Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

At the far end of the hall, a figure sat on a raised platform. They were cloaked in white, their face obscured by a golden mask. In their hands, they held a book, its cover glowing faintly.

Jude and Lyara exchanged glances before stepping forward.

The figure's voice echoed through the hall, calm and measured. "You have chosen the path of understanding."

Jude's heart pounded. "Who are you?"

The figure turned a page in the book, their movements deliberate. "A guardian of knowledge. A keeper of the flame's truth."

Lyara's gaze flickered to the book. "What truth?"

The figure tilted their head slightly. "The truth that power is not just wielded. It is carried. And to carry it, one must understand its weight."

Jude clenched his fists. "And if we don't?"

The figure closed the book. The light around it dimmed slightly. "Then the flame will consume you."

The words sent a chill through him, but he held his ground. "What do we have to do?"

The figure gestured, and before them, a pedestal rose from the floor. Upon it rested another fragment, its glow steady and unwavering.

Jude stepped forward, but the figure's voice stopped him.

"Before you take it, you must answer a question."

Jude hesitated. "What question?"

The figure's golden mask reflected the dim light. "What is power without understanding?"

Jude froze. It was a simple question, but the weight of it pressed against him.

He thought of everything that had happened. The fragments, the visions, the whispers. The choices.

He thought of the figure in his vision, the one who had told him he was late.

And he knew the answer.

"Power without understanding…" He exhaled. "Is destruction."

The hall fell silent.

Then, the figure nodded.

The pedestal's glow brightened, and the fragment pulsed.

Jude reached forward and grasped it.

The moment his fingers closed around it, a wave of warmth rushed through him.

This time, there were no visions.

Only clarity.

And the knowledge that the true test had only just begun.

Jude's fingers tightened around the fragment as its warmth spread through his palm, sinking into his skin like ink absorbing into parchment. This time, there were no violent visions, no chaotic memories forcing their way into his mind. Instead, a deep stillness settled over him, as if the fragment had been waiting for him all along. He could feel the knowledge within it—not in words, not in thoughts, but in something deeper, something that resonated with the very core of his being. He had expected resistance, the same overwhelming force he had encountered before, but there was nothing of the sort. It was as if this piece of power recognized him. Accepted him.

Lyara stood beside him, watching in silence, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of pain or distress. When none came, she finally exhaled. "That's… different."

Jude nodded, flexing his fingers as the fragment's glow slowly faded, merging into his own essence. "Yeah. I feel… like it belongs."

The figure on the platform remained motionless, their golden mask reflecting the dim light of the grand hall. When they finally spoke, their voice carried no judgment, only certainty. "You have taken the second step. But understanding is not knowledge alone. It is action."

Jude lowered his hand. "What does that mean?"

The figure tilted their head slightly, as if measuring his words. "It means the world does not care for what you know. It only sees what you do."

Lyara crossed her arms. "And what exactly do you expect him to do?"

The figure gestured toward the massive pillars lining the hall. At first glance, they had appeared purely decorative, but now that Jude looked closer, he saw that each was engraved with symbols, words in a language he didn't recognize. Some glowed faintly, while others were dark, almost burned into the stone.

"These are the echoes of those who have walked this path before you," the figure explained. "Each one faced a choice. Some understood. Some did not."

Jude ran his hand over the nearest pillar, feeling the deep grooves of the carvings beneath his fingertips. "What happened to those who didn't understand?"

The golden mask betrayed no emotion. "They are gone."

A chill ran through him, but he didn't pull away. "And those who did?"

The figure finally rose from their seat, the movement slow and deliberate. "They carried the flame forward."

Lyara shifted beside him. "Where?"

The figure gestured toward the far end of the hall, where another door stood, its surface smooth and unmarked, different from the others they had seen. Unlike the previous trials, there was no pedestal before it, no test in plain sight.

Jude exhaled. He had learned enough by now to know that just because a trial wasn't obvious didn't mean it wasn't there.

The figure spoke again, their voice softer this time. "This door does not open with strength. Nor with knowledge. It only opens with truth."

Jude frowned. "Truth?"

The figure nodded. "What is it that you seek?"

The question struck him harder than he expected. He had been asked many things since this journey began, questions of power, of understanding, of choice. But no one had ever asked him this. What was he really seeking?

Lyara watched him carefully, waiting for his response, but Jude found himself struggling for an answer. He could have said power, but that wasn't the whole truth. He could have said answers, but even that felt incomplete. He could have said survival, but that wasn't what had driven him here in the first place.

His gaze flickered to the fragment in his hand, still faintly warm.

What did he truly want?

His mind drifted back to the visions, the voices warning him that he was late, the strange figure telling him that power had a cost. And beyond that, the memories of everything that had led him here. The choices he had made. The people he had lost.

He looked up at the door, the smooth stone reflecting nothing back at him.

And then, without hesitation, he stepped forward.

"I seek…" He swallowed hard. "The right to choose my own path."