The Lie
The beacon was beautiful.
That was the worst part.
It rose from the center of a massive clearing, a column of pure blue light stretching up into the gray sky, so bright it hurt to look at directly. The light pulsed slowly, rhythmically, like a heartbeat.
Like a promise.
Around the base of the beam stood a circular platform, smooth white stone that looked too clean, too perfect for this nightmare forest. A transparent barrier encircled the platform, glass or something like it, forming walls that caught and refracted the blue light into a thousand shifting patterns.
Inside the barrier, at the center of the platform, the beam of light waited.
Empty.
Inviting.
I stood at the edge of the clearing with Hoshino, staring at it.
We'd been walking for an hour since Elliot left. Neither of us had spoken much. What was there to say?
We'd survived three days.
We'd lost our core.
We'd lost our team.
And now we were here.
At the extraction point.
The way out.
Except I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
The clearing was chaos.
Hundreds of contestants filled the space, maybe two hundred, maybe more. Some clustered in small groups, whispering frantically. Others stood alone, weapons still drawn, eyes scanning for threats that weren't there anymore.
Everyone looked exhausted. Injured. Desperate.
Most didn't have cores.
I could tell by the way they moved, uncertain, afraid, glancing at the beacon like it might disappear if they looked away too long.
But some were different.
Some stood straighter. Calmer.
Their eyes weren't afraid.
They had cores.
And they knew they were getting out.
"Lane," Hoshino said quietly beside me. Her voice was rough, strained. She'd been crying on and off during the walk here, silent tears she kept wiping away like she was ashamed of them.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think..." She trailed off. Started again. "Do you think they'll let us through? Even without a core?"
I didn't answer right away.
The briefing had said we could enter the beacon if we survived. That survival was the goal, not victory.
But something about the way the beacon stood there, perfect, untouchable, surrounded by glass, made my stomach twist.
"I don't know," I said finally.
She nodded slowly. Like she'd expected that answer.
We started moving toward the platform.
The crowd thickened as we got closer.
People pressed together, jostling for position, everyone trying to get nearer to the barrier. Voices overlapped, questions, arguments, desperate pleas.
"How do we get in?"
"Is there a door?"
"When does it open?"
"I survived, that's what they said, right? We just have to survive?"
No one had answers.
I pushed through the crowd with Hoshino close behind me, trying to get a better view of the platform.
That's when I saw the entrance.
A section of the glass barrier stood open, a doorway leading onto the platform. Beyond it, I could see the beam of light up close, brilliant and blinding.
And beside the entrance stood a screen.
Large. Black. Waiting.
A boy near the front of the crowd moved toward the entrance.
He was young, maybe sixteen, with blood dried on his shirt and a desperate hope in his eyes.
No core in his hands.
No visible power.
He stepped through the opening.
The screen beside the entrance flickered to life.
\[SCANNING CONTESTANT\]
White text on black background.
Clinical.
Cold.
The boy stood there, waiting, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
The screen changed.
\[NO CORE DETECTED\]
\[NO POWER SIGNATURE DETECTED\]
\[ACCESS DENIED\]
The words hung there for three seconds.
Then a barrier materialized across the entrance, solid, shimmering, impenetrable.
The boy reached out and touched it.
His hand stopped cold against the surface.
"What?" he whispered. "No. No, I survived. I'm supposed to—"
\[ENTRY REQUIRES: CORE POSSESSION OR DEMONSTRATED POWER\]
The screen updated.
New text.
New rules.
The boy stared at it.
Then he started pounding on the barrier.
"LET ME IN!" he screamed. "I SURVIVED! THAT'S WHAT YOU SAID! JUST SURVIVE!"
The barrier didn't move.
The screen didn't change.
Around me, the crowd went silent.
Then someone else pushed forward.
A girl. Older, maybe eighteen. She had a gash across her arm and dirt smeared on her face.
No core.
She stepped up to the entrance.
\[SCANNING CONTESTANT\]
\[NO CORE DETECTED\]
\[NO POWER SIGNATURE DETECTED\]
\[ACCESS DENIED\]
The barrier appeared again.
