System initialization complete.

  Kael’s breath hitched.

  The words didn’t reach his ears; they filled and echoed inside his mind as if they were a part of him. The voice wasn’t just in his head; it felt as if it were coming from directly inside of him.

  Welcome, Seeker #85730122. The Pillar has granted you access to the Ascension Trials.

  Good luck.

  Kael’s eyes snapped open. Ascension Trials? The Pillar? He groaned, pressing a hand to his temple.

  He blinked, disoriented, as his gaze fixed on a wooden ceiling. It was low and swaying. He heard wood creaking and the muted sounds of waves crashing. The air smelled metallic, like blood or rust, and damp wood.

  The room felt cramped. Hammocks filled the space, each sagging with a person waking up.

  Some muttered softly in their sleep. Others blinked in confusion, waking up groggy and disoriented.

  Where am I?

  His last memory was the portal, the coldness, the endless fall. And now… this? A ship. A cabin full of strangers and a strange voice inside of him.

  Kael pushed himself up from the hammock, but his legs gave out. He gripped the edge of the hammock as he attempted to balance himself on the swaying ship.

  Where am I? And what the hell are the Ascension Trials? Kael thought as he steadied himself, his legs still trembling as he took a step forward.

  The wood creaked under his weight. Sleeping people nearby moved, muttering and groaning. Kael moved forward to the narrow staircase leading up to the main deck. His bare feet were wet, trailing against the damp wood. The metallic smell grew stronger with each step.

  He pushed open the hatch with force, and a heavy wind slapped his face. The sky above glowed like sparkling embers. Streaks of wine mixed with it, shaping the petals of a strange flower. The deck above was mostly empty, safe for a few figures huddled near a railing.

  And then he saw it.

  The ocean.

  It wasn’t water.

  It was an ocean of blood.

  The waves rose and fell in a steady rhythm. They were thick and sludgy, like molten rubies. They churned far away, pulsating like a grotesque living thing. The smell of iron was overwhelming, clinging to the back of Kael’s throat like a bad aftertaste.

  Kael staggered backward, nausea threatening to overtake him. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. “What in the world is… this?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Kael turned. A woman stood behind him. Her frame rose above his. Her chestnut hair glowed with a soft red hue as the cherry sun rose in the sky.

  “I’m Lira,” she said, looking at Kael with hazel eyes. Her expression was intense and fearful, but she appeared clear-minded.

  “Kael.”

  She offered a faint nod, eyes flicking back to the blood sea. “You came through the portal, didn’t you?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I don’t remember much after that.”

  “Same.”

  For a moment, neither spoke.

  “Do you know where we are? What… what is this place?” Kael finally said, interrupting the silence.

  Lira exhaled through her nose. “I’ve heard the stories like anyone else. The Spine, people say it’s cursed. It tests those who enter, but no one really knows what’s inside.”

  She hesitated before continuing. “My father… he went in. That was the last I saw of him.”

  Kael frowned. “My Nan always said it was cursed. Said no one ever comes back.”

  Lira glanced at him. “She wasn’t wrong.”

  The wind roared around them as Kael stood at the edge of the ship’s deck, unable to look away from the ocean of blood. It was downright terrifying yet oddly beautiful. It stretched endlessly in every direction, shimmering in the strange light of the sky.

  Kael glanced back at Lira. She didn’t react much to the ocean of blood and the current situation. She seemed fine. As if this was normal.

  “What happens now?” Kael asked, feeling small in the grand expanse of the ocean.

  Lira clenched her jaw, and for a moment, she didn’t answer. The wind blew her long hair and made her look statuesque.

  After a while, she finally spoke. “We survive. That’s all we can do. I don’t think the Spine brought us here just to show us a pretty view.”

  But before Kael could respond, a deep voice echoed across the ship.

  “Seekers,” the voice boomed. “Gather.”

  Heads turned toward the sound. Others had woken while they talked; dozens of them, maybe more, emerged from the ship’s cabins.

  A figure came out of the Captain’s cabin, but it wasn’t human, at least not anymore.

  The skeleton's eye sockets glowed like the ocean, a deep, vibrant red. The red color sparkled with mischief, making it seem alive. The Captain wore a heavy, long jacket. It might have been fancy once, but now it looked old and worn. Age stained the fabric. It had rusted gold and silver buttons, and a light, round, faded leather hat lay on top of its skull. Around his neck, a necklace held a giant sapphire eye.

