Prototype Dorian

26.

Fifth day of the Selection

As the ceremony ends and the crowd disperses, I stand still, the key in my hand pinning me to the ground.

This key does not belong to me. It belongs to Morgan, and I've stolen their fate.

Do they hate me for this?

I cannot bring myself to look at them. I only dare glance in their direction when the rest of the cadet class starts to leave. Their once proud stance at the start of the ceremony is now an uncharacteristic hunch. The jagged edge of the key digs deeper into my palm.

Their steps halter, and for a moment, I wonder if they'll turn around and look at me. Instead, they turn to Ryan, who is approaching them.

A firm hand grabs my shoulder, pulling my attention away from the pair. It's Ariandelle. She's wearing her usual calm smile, as if the fury from before the announcement of the results had never existed.

"Congratulations, Lara. Very well done on your performance over the past few days."

My eyes dart to Morgan again. They are still talking to Ryan. "But I don't deserve it, General Caelum. I... I didn't win."

Ariandelle scoffs. "Nonsense. You might not have won technically, but you are objectively the better candidate. That Ground Earth dweller has a cyberarm; everyone can see that their win was a fluke. I am glad the Board was wise enough to see that."

I want to argue against that, but my voice has left me. The key pierces further into me.

"Anyway, enjoy yourself in NovaTopia, Lara," Ariandelle continues, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ears. "Once you're up there, I've hit my quota and will be able to join you soon."

My head snaps up to her. Her smile widens as she gives me one last pat on the shoulder and walks away.

I frown. Quota? Was I part of a quota she has to hit before she can return to NovaTopia? Was that why she was so happy about the result? But... Ariandelle was from NovaTopia—like all the other generals except Ryan—so she could have returned whenever she wanted, quota or not, right? I assumed she stayed in the Tower because she genuinely wanted to serve as a general. Maybe my assumption is wrong.

Maybe everything I know is wrong.

I turn to find Morgan, but they're gone. Everyone's gone. The only person that remains in the stadium is Ryan.

"Hey, Lara," he says, extending his arms out as he walks towards me.

Something about the familiarity of his voice and the gentleness of his smile makes me collapse into his arms. He pulls me into an embrace. His uniform is stiff from lack of use, but his warmth envelops me and makes my eyelids heavy. For the first time in a long time, I feel like a child again.

For the first time, all I want is my brother.

"I don't want to go to NovaTopia," the words spill from my lips. Past me would've been appalled by this statement. But past me is unrecognizable now.

"Why not?" Ryan smoothes the back of my head. "Don't feel guilty, Lara. It's not your fault that the directors chose you instead of Morgan. And you are a qualified candidate too. You've worked so hard for this. You deserve this too."

The way he says it actually makes me believe him. The knot in my stomach loosens a little, but the key clenched in my fist is still a painful reminder about how wrong this all is. I close my eyes. "Do you really think I should go? To NovaTopia?"

"Of course," he answers without the hesitation I expected.

"Then why did you leave?"

Ryan rests his hands on my shoulder while guiding me out of the hug. My eyes blink open and meet his. Behind his smile, there is a glimmer of sadness.