Beyond the curtain, an arena awaits, pitch-black but massive judging by the echo of whispers and vague shapes of high dome walls.
Movement to my right sends my hand for my knife—but it isn’t there.
Damn you, Jude.
“Gods, I hate waiting here,” whispers a raspy, feminine voice on my other side.
A sound like thunder cracks overhead, and I wince as white light blooms around me. In each of the pocketed arena entrances, an illuminated figure stands. There isn’t time to determine anything beyond that they all look like they belong here, striking and beautiful and, well, presumablyunmarked.
We’re not on the Playhouse stage. At least, I don’t think it can be—it doesn’t look like any of the solagraphs I’ve seen, save for the cracked marble at my feet. I’m standing on a low, circular platform, rings of tiered seating rising up around me.
The arena. Players have fought to the death here.
Pulling in a shaky breath, I count six entrances to the arena floor, including where I just emerged from—but one looms larger than the others, and it’s empty. Overhead, the Playhouse symbol hangs in polished gold—a cracked mask, with one side stretched into a delirious grin and the other wilting into a tragic frown. An arrow piercing through both.
The other auditionees all seem to find me at once with similar baffled expressions that read:Why is that one here?I wince away from their eyes, backing closer to the curtain.
A second crack resounds with the beat of a drum. The five Players file onto the raised platform towering directly above us, their places in the podium ring framed by gleaming white columns, each overlooking their contender.
Then comes a thunderous roar of applause from every corner. Incandescent limelight flashes, revealing faces in the audience, so many I can’t begin to count. They all blur together: eager eyes, wide smiles, open mouths gleefully screaming the names of Players. Revelers.
Heart pounding in my ears, I steal a glance at the podium ring above me, my loathing gaze locking on Jude.
He winks.
SIL: “Ladies and gentlemen!”
The voice fills the amphitheatre as applause crashes in around me. The director marches through the sixth entrance and into the arena.
SIL: “Congratulations! You should all be proud. A round of applause for this casting call’s auditionees!”
His words somehow carry over the waves of applause as he announces each name. My mind is buzzing too loudly with anxiety to note them, but I cringe when he calls outAlistaire Hunt.
This feels too real now. It was foolish to even consider Jude’s offer.
And I have a terrible feeling it’s too late to get out of it.
As the cheers settle, Sil moves on. “The five of you were handpicked. You each have someone to thank for that.”
The other contenders share grateful glances with their respective Players. I duck my chin to glare hard at the ground instead.
“All that said, tonight marks your final chance to leave,” he goes on.
Thiscatches my attention, and I look up to stare at the director.
“No one leaves the Playhouse beyond tonight. You’ll each find a contract in your room, to be signed by tomorrow. The Playhouse leaves the District at midnight.”
My mouth pops into a smile.Jude will have to slice my hand off before it picks up a pen and signs that contract. Though, given the Playhouse’s reputation, I decide not to give him that idea.
“Now! A few ground rules.” The strangely comforting timbre of Sil’s voice takes on an edge. I listen closely. In all my time studying the Playhouse, I’ve come across mentions ofThe Rules,but they aren’t actually listedanywhere.
“Rule one!” Sil announces. “Neverwish an actor good luck. You might as well wish disaster on all your castmates.”
Hints of laughter flutter at the edges of the arena. Noticeably, none of them come from the mouths of Players. I raise an eyebrow. From my understanding, this is little more than an old theatrical myth—a superstition.
“Rule two,” Sil continues. “AllPlayers and auditionees alike are tostay out of the dark. Whether a rehearsal room, stage, or even your own dressing room,neverenter a dark space in the Playhouse. Follow the lights. The Playhouse is a different place after hours, and our Stage Manager doesn’t take kindly to those who disregard the rules.”
Wish everyone good luck and make my escape after dark. Got it.
