Kael did not scream.
Not because he was brave.
Because the air was torn from his lungs before fear could find its voice.
He fell.
Not through darkness—but through depth. The shaft around him wasn't empty; it was layered, like the world had been stacked badly and he'd slipped between floors. Stone blurred past, then iron, then something darker that reflected no light at all.
Wind howled upward, shredding sound into meaningless fragments.
His ribs burned where the blade had kissed him. Warmth soaked through his tunic, spreading with every frantic breath he tried—and failed—to take.
So this is how it ends, his mind offered calmly.
The Crucible laughed.
Not out loud.
Through gravity.
The fall tilted.
Kael slammed sideways into a wall that hadn't been there a heartbeat ago. Bone cracked—shoulder or collar, he couldn't tell—and the impact spun him violently.
The world inverted.
Then—
Chains snapped around him midair.
They didn't catch him.
They judged him.
Metal wrapped his limbs, his torso, his throat—tight enough to hurt, loose enough to allow movement. The fall slowed, stretched into a controlled descent that was somehow worse than freefall.
Kael gasped as air finally tore back into his lungs.
Blood ran down his side in hot rivulets.
"Still alive," he choked. "You're really dragging this out."
The chains rattled, offended.
Below him, something waited.
Not a floor.
A platform—wide, circular, suspended over nothing. Symbols rotated along its edge, glowing a deep, pulsing crimson. They weren't carved.
They were counting.
The chains released.
Kael dropped the final few meters and hit the stone hard, rolling instinctively, pain detonating through his side. He skidded to a stop near the edge, boots scraping uselessly against slick rock.
He lay there, chest heaving, vision tunneling.
Then the platform shifted.
Slowly.
Tilting.
"Oh, come on," Kael rasped. "I just landed."
The symbols brightened.
TRIAL CONDITION: DESCENT.OBJECTIVE: SURVIVAL WITHOUT ANCHOR.
Kael pushed himself up to one knee, swaying. His wound screamed in protest, blood slicking his fingers when he pressed a hand to his side.
"Define anchor," he muttered.
The Crucible answered by removing gravity.
The platform lurched.
Kael slid—fast—toward the edge as the world suddenly forgot which way was down. He scrabbled for purchase, fingers scraping uselessly over smooth stone.
The edge rushed up to meet him.
He went over.
This time, there were no chains.
Just air.
Just falling.
The shaft was wider here, walls too far away to reach. Below him, faint lights drifted like stars drowning in a void.
Kael's mind raced.
No walls. No chains. No obvious escape.
No anchor.
Unless—
He twisted midair, pain flaring, and focused inward.
The tug behind his ribs burned.
Not pulling.
Resisting.
"Don't you dare," he growled under his breath. "You don't get to sit this one out."
The pressure responded—not with strength, but alignment. Something in him shifted, like a compass needle snapping into place.
The air thickened.
Just slightly.
Kael spread his arms instinctively.
The fall slowed.
Not stopped—but shaped.
He angled his body, using the resistance, controlling his descent in shallow arcs. Every movement hurt, but pain was information now, not panic.
Below him—
The void moved.
Figures emerged from the darkness, suspended like puppets on invisible strings.
People.
Dozens of them.
Falling too.
Their screams tore upward, colliding with Kael in a sickening chorus. Some flailed. Some went limp. Some reached for him as he passed, eyes wide and pleading.
A man shouted, "Help us!"
A woman sobbed.
A child—
Kael's breath stuttered.
The Crucible whispered.
ANCHOR DETECTED.VARIABLE INTRODUCED: COMPASSION.
The figures began to accelerate.
Not toward the bottom.
Toward Kael.
"No," he said sharply. "You don't get to use them."
They collided.
Hands grabbed at his arms, his legs, his clothes—weight dragging him down, bodies slamming into him in chaotic waves. He cried out as someone clutched his wounded side, fingers slipping in blood.
"I can't hold you!" he shouted, panic surging despite himself.
The prison listened.
Adjusted.
More figures appeared.
Kael's descent sped up.
His control faltered.
This was the choice.
Let go—or be dragged under.
The other Kael's voice echoed in his memory.
You'll try to save everyone.
Kael gritted his teeth.
"No," he whispered. "Not like this."
He made himself stop reaching.
One by one, he pried fingers loose.
A man screamed as he fell away.
A woman cursed him.
The child—
Kael closed his eyes and forced himself to turn.
The weight lessened.
The fall stabilized.
The figures vanished into the dark, their screams cut short as if muted by distance—or design.
Kael shook violently, breath ragged, heart hammering.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't know who he was apologizing to.
The void below brightened suddenly.
A structure emerged—massive, inverted, spiraling upward like the underside of a tower built by something that hated symmetry.
Platforms rotated at impossible angles.
Chains swung freely, some broken, some waiting.
This was the bottom.
Or close enough.
Kael angled himself toward the nearest platform, every muscle screaming as he fought the pull of open air. He hit hard, rolling, momentum carrying him dangerously close to the edge.
He dug his fingers into a crack in the stone and held on.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then the platform jerked.
It began to rotate.
Kael cursed and scrambled to his feet, barely keeping his balance as gravity shifted again. Above him, the shaft sealed shut, stone folding together with a final, deafening grind.
He was trapped.
Alone.
Bleeding.
The symbols on the platform flared bright red.
TRIAL RESULT: INCOMPLETE.ANCHOR ABANDONED.CONSEQUENCE PENDING.
Kael laughed weakly. "You really don't do 'pass,' do you?"
A shadow detached itself from the far side of the platform.
Not the other Kael.
Something else.
Taller.
Wrong.
It stepped into the light—an armored figure fused with chains, metal embedded into flesh like the two had grown together unwillingly. Its face was hidden behind a smooth iron mask etched with the same symbols that haunted the Crucible.
An executioner.
A warden.
A remainder.
The figure raised a massive blade, its edge humming softly with restrained force.
TRIAL CONTINUES, the prison intoned.
Kael straightened, pain roaring through him as he did. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and planted his feet.
"Alright," he said, voice steady despite everything. "You want to see what I do without an anchor?"
The executioner stepped forward.
The platform rotated faster.
And far above them, unseen—
The other Kael watched.
And smiled.