  “Welcome, seekers. I hope your stay has been… welcoming so far.” The Captain said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  The Captain’s grin widened, exposing his set of pearly white rows of teeth even more. “Now, now, no need to be so gloomy! You have been chosen for a great opportunity! "The Ascension Trials are here, and I, your Captain, will lead you on this delightful... journey."

  Kael exchanged a glance with Lira, who seemed as uneasy as he felt.

  The Captain glanced over the crowd; he lingered on each face as if he were taking the time to memorize each one. “Ah, fresh faces," his tone was gleeful. “I do love a batch of new seekers. Always full of… potential? Or is it just desperation? It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

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

  The Captain paused, tilting his head as if trying to hear something. Then he chuckled, his laugh dry and rasping, like bones scraping across stone. “Enough chit-chat, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  The Captain stepped forward, boots clinking on the ground despite their age. “The trials have chosen you all. Whether you’re here by choice or… circumstance,” he said, his gaze toward Kael and the rest of the prisoners, “you now have the chance to prove yourselves. To climb, to struggle, to survive. Or not. That part is up to you.”

  He spread his arms, the bones crackling with the movement. “Pretty exciting, isn’t it? The Spine awaits you all! A tower of chaos, and uh, ah… well, you’ll see soon enough. Don’t want to spoil the surprise, do I? It’s not going to be easy, but where’s the fun in that?"

  The Captain’s grin grew wider. He leaned in and lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. “Oh, and one last thing before we start. If you die, and let’s all be honest here, some of you will. Please try not to make too much of a mess. Bloodstains can be such a pain to clean.”

  The prisoners stared at him, their faces a mix of fear, confusion, and disbelief. Mostly disbelief.

  The Captain straightened his jacket, plucking filth and debris from it. “Now that that’s taken care of, let’s start, shall we?” he said with mock cheer.

  He clapped once.

  The deck groaned below them, and then it split open.

  The ship’s planks cracked and curled back as if they were being peeled like an orange. In the center, something rose.

  An ancient, colossal scale. Rusted and made from bone and wood that looked brittle enough to crumble at just the faintest touch. Ribs curved upward like arches, entwined with chains that clinked in the wind. Two massive trays hung on either side of the ship, suspended by twisted spines.

  Each side held a series of hollowed depressions—exactly enough for half the seekers. Just deep enough to hold a body still.

  The Captain stepped forward; his red eyes seemed to flicker as he spoke.

  “The rules are simple,” he says, arms wide. “Half of you must die. You may choose who, or I shall.

  He paused, letting the words sink in, then continued. “You have ten minutes.”

  Oh, and a word of advice,” he added, tilting his head. “The scale doesn’t measure weight. It measures truth.”

  He stepped back and leaned against the mast with a relaxed posture. Hands folded and beaming as if he was watching a play.

  There was no reaction at first. Just the endless churn of the blood ocean below.

  Then came the panic.

  “Oh, don’t look so glum. This is your chance to show some initiative! Teamwork! Creativity! Or, you know, just throw someone on the scale and hope for the best. Your call.” The Captain mocked.

  A man shouted, “This is a trick! This has to be a trick, right?”

  Another leaped forward, hovering his foot over the scale. The moment his foot touched one of the human-shaped hollows, the scale jolted. It twitched, tilted slightly, then snapped back.

  Lira didn’t step back from the chaos. Instead, her feet shifted into a fighter’s stance. Knees bent, weight forward, a reflex so ingrained into her it looked like breathing.

  “Don’t test it,” Lira barked, stepping forward. “Nobody moves until we understand what’s happening.” Her voice was sharp and commanding.

  “What’s happening,” a tall woman with a scar on her chin growled, “is that we need to start choosing.”

  “We pick the old. The weak. The useless. It’s not hard. They won’t even last long in the Spine anyways.”

  She addressed the crowd of seekers, her eyes cold.

  A young man with striking features, blue eyes, and blonde hair stepped forward.

  “Don’t do anything rash, Mara. If we have to do this, we do it with dignity—not like some animals.”

  “Then what do you suggest, Eyrk? We don’t really have much of a choice, do we?” Mara said, her voice dripping with venom.

  “We should draw lots. It’s the fairest way," Eyrk replied, staring directly into Mara’s eyes.

  Mara scoffed. “Fair? You think fairness matters here at all? Look at that thing.” She pointed at the scale. “Do you really think fair is going to save us from that?”