She didn't scream.
She just stood there, staring at the screen, her hands shaking.
"They lied," she said quietly. "They lied to us."
The words spread through the crowd like fire.
I stood very still while everyone around me started to unravel.
Because the anger was there — hot and immediate and completely justified. They had lied. They had stood at a podium and told hundreds of desperate teenagers that survival was enough, that reaching the beacon was the goal, that all we had to do was make it three days and our families would be safe.
They had lied.
But underneath the anger was something worse.
Proven their survival.
That's what the briefing had said. Not survived. Not reached the beacon. Proven their survival. I'd noticed it. Standing in that auditorium a week ago with Hoshino beside me, something about the phrasing had snagged at the back of my mind like a loose thread.
And I had let it go.
I had let it go because I wanted to believe the easy version. Because the alternative — that the Trials required power, required killing, required becoming exactly what they wanted us to become — was too heavy to carry into the forest alongside everything else.
So I'd chosen not to carry it.
The anger I felt at the government, at the Custodians, at the smooth-voiced official who'd stood at his podium and carefully not lied while saying nothing true — all of it was real.
But some of it belonged to me.
I'd had the thread in my hands and I'd let it go because it was easier.
"What?"
"They said we just had to survive—"
"We need cores?"
"We need POWERS?"
Confusion rippled outward. Then anger.
Someone shoved past me, running toward the entrance.
"I SURVIVED!" they shouted. "THREE DAYS! I SURVIVED!"
The screen repeated the same message.
\[ACCESS DENIED\]
More people surged forward.
The panic built.
Voices rose, desperate, furious, terrified.
"This wasn't the deal!"
"They said we'd get out!"
"My family, they need me to—"
Someone tried to climb over the barrier.
The glass pulsed once, sharply, and they were thrown backward.
They hit the ground hard and didn't get up.
That's when the Custodians arrived.
They came from the forest edge, six of them, moving in formation, fully armored, weapons drawn.
Not the wounded, desperate Custodians from the earlier fight.
These were professionals.
Stage 2, maybe Stage 3\.
Their veins were dark beneath their skin. Their movements were too fast, too sharp. Their eyes scanned the crowd with cold efficiency.
One of them, a woman with short black hair and a sword that looked like it had been forged from Morph bone, stepped forward.
"BACK AWAY FROM THE PLATFORM," she said.
Her voice cut through the noise like a blade.
The crowd hesitated.
"This is your only warning," she continued. "Entry to the Extraction Beacon requires proof of core possession or demonstrated power capability. Those requirements were outlined in your briefing materials."
"THAT'S A LIE!" someone shouted from the crowd.
The Custodian's expression didn't change.
"If you do not possess a core or power, you are to return to the trial zone and continue hunting. The beacon will remain active for four more days. After that, it closes permanently."
Four days.
Not hours.
Days.
We had four more days to kill. To hunt. To become what they wanted us to be.
Or die trying.
People screamed.
Some rushed the Custodians.
One boy, tall, muscular, desperate, charged forward with a makeshift spear.
The lead Custodian moved faster than my eyes could follow.
She disarmed him in two movements and drove her fist into his stomach.
He collapsed, gasping.
"Anyone else?" she asked calmly.
No one moved.
The crowd pulled back, leaving space between themselves and the Custodians.
I stood frozen, my hand white-knuckled around my dagger.
They'd lied.
The entire time.
Survive and you're safe. Survive and your family gets protection. Survive and you go home.
All lies.
You had to kill.
You had to take power.
You had to risk mutation.
Or you died here.
Beside me, Hoshino was crying again.
Silent tears streaming down her face.
"It's my fault," she whispered. "If I'd kept the core safe—"
"It's not your fault," I said.
But my voice sounded hollow.
Because part of me wondered if it was.
If I'd been smarter. Faster. Stronger.
If I'd trusted my instincts about Tomas.
If I'd—
The screen changed again.
\[CORE VERIFICATION IN PROGRESS\]
\[CONTESTANT MAY PROCEED TO DEMONSTRATION CHAMBER\]
I looked up.
Someone had approached the entrance.
