Marked for Murder

thirteen: power that is at work

THERE IS CHAOS and chatter all around me. Men and women in colourful drapes enter the Athena Hall, eagerly awaiting the yearly Proclamation ritual. 17 year olds, all of my age, stand in a tight group behind the curtains as we await our turn. Most have looks of fear, nervousness or excitement sharply drawn on their faces.

I haven't met with any of my friends since the engagement party. I never gave anyone the chance to check up on me. I didn't answer letters, house calls, nothing. Will came by to wish me luck yesterday but I was too much of a nervous wreck to let him in.

I turned them all away. Tyler and Christina would not leave till I wrote on a piece of paper that I was okay and that it was just the stress of being at the party. They are here today, standing in line.

Today is the day. It is the day all Fledglings, like me, are announced as Fortunate or Forsaken. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress. It's been a few weeks since I was in the presence of a crowd and last time, it didn't go well.

Every time I find myself surrounded by people, something terrible is bound to happen. The first time it was Darius Jones. The second time it was the Proclamation results. Now, I pray to Hades for the first time in forever.

If he is somewhere out there, listening and caring, I hope he cares enough to spare me.

I should not be anxious. I had given the aptitude test countless times and all of them, except the last time, it had one conclusion: I am Fortunate. I bear a Mark of the Seven Saviours. I will go on to fulfill my destiny and lead a normal life.

I will be ordinary. I have to be.

I exhale and inhale slowly. I have no idea why my heart is beating so fast. I am sure the others can hear the wild hammering against my rib cage. I try to calm myself down as the chatter in the Hall fades.

The Advisor of the Council has taken the stage and is chanting indistinctly to Artemis for her blessings. I dare to peep outside the curtains. A low whistle escapes me as I notice the Amulet of Flame, blazing under the full moon.

It is dark red but shines with a light impossible for an earthly stone. I have seen images of it in my textbooks before but nothing compares to the light I see now. It's intricately carved with swirls and curves on its surface. But before I have any more time to admire the blood coloured gem, the Advisor clears his throat.

He looks drained, probably a hundred years old, with a hunched back and a wrinkled face. It isn't surprising because the Advisor has remained the same since the Council's formation. Besides the Consul and the General, who are elected every fifteen years, the Advisor is a son of Hades; he is immortal.

"Citizens of Elara, The Council welcomes you to the 249th Proclamation," he says in the midst of thunderous applause. "Today, we honour yet another year of tradition bestowed upon us by our King Hades. All of you carry hope in your hearts today, for your offsprings shall face the ultimate test of the heart.