Three days after the siege, Eirwen stood in a chapel and counted the people surrounding him.
There were twenty-seven Sleepers in total, himself included, gathered across the broad circular floor in loose clusters that made the divisions between them painfully obvious.
The chapel stood well inside the fortress perimeter, wedged between two squat towers and protected by thick walls. Its ceiling rose into a shallow dome painted with figures whose faces had long ago been scraped away.
Pale bodies knelt along the curve of a strange black river, hands extended toward a distant doorway picked out in dull gold, while cracked silver tiles formed unfamiliar constellations above them.
There were no benches and no statue of whatever God the place had once belonged to. Only a low altar remained, fused to the wall opposite the entrance, and even that had been split down the middle by an old impact.
'For what God was this made?' Eirwen asked Leviathan, but no answer came. The ancient creature inside him had been silent for some reason.
'What's with you suddenly ghosting me every once in a while?!' the boy cursed inside his mind before returning his focus to the other Sleepers surrounding him.
No one had arrived in armour. Most wore spare clothes borrowed from the fortress stores or simple garments summoned from spare Memories: rough shirts, loose trousers, soft boots, and coats.
Eirwen had chosen a pale shirt with sleeves that stopped at his elbows and black trousers that didn't quite reach his ankles.
His cohort also looked more or less recovered, even if Raijin still had a bandage wrapped around his torso. Eliot stood beside him in a loose grey tunic, pale and hollow-eyed, while Seraphiel waited on Raijin's other side in spotless white attire. Andromeda remained close to Eirwen, careful not to let anyone brush against her as the crowd adjusted around them.
The other Sleepers watched one another with suspicion but also hope.
Some had arrived here alone. Others had been brought here by other Scout Division members.
Eirwen recognised a few faces from the battle, though there were gaps among them.
A broad-shouldered girl with cropped red hair had lost two companions during the breach.
A thin boy whose hands still bore fresh burns had the look of someone who had lost a dear friend.
No one spoke loudly, and the little conversations that did start died after a few words, swallowed by the dome and the soft scrape of boots over the circular floor.
Eirwen let his gaze move from group to group, measuring what he could.
Injuries, what weapons they favoured, who stood in front, and who hid behind someone stronger. It was a habit beaten into him by Gale, and a useful one.
If Miro had assembled every Sleeper who needed the Gateway, then these people would either become allies, obstacles, or corpses before long.
His eyes paused on a tall boy near the centre whose knuckles were covered in old scars, then shifted toward a small dark-haired girl standing alone beneath one of the ruined mosaics.
She was frightened enough to tremble, but every time someone came too close, the shadow beneath her feet moved before she did.
The chapel door finally opened with a heavy groan.
Miro entered alone, his sleeveless top leaving the tattoos across his arms and neck exposed.
The circular lines around his bald head seemed darker in the low light, and the tiny runes disappearing beneath his collar shifted strangely as he walked.
Miro closed the door behind him, crossed the narrow strip of floor between the wall and the gathered Sleepers, then stepped onto the low remains of the altar. From there, he could look over most of them without having to force his way into the centre.
His expression suggested that he had already been dealing with more important problems and hoped this one would end quickly.
"Welcome, everybody," Miro began, waiting just long enough for the last whispers to fade.
"Some of you know me. For those who don't, my name is Miro. I handle new arrivals, work assignments, and access to this particular fortress Gateway. Three days ago, the outer wall was breached in two places while most of you were still being processed or treated. Thirty-one Sleepers had reached the fortress by then. Four died before the attack ended. Two were killed near the western stairwell. One was crushed when the second watchtower came down, and the last died in the infirmary that night."
His voice remained even throughout the list. He did not soften the words or turn them into a speech about bravery. "Their bodies have been dealt with. If any of you hoped to retrieve the corpse of a dear friend, I will have to disappoint you kids. Get used to everyone around you dying."
That last sentence drew more anger than the announcement of their deaths. The red-haired girl near the centre stiffened, and someone behind her muttered a curse.
