The plants had grown to about knee height, each one pulsing with a soft inner light that seemed to reflect their planter's emotional state. Victoria gestured toward the circle with her vine-threaded fingers.
"You will now engage in a game of sequential inquiry. Each of you, in turn, will pose a question to someone of your choosing. If the respondent answers with complete honesty, their plant flourishes while the questioner's dims slightly. If they lie or refuse to answer..." She smiled with cruel pleasure. "Well, the opposite occurs."
Dr. West adjusted his glasses nervously. "So the strategy is to ask questions others won't want to answer truthfully."
"Exactly, Doctor. The art lies in finding the perfect balance—questions difficult enough to tempt dishonesty, but not so harsh that you yourself would refuse to answer when your turn comes." Victoria's rose-petal eyes gleamed. "Miss Blackwood, you may begin."
So the humans will probably focus on asking questions to test emotional responses, but the constructs will follow the same pattern. Interesting.
Miss Blackwood looked around the circle hesitantly, still shaking from her earlier confession. "I... Captain Stone, when you spoke about your men dying because of your orders, do you truly believe it was your fault, or do you tell yourself that to avoid confronting something worse?"
Captain Stone's jaw tightened. The question clearly hit deep, but after a long moment he answered steadily. "I tell myself it was my fault because the alternative—that good men died for absolutely nothing, that their sacrifice was meaningless—would break something in me that I can't afford to lose."
His plant immediately brightened while Miss Blackwood's dimmed.
"Smart question," Miss Grey said. "Either answer would have been painful."
Captain Stone looked around the circle and settled on Dr. West. "Doctor, you mentioned your patients suffering because of your mistakes. What's the worst thing you've done to someone under your care that you've never admitted to anyone?"
Dr. West went very still. The silence stretched before he spoke. "I once falsified test results to get a patient into an experimental trial I knew would likely kill them. They were terminally ill anyway, and I... I needed the research data for my own work. They died in agony thinking they were helping to cure others."
His plant blazed brighter as Captain Stone's dimmed.
"My turn," Dr. West said. He looked directly at Adren. "You mentioned leaving your sister behind when you escaped. Have you ever tried to go back for her, or have you convinced yourself she's better off without you?"
Adren's face went cold. "I told myself for years I'd go back once I got established, once I could take care of both of us. But the truth is, after the first year of freedom, I stopped trying. I got comfortable with my new life and convinced myself she was probably fine, that maybe our father had changed." His voice became hollow. "I could have gone back. I chose not to. Every day I choose not to."
His plant strengthened as Dr. West's weakened.
Adren turned to Miss Grey. "Detective, you defended Miss Blackwood pretty strongly earlier. Is that because you recognize genuine trauma, or because you see something of yourself in her?"
Miss Grey's professional composure cracked slightly. "Both. I... I lost my own sister to a case I couldn't solve. A serial killer who was always one step ahead. When I see Miss Blackwood's grief, I remember what it feels like to fail someone you love."
Her plant brightened while Adren's dimmed.
Miss Grey looked around thoughtfully before focusing on Erel. "Mr. Erel, since you survived a plane crash when everyone else died, are you an anomalite? And if yes, what are your abilities?"
Damn it, I spoke too much earlier.
Erel tilted his head slightly. "Were we not limited to one question per turn?"
Victoria clapped delightedly. "Oh yes, quite right! One question only, my dear detective."
Close one, but now they know I have abilities.
Erel smiled faintly. "Then I'll answer the first part. Yes, I am an anomalite."
His plant glowed brighter as Miss Grey's dimmed, but she looked frustrated at not getting the full answer about his abilities.
Now time to get the cat out of the bag.
Erel looked around the circle before settling on Professor Thorne. "Professor, can you describe a specific childhood memory that shaped who you became—something that taught you an important lesson?"
Thorne brightened immediately. "Oh yes, absolutely! I remember when my mother taught me the value of academic excellence. We were in our study—lovely mahogany furniture, very scholarly atmosphere—and she explained how knowledge was the key to success. She was wonderfully encouraging and always emphasized the importance of education."
The answer was perfectly reasonable but something felt off about the delivery.
Miss Blackwood frowned. "That sounds more like a lesson than a memory. What was the specific moment?"
Victoria stood still, her cracked green lips curving into a smile, but she refrained from saying anything.
"Well, it was during my formative years," Thorne replied confidently. "Mother was always very supportive of my intellectual development. She had this wonderful way of nurturing academic curiosity."
Captain Stone leaned forward. "But what actually happened? What did she say exactly?"
Thorne hesitated for just a moment. "She said... the usual things mothers say about education. You know, how important it is to study hard and achieve good grades."
"That's incredibly generic," Dr. West observed. "Real memories have specific details—what room were you in, what time of day, what were you both wearing and most importantly how did you feel?"
"It was... a typical family setting," Thorne said, beginning to sweat. "Very wholesome and educational."
Adren stared at him. "You're describing a concept, not remembering an experience."
