*COMPLETED*
One event in history has the power to change everything. One choice...can leave an entire society shifted. For the new society, it is a constant battle between two powers, separated from one another by a defining characteristic.
...
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◉ Tate Torres ◉
Dear Tate Torres,
You are hereby summoned by the court to appear in Capital Pier Sector one this afternoon after lunch hour in Magecliff regarding your disruption of a societal meeting. Directions on how to get there are as follows...
I place the paper down in sheer disgust, crumbling up the fine piece of parchment and throwing it back onto my bed. I slept through breakfast, as the scavengers always did as tradition, my empty stomach snarling at me in the silence.
My bare torso begins to warm as I stand in front of a patch of pleasant sunrays that shine through the fractures. I inhale a heavy breath, my beaten lungs feeling as if they have been reborn to the crisp sweetness of the afternoon air.
I stride over to the buckling drawers, the wood rusted and crumbling every time it is moved. The drawer opens with a shriek as I reach inside to grab a plain black T-Shirt, small rips and tears present at the bottom near the seam. I place it over my head, my back muscles tense as I pull the fabric down. With one last look in the cracked glass mirror, I snag my keys off the dresser and head straight for the door, leaving behind the parchment.
***
Capital Pier crawls with people, unlike it ever has before. They stand in congregations and speak frantically, but as I turn a corner and come into view, they all begin to cheer.
"Rebellion!"
"Tell them we want rebellion!" They shout at different tempos, their voices mashing together in my pounding head, partly hungover from last night, the details hazy.
I just stare squinting at the people, as they crowd around me cheering even louder, some pat me on the back and push me closer to the entrance of Capital Pier. I rush up the broken and jagged steps, perfect juniper grass blades growing unbothered in the cracks. As I walk into the court, the air shifts, the eerie feeling of being in the court alone unsettles me, it's not the first time I've been here alone.
"Torres," I pivot on my heel quickly to be met with one of Ezra's escorts. "Follow me, please," he turns, walking diagonally across the checkered floor towards a hidden door I've never noticed before.
The walk is silent, the only discord is the beating of our soles on the ground. I follow a few feet behind the guard, his hands behind his back flexing his arm muscles that're the size of my head. He stops in his path in front of an office door with a name plack reading: Molly Ezra.
"She's waiting for you inside," the guard states, then begins walking back the way we came.
I grab the knob, twisting it until the door comes free, the hinges squeaking slightly to the movement.
