The Season Trials

C H A P T E R E L E V E N

C H A P T E R           E L E V E N

I'm numb, crouched by the side of the cage, akin to the movement of a wild animal, when soldiers enter, dragging her body away.

The act is careless, two of them grabbing her feet and pulling her. It leaves a trail of blood in its wake. By now, I've dry heaved so much that my throat is raw, every breath is painful.

The roar of those gathered is deafening. There's nowhere to hide from the invasive stares. They should expletives loudly, spurred on by everyone else.

"The first fight is over! The night's entertainment is not over yet!"

Everything already feels cold, yet it manages to get colder. Frozen on the spot, I can only stare at my blood stained hands, stomach revolting the more I gaze at them.

"Turns out my Gift has a hunger for blood." It isn't the announcer yelling this time, instead the General. His voice is light, but the underlying warning is impossible to miss. "Betting still stands. Place them now. After all, this isn't over until morning. At any point, go visit the bar. Enjoy yourselves."

It's chilling. They've all just seen two innocent children fighting to death and they're concerned about getting drunk.

"Onto the second fight!" the General shouts.

I've only ever seen one person drunk, but I can tell by the way he's slightly slurring that the General has drank too much.

It doesn't bode well for me.

Forcing children to fight for their lives is depraved. Enjoying it, basking in the pain... it's unspeakably debauched.

Yet, somehow, despite that, I know it can get worse. And, I know that it will happen.

It's inevitable.

"Same rules apply." It's the announcer this time. "A knife will be stationed at a corner of the cage..."

I don't hear a words that's said. It's all static.

Once again, the process repeats. There's the sound a buzzing, like a door opening. Near-darkness returns.

No reprieve then.

Giving in feels all too tempting. No matter if I win, they'll still pit me against someone else. It won't end until I'm dead.

But I can't give up. Everything up to this point will become pointless.

For Jaylee.

The words have become a mantra. Giving me the needed incentive to continue to fight.

Right now is no exception.

They can't get the better of me—I cannot hand my life over to the General without a fight.

Ignoring the taunting of the crowd, I push myself onto my hands and knees. The blood has dried on my hands; sticky and vile. It smells worse than the ash that comes from the factory back home.

I can't wait for the attack—if I do that I might as well be giving up. I have to gain the upper hand.

Everyone is bloodthirsty—willing to kill to stay alive.