The world is not dying.
The world is not dying.
There was a rebellion…my sisters are dead because—
“But the earthquakes…the volcano that just destroyed Village 50. You’re saying the Elite manufactured those as well?”
He shakes his head. “No, they don’t have that kind of power. But the disruptions in the ground, the tremors, they only started twenty-one years ago, when the Great Chasm emerged.”
My jaw drops. The Great Chasm…it formed the night Iwas born.
I look back at Nyxa, and her eyes are pinned on me.
She knows something.
Whatever’s happening to Eleclestial…Nyxa knows the truth. Therealtruth.
“Ajja and I have been looking into it.” He runs his hand through his black strands. “We’ve been trying to figure out what changed, and we think my father might be involved. But even so…the trials…they weren’t started to save the planet. The people of Velegoria have been lied to for over a century.”
“The night I was dragged before your parents, is this what you were going to tell me?” I ask—no, I demand. When our lips hadbeen so close, when I could nearlytastehim, the man I desired more than anything, the man I now want to slap in the face.
“Yes,” he says, his voice raw, thick, andpained.
“Why didn’t you say anything after I was released?”
“I promised my father I wouldn’t. He threatened to kill you if you ever learned the truth. And I suppose he didn’t take me at my word, considering what just happened in that arena.”
I fall to the ground, my knees slamming against the grass as my fingers dig into the soil.
Calm down.
I need to calm down. I breathe through my nose, pushing away the flames that are begging to be set free, focusing on the dirt on my hands and the sound of the flowing stream.
“There’s more,” he says, nearly choking on the words, and my gaze locks on those golden eyes of his.
“More?” I want to scream because how could there possibly bemore?
My fists tighten, and Ryjax swallows.
“Those who fail the trials, those who don’t dieduringthe trials…they aren’t killed. They aren’t dead.”
What?
I’m on my feet in a second, toe to toe with him.
He heaves in a heated breath.
“What do you mean,” I seethe, my thoughts running wild, my heart hammering against my rib cage, the sound threatening to drown me, consume me entirely, “theyaren’tdead?”
“Your sisters,” he clears his throat, “they’re alive, Serafina. Those who fail the trials are taken to the Imperial City. Forced into servitude or made to work in the fields. But some of them…” His voice fades, and I know what he’s about to say will crush this sliver ofhope rising in my chest. So I close my eyes and try to focus on what hehassaid before I’m forced to hear what’s coming next.
My sisters aren’t dead.
My sisters aren’t dead.
They’realive.
I choke on a laugh, a euphoric feeling bursting to the surface, uncontrollable and wild.
