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- He was dressed in all black—black army pants, black boots, black t-shirt, black jacket—and when I looked up to meet his face, I realized the true blackness was in his eyes.-
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Why five?
Five lands. Five houses. Five families. Five survivors. Five Flames added every year.
What makes this number so special?
Why five?
"Did you even hear what I said?" my sister, Elaine, asked before bumping her shoulder into mine.
I tilted my head to take a look at her. She was dressed in a floral dress I told her I hated this morning, but she was wearing it nonetheless. She never took my advice, even though she was the one asking for it so I wasn't surprised. Elaine always chose the opposite of what I suggested and when we both agreed on something—which barely happened—she changed her option like our tastes matching for once was a crime.
She's difficult like that.
Whatever she saw on my face gave her confirmation I wasn't listening and she huffed, rolling her eyes with an annoying shake of her head. A few strands of hair fell over her red cheeks and my eyes squinted at the excitement they met in her own.
"No," I admitted because there was no point in lying.
"I said," Elaine leaned toward me, as close to my ear as she could get, gaze pointed at the improvised stage in front of us. "Do you think he'll cuddle me to sleep in the forest?" she bit her lip and when I followed the path her eyes traveled to, over the mass of people, I met a boy that had hairs raised on my arms with one single look.
I recognized him from training. The guy was a brute, a long thick scar cutting his face in half, and the muscles he had, were only adding to his spine-chilling presence.
He wasn't scary to me, just someone I knew to stay away from.
"Do not interact with him," I muttered as he winked at her.
They were both participating in The Flame this year with other 93 eighteen-years-old and if I knew something about my sister, it was that she's never going to acknowledge true danger.
That guy screamed danger.
"You're no fun," she pouted, still flirting with him.
Not caring about how many people were around us, I grabbed her elbow, gripping tightly before speaking. "Do you want him to murder you in your sleep? If you want to be one of the five survivors to come back home, stay the fuck away from him, Ela."
Finally, she unglued herself from the creep, but she still took my words as a joke.
"I don't want to die untouched," she laughed, turning the corner of her mouth upwards and for a mere second I hated her for not being serious about this.
