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❝Our world doesn't play out like a fantasy. We aren't some carefree princesses getting handed happy endings on a silver platter-you make one wrong move, and it's game over.❞
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In a world where all control over their lives is illusory, a grou...
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—Part 5.4— Choices, choices.
"..I can't do this." —Emiko—
"Shoda Emiko."
The monotonous voice of Abnegation's leader, Taeyong, spoke, his words carrying slowly across the dome-like room. He discreetly tucked the unfolded slip of paper in his hand away, clasping them together afterward as he waited for the owner of the title to stand—but no one rose from their seat.
Emiko blanked completely, the two familiar words bellowing through her head on repeat like a painful mantra. Her eyes shifted upward to meet with the podium, silently gulping as she studied each of the five bowls from afar. One of them would dictate her entire future.
I can't do this.
Boots clicking softly against the polished stone of the stairs, Emiko edged towards the podium. She tried drowning out the burning eyes around her, unintentionally locking her brown orbs with Jaemin's. He lounged back in one of the far rows of Dauntless, lips sculpted into a sympathetic smile that mouthed the words "you got this" in her direction.
He knows how much I've been dreading this..
His muted words were slightly comforting. It was silly, but it felt strange to be making a decision as detrimental as this one without Jaemin by her side; they did everything together. But, fortunately, he'd chosen Dauntless as his faction just a few initiates prior.
He chose to stay.
The moment his blood met the coals of Dauntless was a shock. But, if he'd picked any other faction, it would still come as a surprise. He was somewhat unpredictable.
Jaemin loved the rush of being a Dauntless, but she sensed there was always a part of him that desired something else—something she'd yet to decipher.
Engulfed by her thoughts, the girl stepped onto the podium, approaching the five bowls, Taeyong standing adjacent to them expectantly. The first dish her eyes fell upon was Amity's. A smooth, white bowl containing a mound of rich, earthy soil.
The peaceful faction...
I wouldn't last two days there.
On the very opposite end of the curved table sat Dauntless's dish—the harsh crackles of simmering coals spitting past the edge of the bowl. Emiko peered through small wisps of curly hair, reaching for the small dagger in front of her on the table.
She knew time was running out, and as the knife glided along her palm, the faint sting was replaced by another surge of anxiety. There would be no more stalling now that she'd broken skin, the blood was pooling out slowly, and she had to make a decision.
Clock's ticking, Emi.
The girl caught sight of a statuesque figure in her periphery, standing high above the others. In the top row of Dauntless, the presence tapped her heeled foot impatiently, clad in a tight-fitted business suit. The lavish, midnight-toned attire was nothing but a blank canvas beneath the coppery red locks that pooled over her shoulders in silky rivulets, her delicate features drawn into a glare.