Thorne's plant was visibly dimming now, while Erel's blazed brighter. The other plants continued to glow with healthy light, but Thorne's was flickering like a failing light bulb.
"I... the memory is very clear," Thorne insisted desperately. "Mother was loving and supportive and emphasized academic achievement and..."
"And you sound like you're reading from a manual," Miss Grey finished grimly. "You're not human, are you?"
Victoria clapped delightedly. "Oh, how marvelous! The soil itself rejects false consciousness. Professor Thorne's plant cannot sustain itself on manufactured memories."
As they watched in horror, Thorne's plant began to wither rapidly, its light fading to nothing. And as it died, Thorne himself began to change.
His skin started cracking like dried clay, revealing crystalline structures beneath. Blood—or what looked like blood—began seeping from the cracks as his body began to collapse in on itself.
"Please," Thorne gasped, his voice still perfectly human even as his flesh peeled away in strips. "I don't want to die. I thought I was real. I believed I was real."
His fingers were dissolving now, the crystalline pieces scattered across the soil mixing with what remained of his plant. His face was melting, features sliding off like wet paint, but his eyes remained aware until the very end.
"I just wanted to be human, just wanted to live... to exist..." were his final words before his body completely broke apart into academic papers, wire-rimmed glasses, and glittering crystal dust.
Victoria gathered the remains with obvious satisfaction. "One guest composted. How delightfully natural."
The six survivors stared at the empty, bloodstained plot where Professor Thorne had stood, realizing that Erel had just admitted to being an anomalite while exposing a construct. The implications hung heavy in the air—who else among them might not be entirely human?
The silence stretched on as they stared at the bloodstained earth. The metallic scent of whatever had passed for his blood hung in the air, mixing with the garden's floral perfume.
Miss Blackwood was the first to speak, her voice barely a whisper. "He really thought he was human. Right until the end."
"The way he begged," Dr. West said, though his hands were trembling. "That didn't seem any different from actual human behavior. He was genuinely terrified."
Captain Stone's military bearing had returned, but his eyes kept moving between the remaining survivors. "If one of us was a construct, there could be others."
"Could be," Adren agreed, stepping slightly away from the group. "Or could be that admitting you're an anomalite makes you just as suspicious." His gaze fixed on Erel.
Erel remained perfectly calm under the scrutiny. "An understandable concern. Though I'd point out that I was the one who exposed the construct."
"Maybe that was the plan," Miss Grey said. "Gain our trust by sacrificing an expendable asset."
"Or maybe," Miss Blackwood said quietly, "we're all so terrified that we're turning on each other exactly like she wants us to."
The distrust was thick now. Where before they had begun to form bonds through shared trauma, Thorne's gruesome death had shattered any sense of unity. Each survivor stood slightly apart from the others, eyes constantly moving, checking for threats.
The sound of approaching footsteps made them all tense—but these footsteps squelched wetly against the garden path, accompanied by the steady drip of water.
The figure that emerged from the shadows made them all step back in horror. Lady Eleanor moved like she was still underwater, her movements slow and unnatural. Her wedding dress, once white, now hung in soaked tatters around her swollen form. Black water streamed constantly from her hair, her mouth, her fingertips, pooling around her feet with each step.
Her skin had the pale, waterlogged appearance of something that had been underwater for weeks. When she spoke, more dark water spilled from her lips, and her voice carried the hollow echo of drowning.
"The garden... trial... is complete," she gurgled, each word accompanied by the sound of liquid in her lungs. "You must... follow... for the next... test."
Miss Blackwood stepped back, barely containing a scream. "What are you?"
"I am... Eleanor," the drowned bride replied, tilting her head unnaturally. "Once... bride to be. Now... bride to... death." Black water poured from her mouth as she gestured toward a path leading deeper into the estate. "Come. The others... wait."
None of them moved. The sight of her was too horrifying, too wrong.
Eleanor's bloated features twisted into what might have been impatience. "You can... follow willingly... or I can... drag you down... like I was... dragged down." The temperature around them dropped noticeably, and frost began forming on the nearby plants.
"The choice... is yours," she continued, dark water now flowing more rapidly from her wounds. "But choose... quickly. The water... is always... so cold."
One by one, they began to follow the drowned bride down the moonlit path, each keeping careful distance from both her and each other. Trust was now a luxury none of them could afford, and the supernatural horror before them made their human—or inhuman—concerns seem suddenly small.
As they walked, Eleanor's voice drifted back to them, distorted by the water constantly flowing from her throat. "The next trial... requires... cooperation. I do hope... you can manage... despite your recent... revelations."
The path ahead disappeared into darkness, and behind them, Victoria's laughter grew fainter, replaced by the endless, rhythmic dripping of Eleanor's cursed form.
Eleanor led them through winding corridors that seemed to shift and change when no one was looking directly at them. The walls were lined with portraits of beautiful women in wedding dresses, but each painting showed the bride at a different stage of drowning—some gasping for air, others already blue-lipped and lifeless.
