Prologue

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Paris's POV:

I hurried over to a cart with many different items on it. Mostly weapons with a few normal objects as well like carvings and books. But my interest was the journal. It was a decent size with many pages on them and a gray cover. I bought the journal from the man using the 5 silver coins my grandfather had given me for my birthday last week. Iv'e always wanted a journal. I could write about my day as if I were talking to a real person. I could put my drawings in there as well and maybe even a few plants. But not much. My planet is gray and dull. Everyone fighting over something idiotic or finding some absurd reason to fight. Or kill. That was how things were here. It has no name. Only the dark planet. That is all. I ran home with my new journal and immediately went to my room to start writing. My grandfather was at work. Making weapons for everyone. We were the only ones who did not wish to fight or kill.  We are not like the rest of my family. But my father still trains me to fight. I cannot tell him I do not wish to fight. I cannot say anything like this to my parents. They might hurt me. My father is a fighter. Almost emotionless and very monotone. He only cares for strength and says that everyone is an enemy. My mother is an inventor. But she is crazy. A  sadist who does not care about who she hurts. I have a shock collar when I do not behave. Only she can take it off. I ignore all of this and write my first entry


2nd day of winter

Hello journal. I know you cannot speak or even understand. Because you are not real. But it is always nice to pretend. So, I am Paris. I'll tell you a bit about myself. I am currently two weeks past my 6th anniversary of living. So that is my age. I love to draw and will sometimes sing but never in front of people. Especially not here. One of my most prized possessions is my Sammy. I do not know what she is, but grandfather found her floating around space. I have had her since birth and I love her. Today is an important day. Now that I have reached the proper age, I will be  participating in fighting challenges. I do not want to fight though. But I must. Or else I will be sold....But it is alright. My life here is not the best, but I learn to work with what I have. I do not have a comfortable place to sleep. Only the floor. But I make the best of what I have. I will soon speak to you again journal. After challenge hours.

I put my journal away and said goodbye to my grandfather who had just arrived home. I reluctantly formed my sword and went out with my father to the arena where I will fight whoever steps out of the other door. I will not kill or hurt anyone very badly.

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