[Scene: The Final Trial – The Chamber of Choice]
The door shut behind Katrina with a low thunder.
Silence followed.
The room ahead was nothing like the ones before.
This place was carpeted.
Red, velvet-rich, lined with golden seams.
Chandeliers dangled from high above, lit with white crystal orbs that hummed softly.
The walls were washed in gold and ivory, with wide windows welcoming in daylight.
It looked like a royal hall.
Guards stood at attention in ornate armor — polished, unmoving.
To her left, a full wall lined with portraits — some faded with time, others recent. Faces of past candidates, she assumed.
She kept walking.
To her right — more windows, pouring sunlight in like the world outside was somehow untouched by weight or war.
Then—
She spotted it.
A sign, mounted above a polished marble desk:
"Submit Your Application Here"
The letters were gold. Neatly engraved.
But beneath the shine, Katrina could smell it:
A trick.
As she approached the desk, a figure emerged from behind one of the grand pillars.
An official.
Crisp white robes, embroidered with black lines that mirrored the chamber's ceiling structure. His eyes were sharp. Voice, polished.
Official (smiling slightly):
"Greetings, candidate.
This is the final trial."
Katrina said nothing — only watched.
Official (continuing):
"You may see two individuals behind the desk.
Both are accepting applications."
She looked past him.
He wasn't lying.
Two people sat behind the wide desk — one on the left, dressed in a dark blue uniform. The other on the right, in white.
They didn't look at each other.
Didn't move.
They sat several meters apart, their backs straight, hands folded atop identical wooden trays.
Calm. Equal. Opposite.
Official (with faint amusement):
"You may submit your form to either one."
A pause.
Then the smile sharpened:
Official:
"But only one of them is real.
The other... is a hoax.
A test."
His voice softened, tilting almost playful:
Official:
"Figure it out.
Or throw your chances away."
He bowed slightly, then stepped back — fading behind another pillar like a ghost dismissing himself from a stage.
Katrina was alone now.
The guards didn't blink.
The desk loomed.
And in front of her — two people. Two options. One truth.
Katrina (internal, steady):
"So this… is how it ends."
She looked left.
Then right.
Her eyes narrowed.
No movement. No signals.
Just two statues… both claiming to be real.
Katrina didn't wait.
She didn't hesitate.
Her boots tapped softly against the velvet floor as she walked — calm, deliberate — straight to the desk.
Not a glance to the right.
Not a flicker of doubt.
She approached the person on the left — dark blue uniform, eyes still forward, expression unreadable.
Katrina reached into her pocket. Pulled out the slim envelope containing her application.
Held it briefly in both hands.
Then placed it on the tray in front of the figure — neatly, respectfully.
Like she already knew.
She didn't even look back at the other one.
Didn't need to.
The guards didn't move.
But the figure in blue did.
Just slightly.
Their hand came forward.
Accepted the form.
Filed it under the desk.
Katrina (lightly): "So… where's the exit?"
The person in blue didn't answer.
But behind them — with no cue, no sound — a golden door at the far end of the chamber unlatched.
A soft click. A gentle swing.
The path beyond shimmered with sunlight.
Katrina didn't smile.
She just walked.
As if the outcome had never been in doubt.
[To Be Continued…]