《Ash and Shadow》


 Shadows of Survival

    Elias moved like a ghost through the Outer Slums of Valtaros, each step calculated to make no sound. The morning fog clung to the ground, obscuring the filth and decay but not its stench¡ªa miasma of waste, disease, and desperation that had become so familiar he barely noticed it anymore.


    He paused at the corner of a crumbling tenement, watching the patrol of Sentinels pass. Their polished armor gleamed even in the dim light, an obscene display of resources in a district where children died of hunger daily. They marched in perfect formation, hands resting on sword hilts, eyes scanning constantly for trouble. For people like him.


    Only when they disappeared into the fog did Elias continue, skirting the edge of a festering puddle that had once been a communal well. A bony dog watched him with suspicious eyes but was too weak to bother giving chase.


    Today he would risk the Market Quarter. Dangerous, but the alternative was another day without food. His stomach had long since stopped growling, moving past hunger to a hollow ache that clouded his thoughts.


    The transition between districts was both abrupt and heavily guarded. A crumbling wall, once part of the original city fortifications, now served as the boundary separating those deemed worthy of protection from those left to fend for themselves. The Market Quarter checkpoint buzzed with activity¡ªmerchants'' carts being inspected, papers verified, bribes discreetly exchanged.


    Elias had no papers and no coin for bribes. He had only his wits and a lifetime of learning where to step, where to hide, when to move.


    He slipped into the drainage canal that ran beneath the wall. The smell was overwhelming, but it kept the guards away. They wouldn''t soil their polished boots. Pressing his back against the slimy stone, he edged sideways until he reached the iron grate. Three bars were loose, just enough space for someone as thin as he had become.


    The Market Quarter erupted around him in a cacophony of sounds and colors. Merchants hawked wares from stalls draped in fabrics dyed in hues that seemed impossible after the dreary grays of the slums. The mingled scents of spices, roasting meat, and fresh bread made his head swim.


    Elias adjusted the ragged hood of his cloak, keeping his face shadowed. Anyone looking closely would mark him immediately as slum-born¡ªtoo thin, too pale, eyes too wary. But markets were busy places, and busy people rarely looked closely.


    He drifted among the stalls, fingertips occasionally brushing against small items¡ªtesting weight, attachment, the likelihood of being missed. A merchant''s apprentice glared suspiciously, and Elias moved on, adopting a slouched posture of subservience.


    The day''s true prize appeared at midday¡ªa merchant''s cart left momentarily unattended as its owner argued with a Sentinel over some petty regulation. The cart held baskets of bread still warm from the ovens, their crusts glistening with oil and herbs.


    Elias made no sudden movement. No obvious glance around. He simply drifted closer, seemingly interested in the argument like any bored onlooker. When he moved, it was with practiced efficiency¡ªone loaf slipped into his sleeve, another into the hidden pocket sewn into his cloak. Then he was walking away, unhurried, anonymous in the crowd.


    The shout came just as he reached the edge of the marketplace.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "You there! Stop!"


    Elias ran.


    He darted between shoppers, ducked under a cart, vaulted a stack of empty crates. Behind him, the merchant''s continued shouts were joined by the authoritative commands of Sentinels. He rounded a corner into an alley, scrambled up a pile of discarded shipping pallets, and pulled himself onto a low roof.


    Lying flat against the sun-warmed tiles, he held his breath as boots pounded past below. When the sounds faded, he allowed himself a smile, reaching into his cloak to touch the stolen bread. It would keep him alive another day.


    The journey back to the slums was trickier than the entry had been. The drainage canal would be watched now. He took a longer route, clambering over rooftops where buildings from different districts pressed close together, dropping down into the no-man''s land where the official boundary blurred.


    His home, if it could be called that, was the hollowed-out remains of a building that had partially collapsed during the last major corruption breach. The Sanctum District had been cleansed and rebuilt immediately. The Market Quarter had been repaired within months. The Outer Slums remained as they were¡ªbroken, forgotten.


    Elias slipped through a narrow gap in the rubble, navigating the precarious path he''d created through the debris. The space beyond was small but secure¡ªinvisible from outside and with multiple escape routes should the remaining structure finally give way.


    He pulled his treasures from their hiding places, breaking off a small piece of bread and forcing himself to eat slowly. Too much after days of near-starvation would only make him sick. He carefully wrapped the remainder in a relatively clean cloth, tucking it into a hollow beneath a loose stone in the floor.


    As dusk fell, he sat in the small opening that served as his window, watching the slums settle into night. The distant glow of the Sanctum District illuminated the horizon, its gleaming towers and domes a mockery of the darkness below.


    Snippets of conversation drifted up from the street, fragments of misery and rare laughter.


    "¡ªanother one taken yesterday¡ª"


    "¡ªmarks appeared overnight¡ª"


    "¡ªsays the Black Maw is hungry again¡ª"


    Elias leaned forward, listening more intently. The Black Maw. Even in the slums, people spoke the name with reverent fear. The Church taught that it was divine, a gateway through which the worthy were taken to be transformed into warriors against corruption. The reality, from what Elias had observed, was that the chosen never returned¡ªor if they did, they came back wrong, their eyes haunted, their bodies marked with scars that shouldn''t exist.


    Night fell completely. In the distance, the barrier lights flickered on, marking the edge of Valtaros where civilization ended and the corrupted Outlands began. The Church maintained those barriers with the same religious zeal they maintained the social barriers between districts¡ªsome worth protecting, others expendable.


    Elias retreated into his shelter, securing the makeshift door behind him. He removed his worn boots, checking carefully for any signs they might finally be giving out. They would hold a while longer. He counted his meager possessions by touch in the darkness¡ªthe knife with its blade worn thin from sharpening, the coil of sturdy wire, the waterskin, the small pouch containing three copper coins he''d been saving for months.


    Tomorrow would be another day of survival. Perhaps he would risk the Warborn Pits where fighters drew crowds and crowds meant pockets to pick. Or maybe he would scout the border where the Outer Slums met the Ashbarrens¡ªoccasionally useful items could be scavenged from abandoned outposts.


    Sleep came slowly, as it always did. In the quiet darkness, Elias allowed himself the one luxury he permitted¡ªa moment to remember when he hadn''t been alone. When there had been a small home with a mother who smiled despite their poverty, a father who taught him to identify edible plants growing in forgotten corners of the city, a sister who laughed at everything. Before the corruption had breached the eastern barrier ten years ago. Before he had learned that survival sometimes meant being the one who ran away.


    Those memories were dangerous. They made him weak, made him care. In Valtaros, especially in the slums, caring for anything beyond your next meal was a luxury few could afford.


    As consciousness finally faded, his last thought was practical: the bread would last three days if he was careful.


    He did not dream of the black marks that would appear on his skin by morning.

 Marked Morning

    Something was wrong.


    Elias woke with that certainty before his eyes opened. A strange sensation crawled across his skin¡ªnot pain exactly, more like the prickling awareness of being watched. He lay perfectly still, senses straining into the pre-dawn darkness of his shelter. No unusual sounds. No shifted rubble indicating an intruder.


    Yet something had changed.


    He reached for his knife, fingers closing around the familiar worn handle as he sat up. Weak light filtered through the cracks in his makeshift home, enough to see that he was alone. The sensation persisted, concentrated along his forearms and creeping up toward his shoulders.


    When he glanced down, the knife nearly fell from his grip.


    Black lines writhed beneath the skin of his arms like liquid smoke, forming intricate patterns that pulsed with his quickening heartbeat. They weren''t surface marks¡ªthey moved under his skin, as though his veins had been filled with something dark and alive.


    "No," he whispered, the word escaping before he could stop it. "No, no, no."


    Elias lunged for his waterskin, emptying it over his arms and scrubbing frantically with a scrap of cloth. The water beaded on his skin, running clear. The marks remained unchanged, continuing their hypnotic dance beneath the surface.


    He''d seen these marks before. Three years ago, he''d watched from hiding as Sentinels dragged a screaming woman from the slums, her arms bearing identical patterns. The Church had called it a blessing. Her family had mourned as though she were already dead.


    Elias sat back against the wall, mind racing. The Maw had chosen him. Of all the wretched souls in Valtaros, the divine gateway¡ªif the Church was to be believed¡ªhad selected a slum thief with nothing and no one.


    He knew the process that would follow. The marks would spread until they covered most of his body. Within days, Sentinels would come with their tracking devices that somehow homed in on the chosen. They would take him to the Sanctum District, where he would be prepared for the Maw''s embrace. And then...


    No one really knew what happened then. The Church spoke of divine trials, of transformation, of chosen warriors returning with powers to fight the corruption. But Elias had seen one of the returned once, from a distance¡ªa hollow-eyed man with strange scars and a presence that made even the Sentinels give him a wide berth. He hadn''t seemed blessed. He had seemed broken.


    Elias examined the marks more carefully, forcing down his panic. They had appeared overnight, which meant the tracking signature hadn''t yet reached full strength. He might have a day, perhaps two, before the Sentinels could pinpoint his location.


    Time to run? The thought came automatically, but he dismissed it immediately. No one escaped the Maw''s selection. The barriers around Valtaros might keep corruption out, but they also kept citizens in. Even if he somehow made it to the Outlands, what then? A quick death from corruption instead of whatever fate the Maw had designed?


    Better to learn more before choosing a course. Information was survival.


    He pulled his tattered shirt on, noting with relief that the fabric concealed the marks. A length of cloth wound around his neck would hide any that might spread upward. He couldn''t risk stealing gloves without drawing attention¡ªunusual attire for the slums would make him conspicuous¡ªbut keeping his arms folded would have to suffice.


    The bread would remain secure in its hiding place. If by some miracle he returned, he would need it then.


    Outside, the slums were stirring to reluctant life. A child with stick-thin legs chased a rat between buildings. An old woman sorted through refuse, plucking out anything remotely salvageable. Two men argued over a dented metal cup as though it were made of gold.


    Elias kept his head down and arms folded, moving with purpose but not haste. Panic was a luxury for those who could afford to be noticed. He headed toward the center of the slum district, where information flowed as freely as the dirty water from the communal pumps.


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


    "You''re up early," called a gruff voice from a doorway. Marden, one of the few slum dwellers Elias occasionally traded with. The older man''s eyes narrowed. "And dressed for travel. Found a way over the wall, have you?"


    Elias forced his features into practiced neutrality. "Just restless. Thought I''d see what''s happening at the checkpoints." A reasonable excuse¡ªcheckpoint patterns determined which routes might be safe for smuggling or theft.


    Marden spat on the ground. "Sentinels are stirred up like a kicked hive. Second chosen one this week, they say. Some merchant''s daughter up in the Market Quarter. Family''s raising hell, offering bribes to keep her home. Won''t work, of course. The Maw takes what it wants."


    Elias fought to keep his expression unchanged. "The Maw doesn''t favor us slum rats much, does it?" he said, working to sound casual.


    "More than you''d think," Marden replied, scratching his grizzled beard. "Took Henna''s boy last year, didn''t it? And old Sutter''s niece the year before. Figure the Church needs its sacrifices from all districts. Keeps the fear fresh."


    Sacrifices. Not chosen ones or blessed warriors. Interesting that even those who repeated Church doctrine slipped into more honest terminology when not being monitored.


    "How long between marking and collection?" Elias asked, then quickly added, "Henna still goes on about it. Made me curious."


    Marden shrugged. "Three days for her boy. Marks appear, spread for a day or two, then the Sentinels come knocking. Never seen one stay hidden longer than that. The marks call to them somehow."


    Three days. Perhaps less now, if the Church had improved their tracking methods.


    "Well," Elias said, stepping away, "plenty of daylight to waste. See you around, Marden."


    The older man gave a noncommittal grunt, already turning back to whatever task occupied his morning. In the slums, permanent attachments were rare. People disappeared too often¡ªtaken by sickness, violence, corruption, or the Church. Grief was another luxury few could afford.


    Elias continued toward the checkpoint, careful to maintain a casual pace and posture despite the crawling sensation spreading across his back. More marks appearing. Spreading faster than he''d anticipated.


    The boundary between the Outer Slums and the Market Quarter was crowded as usual¡ªlaborers waiting for day work, merchants'' servants returning with supplies, Sentinels checking papers and collecting impromptu "inspection fees" from those who lacked proper documentation.


    He positioned himself in a shadowed doorway across from the checkpoint, watching and listening. Information flowed here, between those waiting in line.


    "¡ªwhole family in mourning already¡ª"


    "¡ªtried to hide her, but you can''t hide from the Maw¡ª"


    "¡ªSentinel captain himself came with a dozen men¡ª"


    "¡ªsaid they''re gathering all twelve at the Cathedral tomorrow¡ª"


    Elias stiffened. Twelve chosen. Not just him and the merchant''s daughter, but ten others throughout Valtaros, all marked within days of each other. That pattern was familiar from Church sermons¡ªtwelve taken, to face the trials together. Which meant the selection was nearly complete. The countdown to collection had already begun.


    A commotion at the checkpoint drew his attention. A well-dressed man argued with a Sentinel officer, gesturing frantically toward the Sanctum District visible in the distance. Even from here, Elias could make out key phrases.


    "¡ªmy daughter is no criminal¡ª"


    "¡ªthe Maw''s selection is divine law¡ª"


    "¡ªhave connections in the Sanctum¡ª"


    "¡ªthe High Priestess herself has been informed¡ª"


    The man was eventually led away by two subordinate Sentinels, his protests fading. The officer remained at his post, expression grim but satisfied. Religious conviction, Elias noted, or an excellent performance of it. The officer believed in the righteousness of tearing families apart for the Maw.


    More interesting was the confirmation of the collection timeline. If they were gathering all twelve at the Cathedral tomorrow, that meant Sentinels would be sweeping the city today, focusing their tracking devices on finding the remaining chosen ones.


    Including him.


    Elias retreated from his observation point, mind working. His options were limited. He could turn himself in, gaining perhaps marginally better treatment than if he were hunted down. He could attempt to hide, though every hour the marks spread would make that harder. Or he could seek information about what truly awaited beyond the Maw''s embrace.


    The third option was the only one that might improve his chances of survival. There were whispers of those who knew more about the Maw than the Church permitted¡ªscholars who maintained secret libraries, returned chosen ones who spoke truth to trusted ears.


    Finding such people in less than a day, however, would require luck Elias had never possessed.


    He turned toward the one place in the slums where secrets could sometimes be purchased¡ªthe Broken Lantern, a tavern that catered to those who moved between worlds. Smugglers, informants, disgraced Sentinels, even the occasional scholar slumming in search of forbidden knowledge.


    As he navigated the warren of alleys leading there, Elias became aware of a new sensation¡ªa subtle warmth emanating from the marks, a feeling of being pulled in a specific direction. Toward the Sanctum District. Toward the Cathedral.


    The Maw had chosen him, and now it was calling him home.

 Whispers in the Markey

    The Broken Lantern was silent at this hour, its perpetually dim interior empty save for an old woman wiping down sticky tables with a rag that looked filthier than the surfaces it cleaned. She glanced up as Elias entered, her clouded eyes somehow missing nothing.


    "We''re closed," she said flatly. "Come back when the sun''s past zenith."


    Elias had anticipated this. He carefully withdrew one of his three precious copper coins, placing it on the nearest table without a word. The woman''s gnarled hand covered it instantly, the coin disappearing as though it had never existed.


    "What do you want?" she asked, her tone unchanged but a flicker of interest in her rheumy eyes.


    "Information about the Maw," he replied, keeping his voice low despite the empty room. "Not Church sermons. Truth."


    The old woman''s expression remained impassive, but she angled her head slightly toward a beaded curtain at the back. "The rag-picker might know something. Third alley past the tannery. Look for the red door." She then proceeded to describe a specific knock and tapped her knuckles on the counter as an example.


    Elias nodded his thanks, already turning to leave. The coin had bought very little, but in the slums, that was often how information came¡ªin fragments, each requiring payment, each leading to another fragment, until eventually a picture formed. If you had enough coin and time.


    He had precious little of either.


    The red door was more rust than paint, barely distinguishable from the decaying walls surrounding it. Elias knocked once, waited, then twice more in quick succession. The sound of shuffling came from within, followed by a prolonged silence in which he knew he was being examined through some hidden observation point.


    The door opened just enough to reveal a sliver of a face¡ªa dark eye, wrinkled skin, a wisp of gray hair.


    "I don''t buy, I don''t sell, I don''t share," said a thin, reedy voice. "Go elsewhere."


    "The woman at the Broken Lantern sent me," Elias replied quickly. "About the Maw."


    The eye narrowed, examining him more carefully. "You''re marked," the voice said suddenly. Not a question.


    Elias stiffened. "How could you¡ª"


    "I see more than most. Including what squirms beneath your skin." The door opened wider, revealing a hunched figure swathed in layers of mismatched fabrics. "Come in, if you''re coming. Quickly."


    Inside, the small dwelling was a testament to the owner''s profession¡ªevery surface stacked with salvaged objects, sorted by some incomprehensible system. Books with half-burned covers. Mechanical parts arranged by size. Scraps of fabric organized by color. The air was thick with the smell of dust and the peculiar metallic tang that clung to everything in the slums.


    "Sit there," the rag-picker said, pointing to a stool made from stacked crates. "And show me your arms."


    Elias hesitated, then unwound the cloth from his forearms. The black marks had spread further, now curling around his elbows and reaching toward his shoulders. They pulsed with his heartbeat, somehow darker than they had been that morning.


    The rag-picker made a soft humming sound, neither alarmed nor sympathetic. "Distinctive patterning. Like the tide coming in. Few days at most before they cover you completely."


    "What happens then?" Elias asked.


    "The Sentinels find you, whether you hide or not. Take you to the Sanctum. Feed you, clean you, dress you up like a sacrifice." A pause. "Which you are, though not the kind they claim."


    The old figure turned away, rummaging through a pile of detritus before extracting something wrapped in oilcloth. "I had a client interested in the Maw. Scholar from Haven, traveled here at great risk. Paid well for certain... artifacts. Left this when the Sentinels nearly caught him."


    The rag-picker unwrapped the cloth, revealing a small, leather-bound book with a simple symbol embossed on its cover¡ªa spiraling vortex surrounding an eye.


    "Records of the Returned," the old voice continued. "Not Church propaganda. Real accounts, gathered secretly. Descriptions of the trials, the transformations, what truly waits beyond the Maw''s embrace." A gnarled finger tapped the book. "Forbidden knowledge. Worth more than your life."


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I''m already marked for the Maw," Elias replied. "My life is already forfeit."


    "Perhaps." The rag-picker rewrapped the book. "But this is still valuable. What do you offer in exchange?"


    Elias withdrew his remaining two copper coins. "Everything I have."


    A derisive snort. "Meaningless. You need to leave the slums. Get to the Market Quarter. I need information from there¡ªwhat the Church is telling merchants about this gathering of chosen ones. Overheard from their private areas, not public sermons."


    Elias considered this. "The checkpoints are heavily guarded."


    "For most. You''ve crossed before¡ªdon''t look surprised, boy. The slums have eyes everywhere. You''re known for your... expeditions."


    He couldn''t argue with that. "If I get this information, you''ll tell me what''s in the book?"


    "Better. I''ll let you read the relevant passages yourself. No interpretation, no potential misunderstanding." The rag-picker gestured toward the door. "Go now. Return before sundown. I won''t be here after dark."


    The drainage canal was being watched, as Elias had expected. Two Sentinels stood near the outlet, trying to look casual while clearly monitoring the opening. They knew the slum routes better than they admitted in public.


    He circled back, taking a longer approach that required more climbing but less exposure. The back of a tannery abutted the Market District wall, separated by barely two feet of space. If one scaled the tannery and leapt across, a series of handholds¡ªsome natural, some that Elias himself had chiseled years ago¡ªallowed access to the roof of a Market District warehouse.


    The smell of the tannery provided excellent cover. No Sentinel willingly patrolled close enough to have the stench permeate their uniforms.


    Once atop the warehouse, Elias paused to bind his arms again, ensuring the marks remained hidden. The sensation of being pulled toward the Sanctum had grown stronger, an insistent tugging that he had to consciously resist. More disturbing was a new awareness¡ªa humming at the edge of his consciousness, like distant voices just below the threshold of hearing.


    The Market District bustled with midday activity. Elias descended from the warehouse via a convenient stack of crates, adopting the hurried gait of a merchant''s assistant on urgent business. No one gave him a second glance. The Market Quarter might be a step above the slums in Valtaros''s rigid hierarchy, but its lower echelons still consisted of hardworking people too focused on survival to pay attention to another anonymous figure.


    He made his way toward the Cathedral District boundary, where the Market Quarter''s bright awnings and bustling stalls gave way to the manicured gardens and gleaming edifices of religious authority. Here, the separation was maintained by more than walls¡ªSentinel patrols moved in precise formations, and checkpoint barriers could be raised or lowered at a moment''s notice.


    It was also where information flowed most freely between districts. Church acolytes ventured into the Market to deliver sermons and collect tithes. Merchants with sufficient standing were granted limited access to Cathedral grounds for specific ceremonies. The boundaries blurred, just slightly, just enough.


    Elias positioned himself near a flower stall whose blooms supplied the Cathedral''s altar displays. The proprietor, a thin woman with prematurely gray hair, was known for her connections to lower-ranking acolytes and her tendency to engage them in conversation while they selected appropriate arrangements.


    He made a show of examining nearby merchant wares while keeping the flower stall within earshot. Within minutes, his patience was rewarded. Two young acolytes in simple gray robes approached, consulting a list as they discussed their requirements.


    "Elder Voss was quite specific," said one, a reedy young man with a perpetual squint. "White chrysanthemums for purity, night lilies for transformation."


    "The symbolism for tomorrow''s ceremony must be perfect," agreed his companion, a serious girl with her hair severely braided. "The High Priestess herself will oversee the preparation of the chosen."


    "Have they found all twelve yet?" asked the flower merchant, sorting through her stock with practiced hands.


    The female acolyte glanced around before answering, lowering her voice. "Ten secured. The final two are being traced as we speak. One in the slums¡ª" Elias felt a chill despite the warm day "¡ªand one somewhere in the outer reaches of the Market District. They''ll be found by nightfall. The Sentinels have new tracking devices from the Church''s artifice division."


    "I heard the Merchant Guild is protesting," the flower seller said, carefully trimming stems. "Rayburn''s daughter being taken has caused quite a stir."


    The male acolyte''s expression hardened. "The Maw''s selection is divine law. No amount of coin can change that. Besides¡ª" he leaned closer "¡ªElder Voss says this group is special. The patterns in their markings are unique. The High Priestess believes they may be destined for greatness beyond ordinary trials."


    "Is that why they''re rushing the gathering?" the merchant asked. "Usually there''s at least a week of preparation before chosen ones face the Maw."


    The female acolyte nodded slightly. "The convergence in the marking patterns suggests urgency. The Maw''s hunger has its own timing, which we merely interpret."


    Their conversation shifted to specific flower arrangements, but Elias had heard enough. He drifted away from the stall, processing this new information. Special markings. Accelerated timeline. New tracking devices. And the knowledge that he was one of only two chosen ones still at large.


    The pull toward the Sanctum District intensified, as though the Maw itself had sensed his awareness of it. The humming at the edge of his consciousness resolved into whispering voices, too faint to distinguish words but carrying an unmistakable tone of anticipation.


    He needed to return to the rag-picker immediately.


    As he turned toward his planned exit route, a flash of white caught his eye. A Sentinel patrol emerging from a side street, led by an officer carrying a device Elias had never seen before¡ªa handheld contraption with a glowing center that pulsed with a rhythm disturbingly similar to the marks beneath his skin.


    The officer raised the device, scanning the crowd methodically. As it passed over the space where Elias stood, the glowing center flared brightly.


    The officer''s head snapped up, eyes locking directly onto Elias despite the distance and the crowd between them.


    "There!" the officer shouted, pointing. "Chosen one! Secure the area!"


    Elias ran.

 Betrayal

    Elias ducked into the nearest alley, heart pounding against his ribs. Behind him, the shouts of Sentinels rose above the murmur of the market crowd. Their tracking device had found him far more quickly than he''d anticipated.


    The alley opened onto a small courtyard surrounded by the back entrances of several shops. No exit except the way he''d come in. He scaled a drain pipe before the first Sentinel reached the alley, pulling himself onto a low roof as armored boots clattered on cobblestones below.


    "He went up!" called a voice. "Surround the building!"


    Elias moved swiftly across the rooftop, years of navigating the precarious structures of the slums making him surefooted even on the sloped tiles. The gap to the next building was wider than comfortable, but the sound of Sentinels ascending after him left no room for hesitation.


    He jumped, arms windmilling as he barely cleared the distance. His landing should have been clumsy, should have sent him rolling¡ªbut instead, he touched down with unexpected grace, as though his body had calculated the precise movements required. For a split second, he froze in surprise at his own coordination.


    "There he is!" A Sentinel had reached the roof of the first building, already drawing a crossbow from his back.


    No time to wonder at his newfound agility. Elias ran, leaping to a third roof, then sliding down its far side to drop onto a covered walkway. The impact jarred his bones less than it should have. He sprinted along the walkway, aware of armored figures converging from multiple directions.


    The Market Quarter''s layout worked against him. Unlike the chaotic, organic growth of the slums, these streets followed orderly patterns, making his movements predictable. He needed to reach the boundary, get back to familiar territory where hidden paths and secret tunnels might offer refuge.


    A flash of metal to his left¡ªa Sentinel had cut through a shop to intercept him. Elias changed direction without breaking stride, vaulting over a merchant''s cart and darting into a narrow passage between buildings. The new route would take longer but avoided the main thoroughfares where Sentinel concentration would be highest.


    The marks beneath his skin burned now, pulsing in time with his racing heartbeat. The pull toward the Sanctum District had become an almost physical tether, and resisting it took conscious effort with each step in the opposite direction.


    He emerged onto a less crowded street, hood pulled low over his face. Walking now, not running. Running attracted attention. Despite his efforts to appear calm, people stepped aside as he passed, some making the Church''s warding sign against their chests. Could they sense the marks? Or was it simply his obvious slum origin that caused their aversion?


    Ahead, the wall separating the Market Quarter from the Outer Slums loomed, its checkpoints visible at regular intervals. All would be on high alert now. His usual routes would be watched.


    A voice called from his right. "Boy! In here, quickly!"


    An open doorway. An old man beckoning urgently. The shop behind him filled with fabrics in colors Elias had only seen in Sanctum District pageantry.


    Instinct warned caution, but the sound of Sentinel signals nearby made the decision for him. Elias slipped into the shop, and the old man closed the door immediately, sliding a heavy bolt into place.


    "Thank you," Elias said, moving away from the windows. "I need to¡ª"


    "Shelter a moment," the man interrupted. "They''ll sweep the street and move on. Better to wait."


    He was thin but not starved, with the calloused hands of a working merchant rather than the soft palms of the wealthy. His eyes held neither fear nor disdain as they observed Elias¡ªunusual for a Market Quarter resident encountering a slum dweller.


    "You''re marked," the old man said simply. "I can see it in your eyes. The Maw''s gaze reflected back."


    Elias tensed. "What do you know of the Maw?"


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "More than most. My brother was taken, twenty years past." He moved deeper into the shop, gesturing for Elias to follow. "He returned, though not as himself. Not entirely."


    The back room was small but well-organized, rolls of fabric stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling. The old merchant moved a particular roll, revealing a small door set into the wall.


    "This leads to a maintenance tunnel that runs beneath several buildings," he explained. "Follow it to the end, and you''ll reach the boundary wall near the old tannery. There''s a section where the mortar has crumbled away. You can slip through there, back to your slums."


    Elias studied the man carefully. "Why help me?"


    "My brother said the Maw''s trials change depending on how you enter them. Those who go willingly face different challenges than those dragged in against their will." The old man''s eyes held a distant sorrow. "He went unwillingly. Never forgave himself for what he did in there to survive."


    A heavy pounding on the front door interrupted them. Sentinel voices called for the shop to be opened by order of the Church.


    "Go now," the merchant urged, sliding the fabric panel back into position as Elias ducked through the small door. "And when you face the Maw, remember that intention matters."


    The tunnel was low-ceilinged and damp, forcing Elias to hunch as he navigated by touch more than sight. Behind him, the muffled sound of the shop door being forced open spurred him forward. The merchant would delay them, but for how long?


    The passage turned sharply several times before gradually sloping upward. After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Elias found himself facing a rusted grate. Beyond it lay the familiar stench of the tannery and, more importantly, the Outer Slums.


    He pushed against the grate, which resisted briefly before giving way with a groan of protest. Slipping through, he found himself in a narrow space between buildings, exactly where the merchant had promised. The boundary wall loomed before him, its imposing height diminished by a section where age and neglect had weakened the structure.


    Elias pressed himself into the gap, stone scraping against his shoulders as he forced his way through. The marks on his skin flared painfully, as though objecting to his movement away from the Sanctum District. When he finally emerged on the other side, the familiar squalor of the slums greeted him like an old friend.


    No time to return to his shelter. The Sentinels would cross the boundary soon, tracking device in hand. He needed to reach the rag-picker before nightfall, to learn what truly awaited him beyond the Maw''s embrace.