Someone with a core.
The contestant was a girl, maybe seventeen, with brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She held a glowing blue core in her hands, her expression somewhere between relieved and terrified.
The barrier opened.
She stepped through.
Inside the platform, a smaller glass chamber materialized, a booth, maybe ten feet across, transparent on all sides so the crowd could see.
The girl stepped inside.
The screen updated.
\[PLACE CORE IN RECEPTACLE OR DEMONSTRATE POWER\]
A small pedestal rose from the floor of the chamber.
The girl hesitated.
Then she placed the core on the pedestal.
It pulsed once.
The screen changed.
\[CORE VERIFIED\]
\[EXTRACTION APPROVED\]
A voice, automated, emotionless, echoed from speakers I couldn't see.
"Approved. Proceed to extraction point."
The girl walked to the center of the chamber, to the beam of light.
She stepped into it.
The light flared.
And she vanished.
Gone.
Safe.
Out.
The crowd erupted.
Half in despair.
Half surging forward, desperate to get to the entrance.
"ORDER!" the lead Custodian shouted.
Her voice cracked like a whip.
"Form a line. Contestants with cores or demonstrable powers proceed to verification. All others clear the area."
Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd began to organize.
Those with cores moved toward the platform.
Those without pulled back.
I stayed where I was, watching.
Hoshino gripped my arm. "Lane, we don't have—"
"I know."
"What do we do?"
I didn't have an answer.
So I just watched as contestant after contestant approached the platform.
Some had cores.
Some demonstrated powers.
And some...
Some showed what the cores had done to them.
A boy stepped into the demonstration chamber.
No core in his hands.
The screen prompted him.
\[DEMONSTRATE POWER\]
He nodded.
Took a breath.
Then he raised his hands.
Flames erupted from his palms, bright, hot, controlled.
He held them for five seconds.
Then extinguished them.
The crowd murmured.
But I wasn't looking at the flames.
I was looking at his hands.
The skin was blackened. Cracked. Like it had been burned from the inside.
His veins were dark, not just on his hands, but crawling up his arms, visible through his shirt.
Stage 1\.
\[POWER VERIFIED\]
\[EXTRACTION APPROVED\]
He stepped into the light.
Vanished.
Another contestant.
This one demonstrated enhanced strength, lifted a boulder the Custodians provided, crushed it between his hands.
His muscles bulged unnaturally. His eyes were bloodshot. His breathing was ragged.
\[EXTRACTION APPROVED\]
Gone.
Another.
Super speed, blurred across the chamber so fast I almost didn't see them move.
But their pupils were dilated. Their movements twitchy. They couldn't stand still even after the demonstration.
\[EXTRACTION APPROVED\]
Gone.
One by one, they demonstrated.
One by one, they left.
And one by one, I saw what the power cost them.
Then I saw Tomas.
He emerged from the crowd on the other side of the platform, moving slowly, his head down.
My blood went cold.
"Lane," Hoshino whispered. She'd seen him too.
Tomas approached the entrance.
The screen scanned him.
\[NO CORE DETECTED\]
\[DEMONSTRATE POWER\]
He stepped into the chamber.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Then he raised his hand.
And he split.
Three copies of himself appeared beside him, flickering, translucent, like afterimages that couldn't quite solidify.
Illusions.
They moved when he moved. Mimicked his gestures. But they were unstable, fading in and out.
Basic.
Weak.
But power.
The crowd watched in silence.
I stared at him.
At the stolen core's gift.
And at what it had done to him.
His skin was gray. Pale like something drained of life. The veins on his neck and hands were dark, prominent, pulsing visibly beneath the surface.
His movements were jerky. Unnatural.
He looked wrong.
The illusions flickered out.
\[POWER VERIFIED\]
\[EXTRACTION APPROVED\]
Tomas turned toward the beam of light.
And for just a second, his eyes swept the crowd.
They landed on me.
On Hoshino.
I saw guilt flicker across his face.
Then he looked away.
Stepped into the light.
And vanished.
Rage surged through me, hot and sudden and overwhelming.
