The Darkest Of Marble 333j6d

The Darkest of Marble

J J Coleman

Austin Macauley Publishers

The Darkest of Marble

About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Part I Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Part II Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six

About the Author

J J Coleman is a fiction writer from the hearty town of Dover, overlooking the captivating English Channel. He was educated at a Catholic school and from an early age he developed a sweet-tooth for literature and genre works. Shakespeare, Lovecraft, Dante, Grimm Brothers, Dickens, Chaucer, Milton, Richard Adams and a host of others have all played a part in J J’s inspirations. As a hobby that was be steadily nurtured throughout his youth, J J’s ion for writing only grew further and led to his publication.

Dedication

To He who conjures all things, including this, this is for you.

Copyright Information ©

J J Coleman (2021)

The right of J J Coleman to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398412361 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398412378 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021) Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

I thank Austin Macauley Publishers, without whom this would not be possible.

Part I

Chapter One

“Get off of me!” shouted Aaric as the pair of hooded nappers hurried his drenched body across the stage and forced him to kneel at its centre. “No, please, I don’t understand!” cried out Gwyneth as a separate pair dragged her across to the stage’s centre from the opposite end. They were both soaking and panicked for they did not know where they were. Once Gwyneth too had been forced to kneel, the hooded figures bonded Aaric’s right arm and Gwyneth’s left together with a thin and tight rope-like material which granted any resistance painful, but the two tried anyway and were soon to stop with the threat of curved blades to each of their throats. They were forced to stay still but their eyes wandered fluently, it didn’t take Aaric long to realise they were on some kind of stage. The closed formidable curtains before them and the pristine laminate flooring appeared to make it obvious, despite the absence of light. A collage of whispers and faint voices could be heard emanating from the other side of the curtains, their erratic breathing proved louder than the whispers themselves and did nothing to calm them. What on earth was happening Aaric wondered, how could so much change in the blink of an eye. It was only earlier that day when he was speaking with his aunty over the phone whilst at the barracks, commemorating the anniversary of his dear cousin’s death, when he was suddenly approached by a dark malevolent figure and ended up chained on a ship. Before he knew it, he was being aggressively washed with very cold water in a large bathing room that possessed no windows and was lit up solely by white lamps that were placed sporadically throughout the room. Then, immediately after, he was forcibly taken to the stage where he now finds himself, tied by the wrist to a girl he’s never met before. He looked over to her but did so with great caution not to catch his neck on the blade that was being held against him, despite the lack of natural and artificial light, he saw her white hair and it was almost as bright as the moon. He noticed

that she too was soaking wet and clearly, for whatever reason, she also had been dealt this terrible fate. As the pair knelt at knifepoint, Gwyneth was quick to notice the sudden arrival of a woman who had emerged from the same door she had. She was dressed in all black with hair colour to match, it was laid down and stretched all the way down her back and ended at the waist. Perfectly straight with every end. “Hilder, please, what’s happening?” Gwyneth cried. She didn’t answer and said nothing until she stood before the pair. “The pair of you are to be silent and not say a word,” she said with dominance. “If a single letter is uttered, this will be over for you before it’s even started.” The blades were then momentarily tightened to show they were serious, the woman then left the stage via the door she came whilst the hooded men stood at each corner of the stage – leaving Aaric and Gwyneth kneeling at its centre. Their erratic breathing only intensified and with the absence of blades locked to their necks, their heads were free to roam their surroundings. It was only then Gwyneth too guessed it was a stage and that the darkness before her were drawn curtains. They were noticeably shaking, both from fear and chill from their soaked clothes, they had no idea what awaited them on the other side of the curtains. The pair’s eyes locked for a moment, strangers to each other and yet they share in the most fearful moment of their lives. Then the curtains before them begin to part and the scene beyond them was slowly revealed, Gwyneth’s tied hand latches itself around Aaric’s and their breathing only grew stronger from there on out. Those curtains parted so steadily and only revealed the sight inches at a time, but within seconds of the curtains beginning to part, Aaric could see the cause for the whispers and faint voices. Before them was a seated audience, which only grew in number with every inch of ing curtain, there was so many of them. Seated figures for as far as the eye could see, stretched between a ground floor and upper, yet nearly all of them were indistinguishable for there was no light around them. Despite the near complete darkness, an array of hooded figures could be seen standing at the end of each column. With the curtains fully opened, the magnitude of the crowd was revealed, many

