We watch the steady flow of bodies leaving the arena after their test, carrying their secondhand uniforms and scratched helmets. I sigh, putting my arm around her. “You’ve seen how this goes Sade, High-power kids go to ‘Academy greatness.’ The rest of us get a secondhand uniform and a gun…”
Most die a premature death in an unmarked grave, but I don’t need to say that out loud and make things more difficult for her. Sadie has never had much of a Wrath personality… or stomach.
For the very few lucky Wrath prodigies, this will be the road to the prestigious SinVail Academy, where they will continue their studies and increase their prestige and power.
A shout blasts through the arena door as cheers erupt from the fence behind us. A man, smiling, glowing, triumphant, runs toward a cluster of people waiting just beyond the gates.
“Looks like he got into the Academy," I tug at Sadie’s sleeve and point towards him.
That must be his friends and his family, screaming his name, clapping, hugging. He looks so… happy. Free. Surrounded by people who love him.
I can’t look away. I swallow hard, a hollow ache curling in my chest. A pang of jealousy.
Sadie’s face lights up as she looks across the sand. “Oh yeah! That’s Lucas,” she says with a grin.
I arch a brow at her.
“You’ve heard of him,” she says, nudging me. “He’s always near the top of the Gauntlet scoreboard.”
“The scoreboard?” I echo, pressing a hand to my chest in mock offense. “You actually watch the scoreboard? I go to the Gauntlet to stare at the hot, sweaty bodies.” I bump her shoulder, and she bursts into laughter.
“Okay, fair,” she admits. “But the scores matter. Everyone already knows who’s getting into the Academy. This whole thing is just a formality, right?”
“Right,” I say. “And you’ll get your work assignment too. That will be fun to find out.”
Her smile falters. She goes still. That’s what she’s dreading. Not the test. The assignment. She knows she’s not Academy-bound.
“Sadie…” I lower my voice, gentling it. “You’re near the top of our class, and your sin power isn’t dangerous. There’s no way they’ll send you to the front lines. You’ll probably get cushy guard duty where you can come home to visit every month. Perhaps even get stationed in Port Lion with Peter.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Okay, I don’t need to be that close to my brother.” The tension eases a little with the joke, but not enough.
Her eyes drop, her voice quieting. “But… this is ridiculous. I’m sorry, Arwen. I feel so selfish. Here I am worrying, when we know what’s likely going to happen to me. But with you…” She trails off, unable to finish.
She doesn’t need to. We don’t talk about it. Ever. She knows I’m doomed. No need to drag the obvious into the light. The silence between us is already heavy enough.
A girl I recognize from school walks through the exit, and instead of carrying a uniform, her hands are empty, face covered in snot and tears. She’s hysterical, her breath coming in ragged bursts. Her steps falter, unsteady, until her knee buckles beneath her. She crashes down, crumpling into a broken heap on the ground.
“Chelsea must be relocating…” Sadie whispers, her eyes following the girl with a pitiful softness.
“It seems a little extra, if you ask me,” I mumble, folding my arms tight across my chest as we take another step forward.
Sadie cuts me a scathing look.
“What?” I say under my breath. “She had to have known this was coming, Sadie. Destructive magic, heightened senses, superior strength — these are Wrath powers. She could read dreams through touch. Clearly not Wrath. She knew they would reassign her… she was just in denial.”
In denial, like me...The thought, like glass, twists in my chest. Takes one to know one and all that…
Sadie’s expression doesn’t budge. If anything, her pity deepens. “But… imagine being sent somewhere new. No friends, no home. Nothing…”
“This place also made us battle-hardened,” I push on. “Superior combat skills, fighting for other factions to get the resources we need to live. That’s all Wrath has ever cared about. She wouldn’t have made it here. She wouldn’t have been… useful.” The word scrapes out, choked and fragile.
Sadie turns that soft, un-Wrath-like pity on me now.
“Nevermind, I regret opening my mouth.” I roll my eyes, trying to armor myself. Pity makes me squirm.
Snide remarks, people pretending I don’t exist — those I can handle. But this? No.
“She’ll be fine, Sadie,” I say, though my voice comes out a little too quick, a little too firm. My gaze drifts past the main heart of our city, Furycliff, where the so-called wealthy get to live behind fortified walls and sharp stone spires. The stucco houses of our elite are even falling apart. Most of our population is well below the welfare line. It’s hard to bring home the bacon when your territory’s lifespan has an average of 35.
