In a world where you're defined by class can anything else exist? "At the age of 16, each male and female must attend the earliest 'Summoning'. From there the ideal match is generated for each individual in a process known as the 'Sorting'. Once a pair have been matched, they will reside to the male's dwelling to live out their lives in harmony. If an individual is not matched at a Summoning, they must continue to attend until their match is Sorted. Failure to comply with these terms shall result in immediate imprisonment." - President Mangold ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the early ages both the caste system and the 'Sorting' were instituted. Society is based on a class system and the number of a particular caste branded on the left shoulder of each human. The caste system is rated from 1 to 5. Elle Silver is a 3. As is her twin sister, her mother and her father. On her 16th birthday, Elle and her sister Ana are summoned. Hoping to follow in the footsteps of her mother and father, Elle is anxious to find out who her match is and the caste he is from. Because as the her mother has always said: 'You would hope for your sake that you're not matched to a 1 or a 5.' Stereotypes are often accurate but occasionally they can be more wrong then you'll ever understand.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.