thousands were now in view and the pair were now under a spotlight that displayed a dimmed shade of purple. The inaudible whispering had subsided and it was as if not a single soul was watching them, all that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the terrified pair. It was truly overwhelming and they didn’t know what to think, their eyes wandered once more and a small seated group at the centre of the audience on the ground floor stood out brazenly amongst the rest. It was that small group of seven that granted them the most fear for their appearances demanded so, they sat by one another’s side in chairs noticeably larger than the others for their size was to be ired. A small spotlight descended upon each of them, displaying the same dimmed shade of purple that descended the pair, it was clear their presence was to be known. Such abnormal figures, each drastically different from the other, what in the world where they looking at Aaric wondered. Aaric and Gwyneth were there for some time and not a single word was spoken and not a single limb moved, it was unsettling how fixated the audience was. Though still frightful, the pair’s breathing had grown quieter as their surroundings were no longer entirely alien. It was then, without a word nor a signal to indicate so, the pair were suddenly pulled back up to their feet by the hooded men who quickly approached from each corner of the stage. They were pulled to their feet and the panic ensued once more. “Get off,” shouted Aaric angrily whilst Gwyneth cried for it to stop – all whilst the audience’s silence persisted. The two were led down a hall that was too dark to reveal any distinctive features, before they knew it, they approached a door with light emanating from the gaps of the sides and keyhole. Aaric desperately resisted but with one of his hands tied to Gwyneth’s, there was only so much he could do. The door was soon opened and the pair were thrown in before they could even view what was inside, the door was then immediately closed behind them and the sound of a turning key could be heard. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust, this was the first time they witnessed any form of light since their ordeals began, and they were soon greeted by a collage of staring eyes. But these souls were not like the those they had just witnessed; it was immediately apparent. Eyes that told tales of confusion, disbelief and anguish as they all filled a large assembly-style hall.

With their soaking clothes and tied wrists, Aaric and Gwyneth knew they were not alone; they couldn’t be further from it. Everyone simply stared at one another in disbelief and the inevitable and typical questions filled the room only to fall on deaf ears for there were no answers to give. “What’s happening?” shouted one girl and “Where are we?” said another. Hearing the cries of the females and the panicked and croaked voices of their counterparts filled Aaric with dread and brought back memories to which this anniversary is associated with, his lips began to quiver and to those around it would seem he was cold – but the poor lad was suffering for this couldn’t have happened on a worse day. There must be dozens here Gwyneth wondered as she saw the lot of them fill the vast space, many of them huddled together and were like scared little children. The saddest of sights, even for those with the toughest of hearts. It wasn’t long before a domineering and yet familiar voice could be heard emanating from the farthest corner from the locked entrance, everyone faced in the same direction and saw a woman standing upon a stage; albeit far inferior to the stage they had just been dragged from. With her long black hair descending her back with such sharpness, it was the same woman from before. “Come closer!” she demanded, with respectable caution, everyone did so but were sure not to get too close. With us all close enough, her stern face suddenly formed a sharp smile which did nothing to settle anyone. It was then that she said with authority, “I am Hilder. How blessed all of you are, blessed for it is your turn to dance for them! It will be difficult and it will be frightening, but those who endure and overcome will be selected to perform before the almighty world watcher and if he grants you favourable you will have what you deserve! But should you fail, you will perish here. To most, this will be a trial, the most difficult you will ever face. To others, this will be a bonding to rekindle with what you once had but do not think this will be any easier!” Before Aaric even had chance to grasp Hilder’s bewildering announcement, the voice of a woman shouted in response. “What is this Hilder, I don’t understand!” she shouted. Aaric and Gwyneth glanced over, as did many others, but Gwyneth was soon to