Miro allowed the reaction to spread for a moment without changing his expression.
Eirwen didn't care about his words. Instead, his attention drifted to the mosaic beneath their feet. Black and white stones formed a series of broken rings around a smooth disk at the centre of the chapel.
He had noticed the pattern when they entered but dismissed it as decoration. Looking at it now, he realised the rings were too exact. There was no dust inside the narrow seams between them.
Miro continued before anyone could interrupt. "The attack is over, and only small assaults remain. The wounded are stable, the walls are holding, and there is no reason to keep those of you who are fit enough to finish the Trial inside Cocytus longer than necessary. Unfortunately, reaching a fortress does not entitle you to use its Gateway. Before it will take you back to the waking world, you have to complete a trial. Every Sleeper who enters through this region faces the same condition. And no one can remove it. Those that pass will understand."
Questions broke across the chapel at once.
Some demanded to know what kind of trial he meant. A stocky boy near the back shouted that they had already survived enough, which earned a few bitter laughs and several nods.
Eirwen ignored them because he had noticed something.
The words had surprised nearly everyone in the room, but not Raijin or Seraphiel. Raijin's face had hardened when Miro mentioned the trial, and his hand curled against his side, yet there had been no confusion in his eyes. Seraphiel showed even less, which wasn't surprising. He merely looked toward Miro and then up at the ruined figures along the dome.
There it was again. The same irritating sense that the two brothers had been hiding something important, something that could help him and the whole team.
The two brothers' eyes met for less than a heartbeat. No nod passed between them, no words were exchanged, and no obvious signal appeared, but Raijin's shoulders settled afterward.
Seraphiel noticed Eirwen watching and turned his pale gaze toward him. His expression remained pleasant and empty.
Eirwen smiled back without warmth. 'Later,' he decided. 'Just wait until I get the chance, and I will beat the answers out of both of you.'
"Enough," Miro said, and the tattoos curling around his throat gave off a faint dark gleam. The noise collapsed so abruptly that several Sleepers looked around in confusion. "You can complain after you understand what you're complaining about. The trial has one objective. Reach the Gateway."
Silence held for a moment before the broad-shouldered red-haired girl frowned. "That's it?"
Miro told her that it was.
Her frown deepened. "Where is the Gateway?"
When he answered that it waited at the end, someone near the back laughed in disbelief and shouted, "The end of what?"
Miro's eyes moved across the gathered Sleepers, pausing briefly on Raijin and Seraphiel before returning to the centre. "Here is the first rule: there are no rules. Once the trial begins, you may go wherever you want and do whatever you want. Cooperate. Separate. Hide. Fight. Betray one another if you wish to do so. None of that matters to the trial, nor to me. Your only goal is to reach the Gateway."
Eirwen raised a brow, waiting for the rest. An explanation of where they were being sent would have been useful.
Miro offered no further answers. He stood on the broken altar with his hands behind his back, watching the crowd.
'What a helpful cunt,' Eirwen thought, shifting his weight and looking down once more at the rings beneath their feet.
The dark ridges seemed wider than they had been a moment ago. A soft vibration climbed through the soles of his boots, faint enough that the others continued shouting questions. Miro drew one hand from behind his back. Seraphiel's eyes dropped to the floor a moment too early.
Eirwen's head snapped toward Andromeda. "Move—" Miro flicked his wrist before she could react. The floor vanished.
Twenty-seven perfect circles opened at once, each one centred under a Sleeper and barely wider than a person's shoulders.
The stone beneath Eirwen dropped straight down, carrying him for half a heartbeat before sliding away from his boots.
Across the chapel, Andromeda fell through an identical opening with her arms drawn close to her chest. Eirwen tried to lunge toward her, but he was dragged down.
The last thing he saw was Raijin vanishing into a third circular mouth and Seraphiel already turning his body for the fall. Then the chapel became a shrinking disk overhead, and the tube sealed above him with a hard stone click.