THREE STARS BURNING

Unit 1

The low rumbling of the crowd could still be heard from inside the containment cell. Eighteen had quickly turned into three. Each candidate lost in their own thoughts, looking for space to breathe in the skin deep tension that filled the room.

They'd trained for this, the past two months of their lives spent in dank training rooms learning as much as they could in preparation for this exact day.

The next candidate stood rubbing his hands together. A habit: he'd done it thirty-six times since they had arrived and a further twenty-five times on the coach ride to the arena.

Rye had no use for habits. Habits lead you to destruction. Each movement you repeat, each action that can be foretold, each habit, would always be your downfall.

He eyed the young man who stood up, his face neutral as ever. Best to keep all emotions to yourself. Better to observe your surroundings rather than take part in them.

The boy looked no older than sixteen. Young but not young enough. Each part of his face oozed fear. Sweat leaked from his body, his hands rubbed together again and again, visibly getting red from the friction.

The light on his bracelet pinged green.

He knew it was time.

For the forty eighth time that day, the thick metal door opened and the next candidate rushed through, into the last place he wanted to be but the only place he could be.

Minutes had passed the tension was thicker still.

A blood chilling scream could be heard from just outside the doors, a loud thud accompanied it; the door shook from the impact.

The rate of the banging increased, clearly the person was getting desperate. This went on for a further three seconds, before it ceased completely.

Silence consumed the room once again.

Rye recited his mantra in this head:

Show no emotion. Show no weakness.

The boy next to him was visibly shaken, wondering to himself what the desperate plea for help meant.

But Rye already knew. Better to observe your surroundings rather than take part in them. He knew how to read situations. He knew that the boy that just entered had just failed. He knew the boy hadn't died. So he knew that for something like that to happen the risk of failure was not death.

It was something far worse than death.

Death.

Death is an interesting thing. One of the little things in this world that is definite yet one of the main things people fear.

Rye did not fear death, fear of death was irrational. Why fear something that would definitely happen. Why waste time cowering at the inevitable when you know that each step you take is one step closer to the end of all things.

Whatever was happening with the penultimate candidate, Rye ignored. He stared straight ahead at the slightly bent exhaust beam that stood at the other end of the room going over a list of likely scenarios that could take place in the next five minutes.

A subtle hum fanned across the room from the arena. The onlookers were not happy with the last result, no doubt hoping for a better show from the final contestant.

At last he saw the small green light.

Green for go.

Green to sprint headfirst into his death.

He bit back a bitter laugh as soon as the first signs of it formed in his throat.

What a funny concept laughter is - seen in different ways all the time. Laughter at a wedding is permitted but laughter at a funeral is not. Laughter whilst enjoying is normal; laughter whilst unhappy is not. Laughter when playing is natural.

Laughter when killing is not.

.+*+.

"And who do we have here?"

As soon as he stepped out, Rye was blinded by the light emitting from the First Third Star.

A middle aged man stood waiting for him at the exit. He was dressed in a crisp cream suit and formal black shoes, both already speckled with drops of blood from previous candidates. On his hand were three different rings signifying what rank he was in the arena grounds. Three was one ring over arena guards. Real fighters typically had four or five rings.

The mans eyes were the same color, not something you saw very often on this planet, it was strange but not intriguing. His hair was slicked back in an attempt to look smarter and his dazzling white teeth shone through what Rye supposed was his 'signature grin'. Although his facial features were all in the right place, they all managed to look odd, like when something is so perfect it doesn't look natural enough to look right.

"Rye." He answered curtly. Best not to say too much until he had fully assessed his surroundings. It was essentially what he had imagined but he needed time to make sure he could predict every possible outcome.

"Like the rice?"

"Sure."

"Your eyes are cool, is there a story behind that?"

"No."

The onlookers were clearly getting impatient and the presenter flashed another one of his trademark grins, begging for him to say something interesting. Unfortunately for him, Rye wouldn't comply.

"Anything you want to say to the audience?" His voice was strained now, no doubt worrying how his lack of response would affect his job.

"No." Rye almost smiled at how annoyed he was getting, but he wanted to get this over with. The quicker it was done the quicker he would be out of there whether by death, freedom or punishment.

"Alright then," he said clearly eager to move on, "When you step into the circle, wait for your opponent then fight until either one of you dies or falls out of the circle. Simple, right?"- Another grin.

Yes simple but too simple. Of course, Rye knew there was a catch but there was nothing he could do but wait until he faced his opponent.

"Right."

"You can pick whatever weapon you want from the rack, but only one, and you are not permitted to kill yourself with it..."- Again with the sickening grin.

Rye looked at the possible places his opponent could come from, all too big to be holding a human but too small to be holding a giant beast. Surprisingly, there were only a few things that fit into that category.

"...Step in once you're ready"

He didn't feel as if he was ready or that he could definitely beat whatever he was against. He wasn't over confident although he knew he had trained hard for this day - the only thing he knew for certain was that he was there and he had to fight because if he didn't the only options were a life worse than death,

Or death itself.

Oof.

Well that's done, hope you liked it.