Ashfall Dominion

2

The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the streets of Virex, the Lower District. Today was the day—the day that would determine the fates of countless souls, and the buzz in the air was electric, thick with whispers of hope, desperation, and curiosity. The Selection was finally here.

Zerena and Zale stood side by side, as they always did, their usual spot near the corner of the marketplace where the crowd gathered to witness the spectacle. The streets were crowded with people, some anxious, some eager, some already resigned to the reality of their lives in Virex. There was a palpable tension in the air, like the world itself was holding its breath. But Zerena? She wasn’t impressed. Not by any of this. She’d seen it all before—the hunger in people’s eyes, the ambition that made them so blind to their own chains.

"It's like they're waiting for a miracle," she muttered under her breath, though her words were meant for no one but herself.

Zale chuckled beside her, his voice smooth as always. "A miracle, huh? You think they’ll get one?"

Zerena shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. "You think they won’t?"

The crowd around them was a mix of tension and anticipation. There were those who stood in reverence, hopeful that today would change their lives, and then there were the others—those who would only ever be on the outside looking in. It wasn’t hard to see who belonged to which group. Some people clung to the idea that this selection was their chance to escape Virex, to move to Vallaris, the shining city in the sky where the royals resided. They thought this was their shot at power, at riches, at a life that didn’t involve fighting for scraps on the streets. Foolish. They couldn't see the truth, even if it was staring them in the face.

As if sensing the words she was about to speak, Zale turned to her, arching an eyebrow. "You think they’ll pick anyone from this crowd?"

Zerena scanned the faces around them. "Of course they won’t," she replied, her voice cold, dismissive. "The royals don’t pick anyone who’s actually worth anything. They pick the desperate, the easily controlled. They don’t want someone who will think for themselves."

She noticed a few angry stares coming their way. They’d seen it before—people resented the fact that Zerena and Zale weren’t desperate, weren’t trying to get chosen. They weren’t part of the herd, not participating in the game. Some people hated them for it. But there were always others, those who couldn’t help but admire their independence, the way they carried themselves with a sense of unspoken confidence.

"You're not wrong," Zale said softly, his eyes glinting with a rare hint of amusement. "But there's a strange kind of power in standing apart from it all. Makes people love you or hate you, but they can't ignore you."

"Yeah, well," Zerena muttered, folding her arms, "I'm not in the business of being adored or hated. Just trying to get through the day without getting tangled in the nonsense."

But as she spoke, the crowd around them was growing louder. Some of the voices grew more intense, arguing over whether they had a chance, whether this would be their last chance. Zerena glanced over, catching sight of a few faces. Some were eyes wide with naive hope, others staring with bitter resentment. People were so easily divided—those who had the strength to accept their place, and those who would do anything to change it, even if they didn’t understand what that change would cost.

She caught the eyes of a woman nearby, a woman who was looking at Zerena as if she held the key to her future. The woman’s gaze was one of admiration, but there was something else in it too—envy, perhaps, or desperation. And then, in the next moment, the woman looked away quickly, as if she was ashamed of her own feelings.