    The slums were unusually quiet. Word of the Sentinels'' hunt had spread, driving people into whatever shelter they could find. No one wanted to be mistaken for a chosen one or, worse, accused of harboring one.


    Elias kept to narrow alleys and shadowed passages, moving swift and silent as he approached the red door. The streets around the tannery remained clear of Sentinels for now, but that wouldn''t last. He knocked on the door with the same pattern as before.


    No response.


    He knocked again, more urgently. Still nothing.


    "Looking for the rag-picker?" came a voice from behind him.


    Elias spun to find Drav leaning against a wall across the alley. Drav was slum-born but had risen to become something of a power broker in the district, trading in information and favors. They had crossed paths occasionally, neither friend nor enemy.


    "Where is he?" Elias asked, keeping his distance.


    Drav shrugged, picking at his nails with a small knife. "Gone. Packed up and disappeared about an hour ago. Interesting timing, wouldn''t you say?"


    "What do you know about it?"


    "I know the Church pays handsomely for information about chosen ones." Drav finally looked directly at Elias, his gaze falling meaningfully to the cloth wrapped around Elias''s arms. "Especially the troublesome ones who try to avoid their divine calling."


    Understanding dawned cold and hard. "You told them."


    "Business is business," Drav said without remorse. "The rag-picker figured it out when I started asking questions about you. That''s why he ran¡ªwanted no part of it. Me, I''m more practical."


    Elias''s hand moved to his own knife, but Drav just laughed.


    "Don''t bother. They''re already here."


    As if summoned by the words, a squad of Sentinels appeared at the end of the alley, moving with disciplined purpose. At their head, an officer held the tracking device, its center glowing bright as it pointed directly at Elias.


    "I did you a favor, really," Drav continued conversationally. "They''re taking you to the Sanctum District. Clean beds, good food¡ªbetter than starving in this shithole, waiting for corruption or a knife in the ribs."


    Elias turned to run, but the other end of the alley was already blocked by more Sentinels. He was trapped.


    "The chosen one is cornered," called the lead officer. "Approach with caution. No permanent damage¡ªthe Maw requires them intact."


    Drav backed away, duty discharged. "See you around, Elias. If you come back, that is."


    The first Sentinel advanced, shield raised defensively. Elias drew his knife, knowing it was futile against trained soldiers in armor but unwilling to be taken without resistance.


    "Stand down," the Sentinel ordered. "There''s no escape. The Maw has chosen you."


    Elias lunged forward, feinting left before ducking right, aiming for a gap between the Sentinel and the alley wall. For a heartbeat, it seemed to work¡ªhis newfound agility carrying him past the armored figure with surprising ease.


    Then pain exploded across the back of his skull, and the world tilted sideways. He hadn''t seen the second Sentinel''s strike coming. The cobblestones rushed up to meet him, cold and unyielding.


    As consciousness fled, the last thing Elias felt was the pull of the Maw, stronger than ever, calling him home.

 Cornered Prey

    Consciousness returned grudgingly, each pulse of pain in Elias''s skull driving him back toward darkness. He kept his eyes closed, allowing his other senses to gather information before revealing his wakefulness. Rough hands gripped his arms, carrying him under his armpits. The rhythmic clank of armored footsteps surrounded him. Two Sentinels half-dragging, half-carrying his limp form through the slums.


    The marks beneath his skin buzzed with renewed intensity, no longer merely pulling but seeming to celebrate his capture. The sensation made him want to scrape them out with his fingernails.


    "He''s heavier than he looks," grunted one Sentinel. "Scrawny slum rat like this should weigh nothing."


    "Shut up and keep moving," replied another, voice clipped with authority. "We need to reach the checkpoint before dark. Captain doesn''t want another night operation in this cesspit."


    Elias allowed his head to loll forward, using the moment to slit his eyes open. Four Sentinels total. Two supporting him, one ahead, one behind. The officer with the tracking device walked point, occasionally consulting the glowing instrument though it hardly seemed necessary now.


    They were heading east, toward a checkpoint Elias knew well¡ªa narrow bottleneck where the slum district pressed against a section of the old city wall. Not the most heavily guarded crossing, but secure enough with its single gate and watchtower.


    His weapons were gone, of course. The comfortable weight of his knife missing from its hidden sheath. Even the length of wire he kept wrapped around his ankle had been discovered and removed. They''d been thorough while he was unconscious.


    Still, they expected him to remain subdued, which gave him one advantage. His head continued to throb where the Sentinel had struck him, but the pain was already dulling to a manageable ache. The strange new awareness of his body that had helped him navigate the rooftops earlier¡ªwas that from the Maw''s marking?


    "Stop," ordered the lead Sentinel, raising a clenched fist. "Something''s wrong."


    The procession halted, and Elias tensed, ready to act if opportunity presented itself. Through narrowed eyes, he saw what had concerned the officer. The checkpoint ahead was unmanned, its gate standing partially open¡ªa serious breach of protocol.


    "Secure the prisoner," the officer commanded. "Teris, with me."


    Two Sentinels remained holding Elias while the officer and another moved cautiously toward the abandoned checkpoint. Perfect. Two against one were better odds than four against one, though still far from favorable.


    He waited until the officer was thirty paces away before making his move. A sudden deadweight drop, swinging his legs underneath his abdomen, surprising the Sentinels who expected continued limpness. As they instinctively tightened their grip, Elias coiled and exploded upward, driving his head into the chin of the Sentinel on his right.


    The impact should have stunned Elias as much as his target, but instead he felt a surge of clarity, movements flowing with uncanny precision. He twisted free of the second Sentinel''s grasp, using the man''s own armor as leverage to throw him off balance.


    Then he was running, not toward the checkpoint where the officer would intercept him, but down a narrow side alley where armor would restrict pursuit. Behind him, shouts of alarm and the heavy footfalls of the recovered Sentinels filled the air.


    The alley twisted sharply between crumbling buildings, then forked. Elias took the right branch without hesitation, knowing it led toward a collapsed tenement that provided numerous hiding places. The marks on his skin burned in protest, the pull toward the Sanctum District now painful to resist.


    Voices echoed from multiple directions¡ªthe Sentinels were splitting up to cut off escape routes. The slums might be Elias''s territory, but these weren''t regular patrol guards. They were specialists, equipped with tracking technology and familiar enough with the district''s layout to coordinate effectively.


    He reached the collapsed tenement, a skeletal structure that had partially fallen in on itself years ago. Darting through a gap in the outer wall, he navigated the precarious interior, stepping carefully across beams that groaned beneath even his slight weight.


    From a second-story vantage point, he could see Sentinels converging on the building from three directions. The fourth approach, the supposedly collapsed northern side, remained clear. Most locals believed that section was impassable due to a major structural collapse, but Elias knew of a narrow, treacherous path that could be navigated if one were careful¡ªand desperate¡ªenough.


    Moving silently along a partially collapsed corridor, he reached the northern section, where the floor had given way entirely. A single beam stretched across the void to a window opening on the far side. The beam looked barely capable of supporting a child, let alone a grown man, but it was the only path forward.


    Elias tested it with one foot, feeling it shift slightly under his weight. The drop below wasn''t fatal, but would certainly injure him enough to ensure capture. He took a deep breath and stepped fully onto the beam.


    It held.


    Balance came easier than it should have, his body making minute adjustments without conscious thought. Three steps, four, five¡ªhe was nearly halfway across when the marks on his skin flared with sudden, excruciating intensity. The pain shattered his concentration, foot slipping on the narrow beam.


    For a heartstopping moment he teetered on the edge of falling, arms windmilling desperately. Then his balance returned, the pain subsiding as quickly as it had come. A warning? It felt deliberate, as though the Maw itself were reminding him of the futility of escape.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Shaking off the thought, Elias continued across, reaching the window and pulling himself through just as Sentinels burst into the room behind him. Outside, a narrow ledge ran along the building''s northern face, hidden from ground view by a partially collapsed awning.


    He edged along the ledge, hearing frustrated shouts from within as the Sentinels realized their quarry had found an unexpected exit. The ledge ended at a drainpipe that ran down to a small courtyard overshadowed by surrounding buildings. Elias descended quickly, dropping the last few feet to land in a crouch.


    The courtyard had only one exit, a narrow passage that would eventually lead to the Ashbarren border if followed far enough. Elias darted toward it, hope rising for the first time since his capture. If he could reach the outermost slums, there were bolt-holes and hiding places the Sentinels would never find without a lengthy search.


    He rounded a corner and collided with an armored figure emerging from the passageway.


    They both staggered back from the impact. Elias recovered first, already turning to flee back the way he''d come¡ªbut froze at the sight of the drawn sword leveled at his chest.


    The Sentinel before him wasn''t wearing the standard armor of the Church''s forces. His plate was darker, unadorned, without the religious symbols that usually decorated Sentinel gear. More importantly, his face wasn''t hidden behind the traditional helm, revealing hard features and cold, calculating eyes.


    "Interesting," the man said, his voice carrying no trace of the religious reverence typical of Sentinels addressing a chosen one. "You''re more resourceful than most who carry the Maw''s mark."


    Elias backed away slowly. "You''re not with the Church."


    "Perceptive, too." The man''s sword remained steady, its tip tracking Elias''s movement. "No, I serve more... practical interests."


    "What does that mean?" Elias glanced around, seeking any avenue of escape, but found none. The courtyard walls were too sheer, the only exit blocked by this mysterious figure.


    "It means some people believe the Maw''s power could be better utilized than in service to religious doctrine." The man advanced a step. "It means you''re valuable to certain parties who would prefer to study the process without Church interference."


    Understanding dawned. "You want to take me somewhere else. Not to the Sanctum."


    The man smiled without warmth. "Clever boy. Yes. My employers believe a willing subject would provide better results than the usual unwilling sacrifices. They''re prepared to offer comfort, protection, and a significant stipend to your family in exchange for your cooperation."


    "I have no family," Elias replied flatly.


    "Even better. No messy attachments." Another step forward. "Come quietly, and I promise the experience will be... educational for all involved."


    The marks beneath Elias''s skin twitched violently, as though reacting to some unseen threat greater than the sword pointed at his chest. The Maw apparently had strong opinions about this alternative destination.


    Before Elias could respond, a new voice cut through the tense standoff.


    "Lower your weapon, deserter."


    The lead Sentinel officer stood at the courtyard entrance, tracking device in one hand, sword in the other. Behind him, three more Sentinels filed into the space, spreading out to block any potential escape.


    The deserter''s expression hardened. "This matter doesn''t concern the Church, Captain."


    "Everything concerning the Maw''s chosen concerns the Church," the captain replied evenly. "Step away from him. Now."


    For a moment, the deserter seemed to calculate his odds¡ªone against four, with Elias as an unpredictable element. Then his stance shifted subtly. "Another time, perhaps," he murmured to Elias before addressing the captain again. "You win this round, Keldric."


    Keldric. The captain had a name now. Elias filed it away automatically, though he wasn''t sure the information would ever prove useful.


    "Surrender your weapon and submit to Church justice, Varin," Keldric demanded.


    The deserter¡ªVarin¡ªlaughed softly. "We both know that''s not happening." His free hand moved to his belt, extracting a small object that gleamed dully in the fading light. "Until we meet again."


    He threw the object to the ground. It erupted in a cloud of dense, acrid smoke that instantly filled the small courtyard. Elias instinctively dropped to his knees, where the air remained clearer. Through the billowing smoke, he glimpsed Varin scaling the courtyard wall with surprising agility before disappearing over the top.


    The Sentinels moved with disciplined precision despite the smoke, two maintaining positions at the exit while Keldric and the fourth closed in on Elias''s position. A hand clamped onto his shoulder with bruising force, pulling him upright.


    "Enough games," Keldric said, his voice hard but not cruel. "The Maw has chosen you. Accept your calling."


    Elias struck out blindly, connecting with something solid but earning only a grunt in response. The grip on his shoulder never wavered.


    "Your persistence is admirable," Keldric continued, "but futile. No one escapes the Maw''s selection. Not the wealthy with their bribes, not the clever with their schemes."


    The smoke was thinning now, revealing the full complement of Sentinels surrounding him. Elias''s shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him as reality settled in. He was caught. Truly caught this time.


    "What was he?" Elias asked, nodding toward where Varin had escaped. "Who does he work for?"


    Keldric studied him for a moment, seeming to weigh how much to reveal. "There are those who view the Maw as a resource to be exploited rather than a divine presence to be revered. They seek to understand its power through... methods the Church forbids."


    "Torture, you mean."


    "Among other things." Keldric gestured to his men, who moved to secure Elias more thoroughly this time, binding his wrists with reinforced cords that bit into his skin. "Consider your capture by us a mercy, slum rat. The Church may require your sacrifice, but at least it will have meaning."


    Elias laughed bitterly. "Meaning defined by the same people who leave children to starve in the slums while they feast in the Sanctum District."


    Something flickered in Keldric''s eyes¡ªnot anger, but a more complex emotion. "The ways of the divine are not for us to question. The Maw chooses from all districts, all walks of life. Its purpose transcends our mortal concerns."


    "Easy to say when you''re not the one being sacrificed."


    Keldric turned away. "Take him to the checkpoint. Double guard this time. I''ll notify the Sanctum that we''ve secured the eleventh chosen one."


    As the Sentinels marched him from the courtyard, Elias felt the pull of the Maw stronger than ever, the marks beneath his skin pulsing in what felt disturbingly like satisfaction. His thoughts turned to the merchant''s words: Those who go willingly face different challenges than those dragged in against their will.


    Would it matter if he stopped fighting now? If he walked toward the Sanctum under his own power rather than being dragged there?


    He didn''t know. But as the last of the slums'' familiar squalor fell away behind him, replaced by the ordered streets of the Market Quarter, Elias made a decision. Whatever awaited him beyond the Maw''s embrace, he would face it on his own terms. Not as a willing sacrifice to Church doctrine, but as a survivor determined to understand the power that had marked him.


    The Maw had chosen him. Now he would choose how to face it.

 Sanctums Embrace

    Elias woke to softness¡ªa sensation so unfamiliar that his mind initially rejected it as hallucination. The surface beneath him yielded gently to his weight, cradling rather than resisting. A bed. A real bed with a mattress stuffed with something other than moldy straw.


    He kept his eyes closed, cataloging sensations. Clean fabric against his skin. The absence of the perpetual slum stench, replaced by subtle fragrances¡ªincense, perhaps, and something floral. No sounds of rats scurrying in the walls, no distant shouts or moans from neighbors.


    The marks beneath his skin hummed contentedly, no longer pulling but seeming to pulse in harmony with his surroundings. They had spread further during his unconsciousness, now covering most of his torso and creeping up his neck.


    "I know you''re awake," said a gentle voice. Female, young, with the careful enunciation of the educated.


    Elias opened his eyes. The room wasn''t large but was lavishly appointed by his standards¡ªstone walls hung with tapestries depicting religious scenes, a polished wooden floor partially covered by woven rugs, a window with actual glass admitting diffuse morning light. He lay on a bed with crisp white linens, dressed in a simple gray tunic and pants of a material finer than anything he''d ever worn.


    Seated nearby was a girl perhaps his own age, dressed in the modest robes of a Church acolyte. Her hands were folded in her lap, her expression a practiced mask of serene benevolence.


    "Where am I?" Elias asked, though he already knew the answer.


    "The Sanctuary of Chosen Preparation, within the Sanctum District," she replied. "You''re safe now."


    Elias sat up, noting that his wrists bore faint marks from the bindings but had been cleaned and treated with some kind of salve. "Safe," he repeated, testing the word for irony.


    The acolyte either missed or ignored his tone. "The Maw''s mercy has brought you to us, away from the squalor and danger of the outer districts. You''ll want for nothing during your preparation."


    His gaze swept the room again, looking for exits, threats, anything that might be useful. A single door, presumably locked. The window, too small for escape and likely overlooking a significant drop. No obvious weapons, though the metal water pitcher on a nearby table had potential.


    "How long was I unconscious?"


    "Through the night. The healers administered a sleeping draught to help you rest after your... difficult journey." Her eyes flickered briefly to his temple, where the Sentinel''s blow had landed. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"


    As if summoned by her words, Elias''s stomach cramped painfully, reminding him that his last meal had been a small piece of stolen bread more than a day ago. The acolyte noticed his reaction and stood, moving to the door and opening it without using a key. Not locked, then.


    She said something to someone outside, then returned to her seat. "Food will be brought shortly. Is there anything specific you require for comfort?"


    The question was so absurd that Elias almost laughed. Comfort had never been a consideration in his life, let alone something he could request on demand. Instead, he asked, "What happens to me now?"


    "You''ll undergo the sacred preparations, along with the other chosen ones. Tomorrow at dawn, you''ll be presented to the Maw." She spoke as though describing a great honor rather than what most in the slums considered a death sentence.


    "And after that?"


    Her expression softened. "The Maw''s trials are known only to those who experience them. But those who return come back changed, empowered to fight the corruption that threatens us all."


    "And how many return?"


    A hesitation. "The Maw''s wisdom determines who is worthy."


    So not all. Perhaps not even most. The slum rumors seemed confirmed.


    A knock at the door interrupted them. The acolyte opened it to admit an older woman carrying a tray laden with food¡ªa bowl of steaming stew, fresh bread, dried fruits, and a cup of something that smelled herbal and sweet.


    The sight and smell hit Elias with physical force. His mouth flooded with saliva, and he had to exert extraordinary willpower not to lunge for the tray like a starving animal. The acolyte placed it on a small table beside the bed, and the older woman departed without a word.


    "Eat," the acolyte encouraged. "Regain your strength."


    Elias approached the meal with calculated restraint, though every instinct screamed to devour it instantly. He tore a small piece of bread, examining it before placing it in his mouth. The flavor overwhelmed him¡ªyeasty, slightly sweet, with a texture that yielded rather than resisted. Nothing like the stale, often moldy scraps he scavenged in the slums.


    The stew proved even more overwhelming¡ªrich broth filled with vegetables he recognized and meat he could not identify, seasoned with spices he had only smelled in passing at market stalls too expensive to even approach.


    "It''s not poisoned," the acolyte said, a hint of amusement coloring her voice. "The Maw requires its chosen to be strong for the trials ahead."


    Elias slowed his eating nonetheless, years of near-starvation having taught him that gorging led only to painful retching. Between careful spoonfuls of stew, he studied his surroundings more carefully. The tapestries depicted scenes from Church doctrine¡ªthe Maw''s first manifestation, the return of early chosen ones, triumphant battles against corruption. Propaganda, but perhaps containing truths if one knew how to separate fact from embellishment.


    "What''s your name?" he asked the acolyte, partly from curiosity, partly to establish some connection that might prove useful.


    "I am Sera," she replied. "I''ve been assigned as your attendant until the ceremony."


    "Assigned to watch me, you mean."


    Her smile tightened slightly. "To ensure your needs are met and to answer any questions appropriate to your station."


    Elias nodded toward the door. "Am I a prisoner, Sera?"


    "Of course not. You''re a blessed chosen one." Her expression suggested she believed this sincerely.


    "So I can leave this room? Explore the Sanctuary?"


    A slight hesitation. "When you''ve recovered your strength, certainly. I can show you the permitted areas."


    Permitted areas. So not a prisoner, but not free either. Exactly as he''d expected.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "And the other chosen ones? Can I speak with them?"


    "There will be a gathering this afternoon, once all have been properly prepared." Her gaze dropped to his arms, where the black marks swirled visibly beneath his skin. "The High Priestess herself wishes to address you collectively."


    Elias finished the last of the stew, feeling strength return with each bite. Whatever doubts he harbored about the Church''s intentions, they clearly wanted the chosen ones physically capable for whatever lay ahead.


    "I''d like to clean up," he said, setting the empty bowl aside. "And then see these permitted areas."


    Sera nodded and showed him to an adjoining room he hadn''t noticed¡ªa private washing chamber with a basin of steaming water, cloths, and scented oils. Luxury beyond imagining in the slums, where communal pumps dispensing brackish water were the only bathing option.


    "I''ll wait outside," she said. "Call when you''re ready."


    Alone for the first time since his capture, Elias took stock of his situation. The marks had continued their inexorable spread, now covering most of his body in swirling patterns that pulsed gently. He no longer felt the pulling sensation toward the Sanctum, presumably because he had arrived at his destination.


    The whispering at the edge of his consciousness remained, however¡ªa constant murmur just below comprehension, like water flowing over stones. Sometimes a word or phrase seemed to emerge from the babble, only to dissolve back into meaninglessness when he tried to focus on it.


    He washed thoroughly, years of ingrained grime gradually yielding to the hot water and soft cloths. His reflection in a polished metal mirror revealed a stranger¡ªpale skin now mapped with black whorls, hollowed cheeks and sharp features softened slightly by a single proper meal, eyes that seemed somehow older than the rest of his face.


    The fresh clothing laid out for him was similar to what he''d woken in¡ªsimple but well-made in a soft gray fabric. Clearly, the chosen were meant to look humble despite their special status. The uniformity would erase district distinctions, making the Sanctum-born chosen indistinguishable from slum rats like himself.


    When he emerged, Sera nodded approvingly. "Much better. Come, I''ll show you the areas available to you."


    They left the room, entering a wide corridor with an arched ceiling. Other doors lined the hallway, presumably leading to rooms like his own where the remaining chosen ones were being prepared. Sentinels stood at regular intervals, their posture relaxed but attentive. Elias noted that none wore the insignia of Captain Keldric''s unit¡ªthese were Sanctum guards, not district enforcement.


    The "permitted areas" proved more extensive than Elias had anticipated. A central courtyard garden with fruit trees and flowing fountains. A library containing Church-approved texts about the Maw and corruption. A dining hall where chosen ones would take their meals together. A meditation chamber filled with cushions and soft lighting.


    All beautiful, all comfortable, all utterly alien to Elias''s experience. And all subtly reinforcing the Church''s central message: the Maw was divine, its selection an honor, its purpose beyond questioning.


    "What do you think?" Sera asked as they completed the tour, returning to the central garden.


    "It''s quite a step up from the slums," Elias replied neutrally.


    "The Maw sees worth that others miss," she said, her tone suggesting she was quoting doctrine. "Many great heroes emerged from humble beginnings."


    "And how many simply disappeared?"


    Sera''s expression clouded briefly before her training reasserted itself. "The trials are demanding, yes. But necessary. The corruption would have consumed us all long ago without the Maw''s chosen warriors."


    Before Elias could respond, the garden''s serenity was broken by approaching voices¡ªone calm and measured, the other raised in protest.


    "¡ªabsolutely unnecessary! My father has connections throughout the Sanctum District. This entire situation can be resolved with the proper application of¡ª"


    "The Maw''s selection transcends mortal politics, young lady. No amount of coin or influence can alter divine will."


    Two figures emerged from a connecting pathway¡ªanother acolyte, male and older than Sera, escorting a young woman in the same gray clothing as Elias. Her bearing and speech immediately marked her as upper district, probably the merchant''s daughter he''d heard mentioned in the market.


    She fell silent upon seeing them, her gaze fixing on Elias with particular intensity. Not hostile, exactly, but calculating¡ªassessing whether this stranger might be useful to her goals.


    "Acolyte Tomas," Sera greeted her counterpart with a small bow. "This is Elias, awakened and completed his initial preparation."


    "Well met," Tomas replied formally before gesturing to his charge. "This is Maris, daughter of House Rayburn."


    Maris gave Elias a dismissive glance before addressing Sera directly. "Another acolyte. Excellent. Perhaps you can explain to your colleague that my detention here is the result of a misunderstanding. My father is a senior member of the Merchant Guild with direct connections to Elder Voss. This situation can and will be rectified before tomorrow''s ceremony."


    Sera''s expression didn''t change, but Elias noticed her hands clasping slightly tighter. "The Maw''s selection is not a misunderstanding, Chosen Maris. It is the highest calling one can receive."


    "Calling?" Maris laughed, a brittle sound. "Being kidnapped from my home and imprisoned here is a calling?"


    "You were not imprisoned," Tomas corrected gently. "You were escorted with all dignity befitting¡ª"


    "By armed Sentinels!" Maris thrust her arms forward, sleeves falling back to reveal the black marks swirling beneath her skin¡ªsimilar to Elias''s but with subtle pattern differences. "Because of these... these parasites! My father will not stand for this."


    Elias watched the exchange with interest. Wealth and privilege hadn''t protected Maris from selection, just as poverty hadn''t exempted him. Whatever process the Maw used to choose its sacrifices, it appeared genuinely blind to social station.


    "Your father," he said, drawing her attention, "will receive the same answer from every Church official he approaches. The Maw''s selection is final."


    Maris rounded on him, eyes narrowing. "And what would a slum rat know of such matters?"


    Her disdain was so familiar, so predictable, that Elias almost felt comforted by it. At least some things remained constant across districts.


    "I know that we''re both marked," he replied calmly. "I know that no chosen one has ever escaped the Maw''s embrace. And I know that we''ll both face the same trials tomorrow, regardless of where we were born."


    For a moment, naked fear flashed across Maris''s face before she reassembled her haughty mask. "We''ll see about that." She turned and stalked away, Tomas hurrying after her with an apologetic glance toward Sera.


    When they were gone, Sera sighed softly. "She still believes her family''s influence will save her."


    "It won''t," Elias stated, not a question.


    "No." Sera''s voice held genuine compassion. "The High Priestess herself has denied their petitions three times already. The marks have chosen her, just as they''ve chosen you and the others."


    Elias nodded toward a stone bench beside a bubbling fountain. "Tell me about these others. How many have been gathered?"


    Sera hesitated, then seemed to decide the information wasn''t forbidden. "Eleven so far, including you and Maris. The final chosen one was located this morning in the outer farmlands. They''re bringing her in now."


    "Twelve total," Elias mused. "A significant number in Church doctrine."


    "You know our teachings?" Sera seemed pleasantly surprised.


    "I know what all slum children learn¡ªenough to fear, not enough to understand." He fixed her with a direct gaze. "I''d like to understand now, Sera. Tell me what the Church teaches about the Maw, about the chosen ones. Not the sermons given to the masses, but the deeper knowledge."


    Sera glanced around, confirming they were alone. When she spoke, her voice carried the cadence of someone reciting sacred text.


    "The Black Maw stands as gateway between worlds, created by divine will as humanity''s shield against the corruption that would consume us. Twelve are chosen to face its trials together, their souls tested, their bodies transformed. Those worthy return as the Maw''s champions, bearing gifts of power to fight the darkness. Those unworthy..." She hesitated.


    "Are consumed," Elias finished for her.


    She nodded slowly. "The Maw''s judgment is perfect. It takes only what cannot serve."


    "And what determines worthiness? Courage? Strength? Faith in Church doctrine?"


    The question seemed to trouble her. "The exact nature of the trials is known only to those who experience them. But our texts suggest that intention matters more than ability, and that no single virtue guarantees success."


    Elias considered this. "Intention toward what?"


    "That," Sera said with surprising gravity, "is the question each chosen one must answer for themselves."


    Before their conversation could continue, a bell rang from a nearby tower, its resonant tone echoing through the garden.


    "The midday meal," Sera explained, rising from the bench. "And afterward, the gathering of all chosen ones. The High Priestess will address you before the final preparations begin."


    As they walked toward the dining hall, Elias found himself strangely calm. The initial shock of his capture had faded, replaced by a calculated assessment of his situation. He couldn''t escape the Maw¡ªthat much seemed certain. But perhaps he could understand it, prepare for it in ways the Church might not anticipate.


    Whatever trials awaited beyond the Maw''s embrace, he would face them as he had faced every challenge in the slums¡ªwith ruthless pragmatism and the singular goal of survival.


    The marks beneath his skin pulsed in response to his thoughts, as though eager to prove him either right or terribly, fatally wrong.

 High Priestess

    The dining hall rivaled anything Elias had imagined from glimpses of the Sanctum District''s grand buildings. Vaulted ceilings supported by marble columns stretched overhead, adorned with intricate mosaics depicting the Maw''s first appearance and the salvation of early chosen ones. Tall windows of colored glass cast prismatic patterns across tables made from polished wood that gleamed like water in sunlight.


    Sera led him to a long central table where several others in gray clothing were already seated. Elias counted eight chosen ones, including Maris, who pointedly looked away when he approached. The marks visible on their skin varied in density and pattern but shared the same fluid motion beneath the surface, like ink swirling in water.


    "Your place is there," Sera indicated, pointing to an empty chair. "I''ll return when the meal concludes."


    She departed with a small bow, joining other acolytes who waited attentively along the walls. Servants began bringing platters of food¡ªroasted meats, freshly baked breads, vegetables prepared in ways Elias couldn''t identify, and fruits he had only seen from a distance in the Market Quarter.


    Despite the luxury surrounding them, conversation remained sparse and tense. The chosen ones studied each other warily, district loyalties still evident despite their identical clothing. A muscular young man with a soldier''s bearing kept his hand near his knife as though expecting attack. Two women with the soft hands and straight posture of scholars whispered to each other, occasionally glancing toward the others with undisguised curiosity.


