestess''s robes. These circles began to rotate in opposite directions, creating a dizzying effect that made it hard to keep balance.
"The twelve become one within the Maw''s domain," she chanted, her eyes closing in deep concentration. "Twelve paths converge, twelve truths intertwine, twelve potentials manifest according to the divine will."
The Cathedral''s lighting changed, shadows deepening as the central artifact began to glow with inner light – not brightening the space but somehow pulling light into itself, creating a controlled darkness that pressed against Elias''s skin like it had actual weight.
"Breathe deeply," instructed the acolyte beside him. "Accept the transition. Fighting it only makes it hurt more."
Elias tried to comply, drawing air into lungs that suddenly felt tight in the thickening atmosphere. The marks beneath his skin moved frantically, like they were trying to escape. The medallion in his pocket burned against his thigh, as hot as the crystal now embedded in his throat.
Around the circle, he saw the others reacting differently to the intensifying ritual. Maris was visibly shaking, her pride finally giving way to naked fear. Keldric stood stiff as a board, military discipline holding even as sweat beaded on his forehead. Tavin''s eyes were closed, his lips moving in what might have been calculation or prayer. The farm girl wept silently, tears tracking through the oil on her cheeks.
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Only Lyara seemed truly ready, her posture relaxed yet alert, her breathing steady. When their eyes met briefly across the circle, he caught something unexpected in her gaze – not just determination or knowledge, but what looked like genuine concern directed specifically at him.
The High Priestess''s voice rose to a crescendo, ancient words in a language Elias didn''t recognize pouring from her lips. The central artifact responded, its surface now churning violently, depths showing glimpses of landscapes, buildings, faces that appeared and disappeared too quickly to identify.
"The gateway opens," Seraphina announced, switching back to common speech. "The Maw awaits its chosen."
The floor beneath their platforms began to dissolve – not crumbling physically but transforming into something liquid and dark, spreading upward around their ankles with cold that burned like fire. Elias heard gasps and muttered prayers from around the circle as the substance continued to rise, swallowing them inch by inch.
"Surrender to the embrace," the High Priestess commanded. "Let the Maw''s judgment find you worthy."
The dark liquid reached Elias''s waist, then his chest, with a coldness that cut to his core. Yet beneath the cold came something else – a strange weightlessness, as though his physical form was becoming less substantial with each passing moment.
He glanced toward Lyara, finding her already submerged to her shoulders, eyes still open and alert as the darkness claimed her. Their gazes locked one final time across the chamber, and he saw her lips move in what might have been encouragement or warning before the liquid closed over her head.
Around the circle, the others were similarly engulfed – some struggling uselessly, others surrendering to the inevitable. Maris''s scream cut off abruptly as the darkness covered her face. Keldric maintained his rigid posture until the last possible moment before going under. Tavin slipped beneath the surface with eyes still closed, his expression almost peaceful.
As the liquid reached Elias''s chin, he felt a surge of panic threatening to overwhelm his carefully maintained control. Primal fear of drowning fought with rational understanding that this was no ordinary submersion. His survival instincts screamed at him to fight, while his brain recognized the pointlessness of resistance.
The marks beneath his skin now moved so rapidly they seemed to vibrate, creating a sensation like thousands of insects crawling just beneath the surface. The crystal embedded in his throat pulsed in time with his racing heart, spreading tendrils of heat up his neck in contrast to the liquid''s cold.
In his pocket, the medallion flared with sudden heat, burning through fabric to press against his skin. As the darkness rose to cover his mouth and nose, Elias made a split-second decision – trusting neither Church doctrine nor Lyara''s mysterious knowledge completely, but creating his own path forward from both.
He reached into his pocket, gripping the medallion tightly as the liquid closed over his head.
Darkness consumed his vision entirely. The cold penetrated to his bones, then seemed to go deeper still – reaching past physical sensation to something more fundamental. He felt his sense of self beginning to come apart, memories and identity loosening like knots coming undone.
A voice—or maybe voices, layered and overlapping—spoke directly into his mind, bypassing his ears entirely.
Elias of the Outer Slums
The voice wasn''t male or female, young or old, but carried weight beyond mere sound.
The Maw accepts you
He tried to respond but had no mouth, no lungs, no physical form to speak with. The darkness was absolute, encompassing not just vision but all senses, all thought.
Twelve enter. How many return depends on what is found within.
Images flashed through his dissolving consciousness—the slums where he''d grown up, the eastern breach that had claimed his family, the High Priestess''s penetrating gaze, Lyara''s concerned expression at the final moment.
What do you seek beyond the gateway?
The question wasn''t just rhetorical—it pressed against what remained of his identity with tangible force, demanding an answer. In this formless state, lies were impossible, pretense meaningless.
Survival, he thought, was the truest answer he could give.
The darkness seemed to consider this, pressing closer, examining the thought from all angles.
Insufficient, came the response, echoing the High Priestess and Lyara''s warnings with perfect clarity.
What do you seek beyond mere survival? the voice insisted, pressure increasing until Elias felt what remained of his consciousness beginning to tear at the edges.
With no identity to protect, no mask to maintain, truth emerged from depths he rarely acknowledged even to himself:
Understanding. Power. Freedom from fear.
The pressure eased slightly, the voice seeming satisfied with this deeper revelation.
Twelve enter together. The first trial begins.
The medallion in his grasp flared with impossible heat, burning through the darkness that enveloped him. Brief, searing pain gave way to a rushing sensation of movement without direction, falling without gravity.
As consciousness began to fade entirely, Elias heard the voice one final time, now somehow familiar though he couldn''t place why:
Find her quickly. Together you might survive what comes.
Then even that faded, leaving nothing but the sensation of falling through endless night, toward a destination beyond imagination or preparation.
The Black Maw had claimed its chosen ones. The trials had begun.