They''d almost reached the bridge level. The emergency stairwell echoed with their labored breathing and the distant sounds of pursuit. Elias led the way, with Maren behind him and Etta bringing up the rear.


    "Wait," Elias whispered, holding up his hand. "Listen."


    The sounds from below had stopped. Nothing moved in the stairwell except the three of them.


    "Maybe we lost them?" Etta suggested, hope creeping into her voice.


    Maren shook her head. "Or maybe they found easier prey."


    The thought hung between them, heavy and unspoken. Other survivors. Other chosen ones.


    "Half a flight more," Elias said, pointing upward. "Bridge access should be just around the next landing."


    As they continued their climb, the emergency lights flickered, then died completely. Darkness swallowed them whole.


    "Nobody move," Maren hissed.


    Something cold brushed against Elias''s face—not quite liquid, not quite air. He jerked backward, colliding with Maren.


    "What the—"


    The darkness around them... changed. It wasn''t just absence of light anymore. It moved. Flowed. Became something with weight and texture. The stairwell dissolved into nothingness, leaving them suspended in a void.


    And then, light. Not from any source Elias could identify, but everywhere at once. They stood in an empty space that seemed both infinite and claustrophobically small. The walls—if they were walls—shifted like smoke, never quite settling into definite shapes.


    "What''s happening?" Etta''s voice trembled.


    A figure materialized before them. Human in shape, but wrong somehow. Its proportions shifted subtly as it moved, like it couldn''t quite decide what form to take. It wore what appeared to be formal attire from a bygone era—a high-collared coat with intricate embroidery that changed pattern with each subtle movement.


    Its face was the most disturbing part. Features constantly rearranged themselves, as if cycling through different people. Sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes neither. The only constants were the eyes—bottomless black pools that reflected nothing.


    "I am the Judge," it said in a voice that seemed to bypass their ears entirely, speaking directly into their minds. "Observer of the trials. Assessor of worth."


    Elias stepped forward, positioning himself between the entity and the others. "What do you want?"


    The Judge tilted its head at an impossible angle. "To provide context. You are participants in the first phase of your trial—a historical crucible chosen specifically for what it can teach."


    "The Heraclea Expedition," Maren said. "Humanity''s first documented encounter with corruption."


    "Precisely." The Judge''s mouth didn''t move in sync with its words. "Each of you has been placed in a moment pivotal to understanding the nature of corruption and humanity''s response to it."


    Elias narrowed his eyes. "And why are you telling us this now?"


    "Because some clarification has become necessary." The Judge circled them, its movements unnaturally fluid. "You cannot change the outcome of this historical event. The Heraclea and all aboard her are doomed. This truth is fixed."


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Then what''s the point?" Elias demanded. "Why put us through this if nothing we do matters?"


    The Judge stopped directly in front of him, its face momentarily settling into a reflection of his own before shifting again. "Who said nothing matters? Learning matters. Understanding matters. How else will you avoid repeating the same mistakes?"


    Etta stepped forward. "These people—the crew—they seem so real."


    "They are real, in a sense. Accurate reconstructions drawn from historical records. Their pain, their fear, their confusion—all faithful reproductions of what truly occurred."


    Something about this explanation made Elias''s skin crawl. "That''s sick."


    "It is necessary," the Judge countered. "You must understand the full weight of human decisions in the face of corruption. The courage. The cowardice. The curiosity that leads to catastrophe."


    "There''s more than just learning lessons here, isn''t there?" Maren asked, her scientific mind clearly working to piece together the puzzle. "You mentioned ''first phase''—what comes after?"


    The Judge''s form seemed pleased, though its face remained unreadable. "Indeed. The dual-phase structure of the trials serves a specific purpose. Phase One—your current historical crucible—teaches perspective through immersion in humanity''s past encounters with corruption."


    "And Phase Two?" Maren pressed.


    "Revelation through synthesis," the Judge replied cryptically. "But that comes later. For now, you must complete your journey here."


    Elias crossed his arms. "How? Half of us are probably already dead."


    "Not all." The Judge waved a hand, and the space around them briefly showed flickering images—other chosen ones in various locations throughout the ship. Keldric barricading a door with several crew members. A woman Elias recognized as Lyra Nevaris tending to wounded in what appeared to be the ship''s medical bay. Others he couldn''t identify, running, hiding, fighting.


    "Twelve began. How many complete the journey depends entirely on your choices and capabilities."


    Elias leaned forward. "And what do we need to do to ''complete'' it?"


    "Each of you must locate two specific artifacts that will resonate with you personally. A weapon and a tool, belonging to key historical figures from this scenario."


    "Like Captain Markov?" Etta asked.


    "Perhaps. The artifacts choose their wielders as much as you choose them. When you find yours, you will know." The Judge''s form began to fade slightly at the edges. "Once those who survive have claimed their artifacts, you must reach the bridge. There, this phase will conclude."


    Something occurred to Elias. "You said these artifacts belonged to historical figures. But if I take the security officer''s weapon back in Lab Four—"


    "Time works differently here," the Judge interrupted. "What you remove from this scenario has no impact on the historical outcome. The events play out as they must, regardless of your interference."


    Maren stepped closer to the entity, her scientist''s curiosity overriding caution. "What exactly are you? Part of the Maw? Its consciousness?"


    The Judge''s form grew momentarily more solid, more defined. "I am its judgment made manifest. Neither benevolent nor malevolent. I observe. I assess. I determine worth."


    "Worth for what?" Elias demanded.


    But the Judge was already fading, the strange dimensionless space dissolving around them.


    "Find your artifacts. Reach the bridge. Complete Phase One." Its voice grew distant. "The corrupted entities approaching your position have been temporarily diverted, but they will return. Make haste."


    The world snapped back into focus. They stood in the emergency stairwell exactly where they''d been. The emergency lights flickered back to life, bathing everything in red. According to Elias''s sense of time, barely seconds had passed.


    "Did that... really happen?" Etta asked, her voice small.


    Maren nodded slowly. "It did. And it explained a lot." She turned to Elias. "We need to find these artifacts the Judge mentioned. Without them, reaching the bridge might be meaningless."


    Elias reached for the access door handle, then hesitated. The Judge''s warnings about corrupted entities returning echoed in his mind.


    "We should split up," he said, turning to face the others. "We''ll cover more ground if we search separately."


    Maren''s eyes widened. "Are you insane? After everything we''ve seen?"


    "We''re running out of time," Elias insisted. "The ship is going down one way or another."


    Etta looked terrified but determined. "How will we know which artifacts are ours?"


    Elias remembered the Judge''s words. "We''ll know. They''ll... resonate."


    Maren''s expression hardened into resolve. "Meet back here in twenty minutes. No matter what."


    They shared one final look—three strangers bound by an incomprehensible fate.


    Elias turned back to the access door, took a deep breath, and carefully pushed it open to peer into the corridor beyond.