    Maris had gathered a small court of three others who, judging by their mannerisms, also came from privileged backgrounds. Their hushed conversation was punctuated by nervous laughter and repeated glances toward the hall''s main entrance.


    Elias focused on his food, savoring flavors he had never experienced while taking stock of his fellow chosen. One in particular caught his attention¡ªa young man seated at the far end, who, like Elias, ate with the deliberate care of someone accustomed to scarcity. Slum-born, almost certainly, but with an alertness in his eyes that spoke of intelligence rather than mere survival instinct.


    Their gazes met briefly across the table, a moment of silent recognition passing between them. The young man gave an almost imperceptible nod before returning to his meal.


    The hall''s massive doors swung open as they were finishing, admitting a procession of white-robed Church officials. Conversations died instantly, all attention turning to the new arrivals. At their center walked a woman whose presence commanded the room immediately.


    The High Priestess Seraphina stood taller than most men, her posture regal without seeming rigid. Silver-streaked dark hair was bound in an elaborate series of braids interwoven with thin chains of precious metal. Her robes, unlike the simple white of her attendants, shimmered with embroidered patterns that seemed to mimic the marks on the chosen ones'' skin. Most striking were her eyes¡ªpale gray, almost colorless, yet intensely focused as they swept across the gathered chosen.


    "Rise for Her Eminence, voice of the Maw''s divine will," intoned an elderly man at her side.


    They stood as one, even Maris''s small court abandoning their affected indifference in the face of such authority. The High Priestess moved to the head of the table, her gaze touching each chosen one in turn. When those pale eyes fell on Elias, he felt a curious sensation¡ªas though the marks beneath his skin responded to her attention, warming slightly beneath her gaze.


    "Be seated," she said, her voice melodious yet carrying an undercurrent of steel. "We have much to discuss before tomorrow''s dawn."


    They sat, the scraping of chairs against stone floor the only sound in the hall. The High Priestess remained standing, hands clasped before her.


    "You have been chosen," she began, each word measured and precise. "Not by the Church. Not by me. But by the Maw itself¡ªthe divine gateway that stands between humanity and annihilation. Its mark now moves beneath your skin, changing you in preparation for what lies ahead."


    She began to pace slowly around the table, her movements fluid and graceful. "Some of you came willingly when the mark appeared. Others..." her gaze flickered briefly toward Elias, "required more persuasion. It matters not. The Maw''s selection transcends human choice, just as its purpose transcends human understanding."


    Maris shifted in her seat, clearly fighting the urge to speak. The High Priestess noticed and stopped beside her.


    "You have something to add, child?"


    Maris straightened, chin lifting. "My father¡ª"


    "Has petitioned three times for your release," Seraphina completed for her, voice gentle but unyielding. "And three times has been denied, not by my authority, but by divine will manifest. The marks have chosen you, Maris of House Rayburn. Neither wealth nor privilege can alter that truth."


    Color rose in Maris''s cheeks, but she fell silent, the High Priestess''s quiet certainty more effective than any show of force could have been.


    Seraphina continued her circuit of the table. "Tomorrow at dawn, you will enter the Maw''s embrace together. Twelve chosen ones, as tradition demands. What awaits you there, only those who have returned can truly know¡ªand even they comprehend merely fragments of the divine purpose."


    She stopped again, this time behind the chair of the young man Elias had noticed earlier. "Some of you seek to understand the process through reason and study." Her hand came to rest briefly on the young man''s shoulder. "A worthy endeavor, but incomplete. The Maw''s trials test more than knowledge."


    Moving again, she paused behind the soldier-like man. "Some believe strength and skill at arms will see them through." A smile touched her lips. "These too are valuable, but insufficient alone."


    She completed her circuit, returning to the head of the table. "Each of you brings different qualities, different perspectives. Together, you form a whole that is greater than its parts. This is by design. The trials ahead will demand all that you are¡ªyour strengths, your fears, your deepest truths."


    The High Priestess raised her hands, and her attendants moved forward, placing a small wooden box before each chosen one. "Open them," she commanded.


    Elias lifted the lid of his box carefully, half-expecting some religious relic or symbolic token. Instead, he found a simple bracelet made of dark metal links, unadorned except for a small circular plate engraved with a swirling pattern that mimicked the marks on his skin.


    "These bracelets," the High Priestess explained, "are attuned to the Maw''s essence. Wear them through the night. They will prepare your minds for tomorrow''s transition and ensure all twelve enter the trials together, as one."


    Elias lifted the bracelet, feeling its unexpected weight. The metal was warm to the touch, almost alive. When he slipped it over his wrist, it contracted slightly, adjusting to fit perfectly against his skin. The marks beneath his wrist responded immediately, swirling more rapidly around the area the bracelet touched.


    "Tonight you will undergo the final preparations¡ªritual cleansing, meditation, and the blessing of your paths," Seraphina continued. "Your attendants will guide you through these sacred rites. But first, I would speak with each of you individually, to address any concerns that may burden your spirit before the trials."


    She nodded to her attendants, who moved to stand behind each chosen one''s chair. "You will be called in sequence. The rest may return to your quarters or explore the permitted areas until summoned."


    The elderly man at her side unrolled a parchment. "Maris of House Rayburn," he read formally, "you will attend the High Priestess first."


    Maris rose, composure regained though her eyes still smoldered with resentment. She followed Seraphina and her personal attendants through a side door, leaving the rest in a heavy silence that lasted only until the doors closed behind them.


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


    "This is madness," hissed one of Maris''s court, a thin young man with aristocratic features twisted in disdain. "My father sits on the Inner Council. When he learns I''ve been bracelet-tagged like common cattle¡ª"


    "He already knows," interrupted the scholarly woman nearest to Elias. "They all know. The Church doesn''t hide the selection¡ªthey celebrate it publicly."


    "They''ll be celebrating our funerals next," muttered another, tugging uselessly at the bracelet that now seemed permanently affixed to his wrist.


    Conversations erupted around the table, fears and speculations flowing freely now that the High Priestess had departed. Elias remained silent, observing the dynamics as they unfolded. District rivalries resurfaced immediately¡ªthe wealthy clustering together, the scholars forming their own alliance, the soldier-type maintaining wary independence.


    The young man Elias had noticed earlier rose quietly from his seat, moving with casual purpose toward the exit. None of the remaining attendants moved to stop him, confirming that they were indeed free to move about the "permitted areas" as promised.


    Elias followed, catching up in the corridor outside. "You''re heading somewhere specific," he said, not a question.


    The young man glanced at him, assessing. Up close, Elias could see that despite his slum-born appearance, his eyes held an educated sharpness.


    "The library," he replied after a moment. "If we''re going to die tomorrow, I''d prefer to do so with as much information as possible."


    "My thoughts exactly." Elias fell into step beside him. "I''m Elias."


    "Tavin. Northern Slums district." The lack of shame or apology in his tone was refreshing¡ªmany who escaped the slums tried to hide their origins.


    "Outer Slums, eastern quarter," Elias replied.


    Tavin nodded. "Worst hit in the last major breach. You survived that?"


    "Barely." Elias had no interest in elaborating on the memories of that day. "You said library. You can read, then?"


    "My mother was a transcriber for the Market Quarter record-keepers before the fever took her. She taught me." Tavin glanced sideways at Elias. "And you?"


    "Self-taught. Mostly from discarded merchant ledgers and whatever I could scavenge."


    They walked in silence for a few moments, two survivors recognizing a kindred spirit despite their different paths.


    "What do you make of all this?" Tavin asked eventually, gesturing to the opulent surroundings and then to the bracelet on his wrist.


    Elias considered his answer carefully. "I think the Church believes exactly what they preach¡ªthat the Maw is divine and its selection sacred. Whether that belief is correct..." He shrugged. "We''ll discover that tomorrow."


    "If we survive to remember it." Tavin''s expression darkened. "The Returned are few, and most come back... wrong somehow. I''ve seen one, in the Market Quarter. The way people avoided him, even the Sentinels¡ªit wasn''t just respect. It was fear."


    They reached the library, a circular chamber lined with shelves containing scrolls, bound volumes, and ancient tablets. The center of the room held reading tables illuminated by carefully placed oil lamps that cast a warm glow over the space.


    Tavin moved immediately to a section marked with religious symbols, fingers skimming across the spines of volumes. "Here," he said, pulling down a heavy tome bound in dark leather. "Accounts of the Returned, annotated by Church scholars."


    Elias selected another volume: "Manifestations of the Maw''s Blessing," according to its gilded cover. They settled at a table, falling into the comfortable silence of two readers absorbed in their search for knowledge.


    The texts were heavily sanitized by Church doctrine, Elias realized quickly. Descriptions of the trials remained vague, cloaked in religious metaphor and deliberate obfuscation. Phrases like "divine transfiguration" and "spiritual rebirth" obscured rather than illuminated what actually happened to the chosen ones.


    More interesting were the accounts of powers granted to those who returned. These descriptions, though still wrapped in religious language, contained specific details: enhanced strength and reflexes, accelerated healing, and unique abilities that varied from person to person. Some could manipulate elements, others could sense corruption at great distances, still others could transfer injuries from one person to another.


    "Listen to this," Tavin said quietly, finger marking a passage in his book. "''The Returned bear the marks of their trial in both body and spirit, their flesh inscribed with the Maw''s judgment and their gifts determined by the nature of their worthiness.''" He looked up. "It suggests the trials are different for each person, or at least that each person experiences them differently."


    "And the powers granted correspond to how they survived the trials," Elias added, sharing his own discovery. "Though how the Church determines this is unclear, since even the Returned themselves seem unable to fully articulate what they experienced."


    Their research continued as the afternoon light shifted through the colored glass windows. They were joined occasionally by other chosen ones who browsed briefly before departing, none showing the sustained interest that Elias and Tavin demonstrated.


    Eventually, an acolyte appeared at Elias''s shoulder. "The High Priestess will see you now," he announced formally.


    Tavin nodded to Elias as he rose. "I''ll continue here. Find me later to share what you learn."


    Elias followed the acolyte through a series of increasingly ornate corridors, finally arriving at a set of doors inlaid with silver patterns that seemed to move in the flickering light of wall-mounted torches. The acolyte knocked once, then opened the doors without waiting for response.


    "Enter," he instructed, remaining outside as Elias stepped through.


    The High Priestess''s private chamber was not the ostentatious display of wealth Elias had expected. Instead, the room was almost austere¡ªstone walls unadorned except for a single tapestry depicting the Maw as a swirling vortex of darkness and light. Simple furniture crafted with precision rather than ornament. A writing desk covered with unfurled scrolls and open books. A meditation area defined by a circular rug woven with symbols matching the marks on his skin.


    Seraphina stood at a window overlooking the city, her back to him as he entered. Without turning, she said, "You''ve been investigating the Maw''s nature through our texts."


    Not a question, so Elias offered no response.


    "A more productive use of time than young Maris''s continued protestations or the noble children''s petulant sulking." Now she turned, those pale eyes fixing on him with uncomfortable intensity. "Knowledge is power, particularly when facing the unknown."


    "The texts reveal very little of substance," Elias replied carefully.


    A smile touched the High Priestess''s lips. "Deliberately so. Some knowledge can only be earned through direct experience."


    She gestured to a chair opposite her own. "Sit, Elias of the Outer Slums. Let us speak plainly with each other."


    He sat, maintaining the calculated calm that had kept him alive in the slums. Up close, the High Priestess was both more and less imposing¡ªher authority unmistakable, but her face showing lines of exhaustion and concern that her public persona concealed.


    "You don''t fear me," she observed. "Nor do you hate me, unlike some of your fellow chosen. Interesting."


    "Fear and hate are luxuries in the slums," Elias replied. "Survival leaves little room for either."


    "Yet you ran when the Sentinels came for you. You fought capture with considerable ingenuity."


    So she knew the details of his capture. Not surprising, but worth noting.


    "Survival instinct," he explained. "Running from authorities becomes habit when you live in the Outer Slums."


    "Indeed." She studied him for a long moment. "The marks have chosen well with you, Elias. Your pattern is unusual¡ªindicative of particular potential."


    He glanced down at his forearms, where the black swirls had continued to spread and evolve. "What do the patterns mean?"


    "They are unique to each chosen one, reflecting aspects of their nature and potential path through the trials." She leaned forward slightly. "Yours suggest adaptability, resourcefulness, and something more... a capacity for transformation beyond the ordinary."


    "Transformation into what?"


    "That depends entirely on you." Seraphina rose, moving to her desk and selecting a small object from among the scrolls. "Captain Keldric reported something interesting during your capture¡ªintervention by a deserter named Varin."


    The abrupt change of subject caught Elias off guard. "He wanted to take me somewhere else. Study the Maw''s marks without Church oversight, he said."


    "Varin serves interests that view the Maw as a resource to be exploited rather than a divine presence to be revered." Her tone remained even, but distaste flickered across her features. "They believe power can be extracted without undergoing the trials, that the Maw''s blessings can be... harvested without the spiritual transformation the trials provide."


    "Can they?"


    The High Priestess''s expression hardened. "Those who have attempted such shortcuts have either died screaming or become abominations¡ªcorrupted reflections of what the Returned should be. The Maw''s gifts cannot be stolen or shortcuts taken. They must be earned through the trials."


    She placed the object she''d retrieved into Elias''s hand¡ªa small medallion of the same dark metal as the bracelet, engraved with symbols he couldn''t decipher.


    "Keep this with you during the trials," she said. "It cannot protect you, but it may guide you when the path seems darkest."


    Elias closed his fingers around the medallion, feeling its warmth against his palm. "Why me and not the others?"


    "Each chosen one receives guidance suited to their nature," she replied. "Some require words, others symbols, others silence. You require truth, however incomplete."


    She returned to her seat, suddenly looking weary. "Ask your final question, Elias. I see it forming behind your eyes."


    He considered carefully before speaking. "What determines who returns and who is consumed?"


    "Not strength. Not intelligence. Not faith." Seraphina''s pale eyes seemed to look through him rather than at him. "Intention and transformation determine survival. Those who cling to what they were cannot become what they must be. Those who enter seeking only to extract power will find only destruction."


    "And those who enter seeking survival?"


    Her expression softened slightly. "Survival alone is insufficient. The Maw tests purpose beyond self. Remember that when the trials seem insurmountable."


    She rose, signaling the end of their conversation. "Go now. Prepare yourself as you see fit. The night grows short, and dawn approaches swiftly."


    As Elias left the High Priestess''s chamber, the medallion a reassuring weight in his pocket, he wondered which of the twelve would survive tomorrow''s trials¡ªand which, himself included, would be consumed by the Black Maw''s embrace.

 Fellow Chosen

    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¡ªa 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¡ªshoulders 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¡ªrandom 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¡ªa 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¡ªradiating outward from her wrists like unfurling wings. When she caught him studying her, she held his gaze with unsettling directness.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "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¡ªnot 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¡ªthose 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¡ªdetermination, 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¡ªand whether that discovery would lead to his transformation or his consumption when dawn finally came.

 Purification Rituals

    The chosen ones were summoned from their evening meal by a procession of silent acolytes bearing silver lanterns. Elias fell into step with the others, watching as they were led deeper into the Sanctuary, through corridors he hadn''t seen during his earlier exploration with Sera. The marks beneath his skin had grown more active since their meeting with the High Priestess, swirling with increasing urgency as if responding to the approaching dawn.


    They entered a vast chamber whose domed ceiling was painted with constellations unknown to Elias¡ªperhaps ancient star patterns from before the Fall, or symbolic representations of the Maw''s domain. Twelve alcoves lined the circular walls, each containing a stone basin filled with water that gleamed with unnatural iridescence.


    "The Cleansing of Purpose begins now," announced a senior cleric, his voice echoing in the chamber''s perfect acoustics. "Each chosen one will undergo purification of body, mind, and intention before tomorrow''s embrace."


    Acolytes directed each of them to a separate alcove. Elias found himself standing before a basin where the water shifted colors as he approached¡ªdark blue to violet to a deep crimson that matched the marks beneath his skin. Two acolytes waited beside it, faces impassive beneath ceremonial paint.


    "Remove your garments," instructed the elder of the two, a gray-haired man with eyes that had seen too many chosen ones come and go. "The waters must touch bare skin to purify intention."


    Elias complied without embarrassment¡ªprivacy was another luxury the slums hadn''t afforded. The acolytes showed no reaction to his thin frame or the scars that mapped his difficult life. They seemed more interested in the patterns of his marks, which now covered most of his torso and were spreading down his legs.


    "Distinctive patterning," murmured the younger acolyte. "Like water seeking its level."


    "The Maw sees potential paths," the elder replied cryptically. "Enter the waters, chosen one."


    The basin was deeper than it appeared, the water coming to Elias''s chest when he stepped in. Cold shot through him initially, then transitioned to uncomfortable warmth that seemed to penetrate beneath his skin, reaching directly for the marks. The liquid clung to him strangely, more viscous than water should be.


    "Breathe deeply," instructed the elder acolyte, sprinkling herbs into the basin that dissolved instantly. "Allow the waters to carry away impurity of purpose."


    The water''s color shifted again, darkening to near-black before lightening to a translucent amber. Elias felt lightheaded, his senses sharpening then dulling in rhythmic waves. The marks beneath his skin responded to the water, their movement accelerating until they seemed to vibrate.


    Around the chamber, other chosen ones were undergoing similar rituals, though Elias noticed variations in the herbs used and words spoken. The cleansing was being tailored to each individual, it seemed.


    "Speak your purpose," commanded the elder acolyte, placing a hand on Elias''s forehead. "Why do you enter the Maw''s embrace?"


    The question struck deeper than expected, bypassing his usual caution. "To survive," he answered truthfully.


    The acolyte''s expression remained neutral, but his eyes reflected something like pity. "The Maw asks more than survival, chosen one. Those who enter seeking only to emerge unchanged are rarely deemed worthy."


    "What should I seek, then?" Elias asked, surprising himself with the question.


    "That is for you alone to determine," the acolyte replied. "But those who return transformed always surrender something of themselves in exchange for what they gain. Consider what you might willingly give."


    The cryptic answer echoed the High Priestess''s words from their private meeting. Before Elias could pursue the thought further, the younger acolyte began pouring oil into the water, creating swirling patterns that mimicked the marks beneath his skin. The scent was sharp and strange¡ªreminiscent of metal and ozone, like the air before a lightning strike.


    "The Anointment of Acceptance," explained the elder. "Your flesh acknowledges what your mind may resist."


    The oil seemed drawn to Elias''s marked skin, adhering to the patterns before sinking beneath the surface. The sensation was uncomfortable but not painful¡ªa pressure building beneath his skin as though something were pushing outward from within.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    After the cleansing came meditation in a dim chamber filled with incense that made Elias''s thoughts slip sideways, refusing to follow logical paths. Acolytes chanted in a language he didn''t recognize, their voices rising and falling in patterns that somehow matched the swirling of the marks beneath his skin.


    Time lost meaning. Minutes or hours might have passed as Elias sat cross-legged on a stone floor, swaying slightly as the incense and chanting worked their effect. Visions flickered at the edges of his consciousness¡ªvast darkness punctuated by points of light, structures that defied physical laws, faces both human and disturbingly not.


    When clear thought finally returned, Elias found himself being guided to yet another chamber where a solemn-faced woman waited with brushes and pots of shimmering paint.


    "The Marking of Path," she explained, gesturing for him to sit. "Your flesh already bears the Maw''s selection. Now we make visible the invisible¡ªthe path your transformation might follow."


    She studied his marks intently before selecting paints, mixing them with practiced precision. With delicate brushstrokes, she began tracing patterns on his face and hands, following the flow of marks beneath his skin but extrapolating their course¡ªpainting what they might become rather than what they currently were.


    "Your patterns suggest unusual adaptability," she commented as she worked. "The potential for profound change."


    The woman nodded slightly. "The High Priestess has marked you for special attention. Your return would be particularly significant."


    "If I return."


    Her brush paused momentarily. "Indeed. The Maw''s judgment is beyond our understanding. We can only prepare you as best we can."


    When she finished, Elias caught a glimpse of himself in a polished metal mirror. The painted patterns transformed his appearance¡ªsilver-white lines flowing across his skin in counterpoint to the black marks beneath, creating an unsettling double-image. The design emphasized his eyes, making them appear deeper, more intense.


    Other chosen ones were receiving similar treatment, though each design was unique. Across the chamber, Elias noticed Lyara''s patterns emphasized the wing-like quality of her marks, extending across her cheekbones in sweeping arcs. She maintained an air of calm focus, as though these rituals were familiar rather than new.


    The final preparation was the donning of ceremonial garments¡ªsimple white robes embroidered with patterns matching those painted on their skin. Around each of their necks, acolytes placed a thin chain bearing a small crystal that pulsed in time with the marks beneath their skin.


    "These crystals will facilitate your transition," explained a senior cleric. "They resonate with the Maw''s essence, creating harmony between your physical form and what awaits beyond."


    As the crystal settled against Elias''s chest, he felt the medallion the High Priestess had given him warm in response, hidden beneath his robes. The two objects seemed to recognize each other, creating a curious vibration where they both touched his skin.


    "Tonight, you will rest in meditation," the cleric continued. "Acolytes will guide you in prayer and contemplation until dawn approaches. Some of you may experience visions¡ªinsights granted by the Maw to prepare you for your journey. Embrace these without fear, for they are divine guidance."


    Elias doubted anything divine would be speaking to him tonight, but he nodded along with the others. The rituals had left him physically exhausted but mentally alert, senses heightened by whatever herbs and substances had been used in the cleansing.


    As they were led to individual meditation cells for the night, Elias caught Tavin''s eye. The slum-born scholar looked thoughtful rather than fearful, as though cataloging every detail of the experience for future reference. Keldric maintained his military bearing despite the ceremonial paint and robes, while Maris seemed to have regained some composure during the rituals.


    Only Lyara appeared unchanged by the preparations¡ªneither elevated nor diminished, but steadily focused on what lay ahead. Whatever had led her to volunteer for the trials, she clearly believed in her purpose completely.


    The meditation cell was spare¡ªa sleeping pallet, a small lamp burning with blue flame, a single wooden stool. An acolyte brought water and a small portion of bread, explaining that chosen ones traditionally fasted before the final transition.


    "Sleep if you can," she advised. "The journey begins at first light."


    Left alone, Elias settled on the pallet, mind racing despite physical exhaustion. The day''s rituals had been designed to induce a specific mental state¡ªto make the chosen ones receptive to whatever awaited them within the Maw. He recognized the techniques from slum cult practices: sensory manipulation, chemical alteration, suggestive imagery.


    Yet beneath the religious trappings, he sensed purpose beyond mere ceremony. The Maw truly was a gateway to transformation, not merely a religious symbol. The rituals might be preparing them for actual physical and mental changes, not just symbolic ones.


    He retrieved the medallion the High Priestess had given him, studying its markings in the blue lamplight. Its warmth had intensified during the day''s preparations, as though activated by the rituals. Whatever purpose Seraphina intended it to serve, it clearly responded to the Church''s ceremonies despite her claim that it wasn''t official doctrine.


    As exhaustion finally overcame his racing thoughts, Elias tucked the medallion beneath his robes once more, its warmth a counterpoint to the crystal at his throat. Tomorrow would bring the Maw''s embrace¡ªtransformation or consumption, trial or judgment, technological process or divine intervention.


    He wondered what intention beyond survival might guide him through the trials that awaited.

 Lyaras Secret

    Elias''s skin still tingled from the purification rituals. Hours of bathing in strange herbal waters, being rubbed with oils that seemed alive as they sank into his marked skin, and listening to mind-numbing chants had left him mentally drained but too wired to sleep. The crystal they''d given him felt like it was burning into his wrist, its pulse matching his heartbeat in a way that made him wonder if the thing was somehow alive.


    The meditation chamber they''d left him in was bare - just a simple pallet, a water basin, and a single candle that burned with unnatural steadiness. The flame didn''t even flicker. Nothing in this place felt natural.


    "Reflect on your journey," they''d told him. Right. As if anyone could meditate while waiting to be sacrificed to some interdimensional maw at dawn.


    His mind kept racing between everything he''d learned - the cryptic words from the High Priestess, the scattered information from Church texts, the glimpses of other chosen ones during the rituals. None of it formed a complete picture, just fragments that refused to connect properly.


    Sleep wasn''t happening, and quiet contemplation had never been his strong suit. Instead, he pulled out the medallion Seraphina had given him, turning it over in his hands. The symbols etched into its surface matched nothing he''d ever seen, yet somehow felt familiar, as if they were calling to something inside him.


    A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He quickly pocketed the medallion, expecting another acolyte with more instructions or rituals.


    Instead, Lyara slipped through the door like a shadow, closing it behind her without a sound.


    "We don''t have much time," she said, glancing back at the door. "The acolytes make their final rounds soon."


    Elias studied her face in the candlelight. The rituals had left her skin with a subtle glow, and the wing-like patterns painted over her marks seemed to have taken on a life of their own. Even with death looming at dawn, she looked calm, focused. Maybe even excited.


    "How''d you find me?" he asked.


    "I memorized the layout before I came." The casual way she said it caught him off guard. "And you''re the one I needed to speak with most."


    "Why me?" He leaned back against the wall, relaxed while staying ready to move if needed. Old habits.


    "Because of all the chosen, you''re the most likely to survive based on adaptability alone¡ªbut also the most likely to come back wrong if you don''t understand what you''re walking into."


    Her bluntness was refreshing after hours of mystical nonsense from the acolytes. "You''ve been watching all of us."


    "Since we arrived." She touched the patterns on her own wrist. "My family has records describing what these mark patterns mean. Yours are... unusual. They show adaptation, potential for transformation beyond the ordinary."


    "Your family and their ''independent knowledge'' of the Maw," Elias said. "What exactly does that mean? You religious rebels or something?"


    Lyara glanced toward the door, listening for footsteps. "The Church sees the Maw as purely divine, which is half-right but misses the point entirely."


    "And the full truth?"


    "The Maw is a remnant from the last civilization that fought the corruption¡ªa mechanism they created to produce warriors capable of fighting the Forgotten World." She spoke more quietly now, almost whispering. "Archaeological evidence suggests it was designed as a defense, not a religious artifact. Over centuries, its purpose remained, but its methods evolved."


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Elias felt the medallion grow warmer in his pocket. "You''re saying it''s just technology? Not divine?"


    "When technology becomes advanced enough, is there really a difference?" She shrugged. "What matters is its purpose¡ªcreating defenders against corruption through trials and transformation."


    "And these trials¡ªwhat exactly are we walking into tomorrow?"


    "Two phases," she explained, settling into a crouch beside him. "First, we''ll find ourselves in a historical setting¡ªa pivotal moment when humanity first confronted corruption. We have to navigate this environment, find artifacts that resonate with us personally, and reach a convergence point together."


    "Artifacts? Like weapons?"


    "Each chosen one gets exactly two¡ªa weapon and a tool. They bond with you, evolving based on your choices through the trials." She traced the patterns on her arms absently. "How your artifacts interact reveals your true nature. Those whose weapons and tools work in harmony typically survive longer."


    Elias tried to reconcile this with the vague religious descriptions he''d read. "And the second phase?"


    "We''ll find ourselves in Azimuth¡ªa city that existed at humanity''s peak before the Fall. We journey from the harbor to the Central Spire, meeting Phantom Citizens and fighting corrupted creatures. The city holds knowledge lost since the Fall, if you''re smart enough to look for it rather than just fighting your way through."


    Her knowledge was too specific, too detailed. "How does your family know all this when the Returned can barely describe what happened to them?"


    Lyara hesitated, then sighed. "Because members of my family have been entering the trials voluntarily for generations. Each returns with fragments, pieces we''ve assembled into something more complete." She met his eyes directly. "I''m continuing their work."


    "Continuing implies a goal," Elias noted. "What exactly are you after in there?"


    "The truth about what the Maw really is and why it''s changing. Our records show it''s evolving beyond its original design. Understanding those changes could be crucial for humanity''s survival."


    Elias searched her face for deception but found only conviction. Not a fanatic, but someone raised with absolute purpose. He knew the type.


    "Why tell me this? Why not Keldric or Tavin? They seem more the heroic type."


    She moved closer until he could smell the lingering scent of ritual oils on her skin. "Because the marks chose you for a reason, Elias. Your pattern shows potential for profound transformation¡ªeither toward extraordinary power or complete corruption, depending on what you choose in there."


    "And what should I choose?"


    "Survival alone won''t be enough," she said, echoing the High Priestess''s warning with eerie similarity. "When the moment comes¡ªand it will¡ªchoose understanding over power, preservation over destruction."


    Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside¡ªthe acolytes making their rounds. Lyara rose quickly, moving to the door.


    "One more thing," she said, hand on the latch. "When we enter the historical setting, find me as quickly as you can. Together, we stand a better chance."


    "Why want me as an ally?" Elias asked bluntly. "I''m just a slum thief looking out for himself, not some heroic defender of humanity."


    For the first time, Lyara smiled¡ªa real smile that softened her intensity. "Because that''s not all you are, and we both know it. I''ve seen the records of your life, Elias¡ªthe eastern breach, what happened afterward."


