Shadows Ablaze

Chapter 2- Shyah

The auditorium bloats as people stream in through the double doors in the back of the room. With every moment that passes, the noise grows louder until it becomes one consecutive thrum that vibrates the walls. I sit, hands clasped together in the lap of my silk blue dress, my freshly painted fingernails twiddling with one another in anticipation. My parents sit beside me, both staring ahead at the stage, waiting patiently for the presentation to begin. They don't seem nervous, not the way I am.

This event isn't meant to make the students anxious. It's supposed to show us the possibilities our futures hold. The paths we can take. It's meant to show us that here at Quince Academy, anything is possible.

Except that's not true. Your societal tier determines your options. After all, a Meage Elite would not be able to become a doctor, and an Apex Elite, like me, could never descend to a profession in auto mechanics. It's unheard of and looked down on. So while there are many careers to choose from, you must select one appropriate for your rank.

I side-eye my parents, noting their poised, elegant demeanors. Mother wears her favorite blue blouse, which flows down her torso and tucks into her knee-length skirt. Her straight, brown hair is pulled into a tight bun, giving way to her delicate, fair-skinned features. Dad sits beside her, his trousers and dress shirt as pristine as Mother's. His expression is blank, making his hard, dark features appear more intense than usual. Both of them wear wrinkles that inch across their foreheads, the only true indication of their age.

My mother's honey-colored eyes find mine just before her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What's wrong?" she asks, tilting her head ever so slightly.

I got my eyes from my mother, that's for sure, but my dark complexion is all my father's doing. They wanted it that way. Everything about me was hand selected by them. They gave me Mother's soft facial features and her honey eyes, but my dad's dark complexion and plump lips. I was even given my grandfather's intelligence; his IQ was higher than both my parents' and, luckily, in the gene pull when I was conceived. It's a privilege to be genetically created. Only Elites are able to afford the procedure. But sometimes I question what I would be like if nature had decided, instead of humans.

I shake my head at my mother, breaking eye contact so I have a moment of privacy before meeting her gaze once more. "Just nerves," I reply, doing my best to keep my voice even.

"How come? You already know what you're going to do. We've aligned you on your path. We even set up the mentor you will be shadowing."

I nod, looking around the room at all the other students. I know she's right. I know we've been pushing me toward this for most of my life. I've done well in school, met a lot of people in the industry, and conducted research projects on topics in the field, all to ensure my path was certain. But there's still one thought that haunts me. "What if I don't make it?" I whisper against the booming room.

I'm not even sure Mother heard the words until I feel her palm against my clasped hands. I glance up at her, watching the conservative smile slip over her lips. There are no wrinkles at the corners of her mouth or eyes, making it evident that the emotion isn't one she feels or displays often. Even now, it is forced for my benefit.

"You're going to be just fine," is all she says before removing her hand, letting the fake smile drop from her lips and switching her attention back to the stage.

The sound of a single pair of hands clapping muffles against the numerous conversations. My eyes settle on the figure walking across the stage. Against the large, empty platform, the principal's tall, pencil-like frame appears minuscule. His palms collide once more, this time louder than the last. The audience slowly grows quiet, voices falling off as they notice him standing at the front. The seconds tick by until the room is completely silent.