"That should have been ours," Hoshino whispered beside me. Her voice was shaking. "That core. That power. That should have been—"
She stopped.
Pressed her hand over her mouth.
I couldn't speak.
I just stood there, fists clenched, staring at the empty chamber where Tomas had been standing thirty seconds ago.
The rage was real. I wasn't going to talk myself out of it or dress it up as something more complicated than it was. He had waited until we were vulnerable, taken what we needed to survive, and left us to die. That was the truth of it.
But.
His sister.
The way he'd said it in the dark that last night, fingers moving over his bowstring like he was counting something. My sister used to say that. Dying alone was the worst way to go.
Used to.
Past tense.
I hadn't asked. I'd told him to get some sleep and moved to the entrance and let it go because I was tired and it wasn't my problem and I had my own things to carry.
And now I was standing here without a core, and Tomas was gone, and I was furious at him for doing exactly what I might have done if our positions were reversed — if I had a dead sister and a stolen chance and a beam of light waiting.
I didn't know what he'd lost. I didn't know what had driven him into this forest or what he'd promised himself he'd do to get out.
I just knew that I recognized the shape of it.
Survival at any cost.
I'd been telling myself I was above that.
Standing here, I wasn't so sure anymore.
I just stood there, staring at nothing.
I couldn't speak.
I just stood there, fists clenched, staring at the empty chamber.
More contestants demonstrated.
A girl who could manipulate temperature, froze water, boiled it, her fingertips blue and discolored.
A boy with enhanced senses, identified objects in sealed containers, but flinched at every sound, his eyes bloodshot and dilated.
Another with strength amplification, lifted massive weights, but his veins bulged black, his hands trembling, barely able to stop.
Every power came with a cost.
Every demonstration showed the price.
And then I saw Rune.
He walked to the platform like he owned it.
Confident. Arrogant. Smirking.
No core in his hands.
The screen prompted him.
\[DEMONSTRATE POWER\]
Rune stepped into the chamber.
And he changed.
His fingers extended into claws, sharp, black, lethal. His muscles expanded, straining against his shirt. His jaw widened, teeth visible and too sharp.
His eyes reflected the light like an animal's.
He looked at the crowd.
Found me.
And grinned.
Then he struck.
His claws tore through a training dummy the Custodians had provided, shredding it in seconds.
Raw. Brutal. Devastating.
When he stopped, he was breathing hard, his chest heaving.
The transformation reversed slowly.
Claws retracted. Muscles contracted.
But traces remained.
His veins stayed dark. His teeth stayed sharp. His posture stayed predatory.
\[POWER VERIFIED\]
\[EXTRACTION APPROVED\]
He walked to the beam of light.
Paused.
Looked back at me one more time.
That smirk still on his face.
Then he was gone.
I wanted to scream.
The demonstrations continued.
More powers.
More mutations.
More people leaving.
And then I noticed him.
Kael.
He stood near the far edge of the crowd, watching quietly.
Tall. Calm. His expression unreadable.
I hadn't seen him approach the platform yet.
But now he moved forward.
The crowd parted slightly as he walked, not out of fear, but something else.
Respect, maybe.
Recognition.
He stepped up to the entrance.
\[DEMONSTRATE POWER\]
He nodded once.
Entered the chamber.
For a moment, he just stood there, hands at his sides.
Then he raised one hand.
A barrier materialized in front of him, shimmering, translucent, like glass made of light.
One of the Custodians struck it with a weapon.
The barrier held.
Pulsed.
Deflected the force outward.
Then Kael moved.
He stepped sideways—
—and vanished.
Shadow.
He reappeared on the other side of the chamber, stepping out of darkness like it was a doorway.
Another barrier formed instantly, this time behind him.
Protecting.
Repositioning.
Controlling the space.
It was beautiful.
Tactical. Precise. Devastating.
He let the barriers fade.
Stepped out of the shadows.
His eyes were completely black.
No whites. No iris.
Just black.
But his expression was calm. Controlled.
\[POWER VERIFIED\]
\[EXTRACTION APPROVED\]
He walked into the light.
Gone.
I stood there, staring at the empty chamber.