    Cold dread washed over him. "Those records don''t exist. I made sure of it."


    "My family''s network runs deeper than you think." Her expression softened. "The Maw doesn''t choose randomly, Elias. Remember that tomorrow."


    She slipped out as silently as she''d entered, leaving Elias with a mind more troubled than before and questions about how much she really knew about him.


    He lay back on the pallet, turning everything over in his mind. If she was right, the trials ahead made more sense but weren''t any less dangerous. Historical setting. Artifacts. Azimuth. Phantom Citizens. Each piece potentially useful if he could figure out how to use it.


    But her knowledge of his past¡ªthat was deeply troubling. The eastern breach was something he''d buried completely, had killed to ensure no records connected him to what happened afterward. If Lyara''s family knew those details, they were more dangerous than any Church officials.


    The medallion felt heavier in his pocket, the High Priestess''s words echoing: Intention and transformation determine survival. Lyara had said basically the same thing.


    What intention beyond survival could possibly guide him? What transformation awaited someone who''d spent his life adapting to survive at any cost?


    The candle burned lower, marking time''s passage toward dawn. Toward the Maw''s embrace. Toward whatever truth waited on the other side.

 Cathedral Gathering

    Dawn broke over Valtaros with unusual clarity, as if even the weather was showing off for the special day. Elias woke to the sound of distant bells, their deep tones rolling through the air. Before he could fully gather his thoughts, the acolytes appeared in his doorway, their faces more serious than ever.


    "It''s time," said the older one, her voice softer than usual. "You''ll walk the Path to the Cathedral now."


    The white robes they''d given him last night had been fancied up overnight. Someone had added elaborate stitching to the sleeves and collar, copying the patterns painted on his skin. The crystal hanging at his throat pulsed in time with his heartbeat, warm against his skin.


    In the courtyard, the other chosen ones huddled in their matching outfits. The ritual paints made them all look otherworldly in the morning light, though you could still tell where they came from by how they stood ¨C Maris stiff as a board despite being clearly terrified, Keldric at military attention, Tavin taking everything in like he was memorizing it for an exam later.


    Lyara caught his eye for just a moment as they were being arranged in formation. Her face gave away nothing about their secret talk last night. If anything, she looked calmer than the others, like she was heading someplace she''d always meant to go.


    The High Priestess Seraphina swept in wearing the most elaborate outfit yet. Her robes shimmered with every step, making her seem like she was constantly in motion. Her headdress looked like an artistic version of the marks they all carried, arranged in circles that drew your eye toward a dark center.


    "Today," she called out, her voice easily reaching every corner of the courtyard, "twelve chosen by the Maw walk among the people of Valtaros. Watch them pass with reverence, for they carry humanity''s hope against the darkness."


    The huge gates swung open to reveal streets already packed with people, despite the early hour. Church acolytes led the way, walking in perfect step while swinging silver burners that released sweet-smelling smoke. Behind them came musicians playing instruments Elias had never seen before ¨C crystal flutes that made sounds that weren''t quite comfortable to hear, drums covered with something that sparkled in the light.


    The High Priestess followed, her presence drawing whispered prayers from the crowd. The twelve chosen ones walked behind her, arranged in a pattern that Elias realized was a living version of the marks they all carried ¨C a physical copy of the Maw''s selection mark.


    As they made their way through the Sanctum District, Elias watched the gathered people with careful interest. The rich and powerful looked down from fancy balconies, their faces showing a mix of religious awe and poorly hidden relief that they weren''t the ones walking to possible death. Church officials stood at attention outside temples, heads bowed as they passed.


    What struck him most were the people from other districts, allowed into the fancy Sanctum District just for today. Market merchants watched with calculating eyes, probably already figuring out how to profit from the chosen ones'' families. Farm workers stared open-mouthed at buildings they''d only heard about. Even slum dwellers had been let in, though they were kept in special areas, their thin faces showing a mix of wonder and bitterness.


    They made their way through spotless streets toward the heart of the district, where the Grand Cathedral loomed over everything else. Sentinels lined the route with stern faces, making sure everyone showed proper respect, no matter if they were rich merchants or slum dwellers. The crowd''s whispers and prayers blended with the steady beat of drums and the ringing of silver bells, creating a sound unlike anything Elias had ever heard.


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


    "They''re watching us like animals heading to slaughter," muttered the noble youth walking beside Elias, keeping his voice low enough that the acolytes couldn''t hear.


    "Or saviors on their way to glory," countered the farm girl on Elias''s other side, sounding like she actually believed it despite the fear in her eyes.


    Elias kept quiet, watching everything around him instead. In the crowd, he spotted faces that didn''t match their neighbors ¨C calculating rather than reverent, studying the chosen ones with professional interest instead of religious awe. Church security, probably, or maybe representatives from other groups keeping tabs on the selection process.


    As they went deeper into the Sanctum District, the buildings got older and more impressive. These structures dated from before the Fall, made of gleaming white stone and intricate metalwork that had somehow survived when other cities crumbled to dust. Gardens flourished between buildings, showing off plants from before corruption tainted most of the natural world.


    "The sacred heart of Valtaros approaches," announced a nearby acolyte. "The place where the Maw first appeared to save humanity from corruption."


    The Grand Cathedral appeared suddenly as they rounded a final corner ¨C a structure so massive and impossible that Elias''s mind struggled to take it all in at once. White stone spires reached toward the sky, connected by arches that seemed to float without support. Stained glass windows bigger than entire slum buildings showed scenes from Church history, their colors transformed by the morning sun into pools of light that spilled across the massive plaza.


    Most striking was the Cathedral''s central dome, made from a material that swallowed light instead of reflecting it ¨C a perfect circle of darkness against the white stone, looking just like the Maw as Church doctrine described it. According to sacred texts, the physical gateway to the Maw''s embrace lay directly beneath this dome.


    The procession stopped at the Cathedral''s massive doors, which remained closed. The thousands who had followed their path now filled the plaza behind them, a sea of expectant faces. The High Priestess turned to address them, raising her arms in a gesture that immediately silenced the crowd.


    "People of Valtaros," she called out, her voice somehow reaching even the farthest corners of the crowded plaza, "behold the twelve chosen by divine will. From all districts, all walks of life, they have been marked for transformation. Through the Maw''s trials, they will become our champions against corruption¡ªif they prove worthy."


    The crowd responded with a sound somewhere between a prayer and a moan, acknowledging what nobody was saying out loud ¨C that not everyone who entered the Maw would come back. The chosen ones stayed still as they''d been instructed, though Elias noticed the little signs of what they were really feeling: Maris''s eyes darting toward where her father stood among the merchant elite, Keldric''s jaw clenched like he was preparing for a fight, Tavin''s gaze fixed on the Cathedral''s architecture as if he was trying to memorize every detail.


    Only Lyara seemed perfectly composed, her eyes focused on the darkness of the central dome with something close to eagerness. Whatever had made her volunteer for the trials clearly kept her steady even now.


    As the prayers finished, the High Priestess gestured toward the Cathedral doors. They swung inward without a sound despite their massive size, revealing an interior filled with ritual darkness. Thousands of candles created islands of light throughout the vast space, highlighting religious artwork and the gathered Church leaders waiting for them inside.


    "The final preparation begins," the High Priestess told the chosen ones, her voice now just for them. "What waits beyond those doors is the culmination of a thousand years of faith and purpose. Enter with courage, for the Maw awaits its chosen."


    The cathedral bells rang twelve deep notes as the sun reached its highest point, marking the appointed hour. The procession started moving again, the chosen ones following the High Priestess into the sacred darkness, leaving the sunlight and watching crowd behind.


    As they passed through the massive doorway, Elias felt the medallion against his chest grow suddenly warm, as if responding to their closeness to the Maw''s gateway. Lyara''s warning echoed in his mind¡ªfind her quickly once the trials began, choose understanding over power, preservation over destruction.


    The cathedral doors closed behind them with a sound like the end of something, sealing them inside the ancient building where humanity and the divine had first made their agreement against corruption. For better or worse, the twelve chosen ones had reached the threshold of their transformation.

 Descent

    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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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 ¨C 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¡ªor maybe voices, layered and overlapping¡ªspoke 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¡ªthe 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¡ªit 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.

 Awakening Elsewhere

    Consciousness came back in bits and pieces. First there was feeling¡ªthe gentle rocking of a solid surface beneath him. Then sound¡ªa distant mechanical hum that rose and fell in rhythmic patterns. Taste and smell arrived together¡ªrecycled air with a faint metallic tang. Elias kept his eyes closed, instinctively gathering information before revealing he was awake.


    Something was wrong. The textures against his skin felt all wrong¡ªsmooth, clean fabric instead of the ceremonial robes he''d worn in the Cathedral. And the gentle rocking motion suggested he was on a ship, though nothing like the small fishing vessels that occasionally docked in Valtaros''s harbor.


    When he finally opened his eyes, the disorientation hit harder. He was lying on a narrow bunk in what looked like a small metal-walled cabin. A single circular window showed blue sky and even bluer water stretching to the horizon. This wasn''t the Cathedral, or any spiritual realm inside the Maw. This was... somewhere else entirely.


    Elias sat up carefully, fighting a wave of dizziness. His head felt strangely light, as though stuffed with cotton. The cabin contained sparse furnishings¡ªjust the bunk where he''d awakened, a small desk bolted to the floor, a chair similarly secured, and a cabinet presumably for personal belongings. Everything had a precise, functional design that spoke of technology beyond what existed in present-day Valtaros.


    Even more jarring was his changed appearance. He glanced down to find the ceremonial robes, ritual paint, and visible marks were gone. Instead, he wore a functional uniform of dark blue fabric with a small insignia on the chest pocket. His body seemed unchanged otherwise¡ªsame height, same build¡ªbut the black marks that had spread beneath his skin were nowhere to be seen.


    Yet when he focused his attention inward, he could still feel them there¡ªdormant but present, like ink that had seeped so deep into paper it was no longer visible on the surface.


    The medallion was still there too, now hanging from a simple chain around his neck rather than hidden in a pocket. Its familiar weight provided the only tangible connection to the reality he''d left behind, the one piece of evidence that he hadn''t imagined everything that came before.


    A laminated ID badge lay on the desk, featuring his image alongside text identifying him as "Elias Varen, Research Assistant, Heraclea Expedition." The photo showed his face without the marks or ritual paint, his expression more open than he''d worn in years.


    "The Heraclea Expedition," he muttered, the name stirring something in his memory. Lyara had mentioned historical settings¡ªcrucibles where humanity had faced corruption at pivotal moments. The Heraclea... humanity''s first documented encounter with corruption¡ªthe beginning of the journey that would eventually lead to the Fall.


    The Maw had placed him in a historical moment, exactly as she''d predicted. But why this one specifically?


    A folder beside the badge contained orientation materials explaining his role aboard the vessel¡ªcredentials in marine biology and sample analysis, previous research experience, specific responsibilities. A complete fake history created with meticulous attention to detail.


    He picked up the folder, leafing through pages of technical information written in scientific language he somehow understood despite never having studied these fields. According to these documents, he was part of an oceanographic research team studying deep-sea thermal vents and their unique biological ecosystems.


    "None of this is real," he reminded himself quietly. "It''s a trial. A test."


    But the rocking motion of the ship felt real. The cool metal of the desk beneath his fingertips felt real. Even the slight nausea from what seemed to be mild seasickness felt undeniably real.


    Elias stood up carefully, testing his balance on the gently swaying floor. He moved to the small cabinet, finding it contained clothing identical to what he was wearing¡ªseveral sets of the dark blue uniform, undergarments, a jacket for colder weather. All perfectly sized for him, as though tailored specifically.


    Next, he tried the desk drawers, discovering a tablet device containing research notes written in handwriting identical to his own despite never having written them. Personal items occupied another drawer¡ªa small grooming kit, what appeared to be an electronic payment card, and photographs showing him alongside other researchers at previous expeditions.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    The thoroughness was both impressive and unsettling. Whatever force or intelligence controlled the Maw, it could create or access complete historical scenarios with perfect fidelity. This wasn''t merely a visual hallucination but comprehensive reality construction down to the smallest detail.


    He examined the circular window more closely, noting how the glass seamlessly integrated with the metal hull¡ªtechnology slightly beyond current capabilities in Valtaros. The seascape beyond appeared authentic, waves moving with natural randomness, occasional seabirds visible in the distance. If this was a simulation, it was indistinguishable from reality.


    Sudden dizziness forced him to grip the edge of the desk for balance. The cabin blurred momentarily, reality seeming to thin like fabric stretched too tightly. Through this temporary distortion, he glimpsed something else¡ªthe Cathedral''s darkness, twelve chosen ones falling, the High Priestess watching their descent with arms outstretched.


    Then the moment passed, reality snapping back into place with jarring finality. The experience left Elias with absolute certainty: this historical setting, however detailed and seemingly real, was ultimately a construction. The true trial lay in navigating it correctly, in understanding what it was designed to teach.


    He moved to the small washbasin in the corner, splashing cold water on his face. The water felt real¡ªcold, wet, exactly as water should feel. The sensory detail reinforced the scenario''s overwhelming authenticity.


    His reflection in the small mirror above the basin showed a face subtly different from the one he knew¡ªstill his features, but somehow younger, less hardened by life in the slums. The manufactured history had physically manifested in his appearance, creating a version of himself that might have existed if his life had followed a different path.


    According to Lyara''s information, his task now was to navigate this historical setting, find artifacts that would resonate with him personally, and locate the other chosen ones who''d entered the Maw alongside him. Most critically, he needed to find Lyara herself. Find me as quickly as possible, she''d said. Together, we''ll have better chance of surviving both phases.


    But first, he needed to understand where exactly in the Heraclea''s timeline he''d been placed. Was this the initial discovery of corruption? The middle of the investigation? Or the final desperate moments before catastrophic containment failure?


    He examined the research folder more carefully, searching for dates or timeline indicators. The most recent entries were from the previous day, describing the collection of deep-sea samples from the thermal vent system. Nothing explicitly mentioned corruption or unusual discoveries, suggesting either the investigation was still classified or hadn''t yet occurred.


    The ship''s layout was included in the orientation materials¡ªa research vessel of impressive size, with dedicated laboratories, sample collection equipment, and accommodations for thirty researchers plus twenty crew members. Elias memorized the deck plans, identifying key locations: laboratories where research took place, the bridge where command decisions were made, and potential escape routes if they became necessary.


    If the other chosen ones had been placed aboard too, they''d likely be assigned roles matching their apparent skills and backgrounds. Keldric might be security personnel, Maris an administrative officer or diplomat, Tavin perhaps another researcher. Finding them amid fifty people without revealing his own disorientation would require careful observation and patience.


    A knock at the cabin door interrupted his investigation. Before he could decide whether to respond, the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman in a similar uniform, her expression harried but professional.


    "Varen, you''re finally awake," she said, checking a clipboard with practiced efficiency. "Captain''s called an all-hands briefing in ten minutes. Something about anomalous readings from yesterday''s deep samples."


    She spoke as if they were acquainted, her manner suggesting an established working relationship. Elias nodded, falling into the role automatically¡ªsurvival instincts adapting to this new environment as they had to countless situations in the slums.


    "I''ll be there," he replied, keeping his voice steady despite his internal disorientation.


    "Lab Three, don''t be late." She checked something off on her clipboard. "And try to look less like you spent the night celebrating. The Captain''s in one of her moods."


    The woman left before Elias could respond, closing the door behind her. Alone again, he took a deep breath, centering himself for what was to come. The trial had begun in earnest. He was now Elias Varen, Research Assistant, Heraclea Expedition¡ªat least until he discovered what lesson this historical crucible was meant to teach.


    He adjusted his uniform, ensuring the medallion remained concealed beneath the fabric. As he reached for the door, his fingers brushed against the identification badge on the desk. He hesitated briefly, then attached it to his uniform, accepting the role he''d been assigned in this historical recreation.


    Whatever awaited him beyond that door was part of humanity''s first encounter with corruption. And somehow, navigating it correctly would determine whether he returned from the Maw transformed¡ªor was consumed by it.

 Strangers on Deck

    The corridor outside Elias''s cabin hummed with activity. Crew members in uniforms similar to his own moved with purpose between stations, their conversations focused on technical matters he only partially understood. He stepped into this flow carefully, adopting the purposeful stride of someone who belonged while observing everything around him.


    The Heraclea was larger than he''d anticipated. The corridor extended in both directions with numbered doors marking other quarters. Directional signs indicated various ship sections¡ªresearch laboratories forward, common areas amidships, engineering aft. Everything was designed for efficiency rather than comfort, the metal walls unadorned except for essential information and safety notices.


    Elias followed the signs toward Lab Three, where the briefing would take place. Each step took him deeper into the historical scenario, into humanity''s first encounter with what would eventually be recognized as corruption. The knowledge felt heavy¡ªhe alone understood the catastrophe that awaited this vessel and its crew.


    As he rounded a corner, he almost ran into a tall, stern-looking man in a security uniform. The man steadied him with a firm grip, his posture and bearing unmistakable despite the different clothing and context.


    Keldric. The former Sentinel captain who had captured him in Valtaros, now integrated into this historical setting like Elias himself.


    Their eyes met briefly, mutual recognition flashing before both carefully reassumed their assigned roles.


    "Watch yourself, researcher," Keldric said formally, his tone neither friendly nor hostile. "The captain expects punctuality at the briefing."


    "Of course, Officer," Elias replied with appropriate deference. "Lab Three, correct?"


    Keldric nodded once, his gaze sweeping the corridor before returning to Elias. "Strange readings from the deep samples. Everyone''s on edge." He lowered his voice slightly. "Find the others. Maintain cover."


    Before Elias could respond, another security officer approached, and Keldric moved on with a professional nod. The brief exchange confirmed what Elias had hoped¡ªother chosen ones were indeed aboard, and at least Keldric had maintained awareness of their true situation.


    He continued toward the briefing, passing through increasingly busy sections of the ship. Researchers huddled around monitoring stations, their expressions animated as they discussed findings in specialized terminology. Technical staff performed maintenance on equipment Elias couldn''t identify. The normalcy of the scene made it difficult to remember that none of these people were real¡ªor at least, not real in the way he understood reality.


    The ship''s design impressed him despite his attempts to remain detached. The technology was seamlessly integrated¡ªcommunication systems built into walls, environmental controls that adjusted automatically to occupancy levels, lighting that mimicked natural daylight despite being deep within the vessel''s interior. All of it slightly beyond Valtaros''s current capabilities, representing the peak of human achievement before the Fall.


    As Elias approached a junction where multiple corridors met, the ship''s intercom system activated.


    "All research personnel report to Laboratory Three immediately. Repeat: all research personnel to Lab Three for priority briefing."


    The announcement increased activity around him, with more researchers emerging from various rooms and converging toward the same destination. Elias fell in with this flow, studying those around him for any sign of recognition¡ªa flicker of awareness in the eyes, a momentary hesitation that might betray another chosen one similarly disoriented.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Most showed only the focused professionalism of people dedicated to their work, unaware they were actors in a drama created for the education of twelve interlopers from another time. But as the crowd navigated a particularly narrow section, Elias noticed a woman whose movements seemed too deliberate, her observation of others too methodical to be casual interest.


    Their eyes met momentarily across the heads of those between them. Something in her gaze¡ªa measured assessment rather than the distracted focus of the researchers¡ªsuggested she might be another chosen one. Before he could maneuver closer, the crowd shifted, carrying them in different directions as they approached Lab Three.


    The laboratory itself occupied a significant portion of the forward deck¡ªa large space filled with equipment that represented the cutting edge of oceanic research. Workstations lined the walls, each dedicated to different analytical processes. The center area had been arranged with chairs facing a large display screen, creating an impromptu briefing area.


    Elias found a seat near the back, giving himself clear sightlines to both the presentation area and the assembled personnel. The researchers filled most available seats, their hushed conversations creating a buzz of anticipation. He scanned the group carefully, looking for the woman he''d noticed earlier or any other faces that might show the subtle signs of awareness he''d recognized in Keldric.


    The man beside him leaned closer, speaking as though continuing a previous conversation. "Have you reviewed the preliminary data? Molecular structure unlike anything in our database."


    "Not yet," Elias replied, keeping his response noncommittal while encouraging further information.


    "Levinson is already talking about potential biological applications," the man continued, indicating a tall, thin researcher near the front who appeared to be holding forth to a small group of attentive colleagues. "But something about the crystalline configuration gives me the creeps. The systematic asymmetry shouldn''t be stable, yet it maintains perfect structural integrity under conditions that would collapse any known molecular arrangement."


    Valuable information¡ªthe researchers had discovered something with unusual properties that defied conventional physics. If this was indeed humanity''s first encounter with corruption, what they had found was likely its earliest manifestation.


    "When were the samples collected?" Elias asked casually.


    "Yesterday''s deep dive. The submersible team found them near the thermal vent system we''ve been monitoring. The captain restricted access to the primary samples until proper containment protocols could be established." The man shook his head slightly. "Probably for the best, given how Levinson''s been acting. He''s been practically obsessed since the initial analysis results came in."


    A hush fell over the laboratory as the doors opened to admit a group of senior officers. Their uniforms were more elaborate than the standard crew attire, with insignia indicating various specializations and ranks. At their center walked a woman whose presence commanded immediate attention¡ªtall and solidly built, with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that seemed to notice everything at once.


    Captain Elena Markov. The first human leader to implement corruption containment protocols, according to historical records. Her decisions in the coming days would establish precedents for handling corruption that would influence humanity''s response for centuries.


    The significance of this moment wasn''t lost on Elias. He was witnessing the beginning of humanity''s longest war¡ªthe initial encounter with the force that would eventually consume entire cities and drive civilization to the brink of extinction. And none of these brilliant minds, these dedicated scientists and capable officers, recognized the existential threat crystallizing in their laboratories.


    As the assembled researchers straightened in their seats and conversations died away, Elias noticed the woman from earlier had found a position on the opposite side of the room. She appeared to be observing not just the captain but the entire gathering with professional assessment, her attention moving methodically from person to person.


    When her gaze reached him, the slight narrowing of her eyes confirmed his suspicion. She was another chosen one, as aware of the historical scenario as he was. Before he could decide whether to acknowledge her, Captain Markov stepped forward to address the gathered personnel.


    The briefing was about to begin, and with it, Elias''s deeper immersion into the historical crucible the Maw had selected for his education¡ªand judgment.

 Captains Address

    Captain Markov looked over the room full of researchers, her eyes quick but sharp, like she was taking mental notes on each person despite barely glancing at them. She stood with her back straight, hands behind her back, feet planted like she was ready for the ship to suddenly rock even though everything was calm.


    "Let''s get started," she said, her voice carrying without her having to shout. "For those of you just coming on from night shift, we''ve found some weird stuff in yesterday''s deep-water samples."


    She pointed at the big screen behind her, which lit up with microscopic pictures of what looked like crystal formations. Elias leaned forward, genuinely interested despite already knowing what they really were. The images showed patterns that looked too perfect to be natural but too complicated to easily classify.


    "We found these at about 3,200 meters, near the thermal vent system we''ve been studying," she continued. "Initial testing shows they break several physical laws we thought were solid. They''re keeping their structure under conditions that should basically make that impossible."


    The display changed to show the crystal structures next to normal seawater samples. The difference was obvious¡ªnormal particles moved randomly while the crystals seemed to arrange themselves like they had a plan.


    "What''s most worrying is how they seem to organize themselves," Markov said matter-of-factly, despite how crazy that should sound. "Dr. Levinson, tell them what you''ve seen."


    The tall, skinny guy Elias''s neighbor had pointed out earlier jumped up, practically bouncing as he took control of the display. He had the barely contained excitement of someone who thought he was about to become famous.


    "These structures act like biological systems, but they''re completely inorganic," he explained, pointing his laser at specific parts of the samples. "When we put them in contact with organic material in our tests, they start integrating with it, literally restructuring the material at a molecular level."


    A murmur spread through the researchers¡ªexcitement, not fear. Elias watched them with a grim understanding. These scientists saw medical breakthroughs and Nobel Prizes. None of them realized they were looking at the thing that would eventually eat cities and nearly wipe out humanity.


    "The possibilities are just... mind-blowing," Levinson continued, his voice getting higher. "Think about medicine alone¡ªrebuilding damaged cells, growing new tissue, maybe even replacing entire organs. The crystals seem to ''learn'' from the organic material they touch, getting better at integration with each exposure."


    Elias glanced toward the woman he''d noticed earlier, finding her watching Levinson with a carefully blank face that still somehow suggested she knew exactly what was really happening. When their eyes met across the room, her slight squint confirmed his guess¡ªshe recognized early corruption as clearly as he did.


    Markov took back control with just a small gesture. "Thanks, Doctor. While the potential applications are definitely interesting, right now we need to focus on figuring out exactly what we''ve found." Her emphasis on "figuring out" seemed to quietly rein in Levinson''s enthusiasm for jumping ahead.


    She turned back to face everyone. "Starting right now, I''m putting stricter containment rules in place for all these samples. Primary containment stays limited to Lab Seven with Level Three isolation. Research teams will work in shifts to keep watching the samples round the clock while making sure nobody gets too much exposure."


    A researcher in the front row raised her hand. "Captain, are we worried about contamination? The first tests didn''t show any biological dangers."


    "Standard procedure for unknown materials," Markov answered smoothly. "Until we completely understand what we''re dealing with, we treat it as potentially dangerous."


    Elias noticed how she sidestepped the actual question about contamination concerns, reframing it as just following protocol. Her instincts were already picking up danger, even if she couldn''t say exactly why.


    "Team assignments will be posted after this briefing," she continued. "Our priorities are: First, figure out exactly what these crystal structures are made of. Second, document how they interact with organic and inorganic materials in controlled conditions. Third, determine where they came from¡ªwhether they formed naturally, were created by some biological process, or..." she paused for just a second, "something else entirely."


    The screen changed to show the deep-sea thermal vent where they''d found the samples. The underwater landscape looked alien¡ªchimney-like structures spewing superheated water into the dark, weird ecosystems thriving in conditions that should kill anything trying to live there.


    "The thermal vent''s unusual environment might explain some of the weird properties," suggested another researcher. "Extreme pressure, temperature changes, and unusual mineral concentrations could create conditions we''ve never seen before."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "That''s a reasonable theory," the captain nodded. "Which is why we''re doing a second collection dive today, with better sampling equipment and searching a wider area."


    This announcement got more excited whispers from the researchers. Elias kept his face neutral even though he knew the historical significance¡ªthis second collection would bring more corruption aboard, speeding up the disaster that was coming.


    "Submersible Team Two deploys at 1400 hours," Markov continued. "Labs need to be ready by their estimated return at 1900. I expect all departments to keep in regular contact throughout this investigation. Any weird readings, unexpected results, or concerning developments need to be reported immediately¡ªnot after you double-check, not after you discuss it with your team, but immediately. Got it?"


    Everyone nodded, thinking she was just being thorough rather than sensing real danger. Only Elias, and maybe the other chosen ones in the room, understood she was unknowingly creating the first corruption response procedures that would eventually become standard throughout what was left of civilization.


    "Dr. Chen will handle the research rotation schedules," Captain Markov wrapped up, pointing to a woman standing by the lab entrance. "Security has been briefed on containment requirements. They''ll monitor access to restricted areas and enforce exposure time limits."


    Elias glanced over to where Keldric stood with other security officers, his face professionally blank but his stance somehow more alert than those around him. Their eyes met briefly, a wordless acknowledgment passing between them. Even in this historical scenario, Keldric''s protective instincts were fully intact.


    "One last thing," the captain added, her tone getting sharper. "I appreciate scientific enthusiasm, but I expect disciplined methodology. Document everything thoroughly before theorizing, verify before concluding, and put crew safety above research shortcuts." She delivered this last point with a pointed look at Levinson, whose excitement dimmed slightly under her stare.


    "Dismissed to your assignments," she finished. "Department heads, stay for more briefing."


    As people started leaving, Elias stayed seated, watching how everyone interacted. The researchers broke into animated discussion groups, theories and speculations flowing freely now that the formal part was over. Levinson quickly became the center of the biggest group, his gestures getting more dramatic as he talked about all the potential uses for the crystal structures.


    The woman Elias had noticed earlier stood up but didn''t join the departing crowd. Instead, she positioned herself by a monitoring station, pretending to review data while actually watching the room. When her eyes eventually found Elias, she tilted her head slightly, signaling he should come over¡ªcasually, like they just happened to meet.


    He took his time, stopping to look at a nearby display showing thermal vent data before slowly making his way toward her. When he finally reached the monitoring station, he stood looking at the adjacent screen, speaking quietly without directly looking at her.


    "You''re one of the chosen."


    "Maren," she confirmed, matching his casual stance and low voice. "Analytical chemist in real life. You were at the Cathedral¡ªsitting near the scholar from the Market Quarter."


    Elias nodded slightly, remembering her now from the gathering at the Sanctuary. "Have you found any others?"


    "Security officer by the main entrance¡ªKeldric, I think. He caught my eye earlier." She adjusted something on the display, keeping up their cover of work conversation. "We should find any others on board without drawing attention."


