The Crowns Choice

❦ Chapter Two: Atlas ❦

The royal broadcast blares from the tiny screen in the corner of our cramped living room. The usual extravagance and circumstance, the extravagant displays of wealth—it's all so predictable. My little sister, Lyla, sits on the threadbare couch, her eyes glued to the screen as the Princess Charlotte Starling beams at the camera, her perfect smile dazzling and completely out of reach for someone like me.

I groan, rubbing my temples. "Another Selection," I mutter, barely keeping the irritation out of my voice. "Just what we need."

Lyla, who's always been a dreamer despite our circumstances, looks up at me with those wide, hopeful eyes. "Do you think you'll enter, Atlas?"

I scoff, shaking my head. "No way. It's not like I'd even get picked. They never choose anyone from our Stratum. The last Selection was for the king, and not a single person from below a Four was chosen. Why would this time be any different?"

My mother, who's been sitting quietly in the corner with a tired expression, looks up from her mending with a sharp gaze. I curse under my breath. It's not that I don't understand why she's hopeful—it's just that hope doesn't pay the bills or put food on the table.

"Atlas," she says softly, but with a hint of firmness that tells me she's not going to drop it, "it could be a chance for you to make a better life for us."

I can't help but feel a pang of frustration. "A better life?" I repeat, my voice rising slightly. "We've been through this. The system is rigged. They're not going to pick anyone from Stratum Five. They'll pick someone from the higher Strata, just like always."

"You don't know that for sure," my mother says, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and desperation. "This could be different."

I look over at her, seeing the lines of worry etched deeply into her face. It's hard to argue with her when she looks at me like that—like I'm her only hope. But it's also hard to ignore the reality that stares me in the face every day.

"Look, Mum," I say, trying to keep my tone calm even though I'm seething inside. "I appreciate that you want me to have a shot at something better, but it's not practical. We're not even on the radar for something like this. Besides, have you seen the list of suitors they're bringing in? They're all from the top Strata."

Lyla, who's been listening quietly, speaks up. "But what if you do get picked? You're smart, Atlas. You could be the one who changes things."

Her belief is almost as painful as it is touching. She's always looked up to me, believing that I could somehow make our situation better. It's a heavy weight to carry, knowing that she puts so much faith in me. I wish I could be the hero she thinks I am, but the harsh truth is that the odds are stacked against us.

"I know you want to believe that," I say gently, kneeling in front of her. "But you have to be realistic. This world doesn't just change because we wish it would."

"But if you don't try, then nothing will change," Lyla insists, her eyes pleading with me.

I look at her, seeing the determination in her eyes. She's young, still holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could get better. It's hard to crush that hope, even when it feels like such a distant dream.

My mother's gaze shifts from me to Lyla, her eyes softening with the same kind of sadness that I feel. "Atlas, you have to at least consider it. It might be a long shot, but it's a chance. And sometimes, that's all we need."

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. I've always been the one who had to be strong, to be the provider, to keep everything together. It's not an easy role, and sometimes I wonder how much longer I can keep up the facade of hope when everything around us seems to be falling apart.

"I'll think about it," I say finally, not wanting to completely dismiss their wishes. "But don't get your hopes up. The system is pretty well-fixed against us."

Lyla's face lights up with a hopeful smile, and I feel a pang of guilt. I hate being the bearer of bad news, especially when it's my little sister who's clinging to every shred of hope she can find. "Okay," she says softly, "but promise me you'll at least consider it."

"I promise," I say, giving her a reassuring smile even though my heart isn't in it.

My mother reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Atlas. I know it's a lot to ask, but it would mean the world to us."

I nod, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration. "I'll do what I can."

With that, I stand up and walk to the small kitchen area, where the remnants of our modest meal still sit on the table. I grab a cup of water and sit down, staring into the empty space as I try to wrap my mind around the idea of entering The Crowns Choice. It's not something I ever thought I'd be a part of, not something I ever wanted to be a part of. But with my family's hopes pinned on me, it's hard to completely ignore the possibility, no matter how slim.

I think about the last Selection, the one for the king. I remember the faces of the people who were picked—mostly from Stratum Two, a few from Stratum Three, two from Stratum Four but no one from the lower Strata. The entire process felt like a show, a spectacle for the rich and powerful to indulge in while the rest of us watched from the sidelines, hoping for a glimpse of a better life.

But now, here we are, faced with another Selection, and the stakes feel even higher. The pressure to provide for my family is immense, and the thought of being part of something so out of reach is daunting. I can't shake the feeling that this is just another way to keep us dreaming while the world remains unchanged.

As I sit there, lost in thought, I hear Lyla's soft voice from the other room. "Goodnight, Atlas."

I look up, seeing her standing by the door, her face filled with a quiet determination. "Goodnight, Lyla."

She smiles at me, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of the hope that she clings to. It's a small thing, but it's enough to remind me why I can't completely abandon the idea, no matter how unrealistic it seems.

I watch as she heads to her small room, closing the door behind her. I sit there for a while longer, staring at the remnants of our meal and the flickering candlelight. The Crowns Choice is tomorrow, and I know that whatever decision I make will have a huge impact on my family's future.

It's a difficult choice, one that I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to make. But as I sit there, thinking about the hope in Lyla's eyes and the silent plea in my mother's gaze, I realise that maybe, just maybe, it's worth considering.

Because sometimes, the smallest glimmer of hope can be the spark that ignites change. And right now, it's the only thing that keeps us moving forward.