  “And what? Do you think chaos will save us? It’s the fairest way to give everyone an equal chance," Eyrk said firmly.

  Mara stepped forward, crossing her arms. “Easy for you to say when you’re young, pretty, and playing hero. And let me guess, in exchange for this miraculous idea, you will be exempt from the draw?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Eyrk replied, jaw tightening. “I’d draw just like anyone else.”

  Mara rolled her eyes. “You’d rig it. Or convince everyone you’re too valuable. Spare me the noble act, Eyrk. I’ve seen your type before.”

  The crowd pressed in, arguments and voices rising. Everyone was talking, and no one was listening.

  “That’s enough,” Lira said, cutting through the noise.. “We don’t know what it wants. Drawing lots, picking names, pushing people in. None of it means anything if it doesn’t meet whatever twisted rule this thing runs on.”

  “So you just want us to stand around and wait to die?!” someone shouted from the back.

  Kael stood near the edge of the group. He hadn’t spoken. He didn’t trust himself enough to do so. He couldn’t choose people to die. He couldn’t possibly decide that. And what had the Captain meant by truth? What does it mean for a death to be true?

  Mara stepped forward again.

  “I’m not dying here for some bunch of strangers.” She said, her voice steady. “We need to act. If none of you have the spine for it, I’ll do what has to be done.”

  Eyrk stepped into her path. “You do that, and you’ll be a murderer.”

  “No,” Mara said. “I’ll be alive.”

  Another voice cut through their noise, rough and unimpressed.

  “Both of you shut your goddamn mouths.”

  A figure emerged from the crowd of seekers. Old, gray hair, broad-shouldered, and tall. Very tall. His clothes looked torn, just like the others’—prisoner’s attire. Yet, he walked with the confidence of a leader who hadn’t forgotten his way.

  Yoan.

  He walked slowly with a slight limp on his left leg. His hands were rough like sandpaper and calloused from decades of holding a blade.

  “You’re both talking like you have answers. But really, you’re just guessing aloud. And the longer you guess, the closer we all get to dying.”

  Mara narrowed her eyes at him. “And what would you have us do? Hug it out?”

  Yoan stopped in front of her. Not threatening. Just standing there. Solid as a rock.

  “No. I’d have you shut up long enough to think.”

  Lira stepped beside him, arms crossed tight. “He’s right. Nobody here knows how this works. But the skeleton said it measures truth. If we force someone onto that tray, who knows what will happen.”

  “That’s assuming the old corpse wasn’t just playing games,” Mara muttered.

  Yoan ignored her. “We’ve got five minutes left. We want to live; we need to think.”

  But no one moved. No one volunteered. Not even the ones who claimed they would. No one was that selfless.

  Kael looked around. Some people had backed away, clutching the railing of the ship. Others were holding their loved ones or had their heads down praying. Waiting for something, an answer, a miracle, or perhaps—a monster?

  Kael looked back at the scale. It loomed above them, silent and waiting.

  Then Mara moved.

  Fast.

  She grabbed an old man in his seventies, huddled on the ground. The woman grabbed him by the waist with surprising strength.

  The old man struggled, yelling in desperation, “Please! Stop! Stop!" The old man tried to wiggle free, even going so far as to sink his teeth into her arm. The woman let out a sharp scream, causing her to lose her grip on the man for a brief moment.

  With a furious snarl, she hit the old man hard in the jaw as she began to drag him by his legs toward the tray.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lira shouted.

  Mara ignored her as the man screamed and thrashed. Mara slammed him into one of the hollows and forced him down.

  Mara stepped back as the man lay in the tray, trembling. He tried to sit up.

  Then the scale groaned. A sound like a sinew pulling tight and twisting.

  Kael barely had time to blink.

  Then the tray snapped shut.

  It sounded like a jaw slamming shut. A sickening crunch followed, like bone and flesh tearing apart.

  Then silence.

  The tray creaks open. And the man—or at least what was left of him—came pouring out. Torn clothes and shredded limbs.

  Kael stood frozen. He couldn’t move. He couldn't look away.

  Mara stared, her mouth open in surprise and disgust. The man’s blood stained her hands.

  “Wasteful. Just like the last batch,” the Captain muttered. The glow in his eye sockets dimmed briefly as if a memory had snuffed it out. When the light returned, his grin sharpened. “And here I was hoping for something more poetic.”

  At that moment, the ocean shook, and what came out of it was a horrendous monstrosity.