    "Yeah. Looks like we''re at the very beginning¡ªfirst discovery of corruption, initial research phase." Elias kept his voice neutral, like they were discussing routine findings. "Have you seen Lyara?"


    "Not yet. But this ship is big, lots of different research departments." Maren''s voice stayed professional, but her eyes showed she was sizing him up. "You know her well?"


    "She has information about the trials that could help us," he replied, keeping it vague.


    Before Maren could respond, department assignments appeared on the nearest screen. Researchers moved forward to check their schedules, giving natural cover for their conversation.


    "I''m on primary sample analysis, Laboratory Seven," Maren noted. "You?"


    Elias checked the listings, finding his name under a different team. "Secondary properties research, Laboratory Four. Different shift schedules."


    "Maybe that''s on purpose," she suggested. "The trial testing how we handle things individually before forcing us to work together."


    Made sense. The Maw seemed to be evaluating them on multiple levels¡ªnot just whether they understood corruption''s dangers, but how well they could navigate complex social situations while keeping their cover identities.


    "We need a way to talk without anyone noticing," Elias said. "And to find the others."


    Maren nodded slightly. "The mess hall during shift changes is perfect¡ªpeople naturally gather there. Second rotation break at 1600 hours would work best¡ªmost departments cycle through then."


    "I''ll be there," Elias confirmed. "Keep an eye out for Lyara especially. According to her, each chosen one needs to find specific artifacts that ''resonate'' with them personally."


    "Artifacts? Interesting." Maren kept her expression neutral, but her eyes showed she was definitely curious. "I''ll keep that in mind."


    As more researchers came over to check assignments, they naturally drifted apart, each heading toward their designated labs. Their brief talk had established their first alliance in this historical scenario¡ªa small start, but crucial for dealing with what was coming.


    Elias walked toward Laboratory Four with measured steps, thinking about what the briefing meant. Captain Markov''s address had confirmed exactly where in the Heraclea''s timeline they''d landed¡ªthe very beginning of humanity''s first encounter with corruption. The crystal samples had just been discovered, their true nature not yet understood. The catastrophic containment breach from the historical records was still days or maybe hours away.


    Which meant he had time¡ªtime to find Lyara and the other chosen ones, time to identify the artifacts that would resonate with him, time to figure out what lesson this historical crucible was supposed to teach him.


    But as he passed security personnel setting up containment protocols for the labs, Elias couldn''t help wondering if the Maw would let events unfold according to the historical record¡ªor if this recreation would speed up the tragedy to test how they handled pressure.


    Either way, the first phase of his trial had really begun.

 Laboratory Secrets

    Elias¡ªnow serving as "Elias Varen, Research Assistant" according to his identification badge¡ªadjusted the unfamiliar lab coat as he pushed through the double doors into Laboratory Four. The bright lights inside made him squint after the dim corridor. Several researchers looked up briefly at his entrance before returning to their work, apparently accepting his presence without question. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. If he was going to learn anything useful from this historical scenario, he needed to play his part convincingly.


    A woman with thin-rimmed glasses and dark hair pulled into a severe knot approached him. "Assistant Elias, correct? You''ve been assigned to help with the crystalline samples." She gestured to a workstation near the far wall. "Everything''s prepped. I need baseline measurements recorded for all twelve specimens."


    He nodded, trying to appear confident despite his complete lack of scientific training. "Right away."


    As he made his way to the station, Elias scanned the laboratory. Eight researchers worked at various stations, all wearing similar white coats with the Heraclea expedition insignia¡ªa ship silhouette over what appeared to be a stylized wave. Advanced equipment lined the walls, some of it recognizable from Valtaros''s research facilities, other pieces completely foreign to him.


    The workstation held twelve small containers, each housing what looked like black crystalline formations suspended in clear fluid. They reminded him uncomfortably of the black markings that had appeared on his skin before the Maw claimed him.


    A notebook sat beside the containers, filled with precise handwriting detailing previous observations. Elias leafed through it, grateful for the guidance it provided. According to the notes, he was supposed to measure each crystal''s dimensions and record any changes since yesterday''s readings.


    He picked up the first container carefully. The crystal inside seemed to pulse slightly, though he couldn''t tell if it was an optical illusion or something more sinister. Holding it up to the light, he noticed faint, thread-like structures extending from its core¡ªstructures not mentioned in the previous observations.


    "Fascinating, aren''t they?"


    Elias nearly dropped the container. A man with a close-cropped beard had approached silently, now standing just behind him. The researcher''s name badge read "Dr. Varen Sornik, Lead Crystallographer."


    "Yes," Elias managed, setting the container down carefully. "I haven''t seen anything quite like them."


    "Nobody has." Dr. Sornik picked up another container, holding it reverently. "That''s why we''re out here, in the middle of nowhere, studying them. These formations shouldn''t exist naturally. Their molecular structure defies every known law of crystallography." His eyes gleamed with excitement. "We''re making history, young man."


    Elias nodded, noticing something odd about the researcher''s hand as he replaced the container. Faint dark lines traced just beneath the skin near his wrist, barely visible against his tan complexion. Corruption signs. Early-stage, but unmistakable.


    "Have you experienced any unusual symptoms since handling the samples?" Elias asked carefully, remembering Captain Markov''s briefing about containment protocols.


    Dr. Sornik stiffened slightly. "Symptoms? No, nothing unusual." He tugged his sleeve down, covering the marks. "Just the normal fatigue from long research hours." His smile didn''t reach his eyes. "Why do you ask?"


    "Just being cautious," Elias said, forcing casualness into his voice. "Captain''s orders."


    "Of course." The researcher''s gaze lingered on him for an uncomfortable moment. "Well, I''ll let you get back to your measurements. The team meeting is in two hours¡ªwe''ll need your preliminary findings by then."


    As Sornik walked away, Elias let out a breath he hadn''t realized he was holding. The corruption was already spreading among the crew. He''d seen those same black veins before¡ªin the victims of the eastern breach when he was a child, in the corrupted who occasionally breached Valtaros''s barriers. Seeing it here, at what must be humanity''s first encounter with corruption, sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the lab''s cool temperature.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He spent the next hour carefully measuring each crystal, recording their dimensions in the logbook. The work was tedious but gave him time to observe the lab and its occupants. He noticed at least two other researchers showing subtle signs of corruption¡ªa slight tremor in their hands, darkened veins visible at their necks, pupils dilated despite the bright lighting.


    While recording data from the eighth specimen, Elias discovered something unexpected¡ªa hidden compartment in the workstation drawer containing unauthorized research notes. The handwriting matched Dr. Sornik''s, but these observations weren''t in the official log.


    Day 7: Crystal B-3 shows accelerated growth when exposed to biological material. Tested with my own blood sample. Results extraordinary. Structure adapted almost instantaneously, incorporating organic compounds.


    Day 9: Self-experimentation continuing. Small crystal fragment introduced subcutaneously in left forearm. Initial pain subsided. Site shows minor discoloration but no infection. Strange dreams last night. Voices speaking in unknown language.


    Day 11: Changes becoming more pronounced. Can feel the crystal spreading beneath skin. Not painful¡ªquite the opposite. Heightened sensory perception. Colors more vivid. Sounds clearer. THE CRYSTAL IS ALIVE.


    Elias closed the notebook, his heart racing. Sornik hadn''t just been exposed to corruption¡ªhe''d deliberately infected himself. The man was already half-consumed, and based on these notes, completely unaware of the danger.


    A commotion near the main doors drew his attention. Two security officers had entered the lab and were speaking urgently with one of the researchers. Their expressions were grim, hands resting on their sidearms.


    "What''s happening?" Elias asked the nearest lab technician.


    "Something about Lab Three," she whispered, eyes wide. "Someone broke containment protocols. They''re saying Researcher Halven is... changed somehow."


    Elias tensed. He didn''t recognize the name Halven from the list of chosen ones he''d met in Valtaros. Either this was a genuine historical figure, or one of the twelve had been assigned this role in the scenario.


    The loudspeakers crackled to life overhead. Captain Markov''s voice echoed through the laboratory, controlled but tense:


    "Attention all Heraclea personnel. We have a containment breach in Laboratory Three. All research deck personnel are to remain at their stations. Security teams will implement isolation procedures. I repeat, remain at your stations until further notice."


    The laboratory doors sealed with a pneumatic hiss. The researchers exchanged nervous glances, murmuring among themselves. Only Dr. Sornik seemed calm, almost pleased, as he carefully locked his samples in a storage cabinet.


    Elias scanned the room for possible exits. The containment breach would spread quickly¡ªhe''d seen how fast corruption could move during Valtaros''s eastern breach. He needed to find Dr. Soren Varek¡ªMaren''s historical identity¡ªand the other chosen ones quickly. At least he knew she was in Laboratory Seven working on molecular biochemistry. Finding her would be his first priority after escape.


    His gaze fell on a ventilation shaft near his workstation¡ªlarge enough for someone of his slim build to navigate. As the researchers clustered near the main doors, arguing with security about the lockdown, Elias quietly moved toward the shaft.


    A hand gripped his arm. He turned to find Dr. Sornik beside him, smiling strangely.


    "Going somewhere, Assistant?" he asked, his voice oddly resonant. The black veins had spread, now clearly visible across his neck and face. His eyes had darkened, the whites now shot through with inky tendrils. "You''re different from the others. I sensed it immediately."


    Elias tried to pull away, but Sornik''s grip was unnaturally strong.


    "They''re coming," Sornik whispered, leaning closer. "They''ve been waiting so long to find us. To join with us. Don''t you hear them calling?" His free hand moved to his lab coat pocket, withdrawing something that glinted in the harsh laboratory light¡ªa syringe filled with black, crystalline fluid.


    "I can help you hear them too," he said, raising the syringe.


    Before Elias could react, the laboratory plunged into darkness as the power failed. Emergency lights flickered on, bathing everything in a red glow. Screams erupted from the far side of the lab, followed by the distinctive sound of gunfire.


    In the confusion, Elias wrenched himself free from Sornik''s grip and bolted toward the ventilation shaft. Behind him, the researcher''s laughter echoed unnaturally against the metal walls.


    "Run if you want," Sornik called after him. "It doesn''t matter. None of us are leaving this ship alive."


    As Elias pried open the ventilation cover, alarms began blaring throughout the research deck. The containment breach had begun in earnest. His brief time in Laboratory Four had taught him something valuable¡ªcorruption wasn''t just a mindless force of nature. It was invited in, welcomed by those who didn''t understand its danger until it was too late.


    Perhaps that was what happened to the world he knew. Perhaps someone like Sornik had opened a door that could never be closed again.


    He needed to find the others¡ªDr. Soren Varek in Laboratory Seven, Officer Braun in security, and Lyra Nevaris in xenobiology. Somewhere on this ship were Tavin and the rest of the chosen ones, each playing their assigned role in this strange scenario. If they were going to survive this, they needed to find each other fast.

 First Breach

    The ventilation shaft was tighter than Elias had expected. He crawled forward on elbows and knees, the metal cold against his palms. Behind him, chaos erupted in Laboratory Four¡ªshouts, the crash of equipment, a single gunshot. Someone screamed, the sound cutting off abruptly.


    He forced hisself to move faster.


    The shaft branched ahead. Elias paused, listening for any clue which way to go. Left would take him deeper into the research deck. Right seemed to angle upward, possibly toward the main corridor. He chose right, hoping to find a way out of the increasingly dangerous research section.


    Emergency lights pulsed red along the shaft''s seams. Through small grates, he glimpsed fragments of the nightmare unfolding below: researchers barricading doors, security personnel with weapons drawn, and in one horrifying moment, a man convulsing on the floor as black veins spread visibly across his face.


    Elias reached a junction where the shaft widened enough for him to sit up. He took a moment to catch his breath and orient himself. According to the ship schematics he''d glanced at during orientation, Laboratory Seven should be two sections forward of his current position. That''s where he''d find Maren¡ªDr. Soren Varek in this scenario.


    A thunderous boom shook the entire ship. Elias braced himself against the walls as the lights flickered. That wasn''t just equipment failing. Something had exploded.


    Scrabbling noises behind him. Something moving in the shafts.


    He didn''t wait to see what it was.


    Elias pushed forward rapidly, no longer concerned with stealth. The ventilation system led to a larger circulation hub. From here, he could see down through a wide grate into what appeared to be a central corridor. Bodies lay scattered across the floor. Not all of them were motionless.


    One figure in particular caught his eye¡ªa woman in a lab coat backing slowly down the corridor, a makeshift weapon raised. Even from above, Elias recognized Maren''s distinctive movements. She was alive, and fighting.


    "Behind you!" he shouted, forgetting caution.


    Maren spun, swinging a broken microscope stand without hesitation at a lurching figure that had emerged from a doorway. The heavy metal base connected with the corrupted crew member''s head, but it barely slowed. Black fluid leaked from the wound as it continued advancing.


    Elias kicked at the grate. It didn''t budge. He kicked again, harder, ignoring the pain in his foot. The grate loosened. One more solid kick and it fell, clattering to the floor below.


    "Up here!" he called.


    Maren glanced up, eyes widening in recognition. Without lowering her improvised weapon, she backed toward his position.


    "There''s more coming," she said, voice steady despite the chaos. "Whatever was in Laboratory Three, it''s spreading. Fast."


    "Can you reach me?" Elias stretched his arm down through the opening.


    Maren tossed aside her makeshift weapon and jumped, catching his hand. With strength born of desperation, Elias pulled her up into the ventilation hub. They collapsed together against the metal wall, both breathing hard.


    "Four dead in my laboratory," Maren said after a moment. "Maybe more by now. They''re not just dying¡ªtheir changing."


    "I saw it in Laboratory Four too. One of the researchers, Sornik, was experimenting on himself with the corruption samples." Elias peered down through the grate. The corridor was filling with more shambling figures. "Have you seen any of the others?"


    "Officer Braun¡ªKeldric¡ªwas coordinating security on the upper deck last I heard. I passed him when I was running from my lab. Haven''t seen Lyra or any of the rest." She ran a hand through her short hair, leaving a smear of something dark. "What is this place, Elias? Is this real?"


    "Real enough that we can die here," he replied. "Whatever''s happening on this ship, we need to stick together to survive it."


    A shuddering groan echoed through the metal around them. The ship itself seemed to be in pain.


    "Come on," Elias said, pointing to one of the branching pathways. "Laboratory Seven isn''t far. We need to check for others, then find a way to the bridge."


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They moved quickly through the ventilation system, following Maren''s more detailed knowledge of the ship''s layout. Twice they stopped to avoid areas where the metal had began to warp strangely, black crystalline formations growing from the seams.


    "The corruption''s spreading through the ventilation system," Maren whispered. "That''s why it moved so fast."


    They reached a grate overlooking Laboratory Seven. The scene below was grim¡ªequipment destroyed, dark fluid splattered across workstations. Three bodies in lab coats were visible, none moving.


    "My colleagues," Maren said tightly. "They didn''t make it."


    A sudden movement near an overturned cabinet caught their attention. A woman in a lab coat was huddled underneath, trembling visibly.


    "That''s not one of mine," Maren said, squinting. "Different division."


    The woman looked up as if sensing their gaze. Elias immediately recognized her face despite the different clothing and hairstyle.


    "It''s Etta," he whispered. "The farm girl."


    They removed the grate as quietly as possible and dropped down into the laboratory. Etta flinched at their approach, brandishing a broken piece of equipment.


    "Stay back!" she warned, eyes wide with terror.


    "Etta, it''s us," Elias said, keeping his voice low. "Elias and Maren. From Valtaros."


    Recognition dawned slowly on her face. "You''re... you''re the others. The chosen ones." She lowered her makeshift weapon. "They called me Botanist Hayes here. I was inspecting the hydroponics systems when the alarms went off."


    "Are you hurt?" Maren asked, checking her for signs of corruption.


    "No, just scared. I hid in here when I saw what was happening in the corridor." Etta shuddered. "People turning into... I don''t know what. Monsters."


    "We need to move," Elias said, glancing nervously at the laboratory door. Its reinforced glass window showed shadows moving in the corridor outside. "We''re trying to reach the bridge. The captain mentioned gathering survivors there in her announcement."


    "There''s an emergency stairwell two sections over," Maren said. "If we can reach it, we might be able to bypass the worst of the corruption."


    The crash at the laboratory door made them all jumped. Black tendrils were forcing their way through the seal around the frame.


    "Back to the vents," Elias urged, helping Etta toward their entry point.


    They had just reached the ventilation shaft when the laboratory door burst open. What entered was no longer recognizable as human. Multiple crew members had fused together into a grotesque mass of limbs and torsos, black veins pulsing beneath partially transparent skin. Where faces should have been, there were only crystalline growths that seemed to sense their presence despite having no visible eyes.


    "Go!" Maren shouted, grabbing a nearby fire extinguisher and discharging it at the monstrosity.


    The freezing chemicals struck the creature, temporarily slowing its advance as crystalline protrusions frosted over then began to thaw almost immediately. It lurched forward with surprising speed.


    Elias boosted Etta into the vent, then reached down for Maren. She threw the empty extinguisher at the creature before jumping for his hand. He caught her wrist just as a tendril lashed out, wrapping around her ankle.


    "Don''t let go!" she gasped as the creature pulled.


    Elias gripped her wrist with both hands, bracing himself against the opening. Etta grabbed his legs from behind, anchoring him.


    "I can''t hold¡ª" Elias began.


    The tendril suddenly released as a new figure burst into the laboratory, slashing at the creature with what appeared to be a standard-issue security baton that glowed with unnatural blue light.


    "Officer Braun!" Maren exclaimed.


    Keldric¡ªor Officer Braun in this scenario¡ªfought with practiced precision, each strike of his transformed baton severing tendrils that blackened and withered upon contact.


    "Get to the bridge!" he shouted, not looking up as he continued his assault. "Captain Markov is gathering survivors. I''ll hold it here!"


    "Not without you," Maren called back, reaching toward him.


    "I''ll be right behind you," Keldric promised, though the grim set of his jaw suggested otherwise. "Go! Now!"


    Elias pulled Maren the rest of the way into the vent. They crawled rapidly away from the opening, the sounds of combat fading behind them.


    "We can''t just leave him," Etta whispered, tears streaming down her face.


    "He''s buying us time," Elias said, though the words tasted bitter. "Best way to honor that is to use it."


    They navigated the increasingly treacherous ventilation system, avoiding growing corruption nodes wherever possible. Eventually, they reached a maintenance hatch that opened onto a emergency stairwell.


    "Bridge is four decks up," Maren said, catching her breath. "If we''re lucky, the stairwell remains uncompromised."


    As they climbed, ship-wide speakers crackled to life. Captain Markov''s voice echoed through the stairwell, strained but commanding:


    "Attention all surviving Heraclea personnel. We have lost containment on the research and residential decks. Security teams report multiple breaches. All remaining crew are ordered to converge on the bridge for final protocol implementation. I repeat, all survivors to the bridge immediately."


    "Final protocol," Maren repeated quietly. "She''s going to scuttle the ship."


    "Can we make it in time?" Etta asked.


    Elias looked up the spiraling staircase. "We have to try. There might be other chosen ones already there."


    A distant, inhuman scream echoed up from below, followed by the sound of something large moving up the stairwell.


    "And we''re not the only ones trying to reach the bridge," Elias added grimly. "Move fast, stay quiet."


    They continued their ascent, the sounds of pursuit growing closer with each turning of the stairs. The corruption was following them¡ªhunting them¡ªwith a purpose that seemed impossibly intelligent for what should have been mindless contamination.


    And somewhere behind them, Elias hoped, Keldric was still fighting, still alive, still finding his way to join them.


    But the slum survivor in him, the part that had learned hard truths from earliest childhood, whispered otherwise: Not everyone would make it out of this historical nightmare.


    Some lessons came at the highest price.

 Judge

    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¡ªnot quite liquid, not quite air. He jerked backward, colliding with Maren.


    "What the¡ª"


    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¡ªif they were walls¡ªshifted 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¡ªa 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¡ªbottomless 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¡ªa 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¡ªthe crew¡ªthey seem so real."


    "They are real, in a sense. Accurate reconstructions drawn from historical records. Their pain, their fear, their confusion¡ªall 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''¡ªwhat 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¡ªyour current historical crucible¡ªteaches 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¡ªother 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¡ª"


    "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¡ªthree 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.

 Spreading Fear

    The bridge access door creaked open as Elias peered cautiously into the corridor. The Judge''s warnings still echoed in his mind, making him hyperaware of every shadow. The corrupted entities that had been pursuing them would return soon¡ªthe otherworldly being had made that clear.


    "Do you really think we need to split up?" Maren whispered behind him. Her face remained pale, the encounter with the Judge having shaken her scientific certainty.


    "We need to find the others," Elias replied, scanning the corridor. "Whatever''s out there, it''s hunting us. And we still need to locate these artifacts the Judge mentioned."


    The corridor stretched before them, bathed in the red glow of emergency lighting. Distant shouts and occasional alarms created a chaotic symphony of fear.


    "I''ll check this deck for any sign of the others," Elias said. "You two start looking for these artifacts the Judge mentioned. We meet back here in twenty minutes, with or without them."


    Maren nodded reluctantly. "Be careful. Remember what it said¡ªthese things aren''t just random mutations. They''re coordinated somehow."


    They parted ways, each deeply affected by the Judge''s revelations. This wasn''t merely a historical recreation¡ªit was a deliberate test, with specific items they needed to find before reaching the bridge.


    Elias moved cautiously through the corridor, pausing at each intersection to listen. The ship''s atmosphere had changed dramatically since the containment breach. Where before there had been confusion, now there was outright panic.


    He ducked into a doorway as two crew members rushed past, arguing violently.


    "She''s infected! I saw black veins on her wrist!" one shouted, grabbing his colleague''s arm.


    "Let go of me! I''m not infected¡ªyou''re the one acting paranoid!" The woman pulled away, eyes wild with fear.


    "Everyone in Lab Three was exposed! You were there for hours!"


    "So were you!"


    They froze, suddenly staring at each other with new suspicion. The realization that either of them could be carrying the contamination transformed their argument into something more dangerous.


    Elias watched as they backed away from each other, the man reaching slowly for something at his belt. Before the situation could escalate further, a security announcement blared overhead.


    "All personnel, this is Security Chief Hayes. Implement isolation protocol delta. Anyone showing signs of contamination is to be reported immediately. Do not approach suspected individuals. Repeat, do not approach."


    The announcement only intensified the standoff, until a third crew member rounded the corner and inadvertently broke the tension. The pair scattered in opposite directions, their mutual fear driving them apart.


    Elias continued his search, witnessing similar scenarios throughout the deck. The ship was tearing itself apart from the inside¡ªnot just from the corruption, but from the fear it generated.


    Near the communications center, he heard a commotion. Peering through a partially open door, he saw several security officers surrounding a junior communications technician.


    "I''m telling you, she was fine one minute, then the next she was... changing." The young man''s voice cracked with fear. "Navigator Renz¡ªthe new guy¡ªhe just started screaming and clawing at his face."


    "Tavin Renz?" one officer clarified, making notes. "The transfer from Stellar Cartography?"


    Elias felt his blood run cold. Tavin¡ªthe self-taught scholar from the northern slums of Valtaros. One of the twelve chosen. The first confirmed casualty among them.


    "Yeah, that''s him. He was normal yesterday, but today... his eyes were wrong. When I tried to help, he attacked me. Chief Mercer had to shoot him."


    "Where''s the body?" another officer demanded.


    "Mercer ordered it sealed in the auxiliary communications room until medical could retrieve it. But that was two hours ago, and nobody''s come."


    The security team exchanged grim looks. One spoke quietly into her communicator, then addressed the others. "Medical reports they never received that request. Auxiliary communications hasn''t responded to hails for over an hour."


    Elias backed away from the door. Tavin was dead¡ªor worse than dead. And from the sound of it, the corruption was spreading faster than the crew could track it. He needed to warn the others.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    As he turned to leave, he nearly collided with a wild-eyed crew member who grabbed his lab coat.


    "You''re one of the research assistants, right? From Lab Four?" The man''s grip was painfully tight, his breathing erratic. "Tell them what we found! Tell them it''s not just a biological contamination¡ªit''s changing the physical laws around it! Metal, circuitry¡ªnothing works right near the samples!"


    "I¡ªI''ll report it," Elias stammered, trying to maintain his cover.


    The man leaned closer, and Elias noticed with horror the faint black lines beginning to trace up his neck. "They think it''s just affecting people, but it''s affecting everything. The ship itself is being corrupted."


    A security team rounded the corner, weapons raised. "Step away from him, Daniels! You''ve been exposed!"


    The man''s grip tightened on Elias. "You''re new here. They don''t know you yet. Tell them what we discovered before it''s too late!"


    The security officer''s voice hardened. "Last warning, Daniels! Step away now!"


    Everything happened too quickly after that. Daniels shoved Elias aside and charged the security team. Two shots rang out, catching the researcher in the chest. But instead of falling, he continued forward with unnatural speed and strength, tackling one officer to the ground.


    Elias didn''t wait to see more. He ran, the sounds of struggle and more gunshots following him down the corridor. The ship''s announcement system crackled to life again, this time with Captain Markov''s voice:


    "All personnel, this is the captain. We have multiple confirmed contamination events outside designated quarantine zones. Security will implement shipwide isolation protocol effective immediately. All crew members are to return to quarters or workstations and remain there until cleared by security teams. Any personnel found in corridors without authorization will be considered compromised and handled accordingly."


    The corridors emptied rapidly as crew members sought shelter, leaving Elias exposed and vulnerable. He needed to find Maren and Etta before security found him.


    As he navigated the increasingly dangerous ship, he noticed something disturbing. The corruption wasn''t spreading randomly¡ªit seemed to follow patterns, almost like it was being directed. The Judge had implied as much, suggesting these entities were more intelligent than they appeared.


    He was nearing the rendezvous point when he heard a scream from a side corridor. Following the sound, he found himself at the entrance to a research library. Inside, a security team had cornered a young woman in a lab coat. She held a heavy reference book as a makeshift shield, backing away from their drawn weapons.


    "Please, I''m not contaminated!" she pleaded. "I was just trying to reach the medical bay!"


    "All personnel were ordered to remain at their stations," the lead officer replied coldly. "You''re in violation of quarantine protocol."


    "I''m a biologist! I might be able to help with this contamination if you''d just let me reach Dr. Harmon!"


    Something about her desperation struck Elias. Could she be another of the chosen ones? The Judge had shown them glimpses of other survivors scattered throughout the ship.


    "She looks clean to me," one security officer said uncertainly. "Maybe we should escort her to medical instead of¡ª"


    "We have our orders," the lead officer interrupted. "Anyone out of position is presumed compromised."


    Elias felt combat instincts he didn''t recognize rising within him. Without fully understanding why, he knew exactly how to create a distraction. He reached up and yanked an overhead pipe, causing steam to blast into the corridor.


    In the confusion, he slipped into the room. The security team turned toward the sudden noise and steam, giving the cornered woman an opening. She brought the heavy book down on the nearest officer''s arm, sending his weapon clattering to the floor.


    Elias grabbed her arm. "This way!" he hissed, pulling her toward a maintenance access he''d spotted.


    Once they''d put sufficient distance between themselves and the security team, they paused to catch their breath.


    "You''re not really a lab assistant, are you?" she asked, studying him intently. "Not from this ship, I mean."


    Elias hesitated. "What makes you say that?"


    "Because I''m not really a biologist." She extended her hand. "My name''s Nira. At least, that''s what they''re calling me here."


    Another chosen one. "Elias," he replied, shaking her hand. "We need to move. There are others¡ªwe''re trying to reach the bridge."


    A clatter in the corridor made them both freeze. The sound of multiple footsteps approached¡ªtoo many for them to fight.


    "In here," Nira whispered, pulling him into what appeared to be a supply closet. They pressed themselves against the wall as security personnel passed by, their voices tense with fear and confusion.


    "¡ªfound Mercer''s team all dead. Something tore through them like they were nothing."


    "What about the navigator''s body?"


    "Gone. Just blood everywhere. Whatever he turned into, it''s loose on the ship now."


    Their voices faded as they moved away, leaving Elias and Nira in uncomfortable silence.


    "Your friend Tavin," she said quietly. "I saw what happened to him. It wasn''t quick, and it wasn''t... natural."


    Elias tensed. "You knew him?"


    "Only here, on the ship. We were assigned to adjacent stations." Her voice dropped lower. "Before he changed, he was trying to tell me something. About patterns in the corruption spread. He thought it was trying to reach something specific on the ship."


    The Judge''s warnings echoed in Elias''s mind. This wasn''t just a random outbreak¡ªit was orchestrated. A test of their understanding, of their ability to recognize the true nature of corruption.


    "We need to find the others," Elias said with renewed urgency. "And we need to find specific artifacts before we reach the bridge."


    "Artifacts?"


    "It''s complicated. I''ll explain on the way." He checked the corridor before beckoning her to follow. "But first, we need to get back to the rendezvous point before Maren and Etta think I''m dead too."