The dripping from Eleanor's form created an eerie rhythm that echoed off the walls. Water pooled wherever she stepped, yet somehow never accumulated, as if the mansion itself was absorbing her endless tears.
"Here... we are," Eleanor gurgled as they reached a set of ornate double doors. Beyond them lay what had once been a grand ballroom, now transformed into something far more sinister.
The room was partially flooded, with about two feet of dark water covering the marble floor. Elegant chandeliers hung from the ceiling, but they were all submerged beneath the water's surface, their crystal tears glowing with an underwater light. Tables and chairs floated like islands throughout the space, some upright, others capsized.
At the center of the room stood a raised platform that remained above the waterline. On it sat an ornate Victorian bathtub filled with what looked like ordinary clear water—the only clean water visible in the entire space.
"Welcome... to my domain," Eleanor said, more black water spilling from her lips. "The trial... of trust... begins soon."
As the group huddled near the entrance, trying to stay on the slightly elevated threshold, Miss Grey quietly moved closer to Erel. She kept her voice low, just barely audible over the gentle lapping of water.
"We need to talk," she said, her detective instincts clearly working. "Away from the others."
Erel glanced at her, noting how the others were already starting to cluster into small groups. Captain Stone and Dr. West stood together, their shared military and medical backgrounds creating common ground. Miss Blackwood remained alone, looking lost and frightened. Adren positioned himself where he could watch everyone, trusting no one.
Smart move on her part. In a situation like this, information and alliances are everything.
"I'm listening," Erel replied quietly.
Miss Grey's eyes swept the room before settling back on him. "You exposed Thorne, which either means you're genuinely trying to help us survive, or you're a very smart construct playing a longer game."
"And which do you think I am?"
"I think you're human. Your confession about your parents felt real—too real to be programmed." She paused. "But being an anomalite makes you dangerous in different ways."
Erel studied her face. "You're trying to figure out who to trust."
"Exactly. And right now, you're the only one who's proven they can spot a fake." She lowered her voice even further. "I think we need to form an alliance. Pool our information and abilities."
She's right. Going solo in supernatural trials is usually suicide. But can I trust her? Her confession seemed genuine, but then again, so did Thorne's academic persona.
Across the room, Captain Stone was having a similar conversation with Dr. West. The military man's voice carried slightly over the water sounds.
"Doctor, I've been in enough survival situations to know that fractured groups don't make it out alive," Stone was saying. "We need unity of command and clear objectives."
"I agree," Dr. West replied. "But the question is who we can trust to lead."
Miss Blackwood overheard and looked toward them hopefully. "Can I... could I stay with you two? I am not an anomalite, but I won't slow you down."
Captain Stone's expression softened slightly. "Of course. We protect the civilians."
Interesting. Stone's forming the 'protect the innocent' faction. Natural leadership instincts, or is he positioning himself to control the group?
Adren watched these forming alliances with obvious suspicion. He remained apart, his cold analytical gaze moving between the groups.
"Interesting," Eleanor gurgled, having observed the social dynamics. "Already... you divide... into factions. This will make... the trial... more... challenging."
Miss Grey continued her quiet conversation with Erel. "What exactly can you do? Your abilities, I mean."
Erel considered how much to reveal. "I can strengthen parts of my body mainly useful for defence."
Better to undersell it by just mentioning the fragment ability as the mythical ability. Let her think I'm weak. Too much information could make me a target.
Miss Grey nodded. "Do you think anyone else here isn't human?"
Erel's eyes moved across the room. "Hard to say. The emotional responses during the garden trial seemed genuine for everyone except Thorne."
"That's what I thought too." She paused. "What about Adren? He's staying isolated."
"Smart survival instinct, behaviour to avoid close scrutiny," Erel mused. "Could go either way."
Adren's the wild card. His confession felt real, but his behaviour is textbook lone wolf. That could be genuine trauma response or careful programming.
Eleanor clapped her waterlogged hands together, the sound muffled and wet. "The trial... begins now. You must... work in pairs... to retrieve objects... from the bottom... of my domain."
She gestured to the flooded ballroom. "Each pair... must trust... completely. One person... will be... submerged... while their partner... guides them... from above. But beware... the water... holds memories... of my drowning... and will try... to claim you... as it claimed me."
The natural pairings were obvious now. Captain Stone with Dr. West and Miss Blackwood forming one group. Miss Grey with Erel. And Adren standing alone.
"I work alone," Adren said firmly.
Eleanor's bloated features twisted into something resembling a smile. "Then you... will face... the water... without aid. How... fitting."
The factions are set. Stone's protection group will probably divide into two considering there is four of them, my alliance with Grey, and Adren flying solo. This trial is going to test whether these partnerships hold when someone's life is literally in another person's hands.
The dark water lapped at the edges of the platform, and somewhere beneath its surface, shapes moved that had nothing to do with currents or tides.
And I have a feeling that whatever's down there is a lot worse than just memories.