POV: Chris – Blackwood 1
"Open the back door," I said calmly, leaning forward on my throne of glass and code. The generals beside me hesitated. I didn't repeat myself.
A narrow steel hatch creaked open at the far end of the Mirror Room—a shimmer of light breaking through the haze.
Gas still hissed, but now a different kind. Thicker. Heavier. Silent.
> "Release the death mist. If they survive… they earn their right to continue. If not, then they were never worthy to begin with."
I watched their faces through the surveillance. Terror. Desperation. And in a few... resolve.
They were coughing, clawing for air. Some stampeded toward the open door. Others dropped to their knees, their strength folding like paper.
The survivors who reached the hatch didn't find salvation.
They found water.
A deep, black tunnel… submerged.
> "Next trial," I whispered. "Swim in blind faith. Or drown in disbelief."
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POV: Mira (Rebel Leader)
I pulled two children forward and shoved them through the door first.
The gas burned my lungs, but I forced myself not to cry. Tears would blind me in this kind of death.
We dove.
The water bit into our skin. It wasn't water. It was cold oil—thick, dark, and suffocating.
> If this is salvation… then death would've been kindness.
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POV: Amara
I turned to Chris in disbelief.
"You're testing them like they're rats."
He smiled without warmth. "No, Amara. I'm testing them like they're people. Because rats don't rebel."