    As they navigated the increasingly dangerous corridors, Elias realized that the Heraclea''s crew wasn''t just fighting the corruption¡ªthey were fighting their own fear, their own suspicions. And in many ways, that was proving just as deadly.


    The Judge had said they couldn''t change the outcome of this historical moment. The Heraclea was doomed. But perhaps understanding why¡ªseeing how fear turned potential allies against each other, how paranoia blinded people to the true nature of the threat¡ªmaybe that was the real lesson they were meant to learn.


    And if so, it was a lesson written in blood.

 Into the Shadows

    As Elias led Nira through the ship''s corridor towards the rendezvous, he wiped the beading sweat from his brow. The crimson hue cast by the emergency lights turned the hallway into an apparition of blood, the once pristine vessel now the home of a nightmare.


    Spotting Maren and Etta near the predetermined location, a wind of relief swept over him.


    "There they are," he whispered.


    As they approached, Maren and Etta turned to face them; fear turned to relief at the sight of Elias, then to suspicion as they eyed Nira. "Relax, you two, she is another Chosen One."


    Maren, still tense, looked back to Elias and asked, "Have you checked her for Corruption?"


    "I have. She is clean. She saw Tavin die but says that he was tracking the damage to the ship and believed it was headed for something specific. The corruption seems to have a goal here, and I think understanding that goal is one of the key pieces of knowledge we are meant to learn."


    Elias was sure of it. They were here to learn the ways of Corruption and the failures of humanity in their first exposure to it, and this was an integral part of that lesson.


    The group fell silent as the implications of that statement settled. The weight was palpable, the outlook of this trial was growing more bleak as time passed. They needed to find two artifacts each, twenty four in total.


    On top of gleaning whatever knowledge they could, surviving the monstrous forms of the corruption and make it to the bridge, together. Accomplishing this was already going to be difficult, doing so face to face against not just the Corruption, but a version of it that seemed to have a will and intelligence? Impossible. Panic was beginning to take hold.


    Elias forced the fear from his mind. Fear made one slow, both in mind and body. Fear gets people killed. "We need to find the artifacts, all of them. I don''t see any way for us to survive this devastation otherwise."


    Maren nodded in agreement, Etta and Nira still had the bulging eyes of the desperate, fear still clouding their judgement.


    SLAP


    Etta brought her hand to her cheek, her face flushing as she sat stunned by Maren''s open palm.


    "You¡­ You hit me?!"


    "Snap out of it and get your mind focused. We stay here, frozen by fear; we die." Maren hissed.


    From somewhere behind them, the sound of liquid flowing and the metallic thud of the hull deforming around them made the group rise and sprint in the opposite direction. Elias couldn''t help but notice that Corruption was not merely coating the walls; it was changing them. Morphing the steel into an extension of itself.


    "It''s coming; we are going to die!" screamed Nira as panic took complete control of the poor girl. The four of them were sprinting at full speed, heading towards the security office.


    Black tendrils lined the walls, pulsating like a grotesque blackened heart.


    Moments stretched into minutes as they frantically ran for the security office, which should have armored doors and walls. Reaching the entrance after what felt like an eternity of running, but in reality was only a few moments, Elias ushered the women through the opening and then slammed it shut behind them. The door crashed with a resounding thud, sealing itself closed as Elias hit the console with more force than was needed.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    As he turned, he saw something that caused terror to swell and sweat to bead on his forehead. Right in front of them was a security team facing off against a fully corrupted crewmate.


    ''That''s a shade! A full-blown SHADE!'' Elias'' mind ran wild. He had seen Corrupted ones like this before during the eastern breach. These monsters were harbingers of death and destruction. They were dead, it was over.


    The shade was holding two security officers by the throat with glassy black tendrils that grew from its fingers. The massive maw stretched from ear to ear on its humanoid face, lined with sharp talon-like teeth. Its tongue, long and thin, black as tar, dripped with onyx ooze that melted the steel floor as it fell to the ground, and barbed at the end, whipped through the air, piercing one of the officers'' chests.


    ''RAAAAHXHXHXHX!''


    All four of them clutched their ears in a futile attempt to drown out the inhuman scream that enveloped them.


    Maren moved in that moment, lunging at the beast with abandon. Her Twilight Twins flashed, a beautiful purple hue trailing wherever the daggers slashed the air. A massive rune appeared in the air before her, its brilliant glow a deep violet, reminiscent of sunset. The rune pulsed, and a wave of pressure exploded out from it, slamming the shade into the wall behind it. Elias expected the shade to slam into the wall, but to his surprise, the shade collided with such force that the wall gave way, and the shade vanished.


    Etta and Nira were wide-eyed, filled with disbelief. "What the hell was that?!" Etta cried.


    Maren looked down at the twin blades. "I don''t know. I just¡­ heard a voice and knew what to do. My body almost moved on its own, as if I had always known how to do it."


    "Well thank goodness it did. Well done Maren." Elias gave the girl a pat on the shoulder, genuinely relieved to have her by his side. A strange emotion for someone so used to being alone in the slums, surviving by never trusting others.


    Not to say that he trusted the woman who stood before him, but he had an appreciation for her usefulness.


    Nira''s voice came from across the room, "There is a surveillance panel over here! It appears that several cameras are still operational across the ship!"


    Elias rushed over to the console, his eyes scanning the pixels displayed on the surveillance system''s screens. His hands began to move on their own, twisting dials and mashing buttons as if he knew how the technology worked. Different feeds were flashing across the three screens in front of them, all four on the lookout for anyone they recognized.


    "There!" Maren pointed at the screen. "That''s Keldric, I''m certain! It looks like he survived after we left him!


    A sigh of relief escaped the three that had been there when they left Keldric behind. His heroism helped them to escape and led to their conversation with the Judge.


    Etta''s eyes narrowed as she focused on the grainy video. "Looks like he''s helping others evacuate; he''s probably the closest of all of us to the bridge."


    Elias kept flashing through other feeds on the two remaining screens, keeping Keldric live on the third.


    Elias paused on a particular feed as he saw a young woman helping some injured crewmates. "Lyara," Elias muttered. He was sure it was her.


    "It looks like she is in the medical bay, treating the wounded." Nira''s voice was low and quiet, probably in fear that too much noise might bring the shade back to consume them.


    Elias stood up from the console, "We need to get in touch with them, our best chance of doing that is from the Auxiliary Control room." Elias brought up a map of the current deck they were on, along with the next two decks above them. "There, two decks up and about 300 meters that way." His hand pointed into the gaping hole that Maren made using the shade''s horrid body.


    "You want to go that way?!" Etta almost screamed it; she couldn''t believe what she was hearing! And from the looks of it, both Nira and Maren agreed with the farm girls'' sentiment.


    Elias spoke with dire urgency, "I don''t see how we have any other option. Look for yourself. Every other route is blocked off, you can see the damaged portions on the diagram right in front of you."


    The three others stared at each other for a moment; their faces grew pale at the thought of following the shade into the dark. Elias gave them a moment more before stepping forward right up to the cavernous abyss before him. He turned to look at them, a knowing look crossing his olive-colored face.


    Then he stepped into the shadows.

 Distant Allies

    Elias moved through the darkness with practiced stealth, each step calculated despite the unfamiliar surroundings. The breach in the wall opened into a maintenance tunnel¡ªa claustrophobic passage that ran between the ship''s primary corridors. Pipes lined the ceiling, occasional bursts of steam hissing through hairline fractures. The emergency lighting here was sparse, creating pools of crimson illumination separated by stretches of absolute darkness.


    Behind him, he heard the others hesitantly following. Maren first, then Etta, with Nira bringing up the rear.


    "This wasn''t on the ship schematics," Maren whispered, her Twilight Twins clutched tightly in both hands, the purple glow providing additional, eerie light.


    "Maintenance access," Elias replied without turning. "Security knows about these, but they''re not on passenger maps."


    He didn''t mention how he knew this¡ªhow slum survival had taught him that all structures had hidden pathways, known only to those who built them and those desperate enough to find them.


    They moved in silence for several minutes, the only sounds their breathing and the distant groaning of the ship''s hull. Occasionally, something liquid dripped from above¡ªElias carefully avoided letting it touch his skin, suspecting corruption.


    ''If that shade retreated this way, we should have encountered it by now,'' he thought, scanning ahead for movement. ''Unless it''s hunting us.''


    The passage began to slope upward. They were approaching the deck above.


    "Wait," Nira hissed suddenly. "Listen."


    They froze. A faint, rhythmic tapping echoed through the tunnel¡ªtoo regular to be random, too deliberate to be mechanical.


    "Someone''s using the pipes for communication," Etta whispered, surprise evident in her voice. "That''s an old farming colony trick¡ªwhen storms knocked out comms."


    She pressed her ear against one of the larger pipes, closing her eyes to concentrate. After a moment, she pulled back.


    "It''s a distress pattern. Someone''s trapped ahead."


    Elias weighed their options quickly. A trapped crew member could provide valuable information¡ªor be bait in a trap.


    "We proceed, but cautiously," he decided. "Maren, take point with those daggers. Etta and Nira in the middle. I''ll cover our rear."


    The group advanced slowly toward the sound. The tapping grew louder until they reached a junction where four tunnels intersected. In the center, an access hatch in the floor had been pried partially open, and the tapping came from below.


    Maren approached, daggers ready, and peered through the gap.


    "It''s a communication station," she reported. "There''s someone inside¡ªthey''re using a wrench on the pipes."


    Elias moved beside her and looked down. A small room filled with communication equipment lay below. A woman in a technician''s uniform was rhythmically striking a pipe with a wrench while adjusting equipment with her free hand.


    "Auxiliary Communications," Elias read from a sign on the wall. "Not Control, but it might serve our purpose."


    He called down, "We''re coming in. Don''t be alarmed."


    The woman below startled, looking up with wide eyes that narrowed with suspicion. "Identify yourselves."


    "Research Assistant Elias Varen, Laboratory Four," Elias replied smoothly, adopting his historical identity. "With Dr. Soren Varek, Botanist Hayes, and..." He glanced at Nira, realizing he didn''t know her historical name.


    "Science Officer Nira Chen," she supplied quickly.


    The technician hesitated, then nodded. "Communications Specialist Reeves. Access is through the maintenance ladder to your right."


    They descended one by one into the cramped communications room. Equipment lined every wall¡ªradio transmitters, intercoms, and more advanced systems Elias couldn''t identify. Most displays were dark, but Reeves had managed to power a central console.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Ship-wide comms are down," she explained briskly, turning back to her work. "I''ve been trying to establish a local network using subsystems. Almost got it working again."


    Elias studied her closely¡ªno visible signs of corruption, and her movements were too precise, too purposeful for someone under its influence.


    "We need to contact specific personnel," Elias said. "Officer Braun in Security and Lyra Nevaris in Medical."


    Reeves nodded without looking up. "Give me five minutes. I''m patching through emergency channels section by section."


    While she worked, Elias quietly informed the others, "This is better than Auxiliary Control. If we can establish communication with Keldric and Lyara, we can coordinate our movements to the bridge."


    "And find our artifacts," Etta added, eyes scanning the room for anything that might ''resonate'' with her.


    The minutes stretched with agonizing slowness. Reeves muttered technical jargon as she worked, occasionally requesting one of them to hold a component or adjust a setting. Finally, a screen flickered to life, sectional ship schematics appearing with highlighted communication nodes.


    "Got it," Reeves announced with grim satisfaction. "Limited range, but I can patch you through to security stations and medical. Who first?"


    "Security," Elias decided. "Officer Braun."


    Reeves input commands, and the speaker crackled with static before a voice broke through.


    "¡ªrepeat, this is Security Station Alpha. All personnel evacuate to¡ª"


    "This is Communications Specialist Reeves. I need to speak with Officer Braun urgently."


    More static, then: "Braun is coordinating evacuation on Deck Three. Stand by."


    The wait was brief. Soon, Keldric''s voice emerged from the speaker, tense but controlled.


    "This is Braun. Go ahead, Reeves."


    Elias leaned toward the microphone. "Keldric, it''s Elias. We saw you on surveillance. What''s your status?"


    A pause, then Keldric''s voice lowered. "Elias. Good to hear you survived. I''ve got two other chosen with me¡ªthe noble youth and one of the scholarly women. We''re about 400 meters from the bridge, but the path is blocked. Captain Markov has ordered complete lockdown."


    "Have any of you found artifacts?" Maren asked, leaning in.


    "Yes¡ªboth of them have one each. I''ve found my weapon¡ªa sword that ignites with some kind of energy. Still searching for the second artifact."


    Elias processed this information quickly. Three of them there, four here¡ªthat accounted for seven chosen ones. According to the Judge, all twelve had been placed on the Heraclea. Four remained unaccounted for, including Lyara. Tavis was the only one confirmed dead.


    "We need to contact Medical next," Elias said to Reeves, who nodded and began adjusting the channels.


    "Listen carefully," Elias continued to Keldric. "We need to converge at the bridge to complete this phase of the trial. According to the ship''s schematics, there''s an emergency access route through the crew quarters that should bypass the lockdown."


    "Already tried it," Keldric replied grimly. "Corruption''s heavy there. We lost three security officers in the attempt."


    Elias wasn''t surprised¡ªthe trial wouldn''t make completion easy. "We''ll find another way. Stand by for further communication."


    Reeves had established a new connection. "Medical Bay, this is Communications Specialist Reeves. Do you copy?"


    The reply came through garbled at first, then cleared: "This is Medical. We''re overwhelmed with casualties. Make it quick."


    "We need to speak with Lyra Nevaris. It''s urgent."


    Another pause, longer this time. Then a calm, familiar voice: "This is Lyra Nevaris."


    Relief flooded through Elias, though he immediately questioned why he should care so much about a stranger''s survival.


    "Lyara, it''s Elias. Are you alone?"


    "Not exactly," she replied carefully. "But I can speak freely. There are two others with me¡ªchosen ones. Maris and another. Both injured, but stable."


    That accounted for ten of them. Two still missing.


    "What''s your artifact status?" Elias asked.


    "I''ve found my weapon¡ªa sword that separates corruption without killing the host. The others haven''t found anything yet. We''re trapped in Medical. Corruption''s spreading through the ventilation system."


    Elias looked at the ship schematics on the screen, his mind calculating routes and risks.


    "We need a plan to get everyone to the bridge," he said, speaking to both connections. "According to what the Judge told us, we must all reach it with our artifacts to complete this phase."


    "The Captain''s implementing final containment protocols," Keldric warned. "She''s preparing to scuttle the ship to prevent corruption spread. We have maybe two hours."


    Two hours to find their remaining artifacts, gather the surviving chosen ones, and reach the bridge¡ªall while navigating a dying ship overrun with corruption. The odds were impossible.


    Elias smiled grimly. Impossible odds were familiar territory for a slum survivor.


    "Everyone, listen carefully," he said, leaning toward the microphone. "Here''s what we''re going to do..."


    The plan took shape as he spoke¡ªcoordinated movements, rendezvous points, fallback options. The others offered suggestions, refinements. Even Reeves contributed, her expert knowledge of the ship''s communication systems proving invaluable for maintaining contact during their approach.


    As the details solidified, Elias felt a strange sensation¡ªthe weight of leadership settling on shoulders accustomed only to the burden of personal survival. These people were looking to him for direction, for hope.


    In the Outer Slums, hope was a luxury he''d never been able to afford. Yet here, facing death in a historical nightmare, he found himself offering it to others.


    ''Strange how the trials change us,'' he thought, watching determination replace fear in his companions'' eyes.


    The sensation unsettled him¡ªbut there was no time to examine it now. The corruption was spreading, the clock was ticking, and somewhere on this dying ship, his artifacts waited to be found.

 Dying Guard

    The lights flickered as tremors shuddered through the ship. Distant thuds resonated from the far reaches of the vessel as the Corruption consumed the mighty Heraclea. Elias confirmed the plan one last time with the other two groups, Keldric''s team in the upper decks and Lyara''s crew in the medical bay.


    "Keldric, your team will head for the maintenance shaft in sector D7 once we disable the safety mechanisms locking the pathway. Lyara, your group will proceed through the ventilation shaft located at the north end of the medical bay once we reset the ventilation system. You''ll have a five-minute window to evacuate everyone in the med bay." Elias paused, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "If any of you sense a pull to a particular location, follow it. The artifacts are calling out to us, guiding us to their locations."


    Keldric''s voice came through steady and resolute. "Affirmative. We will wait for your signal."


    "Good luck and be careful, everyone," Lyara''s soothing voice replied.


    Reeves continued to work the control panels feverishly, her fingers dancing across the illuminated surfaces with practiced precision. "I can keep the comms up and running for twenty minutes, perhaps twenty-five." Her hands moved like those of a virtuoso musician at her instrument. "After that, the emergency power banks will be dry."


    "Understood, then that is our timeline for this maneuver." Elias looked at the other Chosen Ones. "Etta, take the remote radio, and let''s move."


    Etta gave a nervous nod, timidly reaching out to take Reeves''s extended hand and accept the radio from her.


    "Good luck, all of you. I will remain here and keep your lines of communication open."


    "We owe you, Reeves; stay safe." With that, Elias entered the maintenance tunnel and headed for the ventilation control station. Maren took the lead, her shimmering blades lighting the path in a deep violet. Etta and Nira followed behind him, nervously making their way down the shadowed shaft.


    "Stop!" Etta whispered with urgency, bringing the expedition to a halt. "Listen, do you hear that?"


    Maren, Nira, and Elias perked up, listening intently as subtle sounds of dragging came from a passage on their left. Maren raised her daggers, certain the Corruption sought to kill them using another of its abominations.


    ''Ugh. Aaachk!''


    It sounded human and like they were in pain. Everyone turned to Elias simultaneously, as if they shared one mind. The weight of their expectant gaze pressed down on him.


    Maren was the first to speak. "Do we investigate or move on?"


    "Let''s move on. We don''t have time¡ª" Elias was suddenly overcome by a magnetic attraction to the hall from which the sounds of a dying man came. He paused, searching his mind for clarity on this inescapable pull. Then, a whisper.


    Elias.


    "Actually, let''s take a look."


    Nira shuddered. "You just said¡ª"


    Elias raised his hand, cutting her short. "I know, but something is calling to me from that hallway. We need to go that way."


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Nira''s dejection deepened. Her eyes seemed to sink even further as the prospect of heading towards the likely snare of death loomed. Maren took the lead, her hands trembling so slightly that only Elias caught it. He placed a hand on her shoulder, a knowing look of silent encouragement appearing on his face. Her hands steadied, and confidence began to return, at least as much as one could expect in the face of certain doom.


    As they entered the passage, the smell of iron hung thick in the air. The tension of needing to move quickly but also avoid another shade made for a stressful trek; one could see the nervous glances as every shadow seemed to move in unnatural ways.


    "Who are you?" a voice called from the darkness.


    Elias and the others turned to the voice; the purple ambient light spilling from Maren''s Twilight Twins brought a broken man in a security officer''s uniform into focus. His lower body was mangled, his legs shredded by some monstrous, gruesome claws. Corruption was seeping into his veins, his skin already losing color. His pistol was raised, aimed at the unknown band before him, fear controlling his every move.


    "My name is Elias Varen, a Research Assistant assigned to Lab four. You are?"


    "Sergeant Harrison."


    Cough, hauchk!


    Blood spilled from his mouth onto the floor and walls. "Looks like I''m not going to last much longer. Whatever this is," he said, pointing to the ink-filled veins, "it''s speaking to me. I can already feel my sanity slipping." He turned the pistol on himself.


    "NO!" Etta lurched forward with surprising speed, reaching for the firearm, but it was too late.


    BANG


    The shot rang out through the darkness, and all the Chosen Ones could hear was a loud, deafening ringing. As Nira lost her balance, Maren reached out to steady her, clutching her arm and saying something to the poor girl, but the ringing was so overpowering that all Nira heard were muffled grunts.


    As the group recovered from the disorienting blast, Elias heard the whisper again, loud, clear, bypassing the ringing and echoing to the far reaches of his mind.


    Elias. I must feed.


    His hand moved instinctively, heading straight for Harrison''s standard-issue sidearm. His fingers tingled as he touched the weapon, his pulse quickened, and his pupils dilated as he took the gun into his hand. His artifact had found its master.


    The pistol, however, did not stay as it was. It morphed, becoming like liquid before reforming again into an elegant stiletto. Its blade resembled obsidian but was infinitely dark, with an edge that gleamed with a faint crimson. The pommel was made of ivory, with a single gem set into it that pulsed with radiant light in time with his heartbeat. The handle was sturdy and wrapped in soft, worn leather.


    His mind flashed as a pulse of energy emanated from the glassy blade. Knowledge was transferred directly to him, granting him an instinctual understanding of how to use the blade and at least a glimpse of the powers it held.


    "Sable Kiss." His voice was barely audible. He considered for a brief moment whether he should share his newfound knowledge with his colleagues, but his upbringing in the slums quickly quashed that foolish decision. He still did not know what the rest of the trial held. If it were competitive instead of cooperative, information would be the most valuable resource of all. The more you knew about a potential opponent, the greater your advantage would be.


    Maren reached down and closed Harrison''s eyes, the group sparing just a moment for the dead. They turned back to the main corridor and proceeded to the ventilation control station up ahead.


    As they reached the four-way crossing, Nira, with her uncanny ability to memorize information, said, "We need to go right here, and then the terminal will be on the left."


    The group nodded in unison, Maren again in the lead with Elias taking up the rear.


    As if appearing from thin air, a deafening crash and the sound of metal being ripped apart came exploding down the tunnel behind them. From the darkness, Elias saw a shadow quickly approaching, titanic in size. Larger than any Corrupted he had seen up to this point.


    "RUN!" He commanded, and the group took off, fleeing from the monstrous form. They were losing ground quickly; the ferocious beast would be upon them in moments.


    His mind raced. What do I do? Crap, crap, crap!


    The jewel on Sable Kiss shone with an eerie, crimson glow, pulsing in time with Elias''s racing heart. Heat radiated from the hilt, wave after wave bringing an unknown source of courage with it. Elias could sense it. His blade was alive. His blade was hungry.


    Let me feed. Turn and FEED ME! Sable Kiss was calling¡ªnay, it was DEMANDING¡ªElias to turn and face the monster that was only a half step behind him now.


    Out of time and filled with unfounded confidence, Elias dropped low, spun on his heels, and thrust the dagger forward.

 First Blood

    The blade sank into corrupted flesh with terrifying ease. No resistance, no impact, just a whisper-soft sensation as Sable Kiss plunged deep into the massive entity''s chest. Elias had expected to feel the jarring vibration of blade against bone, muscle against metal, but there was only a smooth, almost gentle passage.


    Black ichor oozed from the wound¡ªnot spurting as blood would, but flowing with deliberate slowness toward the blade itself. The edges of the wound glittered with tiny crystalline formations that caught the emergency lighting in eerie patterns.


    The creature froze mid-lunge, its elongated limbs suspended in attack position, tendrils halfway extended toward Elias''s throat. A sound like paper tearing filled the tunnel as Sable Kiss continued its path through corrupted matter.


    Then came the sensation.


    A foreign pleasure washed through Elias, distinctly separate from his own emotions¡ªnot physical satisfaction but something deeper, primal. The dagger was... enjoying this. Drinking. Feeding.


    Yes, came the familiar whisper, straight to the core of his mind, More.


    Maren, Etta, and Nira stood frozen behind him, their gasps echoing in the confined space. The look on their faces¡ªa mixture of horror and awe¡ªtold Elias they were witnessing something unnatural even by the standards of this nightmare.


    The Corrupted one''s paralysis broke as the entity released an inhuman shriek that reverberated through the metal tunnel. Its massive form thrashed violently, denting the walls around them. Black tendrils whipped through the air, forcing the group to scatter.


    "Watch out!" Elias commanded, ducking beneath a sweeping limb.


    Maren''s Twilight Twins flashed as she created a defensive sigil. The purple rune materialized between her and the creature, buying precious seconds as the others positioned themselves around the junction.


    The confined space made evasion difficult¡ªthey were fighting in a metal coffin with a monster that seemed to grow larger with every movement. Etta had somehow acquired a broken pipe and was wielding it with surprising strength, while Nira used a maintenance tool to deflect smaller tendrils.


    Elias slashed at an approaching limb, meeting no resistance again. Sable Kiss severed it completely, the corrupted appendage dissolving into vapor rather than falling to the floor. The dagger felt increasingly familiar in his hand, its balance adjusting subtly to his grip.


    The emergency lights flickered with each impact against the walls, casting grotesque shadows that seemed to move independently of their sources. The clamor of breathing, metal impacts, and inhuman growls was deafening.


    "Elias! Help!" Nira''s terrified voice cut through the chaos.


    She was trapped against a dead end, the creature''s massive frame turning from Elias to focus on easier prey. Tendrils reached for her throat as she pressed herself against the wall, nowhere left to run.


    Elias lunged forward, but something was different¡ªhis body moved with precision he didn''t possess naturally. Sable Kiss seemed to guide his hand, adjusting the trajectory of his strike toward a pulsing mass beneath the corrupted flesh.


    The blade found its mark.


    For the first time, Elias felt resistance as Sable Kiss penetrated something in the monster''s core, the sound of glass shattering ringing like a gong. A connection formed in that instant¡ªbetween him, the blade, and the dying entity. The creature went rigid; a high-pitched keening escaped its maw, which suddenly cut off as its structure collapsed.


    A visible current of dark energy flowed from the creature''s core into the blade. The gem in Sable Kiss''s pommel pulsed rapidly before settling into rhythm with Elias''s racing heartbeat. The blade''s color deepened, becoming more substantial, more real.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Then came the flash¡ªa disorienting glimpse of ship corridors from another perspective. Hunger. Purpose. A human face reflected in polished metal¡ªthe person this entity once was. The images weren''t memories, not exactly, more like impressions, emotions, fragments of another''s existence now absorbed into the dagger.


    And through it all, satisfaction. Not his own.


    Silence fell over the junction as the creature''s remains settled into a heap of corrupted matter. The group gasped for breath, checking for injuries, processing what had just happened.


    "What... what was that?" Etta''s voice trembled as she lowered her makeshift weapon.


    Elias examined Sable Kiss. The blade seemed sharper now, more defined. The carvings on the hilt had shifted slightly, and its weight felt better balanced in his hand. The gem continued to pulse, warm against his palm.


    "I don''t know," he answered honestly, reluctant to share the strange sensations he''d experienced.


    Maren stepped closer, her analytical gaze moving between her own daggers and Sable Kiss.


    Nira stared intently, scientific curiosity battling with obvious fear.


    "Did that thing... eat the corrupt¡ª?!" Etta began.


    "We should keep moving," Elias interrupted her, uncomfortable with the amount of attention being placed on Sable Kiss. The less they knew about his connection with the beautiful stiletto, the better. Information was survival, and some knowledge was best kept private.


    As they continued toward the ventilation control, Elias noticed changes in himself. His vision seemed sharper in the dim emergency lighting. Sounds registered with greater clarity¡ªthe soft footfalls of his companions, the distant groaning of the ship''s hull, the subtle hiss of corruption spreading through distant sections.


    More disturbing was the brief flash of a security briefing room he''d never seen, recognition of Captain Markov from someone else''s perspective. The unsettling realization that these weren''t his memories made him grip Sable Kiss tighter.


    There was something else too¡ªa presence alongside his consciousness. Not invasive, but watchful. And hungry. Always hungry.


    More. I need more, the thought whispered, not quite words but clear in intent.


    Maren took point again, her Twilight Twins casting purple light ahead. Elias deliberately took rear position, creating distance between himself and the others. He needed space to process what was happening to him.


    The tunnel narrowed as they proceeded, pipes and conduits forcing them to duck and weave. Signs of corruption were apparent but not immediate¡ªblack crystalline formations growing in corners, tiny tendrils emerging from vents only to retreat when the light hit them.


    "Wait," Elias said suddenly, stopping the group. "Do you hear that?"


    A faint scraping sound came from ahead¡ªmethodical, deliberate. Not the random movements of corruption but something with purpose.


    "Could be another survivor," Etta suggested hopefully.


    "Or another corrupted entity," Maren countered, raising her daggers.


    Elias felt Sable Kiss grow warm in his hand, the gem pulsing faster. The hunger surged, disproportionate to the threat they might face.


    Feed me, the thought pressed against his mind, not quite demanding but insistent.


    His arm twitched, eager to strike, to satisfy the blade''s craving. Elias forced his hand to remain steady, recognizing with sudden clarity that the relationship between him and Sable Kiss was more complex than he''d realized.


    The dagger would give him power, protection, capabilities beyond normal human limits¡ªbut at a price. It would shape him as much as he wielded it.


    "I''ll take point," he said, moving ahead of Maren.


    As he advanced toward the sound, Sable Kiss seemed to pull slightly toward the right passage at the next junction¡ªnot the direction they needed to go for ventilation control.


    There... Down there, the impression came, clearer than before. Something waits.


    "We need to split up," Elias announced, surprising himself as much as the others. "Maren, take Etta and Nira to ventilation control. I need to check something."