My chest felt tight.
I didn't know why.
The demonstrations slowed.
Fewer and fewer contestants had cores or powers.
Most of the crowd had pulled back, watching in silence as the lucky ones escaped.
Out of maybe two hundred contestants in the clearing, only about fifty had entered.
Thirteen percent.
The rest of us stood there.
Powerless.
Trapped.
I scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces.
And then I saw him.
Elliot.
He stood near the back of the crowd, arms crossed, watching the platform with that same cold, analytical expression.
No core in his hands.
No movement toward the entrance.
Just... standing there.
My breath caught.
"Lane," Hoshino whispered. She'd seen him too.
Elliot's eyes swept the crowd.
Found us.
For a moment, we just looked at each other.
He didn't smile. Didn't nod.
Just held my gaze.
Then looked away.
Back to the platform.
"Why isn't he going in?" Hoshino asked quietly.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
Did he not have a core?
Or did he choose not to use it?
Either way, he was still here.
Still in the forest.
Still fighting.
The last few powered contestants entered.
Then the screen changed.
\[EXTRACTION WINDOW: 4 DAYS REMAINING\]
A countdown appeared.
Ticking down.
The lead Custodian addressed the remaining crowd.
"Those without cores or powers have four days to acquire them. Hunt. Kill. Survive. Or die here."
Her voice was flat.
Emotionless.
She didn't care which option we chose.
The Custodians turned and walked back into the forest.
Gone.
Leaving us.
The powerless.
The failures.
The ones who weren't strong enough.
The clearing fell silent.
People started breaking down.
Some collapsed where they stood, crying.
Others just sat down, staring at nothing.
A few walked into the forest alone, accepting their fate.
I stood there, numb.
We'd been lied to.
Manipulated.
Used.
And now we had Four days to become killers.
Or become corpses.
Beside me, Hoshino was shaking.
"What do we do?" she whispered.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
I didn't have an answer.
Then someone stood.
A girl, older, maybe nineteen, with a scar across her cheek and blood on her hands.
Cara.
From the first Morph fight.
She looked at the crowd.
At all of us.
Broken. Defeated. Ready to give up.
"Get up," she said.
Her voice wasn't loud.
But everyone heard it.
"I said get up."
A few people looked at her.
Most didn't move.
"They lied to us," Cara continued. Her voice was hard. Angry. "They sent us into this forest to die. They told us survival was enough. They lied."
She stepped forward.
"But we're not dead yet."
Someone laughed bitterly. "We don't have cores."
"Then we get cores," Cara shot back.
"How? The Morphs—"
"Are wounded. Tired. Scared." Cara's eyes swept the crowd. "Just like us. We've been fighting for three days. So have they. Some of them are half-dead already. We find the weak ones. The injured ones. We hunt them. And we take what we need."
"We'll die—"
"WE'LL DIE IF WE SIT HERE!" Cara shouted.
Silence.
"We have four days," she said, quieter now. "Four days to decide if we're fighters or corpses. I'm choosing fighter."
She turned toward the forest.
"Anyone coming with me?"
For a moment, no one moved.
Then someone stood.
Then another.
Then ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
People pulling themselves to their feet, picking up weapons, wiping tears from their faces.
Choosing to fight.
Hoshino looked at me. "Lane?"
I stared at the forest.
At the darkness waiting.
At the choice ahead.
I thought of Uncle Marcus.
Of the promise I'd made.
I'll survive.
I stood.
"Yeah," I said. "We're going."
Hoshino stood beside me.
We turned toward the forest.
Together.
We walked in silence.
The crowd dispersed, some in groups, some alone, everyone heading back into the nightmare we'd barely escaped.
Desperate.
Angry.
Betrayed.
But still moving.
I gripped my dagger and kept walking.
Hoshino stayed close, her hand pressed against her still-healing ribs.
We didn't have a plan.
We didn't have power.
We didn't have hope.
But we had Four days.
And we had each other.
The forest swallowed us.
The beacon's light faded behind us.
And ahead, somewhere in the fog, Morphs waited.
Wounded.
Dying.
Ours.