    "Split up? Are you insane?" Etta protested. "After what we just saw?"


    "I can handle myself," Elias replied, raising Sable Kiss slightly. "And there''s something down that passage calling to me. Might be another artifact."


    Maren studied him with narrowed eyes. "The artifacts are supposed to come in pairs. A weapon and a tool. You already have your weapon."


    "Then maybe it''s my tool," Elias countered. "Or another chosen one''s artifact. Either way, I need to check."


    A silent communication passed between him and Maren¡ªthe recognition that arguing would waste precious time. She nodded reluctantly.


    "I''ll meet you at ventilation control in fifteen minutes. If not, go on without me."


    Maren nodded in response, her eyes failing to hide her unease. Still, she turned and began to move forward.


    The others continued onward while Elias turned down the right passage, following the insistent pull of Sable Kiss. The hunger in the blade was building again, anticipating whatever waited ahead.


    As the sounds of his companions faded behind him, Elias heard it¡ªwet, dragging movement accompanied by labored breathing. Something wounded. Something dying.


    Something that Sable Kiss very much wanted to meet.

 Coil of Destiny

    The red light flickered on and off, a result of the inconsistent power being delivered to the emergency systems after the large Corrupted one had done significant damage to the maintenance tunnel of the Heraclea. The sounds of dripping echoed through the pathway, punctuating the grunts of pain coming just out of sight in the darkness.


    Sable Kiss pulsed with increased frequency, as if anticipating whatever lay ahead, a faint red luminescence emanating from the jewel in its pommel. White lettering along the left wall had four large gashes cut through the steel on which they were written. Elias could still make out what it said, despite the damage.


    ''TOP SECRET RESEARCH PERSONNEL ONLY''


    The ship shuddered beneath his feet, causing him to lose his balance for a moment. Alarms began blaring in the distance that weren''t there before.


    I need to hurry, Elias thought, quickening his pace.


    As he climbed his way over debris blocking the hallway, he came across a body; he leaned to inspect the corpse.


    Then it moved.


    Elias leapt back, Sable Kiss flashing forward, ready to strike, but the need never arose. The man was still human. Hurt, but human all the same. His shoulder was pierced by a steel rod, and his leg had a compound fracture. Blood soaked the man''s uniform.


    "Thank you, god! Thank you! Please help me..." The man appeared to be in his forties, with grey hair beginning to take over the light brown that had once dominated his mane. "The medical bay... two decks above us... There is still time... I can make it if you''ll help me, please!" Saying just that much exhausted him.


    Elias scanned him for any sign of corruption and found nothing. The researcher''s white lab coat was wrinkled and stained with dirt and a little bit of dried blood. It looks like whatever injured him wasn''t contaminated.


    The man was truly hurt, but he was right; if they headed for the medical bay now, he might survive. However, the odds of reaching the medical bay were not high.


    The man''s eyes were pleading and full of hope; he''d been praying for a miracle. A miracle had been delivered. Relief filled his heart, swelling on his face as tears of joy began to stream down.


    Sable Kiss pulsed in his hand. He gazed at the crimson edge of the pitch black blade.


    He leaned down, looking the man in the eyes, and smiled softly. "Let''s get you to medical."


    The man began crying, saved from certain death. He reached out to wrap his arm around Elias''s neck, so that he could be lifted to his feet.


    A piercing sound of blade penetrating flesh, a blinding flash of pain as his chest was pierced, a sudden chill invading his core.


    The man looked down, blood pooling into his clothes, a stain growing with each passing moment, and a brilliant shadow in the shape of a blade sunk into his flesh.


    "Why...?" His voice hoarse and fading.


    Elias didn''t answer, a cold gaze freezing the air between them.


    Sable Kiss drank deeply, absorbing the man''s essence at a blistering pace. Elias felt a surge of vitality rush into the very core of his being, and, as before, he experienced particular benefits.


    His perception increased, the darkness receding a touch. His sense of smell became more sensitive, and a faint scent of musk that he had previously been unable to detect stood out. He felt faster and stronger, even though it was only a slight improvement and likely wouldn''t last long. The last kill had given him a boost for about 30 seconds, so there was no doubt this time would be similar.


    The man finally died from having his life drained by the gluttonous stiletto.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Sable Kiss hissed, the jewel on the pommel surged with light, and Elias''s vision suddenly flashed brilliant white.


    Visions, memories that weren''t his began pouring directly into his consciousness. He saw a circular laboratory room with pristine white walls and organized desks surrounding the perimeter. Everything was immaculate and orderly, not a single scrap of paper out of place.


    In the center of the room stood a table, devoid of objects except for one: an articulating mechanical arm. It looked robotic with three joints along its frame. On the free end was a group of three prongs that held what Elias assumed to be a medical device.


    The device was a thin cylinder, made of glass, with its complex circuitry visible through the translucent shell. A small ring of white surrounded the cylinder, attached to the central unit with four mounting arms at fixed intervals. From the outer ring, a litany of ultra-thin filaments extended, each with a small electrode at its end, pulsed with a pale blue light.


    The memory faded, and a new one took its place. Scientists in pristine white lab coats, the man Elias just killed was among them.


    "This is revolutionary!" one exclaimed.


    "The Sympathetic Neural Transfer Device is going to save so many lives," declared another.


    The man Elias had killed looked at the device with a somber expression. "That is, if we can get it working. The prototype lacks the efficiency required for a device like this. The energy cost is too high for such a minimal effect."


    "Don''t worry, Dr. Kraxen, we will get it working," chimed in the third.


    A new memory came roaring in, this one chaotic and filled with danger. Corruption now lined the walls, and one of the researchers was already starting to change, their veins crystallizing at a rapid pace.


    "Quickly, recalibrate the device to target the biosignature of the infection!" Kraxen ordered. "We need to attempt to pull the damaged tissue from Abel and distribute it among ourselves, the disruption in its growth pattern may halt the spread!"


    The others worked frantically, hands moving with speed that bordered on inhuman. "Got it!"


    "Good, now get Abel on the table immediately!" Kraxen grabbed the man, pulling him to the central table. Corruption made that problematic; Abel''s strength increased twofold with the invasion of his tissue. It took all three of them to get him onto the table, and the device came to life as the central control unit began to spin inside the outer ring. The pale blue light began to blur, causing the center of the apparatus to resemble a brilliant star.


    "It''s working! It''s WORKING!" Kraxen couldn''t contain his excitement.


    Elias suddenly found himself back in the tunnel, Kraxen''s dead body sprawled at his feet. Elias bent down and pulled the man''s ID from the pocket of his lab coat and wiped the blood on the leg of his pants. He coolly strolled down the hall towards the secret research lab, confident that his second artifact was that device.


    He swiped the ID badge at the door, and the sound of air pressure releasing into the atmosphere made him jolt a touch. The doors swung open, stale air punching Elias in the face.


    Papers littered the floor, and thin black tendrils of Corruption lined the walls. Black sludge pooled on the floor and the once-pristine white desks. In the middle of the room, the table was cracked in two, the device hanging from a broken mechanical arm.


    Elias felt the pull. The device was calling to him; this was it¡ªhis second artifact.


    With each step he took, the magnetic attraction grew more assertive; Sable Kiss pulsed stronger, and the heat from the hilt began to burn. The pale blue light reflected in his grey eyes. His left hand raised on its own, reaching out for the miraculous machine.


    A female voice emanated from the processing unit as his hand grasped the ring, COMPATIBLE BIOSIGNATURE DETECTED.


    The device suddenly dissolved into white sparks that climbed his hand and orbited his wrist. The spinning orbs increased in speed, looking like a solid ring before forming into long tendrils of brilliant white light. The tendrils embedded themselves under the skin of his forearm, his veins now pulsing a brilliant, pure white.


    I am the Mourning Coil, hello Elias.


    The voice was crystal clear, a woman''s voice so smooth and soothing it was clearly not human. He knew by instinct that the artifact had the ability to heal, but the details were absent. He extended his arm, visualizing the tendrils reaching outward, and like living vines, they reached into the void.


    Sable Kiss began to tremble in his hand, frost developing on the surface, freezing his hand. The only emotion that Elias could feel from the knife was... anger? As if the presence of the Mourning Coil was abhorrent to it. Mourning Coil, on the other hand, remained steady, a soothing warmth radiating into his veins.


    The two artifacts were waging war, with Elias stuck in the middle. His body began to tremble as the essence from each of his artifacts engaged in combat, his body the battleground. His legs went weak, and his knees buckled. He fell, kneeling on the floor in a puddle of black tar.


    A vision flashed across his mind, not a memory like before, but a glimpse into his future. He saw two versions of himself, one of which emanated a wicked aura, the other a picturesque presentation of serenity. One glared with mischievous, evil intent. The other wore a faint smile that would bring even the faintest of heart hope.


    The vision ended.


    "What the hell was that?" he muttered, the pain easing. It seemed the battle between Sable Kiss and Mourning Coil was over, for now.


    Elias wasn''t sure what that vision meant, but it was clear to him that his artifacts were polar opposites of one another, and they did not get along.

 Dual Nature

    Pain radiated from Elias''s core, though not as potent as it had been a minute ago. Bewildered by the mysterious sensation, he hoped that his artifacts would give him some hint as to what had just happened. Alas, it seemed they were content to leave the event a mystery to their master.


    "You guys suck. Put me through all that pain and then leave me high and dry?" Neither the Mourning Coil nor Sable Kiss gave him any response.


    He was bewildered, dumbfounded, and a little angry. This was not what he expected in the slightest. Wasn''t this the worst possible outcome? His artifacts were so opposite one another that it manifested in physical pain.


    What a rip off.


    Putting his begrudging feelings towards the Maw aside, he turned and ran towards the ventilation control area where the others waited. Returning from where he came and then proceeding where the others had gone, he arrived in just a few minutes.


    "¡ªminutes start now, Lyara." Elias could hear Etta giving Lyara the signal as he approached them.


    Maren turned at the sound of his footsteps, weapons raised and ready. Her muscles tensed, ready to spring into action, only to relax a moment later as recognition swept through her eyes.


    "Elias, what did you find in that¡ª" her thought cut off mid-sentence as her eyes caught the Mourning Coil. Her gaze inspected every detail, starting from the tendrils to the veins in his arm. "Well, I guess that answers that question."


    "I found it in a secret research lab, the doors had been clawed out from the inside. It must have been a massive Corrupted one to have damaged those blast doors like that." The lie came easy, his voice level and calm, his face cool and composed. He didn''t want to answer questions.


    Nira immediately closed the distance, her eyes locked on the silver-white fibers wrapped around his wrist, the fringes floating and moving on their own. Her eyes filled with awe and wonder.


    "Woah." The shock in her voice trailed into the background. "That looks incredible. Can you control it?" She looked inquisitively at him, her expression like that of a child about to unwrap a present. An expectant and indescribable look of excitement plastered on her face.


    Elias reached forward with his hand, envisioning the strands of glowing light extending out. As he did, the coil moved slowly and methodically, reaching as if wanting to grasp the air itself.


    "Incredible." The words escaped her lips in a whisper. Her hands traced the veins of light that ran up Elias''s arm where the Mourning Coil had buried itself in his skin. "Is it painful?"


    Elias lowered his arm. "Where do we stand on clearing the way for Keldric''s team?" he was ready for this conversation to end and their focus to be elsewhere. "We need to get those airlocks released so they can proceed to the bridge."


    Elias could see the analytical gears of Maren''s mind turning, as if trying to unravel the secrets Elias hid. Then, without a single word, she turned to the control panel. "I have released three of the five airlocks; they should be at the bridge in a few minutes."


    The ship suddenly rocked; the steel, as if it were an immense beast, groaned as it strained to hold itself together. Power began to flicker erratically, and the group felt a shockwave surge through the tunnel. There had been an explosion elsewhere on the ship, and its blast had caused the air to compress in the ventilation control.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Steel was ripped from the rafters, shrapnel flying through the air, catching Maren''s forearm, cutting through her flesh. The gash was deep, blood spattered across the wall, and bone splintered as the deadly projectile completely severed her arm in two.


    Elias was already reaching out instinctively, trying to get Maren out of the way, but the whole event had happened so suddenly that he couldn''t react in time.


    Mourning Coil pulsed at his wrist, a comforting warmth coursing through Elias''s blood via the snow-white veins in his arms. Tendrils rushed forward at surprising speed and latched onto Maren''s arm, just below her elbow, and also around the portion that was falling to the floor.


    Maren''s eyes went wide as the tendrils brought the two parts of her arm back together, rotating it into perfect position. Then an overwhelming sense of comfort came over her. The core of her being swelled with a soothing warmth that radiated to every part of her, and her wound experienced a stronger sensation. Bones cracked as they fused back together, fibers of muscle entwined and reconnected. Flesh began to mend itself at impossible speed, her wound turned from open gore to a scab in moments. The scab fell free as it turned into healthy, healed tissue.


    Etta and Nira were in disbelief. No one understood what was happening, but they were all in awe of it.


    Elias, however, was experiencing a completely different sensation. Pain began radiating from the front of his skull, a dull headache increasing in intensity with each moment that passed. Dull aches soon turned to sharp twinges, continuing to intensify as his vision began to go white. He fell to his knees, clutching his head as the pain ravaged his mind.


    Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the pain just ceased to exist. No lingering side effects, no lasting headache. Elias raised his head and saw three worried expressions staring back at him.


    "Elias, are you ok?" Etta''s voice was laced with concern.


    Nira was already grabbing his arm, inspecting the Mourning Coil. "What happened?"


    Elias looked at Maren, who had the most bewildered look of all. Her gaze flicked between her arm, Elias, and the Mourning Coil. Her hand running back and forth across her arm, right where it had been severed, in utter astonishment at what had just taken place.


    Before Elias could answer, he heard the Mourning Coil whisper, Creation comes with a cost.


    He knew what it meant; for him to heal others with the Mourning Coil, he would have to suffer pain.


    This is terrible. What a complete disaster! My second artifact is useless! His eyes were fixed on his forearm, cursing his bad luck.


    "I don''t know what that was, how it happened, or why." His tone was somber and full of a strange emotion the others couldn''t quite place. Etta and Nira looked at him with sympathy. Maren had a look that Elias had never seen before; the emotion she was feeling was something Elias had never experienced himself, so he had no idea what it was.


    Gratitude. She understood that he just healed her arm, completely grafting her severed limb whole, and suffered unbearable pain as a result.


    He shook off the shock of the event and turned to the group, "We need to start moving to the rendezvous and join the others. We''re running out of time here."


    All three women nodded in agreement.


    Nira, Maren, and Etta began discussing routes from their current position to the meeting point. Their conversation faded into the background as Elias processed the implications of his artifact''s power.


    Does the pain scale based off the severity of the wound? Her arm was severed in two! His mind raced. Yes, the cost was significant, but the effect was incredible.


    He considered what kinds of situations would lead him to use this ability.


    Back in the real world, this sort of ability could make me very rich, but in here this ability is nothing more than a liability. His pragmatic pessimism, taught to him by the slums, dominated his thoughts. If I ever use this during the trial, it would need to be for a tactical advantage. That pain was debilitating and left me wholly exposed; if any of them had wanted to kill me, they could have. I was helpless. His mood was turning, his instinct of self-preservation pushing him to a singular conclusion. To use the Coil, I must trust those around me completely. So I will never use the Coil, because the truth is that I can''t trust anyone.


    "Elias," Maren touched his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. "We found the best route to the bridge, let''s get moving."


    The group formed up, Maren taking the lead with Elias protecting the rear. They began to make their way to the gathering location to meet the other chosen ones. This phase of the trial was coming to a rapid end, and they still had a great deal to do. These other artifacts needed to reveal themselves¡­ and soon.

 Converging Paths

    Maren led the group down another dimly lit corridor; they had been moving for several minutes without issue, weaving through the labyrinth of hallways in the maintenance shaft. The metal floor vibrated beneath their feet with each distant explosion, the tremors growing stronger with each passing minute. Elias was growing tired of the eerie red glow that constantly surrounded them, his ears practically bleeding from the constant sirens clawing at his mind.


    The recycled air had grown noticeably thinner, carrying the acrid scent of burning electronics and the metallic taste of corruption. Sweat trickled down his back despite the steadily dropping temperature as life support systems failed section by section. The faint purple hue from Twilight Twins did not help to alleviate the grim mood of their environment, casting strange, shifting shadows that seemed to breathe with a life of their own.


    "The bridge should be two decks up. If we take the equipment ladder at junction C-12, we should be able to reach the bridge in the next five minutes." Nira was once again putting her memory on full display. She had seen the layout on the console for only a few minutes, yet had perfect awareness of where they were and where they were headed.


    Elias nodded, the weight and frost-like chill of Sable Kiss in his right hand contrasting with the gentle warmth from Mourning Coil on his left. His artifacts had been eerily silent since their clash and the Mourning Coil''s miraculous healing of Maren.


    Minutes passed as they continued down the corridor, black tendrils lining the walls every so often. Corruption seemed to be the only thing that triggered a reaction from his temperamental tools.


    "There!" Etta''s voice beamed with enthusiasm and a modicum of relief. "C-12! We made it!"


    The group''s pace quickened as they drew closer to their salvation from this nightmare.


    BOOM


    Another explosion rattled the ship, causing it to list and sway. The deck plates beneath them buckled, hot air rushing up from below as if the ship itself were exhaling in pain. The walls groaned like a living thing, rivets popping free and clattering across the floor like deadly hailstones. Elias and Maren managed to stay on their feet as Etta and Nira fell, their palms scraping against the suddenly scalding metal flooring.


    "What are these explosions?" Nira asked, her voice vibrating with the same frequency as the trembling ship.


    Elias''s expression darkened. "The scuttling sequence. Markov is blowing off the lowest portions of the ship." The sour taste of fear filled his mouth as he helped Nira to her feet, her skin clammy and cold despite the waves of heat rolling through the corridor. Maren assisted Etta, both of them swaying as the ship struggled to stabilize. "We need to go, now."


    A voice, mingled with static interference, spoke to the crew through the ship-wide emergency intercom.


    "ALL PERSONNEL, EVACUATE TO EMERGENCY PODS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT: ALL PERSONNEL EVACUATE TO EMERGENCY PODS. FULL SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE INITIATED. T-MINUS TWENTY MINUTES."


    "Etta, try to reach Keldric and Lyara again." Sweat was beginning to bead on Elias''s forehead. The plan seemed to be falling apart. Their timeframe just got condensed to twenty minutes. "We need to adjust our approach, taking the new timeline into account." He hesitated, then added reluctantly, "If we run into more of those things, stay behind me. Sable Kiss seems effective against them."


    Each one signaled agreement in some form or fashion.


    "Keldric, Lyara, do you copy?"


    Static came through, each moment increasing the tension.


    "Keldric, Lyara, please respond, do you read me?"


    Again, the only response they got from the radio that Reeves had given them was the white noise of static.


    "Looks like the emergency battery backups have finally run out of juice," Nira muttered, clearly upset by the latest development.


    Maren began to climb the equipment ladder, followed closely by Etta. This was the last leg of their journey before they reached the lower bridge platform, where they planned to meet the other Chosen. Nira began to climb next, nimbly working her way up the ladder, her mind seemingly stuck between the need to go faster and the fear of being blown into the abyss with another part of the ship.


    Elias approached the ladder, placing his hand on the rung just above shoulder level. His right foot came to rest on the first rung from the floor when he felt it.


    Sable Kiss finally reached out, where a slight chill existed before, his hand felt like frostbite would claim his fingers. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his body knew intuitively what the obsidian stiletto was trying to convey.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Danger.


    Not a word or a whisper, but a feeling. Elias moved, his legs collapsing under him so that he dropped into a low crouched stance. He craned his neck as he turned his torso, just in time to see a flash of whip-like, jet black tendrils rip through the ladder, right where his chest had been.


    "Elias!" Nira was paralyzed with fear now. She was stalled on the ladder, trapped with an expression of worry written all over her. There was nothing she could do. Neither Etta nor Maren could do anything about it. Elias was on his own.


    A black streak flashed through space, severing several of the monstrous limbs. Elias didn''t believe he would ever get accustomed to the eerie feeling of his blade slicing through flesh as if it were air. A monstrous howl erupted from the darkness¡ªthe main body of the Corrupted one just outside of view.


    The tendrils turned to wisps of smoke as they fell to the floor, only to be consumed by the glass-like blade. The jewel on the pommel was radiant with crimson beams, its intensity varying with Elias''s beating heart.


    A small surge of energy flowed to Elias through the hilt.


    This is it. This is what an artifact is meant to be. At least one of them is a true boon in this nightmare.


    Elias kept his blade ready, his body prepared to move at the first sign of the devil''s attack. Nothing moved in the darkness; even the shadows held their breath in anticipation of the bloodshed that was to come. The emergency lighting seemed to have no effect on the impenetrable darkness that lay before him, adding to the sense of dread creeping into Elias''s mind.


    No, I won''t panic. Must not panic. I will survive this wretched place. His mind calmed, returning to a place of clarity and focus.


    In that moment, all hell broke loose. The echoing horn was now accompanied by inhuman screeching and the grating sound of metal being shredded like paper. The shade finally stepped forward from the dark with inhuman speed, both hands extending, and a multitude of vines sprouted forth to impale him.


    Elias dodged a few, severed several more with Sable Kiss, but the onslaught was too much. Several stems pierced his left shoulder, the force slamming him into the wall behind him. Pain radiated through his ribs, the sound of bones breaking ringing in his ears.


    He cursed.


    Suddenly his hand moved, the beautiful stiletto came soaring in an upward arc, driving into the empty space only inches from his head.


    At least, it had been empty only a moment ago.


    Now, the head of the shade occupied that space.


    So... so fast!


    Elias hadn''t had time to blink, much less notice the shade coming in for the kill. Sable Kiss had saved his life. Moving, attacking with almost clairvoyant accuracy.


    Yeah, this is the only artifact I truly need. Sable Kiss wasn''t finished yet either. The monstrous essence began to pour into the mystical knife, transferring to Elias as if an invisible cord connected the two.


    He heard several pops as his ribs returned to place, and the burning in his lungs subsided to a small degree. Nothing was done about the chilling pain as it continued to reverberate across his body.


    Then a flash, another fragmented memory, yet this event was different from the others. Elias did not experience the thoughts, feelings, or memories of the crew member that had been transformed into the heinous ogre. Instead, he experienced the insatiable hunger and a sense of purpose that transcended mere destruction.


    He saw memories of corridors, lined with Corruption. A constant call, nay a command, that dominated his entire existence.


    Destroy the Architect...


    Accompanying that thought was an unquenchable thirst for blood. Human blood.


    The vision ended. One positive aspect of these visions is that they seemed to occupy only a moment in time. Almost as if the world stood still while Sable Kiss showed him these dreams.


    "ELIAS!" Maren finally cut through the veil that consumed his mind. Turning to look at her and the others, he offered a warm smile.


    "I''m alright." Elias straightened, his mind already calculating their next move. "More importantly, I''ve learned something critical."


    "What happened?" Maren pressed, her analytical gaze scanning him for signs of contamination.


    "I think I experienced what it was like to be a shade for a moment." Elias measured his words carefully, not revealing everything. "I saw the world from the Corrupted''s point of view, felt their undying will to kill humanity at any cost. They''re not just randomly attacking¡ªthey''re coordinating, communicating somehow."


    Silence hung in the air, only the continuing blast of emergency horns filling the void between them.


    Elias turned back to the ladder and began to climb. It seemed like the rest of them did not want to pry any further... for now.


    BOOM


    Another explosion, another section of the ship plunged into the abyss. The panels on the wall were hanging by threads, wires sparking from every angle. Time was running out.


    As they reached the halfway point between the bottom of the equipment ladder and the lower landing, all power went out. Elias, Maren, Etta, and Nira were consumed by darkness. If it weren''t for the faint glow of the Twilight Twins, the inky air would have been so thick that their hands would have vanished in the shadows.


    Silence, true silence, finally filled their ears. Relief as the piercing wail ceased.


    "Let''s keep moving." Elias could finally whisper and be heard.


    The ladder trembled beneath their fingertips as they climbed, metal groaning under stress never meant to endure. They were three-quarters of the way up when the vibrations changed¡ªno longer random but rhythmic, deliberate. Thump. Scrape. Thump. Scrape. Something massive dragging itself upward in pursuit.


    "Move faster," Elias hissed, but they were already climbing at their limit.


    A guttural sound echoed up the shaft, not quite animal, not quite human¡ªa sound that existed in the space between worlds. The air temperature plummeted, their exhaled breath suddenly visible in Twilight Twins'' purple glow.


    Elias glanced down against his better judgment.


    The darkness below wasn''t empty anymore. It churned and pulsed like a living thing, tendrils stretching upward with unnatural patience. But what froze his blood wasn''t the corruption itself¡ªit was the faces embedded within it. Dozens of crew members'' features pressed against a membrane of blackness, mouths open in silent screams, eyes tracking their movement with hungry intelligence.


    One face in particular stared directly at Elias, its lips forming words he somehow understood despite the distance.


    "The Architect sent you too late," it mouthed. "We''ve already won."

 Medical Evacuation

    In the medical bay, Lyara was furiously at work preparing each of the wounded for evacuation. The signal from the others would come at any moment, and they needed to be ready to move; their window of opportunity was not significant.


    Her calm demeanor stood in stark contrast to the slight panic in some of the medical staff, though the most experienced doctors maintained their composure. They had seen their fair share of death and dismay. She moved with purpose, her preparation for the Maw''s trial shining through the dreariness of the collapsing world around them.


    The floor of the medical bay was covered with blood and broken bodies. The pristine white walls now stained with dirt and bile. The stench of blood and gore mixed with the fumes of alcohol and disinfectants, creating a putrid scent that made one sick to their stomach. The look of death crept on every face, dismay taking root in each heart.


    Lyara was doing her best to bring comfort to these poor souls.


    "Secure that oxygen tank," she directed a nurse. "And double-check that all patients unable to walk are already on transport gurneys. We are going to have to move quickly, and carrying the invalid will take too long." She turned her attention to Maris, who looked very out of place among the rest of the injured. "I need you to raid the supply cabinet, empty it. We are going to need every portable med kit we can find."


    Maris, her usual haughty demeanor replaced by wide-eyed fear, nodded without argument. Her transformation had been profound, something not uncommon in the Maw. The proud merchant''s daughter who had protested her "kidnapping" was following orders, though often only after having her say.


    They did not always see eye to eye, and Maris still harbored some of her pride.


    "Why are we helping them? The Judge told us that this isn''t real, that what happens to these people is already set in stone!" Maris let her desire for self-preservation take front seat. "We would have a much easier time completing this scenario if we just leave them!"


    Lyara turned, her expression rigid and reflecting her disappointment at the girl''s heartlessness. However, Lyara could understand her point of view. It would be easier to leave them.


    It''s not just enough to complete the scenario, I have to defy the Maw.


    Lyara''s hands never stopped working as she secured the bandage on the sedated crew member''s arm. "Do you not feel their pain? Can you not see the fear on their faces?"


    She met Maris''s gaze directly, her voice dropping to a quiet intensity that demanded attention. "Survival alone isn''t enough."


    The words hung in the air between them, carrying weight beyond their simple meaning.


    Maris considered pressing further, but eventually decided against it. Lyara was stubborn, and nothing she could say would change the mule''s mind.


    As she moved to the supply cabinet, a strange sensation began to overwhelm her senses. She couldn''t make sense of it at first, so she proceeded to empty the supply cabinet as instructed. Removing each emergency medical kit and tossing it towards the center of the room, the sensations intensified and began to solidify into a single thought.


    What''s in that drawer?


    Her attention was drawn to a locked drawer in an adjacent nurses'' station. She abandoned her assignment at the supply cabinet and wandered over to the mysterious drawer. She grasped the handle and attempted to open it, only to encounter resistance.


    Locked. I need a key, or something I can use to pry it open.


    Lyara noticed the girl pulling at the drawer, "Maris, what''s happening?"


    "There''s something in this drawer." Maris sounded far more reserved than usual; her pupils were fully dilated, and her breath was coming in quick, short breaths. "Lyara, something essential is in this drawer. Help me open it!"


    Before Lyara could respond, a clamor coming from the entrance to the medical bay stole their attention. A security officer had burst through the door, stumbling to the floor. His uniform was ripped and covered in blood. A deep gash ran across the entirety of his chest. Ribs were visible through the open wound, and his voice was fading.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "Infected! Infected are coming!" Fear was the only emotion the man felt. Fear of death, fear of mutilation. Fear of infection. "Infected personnel from Deck Four are heading this way, at least a dozen of them!"


    The security officer''s breaths were short, gurgling as they escaped his lips, a clear sign that his lungs were filling with fluid. A cough escaped his lips, and blood sputtered to the floor. On his hands and knees, he fell to the ground. His breathing stopped, and the light left his eyes.


    Dead.


    Lyara moved closer to the door, and Maris would have to wait. She drew a deep breath, focusing on the impending danger. She drew her sword, a brilliant rapier that shone with a brilliant blue light. The blade hummed, pulsating with energy that poured into the space around it.


    Mercy''s Edge emanated a warm glow that brought comfort to everyone around her. Nerves calmed, and fear was suppressed to all within reach of the beautiful aura.


    Maris was busily searching for anything she could use to tear open the drawer.


    As the corrupted crew advanced down the corridor towards the medical bay, Lyara stood her ground. The rest of the medical staff continued to work frantically, preparing the wounded for movement.


    Lyara took a stance, one foot in front of the other, hips and shoulders pointed at the incoming horde. Her rapier was pointed straight forward, and her back hand held out behind her. She looked elegant and strong, ready to take on any monster that came her way.


    As the first corrupted got within range, she moved with grace and surprising speed. She defied the limits of human ability, the blade appearing as a blur as it swung in wide arcs.


    The blade sank its teeth into its first victim, but oddly enough, it did not cut flesh. The blade cut clean through the corruption, evaporating it in a cloud of ash. Human flesh appeared intact underneath the gaping wound in the corruption.


    One doctor looked at the sight with wide eyes. "How? What is that weapon?"


    "Something from another time and reality," Lyara answered.


    "What is happening to them?" a nurse asked from her left, her hand covering her mouth at the gruesome sight.


    "The blade separates corruption from flesh, but can''t repair the damage to their minds and souls." Lyara was somber, her tone reserved. "I can''t save those who have already been consumed."


    She continued to move and slash until each crew member was cleared of the corruption. Unfortunately, they had been ravaged by the disease, beyond her weapons'' ability to purify them. Each crew member lay dead, but no longer a carrier of the vile infection.


    With the corridor cleared, Lyara returned to Maris, who had found a medical tool that she was using to try and pry the drawer open.


    "Here, let me." Lyara put her hand on the drawer, touching the lock. A soft white glow ignited on her palm, like a flame of pure snow. The lock clicked open, and Maris was finally able to claim her prize.


    Inside was a peculiar-looking device¡ªa series of metallic segments connected by a thin braided line, each segment ending in a fang-like barb. She gingerly reached out her hand and grasped the handle end of the whip, causing the strange contraption to spring to life. It wrapped itself around her arm like a living being, coiling around it like a snake.


    Maris'' eyes glowed, the happiest Lyara had ever seen the girl. "Mercy''s Teeth," she said with awe.


    "We need to finish preparing the group to leave. Elias''s group should be sending us the signal any moment now." Lyara spoke as she returned to her preparations.


    The preparations continued without incident; everyone was on a gurney that needed it, and all of the medical supplies were loaded on the lower racks.


    The second Chosen One in Lyara''s group had been growing increasingly agitated over the past hour. Twice, Lyara had noticed them staring at the walls as if seeing something no one else could, lips moving in silent conversation. Now they were watching intently, gaze fixed on the artifacts that Lyara and Maris held, pupils constricted to pinpoints despite the dim lighting.


    When a medical device clattered to the floor, they flinched violently, hands trembling as they pressed them against their ears. Lyara felt their gaze burning into her, and when she turned to look them in the eye, she saw something fractured in their expression.


    "You shouldn''t have chosen this group, volunteer." The other''s voice was cold, full of icy contempt and malice, their words coming in an unnatural rhythm punctuated by shallow breaths. "None of us should be. This isn''t just a historical scenario¡ªit''s a trap. The Judge speaks to me even now. Haunting my thoughts."


    Lyara stepped closer, "What do you mean? What is he saying to you?!" her voice raised, alarm dripping from every word. "How could the Maw''s trial be a trap?!"


    The other Chosen one sat on the floor, knees pulled into their chest, rocking back and forth. "The Fallen World knows. The Fallen World has found us... It''s going to kill us all. It knows... IT KNOWS!" Her hand clutched her head, pulling on her own hair. Her sanity was slipping.


    Before Lyara could process her words, a single black droplet fell from the ceiling, sizzling as it hit the floor between them. It spread outward like spilled ink, forming intricate patterns that pulsed with unnatural life.


    The ceiling trembled. Then split.


    A face¡ªhuman yet horribly wrong¡ªpushed through the opening, its features inverted and rearranged. Dozens of eyes blinked independently across stretched skin as a forest of arms extended downward, each limb terminating in surgical tools fused directly to flesh. The thing that had once been the ship''s head surgeon smiled with three separate mouths as it descended upon the survivors.


    "The doctor," whispered the broken Chosen One, "is ready to see you now."

 Keldrics Stand

    Keldric stood, his stance tall and firm, like that of a seasoned warrior. His eyes were focused on the infinite darkness behind the entrance to the security center. In his right hand was an ornate Zweihander, a double-edged broadsword burning with an ethereal blue-white flame¡ªOathkeeper, his artifact weapon. The air was thick and heavy, laden with the smell of iron and the acrid stench of burned circuitry. Moving shadows created by the orbiting red globe of the emergency lighting made his hair stand on end.


    Eerie. Too quiet for how many corrupted we''ve encountered.


    The room was a vast open space, with lockers lining the wall on his left; most of them were open and empty of the equipment they usually held. Benches lined the other three walls, each of which had a map of different portions of the ship above them. Monitors displayed damaged areas, activated airlocks, and parts of the ship that were scuttled, along with a countdown indicating how long each section had left before it joined the others in the murky depths.


    The temperature had been steadily dropping for the past hour, life support systems failing one by one. Keldric could see his breath now, small puffs of vapor that dissipated in the crimson light. His military instincts catalogued every detail, forming defensive strategies for each possible entry point.


    "They''re still coming," a security officer reported, eyes fixed on a monitoring station connected to cameras that miraculously still functioned. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold. "At least twenty corrupt personnel are headed this way from Sector D3. They''re moving in formation, sir, not like the random shambling we saw earlier."


    Keldric nodded, his face grim and focused. His eyes showed nothing but courage, burning with determination. The tactical part of his mind quickly assessed their position, personnel, and defensive options. "We hold this position until the last of the escape pods have been used, then we proceed to the bridge once our team has released the airlocks in the maintenance tunnel." He took a deep breath, allowing the metallic air to awaken his senses and sharpen his mind.


    The noble youth, Darius, another of the Chosen Ones, gave an exasperated sigh. His eyes dropped to the floor, his voice riddled with disappointment. "This is madness. We should be finding our way to the bridge, not protecting these... apparitions! They aren''t real!"


    "They''re people," Keldric replied firmly and unyieldingly. "Frightened people who deserve protection. Whether they''re ''real'' or historical echoes doesn''t matter right now." He looked around at the terrified crew members huddled in the corners of the security center. "Protecting them is my calling. It''s what I was made for."


    The scholarly woman, Rehala, the third Chosen One of their group, chimed in, "We may be able to make it through the maintenance shaft. It''s only wide enough for us to go one at a time, but it should bring us to the bridge and avoid the worst of the corruption." Her eyes were thoughtful, rather than frightened, despite the cowardice of her suggestion.


    Keldric turned to respond right as the sound of cracking glass reached their ears. His reply would have to wait; they were out of time. Dark masses were barely visible in the depths of the dark corridor.


    "Prepare for combat!" Keldric shouted, the authority in his voice stirring even the terrified to action. "Form a defensive line! Those of you with weapons, to the front! Everyone else, fall back and prepare to evacuate when we give the signal!"


    Oathkeeper''s flame grew brighter as he raised it to a readied position. The blue-white fire illuminated more of the room, pushing back the oppressive shadows. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, a multitude of tight cables moving in fluid motion. Breathing in a perfect rhythm, calm and steady, he was prepared.


    Silence filled the air. The shadows that had been moving in the tunnel leading to the security office stopped, seeming to hover at the edge of the light cast by Oathkeeper. Their outlines started to merge with the darkness, seeming to vanish into this air.


    What are they doing? Keldric analyzed the unusual behavior. They''ve always attacked without hesitation before. This is coordinated, strategic. They''re assessing our defenses. His years of tactical training recognized the behavior immediately - this wasn''t mindless corruption but something with intelligence behind it.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Oathkeeper hummed, feeding on Keldric''s steadfast determination to protect these "apparitions" as one of the others had put it. Keldric felt the weight of his sword lessen in his hands, the edge of the blade growing sharper. The flame burned brighter in response to his protective resolve.


    Then all hell broke loose.


    A mass of steel hurled through the air right at him, threatening to crush him under the weight. Oathkeeper came down, effortlessly slicing through the projectile, cutting it in half and sending the pieces hurtling around him on either side. The cut through steel glowed, the molten metal a bright orange color where the blade had struck. The ethereal blue-white hue lit up Keldric from head to toe, a stark contrast to the deep red that cascaded across everything else.


    Five figures rushed from the darkness, their inhuman speed rendering them a blur. They were humanoid in shape, with two arms and two legs, but the vile black crystals had twisted their bodies.


    Their limbs had been merged with the firearms they had carried when the corruption took over. Uniforms, flesh, and onyx blended in a disturbing distortion of their original forms. They moved with unusual precision and coordination, not the mindless scrambling Keldric had witnessed up to this point. He recognized their movement patterns instantly - standard Sentinel formation tactics, adapted for their twisted bodies.


    They''re retaining their training. The corruption isn''t just taking their bodies; it''s using their knowledge.


    As the five charged, a sixth appeared in the background, its vicious maw spread from ear to ear, and viscous saliva fell to the floor.


    The most shocking thing, however, was what happened next.


    It talked.


    "Join us, brothers. Transformation awaits us all." Its voice was deep, its tone low; the sounds of fracturing glass and a high-pitched screech merged in the background as it spoke.


    While the others were paralyzed, Keldric moved without hesitation. Oathkeeper became a blur as he swung the blade. He caught the first abomination in the chest, cleanly cutting the beast in two. Unlike Lyara''s beautiful rapier, Oathkeeper did not spare the host. Each strike was lethal.


    What made it worse was that these people weren''t entirely consumed. You could still see signs of consciousness in some of their eyes. He recognized one of them - a security officer he''d shared a meal with mere hours ago, now more monster than human.


    Each kill weighed on Keldric, but he knew he had no choice. Not just for his own survival, but for the dozens of frightened crew members behind him. He''d been a protector all his life; it was ingrained in his very being. The Maw had chosen him for this exact quality.


    He struck down three in rapid succession; however, instead of thinning the creatures'' numbers, they swelled. More poured in from the darkness, surrounding Keldric and the small security team that had joined the fight.


    "You can''t defeat us alone, warrior of the Maw," the mysterious anomaly mocked. The guttural laugh that followed was enough to make anyone''s bones ache.


    Keldric continued to fight furiously, analyzing the corrupted entities'' movement patterns even as he battled them. They were learning, adapting to his fighting style with each exchange. He changed tactics, using sweeping strikes where before he had thrust, high attacks where he had gone low. Oathkeeper responded to his intentions, its flame shifting and focusing to maximize damage against the corruption.


    Metal clashed against metal, and the weapons fused into the limbs of the soldiers held against the massive blade. Unlike the mundane steel he had sliced through earlier, this amalgamation of metal and corruption was able to resist the flaming broadsword.


    Extra limbs sprouted from the back of one of the crew; four whip-like tendrils zipped towards him.


    All four pierced Keldric, one in each shoulder and one in each hip. He fell to his knees, swinging his Oathkeeper in a wide arc, severing each tendril, pushing himself back from the onslaught. He sliced horizontally, blue flame streaking across the room as he severed two corrupted heads from the bodies they were attached to.


    Four more lunged; he wasn''t going to last much longer. The crew members behind him were screaming now, the noble youth and scholarly woman looked on in horror, seemingly frozen by fear.


    As the walls closed in and escape from death seemed impossible, Keldric felt something materializing in his left hand - a small white horn, made of bone with beautiful silver inlays that shifted patterns as he looked at it. The knowledge of what it was and how to use it flowed into his mind, not as words but as intuitive understanding.


    "Commander''s Voice," he whispered, the name appearing in his thoughts as naturally as if he''d always known it.


    He brought the horn to his lips and blew.


    Nothing happened. No sound came from the beautiful, ornate instrument.


    Keldric continued to defend himself from the horde descending upon him furiously, the reverberating cackle of the sentient Corrupted one accented the impending doom.


    "Fool, your end draws near." A grotesque smile crept onto the vicious fiend''s face. "I''ll enjoy consuming you."


    Keldric''s iron expression finally cracked as the darkness closed in.

 Truth Seeker

    The monsters were collapsing on Keldric; his time was running short. He didn''t know how much longer his defense would hold. Desperation and despair began to creep at the fringes of his mind, shadows threatening to overcome his iron discipline.


    Then, something remarkable occurred¡ªevery person in the room began to move as one.


    Their strength and stamina increased exponentially, fear entirely suppressed. Their movements became incredibly coordinated, as if the group shared a single consciousness. Humans descended on the darkness, shouts of courageous valor breaking through the sickly creature''s laughter.


    Keldric felt the connections forming¡ªthreads of intent binding him to every defender in the room. He could sense their positions, anticipate their movements, guide them without speaking. The sensation was unlike anything he''d experienced before¡ªa tactical awareness that extended beyond his own body to encompass everyone fighting alongside him.


    "HOW?" the corrupted entity cried. "Humans should not possess such strength. This measly congregation was on the verge of collapsing only moments ago. What happened?"


    The horn! Keldric realized, understanding flowing through him like a current. It creates unity of purpose, shared strength through shared intent.


    Beyond the incredible coordination and enhanced strength of the mundane human army, Keldric spotted another odd object materializing¡ªa beautiful silver mirror in the hands of a young woman. It was Rehala''s artifact.


    The acrid smell of decay and death gave way to the scent of a fresh spring day. Light emanated from the beautiful mirror; a warm, comforting embrace descended upon them all. The light wrapped around every person''s head like a blindfold over their eyes. Suddenly, everyone involved could see glowing orbs in different places on the infected behemoths.


    One of the security officers lashed out at one of the orbs, piercing it with a long piece of shrapnel he had been using as a makeshift sword. The improvised blade cut the orb in two, and the corruption began to collapse. The crystal structure fractured and broke, revealing sickly, decaying flesh and bone beneath.


    Weakness points, Keldric realized immediately. Her artifact reveals vulnerabilities.


    His thoughts went out to the rest of the soldiers fighting the infected.


    The group of humans¡ªbolstered by the mysterious horn and guided by the ornate mirror¡ªbegan to quickly vanquish the squad of monsters. Their hands moved with practiced precision and coordination, cutting and destroying orb after orb. Corrupted began to fall at a rapid pace.


    It wasn''t so much a fight at this point as a massacre. Keldric led the assault with precise mental cues, moving defenders to exploit every advantage, maintaining a coordinated defense that seemed impossible given their disparate backgrounds.


    It was a sight to behold, a group this large united by a single purpose. All driven to accomplish the same goal¡ªnot just survival, but protection of each other.


    After several more minutes of fighting, the monster that could speak fled the scene, avoiding its impending doom, and vanished into the darkness. "We will meet again, human scum."


    With the last of the monsters twitching as a corpse on the floor, Darius turned to Keldric, a bewildered look on his face. The others also looked to him with quizzical expressions, seeking answers.


    "How?" Darius asked, eyes wide with disbelief. "I knew what everyone was thinking, where they were, what they were doing. I felt stronger and faster than ever before. I moved in ways I had never moved before." He was staring down at his hands. "What did you do?"


    Keldric held out his ornate, curved bone horn. "This is the Commander''s Voice. It doesn''t make any sound that we can hear, but you''ve already experienced its effects." As he spoke, the horn transformed into a swirl of sparks that orbited his neck before solidifying into a beautiful silver chain with a small bone amulet in the shape of a horn.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "It connects those who share a purpose," Keldric explained, feeling the knowledge within him. "It makes us stronger together than we could ever be alone."


    "Rehala, that artifact of yours was pivotal in this battle. You saved several lives, no doubt." Keldric gave the girl a look of pride and approval. She nodded in return, her face even flushing a little at the straightforward compliment from the stoic soldier.


    "The Truth Mirror," she said, examining the silver object in her hands. "It... shows the true nature of things. I could see where the corruption was weakest, where the human still remained beneath."


    Keldric nodded thoughtfully. "Together, our artifacts complement each other. Yours reveals truth, mine unites purpose."


    As the group secured the security center, sweeping for any remaining threats, Darius was trying to pry open one of the few closed and locked lockers on the far wall. Unlike the panic or entitlement he''d shown earlier, now there was focused determination in his movements.


    "Darius, what is it?" Keldric asked as he approached, noticing the change in the noble youth''s demeanor.


    "I don''t know, there is something in this locker. I think it may be something like that horn, or your sword, or her mirror. An artifact, or whatever you called them." Darius was using a piece of shrapnel as a lever, attempting to pry the locker open. "I can feel it calling to me, like it''s been waiting."


    "Stand back." Oathkeeper flared to life, the blue flame and white glow of the steel reflected in Darius''s eyes as Keldric effortlessly cut through the lock.


    Inside the locker was a small shortsword. The blade was obsidian with swirls of emerald patterned on the flats. The hilt was made of ivory, inlaid with gold, the double edge so sharp that the air itself seemed to be cut as it breezed by.


    Darius reached out and took it into his hand. "Truth Seeker." The name came to him unbidden, as if the weapon itself had whispered it to his mind. He gave it a few quick swings through the air, his inexperience with such weapons obvious in his grip and footwork.


    As Keldric watched, something changed in Darius. The entitled noble was gone, replaced by someone with purpose in his eyes. The blade seemed to straighten his posture, square his shoulders, give him a gravity he''d lacked before. For the first time since entering the Maw, the young noble looked like someone who might survive the trials.


    Keldric examined the blade¡ªit was quite beautiful. The swirling patterns reminded him of the marks that had appeared on their skin before they entered the Maw. He felt drawn to it, as if there was some sort of resonance between the young noble''s blade and Oathkeeper. These mystical weapons were clearly much more than they seemed, the two swords emanating something similar to recognition of each other.


    "If you want, I''ll teach you to wield it. At least, if we make it out of here." Keldric offered, seeing both the weapon''s potential and Darius''s need for guidance. "A blade like that should be wielded with pride and precision."


    "Really? That would be amazing!" Darius replied with sincerity in his voice, which surprised them both. It was perhaps the first genuine statement the noble had made since they''d entered the trials.


    Suddenly, the air locks that were once lit up on the wall started to turn off one after another.


    "Looks like our other group came through for us!" Several excited shouts came from the rest of the crew. There was only one emergency pod left, which had room for only two.


    Keldric looked toward the remaining crew members, mentally calculating their best chance of survival. Two elderly researchers sat against the far wall, exhausted and injured but alive. Their knowledge might prove vital if humanity was to learn from this disaster. He nodded at them, decision made.


    "Take the last pod," he told the researchers. "We will continue to the bridge."


    As the researchers stepped into the final escape pod, Keldric felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He''d been a leader before¡ªcaptain of his Sentinel unit, responsible for dozens of lives¡ªbut this was different. Here, in this historical nightmare, his fight went beyond survival. He was fighting to understand what had gone wrong, what humanity had failed to learn the first time corruption appeared.


    The corruption moves with purpose, he thought, remembering the coordinated attack they''d just repelled. If Tavin was right before he died, it''s hunting specific things¡ªor people¡ªon this ship. We need to understand why.


    "Rehala, Darius," he said, turning to his fellow chosen ones. "Let''s head for the bridge. Captain Markov may have answers we need before this ship goes down."


    As they worked their way toward the bridge, Keldric found himself pondering what had happened to the others¡ªElias, Maren, and whoever else had survived this far. Were they finding their artifacts as well? Learning the same lessons about corruption''s true nature?


    The ship trembled around them, another section lost to the scuttling sequence. Time was running out.


    But for the first time since entering the Maw''s embrace, Keldric felt a flicker of something beyond determination, beyond duty.


    Hope.

 Captains Decision

    Captain Elena Markov stood on the bridge of the Heraclea, her pristine uniform still crisp and orderly as if it had just been pressed. The emergency horn blared around her, yet she remained a pillar of composure amid the chaos, surrounded by her remaining senior officers. Her eyes gazed into the distance, a forlorn look shadowing her features despite her military bearing.


    Control panels before her flashed angry red, each light signaling another critical system failure as the mysterious crystalline infection spread through the vessel''s vital areas with increasing speed.


    "The containment has been completely breached," her first officer reported, voice steady despite the circumstances. "The crystalline structure has reached the propulsion system and is advancing towards the fusion reactor."


    Markov studied the ship schematics displayed across the bridge monitors, her expression grim but resolute. "Evacuation status."


    "Pods in sectors three through seven have all been jettisoned. Two hundred and twelve crew accounted for. That leaves eighty on board, including the infected."


    She retreated into her thoughts, brow furrowing in concentration. The self-destruct sequence showed ten minutes remaining on the countdown. Time was slipping away.


    "Accelerate the self-destruct sequence by five minutes. Authorization code Markov-Theta-Nine-Three."


    "Affirmative, Captain." The first mate''s nimble fingers worked the control panel, and the countdown dropped to five minutes. He turned to his captain with the stoic composure of a soldier. "Now we should evacuate with the rest of the crew."


    Markov looked down, conflict visible in the subtle tension of her jaw. She wanted to leave. She wanted to live. Her hands formed into fists, a slight tremble working through her entire body. Fear crept in, the desperate need for survival momentarily overpowering her sense of duty.


    But only for a moment.


    Iron-clad discipline drove out the fear, stilled the trembling, and suppressed the animalistic instinct to survive.


    "The crystal infection must be stopped here. It cannot be allowed to expand beyond the confines of Heraclea." She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening visibly. "I will stay on the bridge and ensure the self-destruction sequence completes."


    She turned from the monitors to face the remaining crew. One by one, she met their eyes, her own gaze unwavering. All of them understood what she was conveying without words.


    Each officer stood, raising their right hand in a fist and placing it over their heart. Their left hands hung at their sides as heels clacked together across the bridge¡ªa farewell salute to their stalwart leader. Then, with a singular voice, the bridge echoed with their words.


    "Farewell, Captain. We look forward to seeing you in the archives of Azimuth."


    Tears threatened to well in Elena''s eyes. The display elicited an emotion that resonated deep within her bones¡ªno, deeper than that. It touched her very soul.


    "This is my final order as your Captain." Markov, moved by her crew''s honorable display, returned their salute. "Evacuate the ship immediately."


    The crew hesitated just a moment before turning to the bridge''s escape pods. They entered the lifeboats efficiently, ensuring everyone boarded before the vessels were jettisoned from the sinking Heraclea.


    "Farewell." The emotions finally won through. Markov''s statuesque face and perfect composure softened, the corners of her mouth turning downward as tears escaped her eyes.


    She allowed herself the catharsis of those emotions as she turned back to the monitors behind her. One tracked unique biosignatures of the ship''s crew¡ªtwelve distinct red dots approached the bridge from different directions, seemingly set to converge at approximately the same time.


    Markov offered a knowing smile. "Not random passengers," she murmured. "Something else entirely, bless the Architect."


    ________________________


    Elias''s group had encountered a new horror in the vertical shaft¡ªa corrupted form unlike any they had seen before. The amalgamation of faces melded together was the stuff of nightmares. One face stared back at him, distorted yet somehow familiar.


    The already plummeting temperatures went from cold to freezing. Each rung of the ladder frosted over, making the climb even more perilous.


    "FASTER!" Elias screamed; they needed to reach the lower platform immediately.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Maren somehow increased her pace, as did Etta and Nira.


    Looks like another 15 feet to go before we reach the platform; we can make it! Elias''s mind ran wild, imagination painting pictures of them being caught by the rapidly approaching beast from below. "CLIMB!" There was no time for more than that singular thought.


    His breath turned to soft white crystals in the air, the moisture from his lungs freezing upon contact with the putrid atmosphere in the shaft. The stench of corruption was overwhelming, unlike anything he had ever smelled.


    Maren finally reached the top of the ladder, climbing onto the lower platform of the bridge access. She turned to help Etta and Nira quickly get out of Elias''s way.


    As Elias rolled himself off the ladder and onto the platform, a glossy black hand reached up and shredded the metal rungs. If he had been even a moment later, he would have been a bloody stain on the wall.


    Realization struck him as the monster reached the hatch to the platform. "Tavin. Tavin is a part of that beast!"


    Maren, Etta, and Nira''s eyes widened. Nira had witnessed Tavin''s downfall and assumed he had perished under the influence of corruption.


    The monstrous form emerged from the hatch and stepped onto the platform. The myriad of faces began to recede into the black abyss, leaving only Tavin''s disfigured face visible.


    "Tavin must be the main host, with corruption consuming the other crew members using his body," Maren spoke with certainty, though Elias doubted she truly knew if her statement was fact or fiction.


    A humanoid figure, approximately Tavin''s size, stood before them. Crystal formations had layered themselves over most of its host, bits of flesh and uniform still visible in the gaps. Limbs ended in elongated blades¡ªa mix of shrapnel and black crystal. Tavin''s face was perhaps most disturbing; his eyes spoke to the consciousness that still lay beneath the surface.


    Etta let out an audible gasp. "He''s still in there."


    Horror swept over the group with this realization. This vile thing was trying to consume Tavin whole, but the slum-born scholar was still fighting for his sanity.


    Tavin''s corrupted head tilted, studying them. His mouth moved, and two voices echoed from the creature''s throat¡ªone Tavin''s, the other something monstrous and inhuman.


    "The pattern... I found it too late... Searching... Hunting... The Corruption... Is hunting for something or someone on this ship."


    Elias drew Sable Kiss. "Hunting for what?!" Desperation laced his voice, making it impossible to hide his desire to know more about the Corruption and understand what the Maw wanted them to see.


    "Vessels... It needs vessels for transformation," the small frame, made of obsidian and flesh, contorted suddenly. Tavin was losing control once more. "Run... it knows... what you are."


    With that warning, the figure launched itself at them with inhuman speed, bladed limbs slashing at their throats. Elias met the attack with Sable Kiss, expecting it to pass through as before.


    CLANG!


    Metal scraped against metal. The blade met a wall it could not pierce, causing Elias to lose his balance. Pain seared his thigh as the monster''s other limb cut deep. A flash of purple light propelled the shadow away from Elias as he regained his footing.


    "The steel mixed with corruption, I can''t cut through it!" Elias warned the others that something was different from previous encounters. This mix of steel and crystal could resist the miraculous weapons of the Maw.


    This would not be an easy fight. Wounded and with his weapon less effective, Elias scrambled for a solution. The monster was too fast, too strong. Without Sable Kiss giving him a massive advantage, the situation looked bleak.


    Tavin was back on his feet, lunging again. His limbs shifted, growing into massive hammers that slammed into the ground where Elias lay. Luckily, Maren made it in time, Twilight Twins weaving a protective sigil over his chest.


    "Get up! I can''t hold this thing for long!"


    Elias rolled to his left as a black, barbed tongue whipped from the monstrous maw on Tavin''s face, aimed straight for his heart.


    Sable Kiss slashed down, slicing through the corruption as if it were made of air, transforming it into ashy mist and consuming it with the crimson-edged blade.


    Energy surged from the blade¡ªnot much, but enough. His senses heightened, and his reaction speed increased. His strength and endurance received a small boost. Tavin moved again, already closing in on Elias, his shoulder ramming the young human''s chest.


    Elias was thrown into the wall, a flash of black coming in like a guillotine to cut off his neck. Instinct and the desire to live pushed him to thrust his stiletto forward, but it was too late. He was too slow.


    Death came easy. He didn''t even feel the blade cut his throat.


    Only...


    It didn''t cut his throat at all.


    Sable Kiss was plunged into Tavin''s chest, his eyes once again showing signs of human consciousness.


    Tavin had saved him.


    Tavin''s will and determination had refused to surrender until the very end. His stubborn resistance to the glassy infection gave him control at just the right moment.


    Elias was saved, and now Tavin would die.


    Agony was the only other emotion that reflected through the window into Tavin''s soul. His essence was being sucked dry.


    The gaping wound on Elias''s thigh closed, healing at an accelerated pace. His energy returned, and all of his physical traits received a massive boost.


    It was over.


    Elias sank to his knees as a new vision flashed. His mind was completely transported to another place.


    His vision was blurry and fractured as he witnessed the entity whose memories he was seeing murder and consume crewmate after crewmate. He felt himself becoming ill at the gruesome sight.


    Then coherent thoughts:


    The corruption moves with purpose.


    Followed by more death.


    It knows what it is looking for.


    Another crew member, face distorted by fear and pain.


    It knows about the Maw.


    Screams of agony filled the air, almost animalistic and desperate to survive.


    It knows about the Chosen.


    The smell of blood and decay.


    It''s hunting us... It knows we are different.


    He saw himself and Maren fighting desperately.


    The Maw isn''t in control of this Corruption. The Maw has been... infiltrated!


    The ship shuddered violently, waking Elias from his vision.


    "No. This can''t be! This is just a simulation created by the Maw!" Elias struggled to come to grips with the incredible revelation.


    "Elias, we''re out of time; we need to move!" Etta screamed, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet.


    As they made their way to the bridge, Elias glanced back at Tavin''s vanishing form. A brand new fear gripped his core.


    We are doomed.