supress herself from view once she saw who it was. She stood out massively and wasn’t hard for the eyes to find. The fearless objector had blonde curly hair at a length which certainly rivalled Hilder’s. She was quite tall, a solid five inches taller than the lad tied to her, and was dressed in an audacious manner which revealed all of her features. Aaric couldn’t help but notice that a few others that were spread sporadically throughout the crowd gently nodded their heads as if in agreement, but Hilder didn’t respond and instead pointed over to a pair of closed double-doors located to the right of the room. “Go, enter your Hollows, dry yourselves up and rest. They will be your homes until your first fates are tested,” she said as the double-doors suddenly opened at a steady pace. The creaking of the doors as well as their sudden parting proved frightening for some as the element of fear was still prevalent in their minds, but with nobody moving Hilder shouted and demanded we hurried. The parting of the doors revealed a singular and narrow hallway with multiple doors spaced evenly across both corresponding walls, the hallway stretched far into the distance, so much so that many doors were beyond sight from the hallway’s entrance. The hallway appeared clean and very well furbished with dark laminate flooring, the doors in view were also well kept and appeared to be made of cherry wood. Even with Hilder’s demand, a single pair was yet to enter but then the couple that were closest to the opened doors cautiously approached and eventually entered. Upon the first couple’s entry, one by one, others followed. More than half of all the couples had entered this narrow hallway by the time Aaric and Gwyneth had done so, when the doors opened, they could hardly see the contents within for the lighting was far from revealing. It was only as they approached closer that they could see the numerous doors within, they saw how some couples were opening doors then entering and saw how other couples advanced further up the hallway to the point they were beyond sight. Gwyneth looked to the doors she and Aaric were ing and noticed there was writing across all of them, closer inspection revealed them to be a pair of names on each. “The doors, there are names on them,” she gently said to Aaric as the pair of them walked, Aaric looked and saw that Gwyneth was correct. It was then the two started to gaze until their names could be seen on one of the doors, a door titled ‘Aaric and Gwyneth’ was found about a hundred paces from the hallway’s entrance. Aaric reached for the handle but Gwyneth gently pulled

his tied hand away, he looked at her and could see that she was clearly nervous. “It’s all right,” he said as he slowly raised his free hand for the handle once more, he turned it and gently pushed the door forward. The scene that was revealed from the door’s opening was far from what they expected and rendered all sense of caution useless, the view before them was that of a sunlit room with a spotless laminate floor which reflected the sun’s rays beautifully. This was made possible thanks to a massive bay window that made up the entirety of the back wall, a pleasant sight which left them both startled. They entered and closed the door behind them, upon doing so, all of the room’s features were now in view. To their right stood a magnificent mirror that, just like the window, made up the entirety of that side. It was so clean and reflected the light beautifully. The mirror coupled with the laminate floor gave the place the look of a studio. It was as Aaric gazed into it that he saw what laid behind him, he turned and saw two doors on opposite ends. As he went to move, Gwyneth stayed still and the sudden friction on the rope caused it to suddenly snap, it appeared it had become brittle as it dried, it must’ve been some kind of mouldable that stuck tightly against wet skin and seemed to only ensure temporary bondage. Not a word was spoken in regards to it, though it was clearly welcomed by both as they stretched their arms freely. He walked over to the door positioned to the left and opened it, revealed to him was a bedroom with an en suite. The immaculate conditioning persisted in the bedroom as it had outside of it, Aaric went over to the other door on the right and saw that it was another bedroom of identical structure and condition. As Aaric searched the place with great enthusiasm, Gwyneth simply gazed out of the large bay window. Aaric was in a semi-euphoric state and was in disbelief as to why they would be allowed to stay in such a well-kept room given the fact they had been kidnapped, a world away for him given his life in service. Quite some minutes would before he noticed Gwyneth’s dormant stance at the window, he emerged from the bedroom on the left that he had declared his and looked at her. Seeing Gwyneth as she was, Aaric had to where he was and not to be distracted by a nice interior as if he was a child being bribed with a bag of sweets. “Are you all right?” he asked as he stood at the door from his room, a foolish

question he thought to himself but there was nothing else he could think to say. “It’s an island,” she gently said, Aaric could barely hear her and walked across the room and over to the window. The view from the window revealed all and left no doubts for the imagination, the sand at the coast shinned like gold under the sun and the water stretched beyond endlessly. A flourishing land of green could be seen at an angle and too stretched far with its dazzling and fruitful trees. Though the sight was new to Aaric, the fact he found himself on an island was hardly surprising for he knew he was transported by ship. “That’s all-what surprises you?” asked Aaric, she sighed quietly and muttered no. Aaric was standing at the opposite end of the bay window to where Gwyneth was, he looked across to her and amongst the calmness he noticed features on her that had evaded him until now. Besides the moon white hair, he saw that her lips were covered in lipstick of exactly the same shade and the same could be said for her coloured nails. As her head turned, he noticed that she possessed unique and distinguishable markings that rendered her wider identity known. A host of tattooed rose heads coloured white, descending her spine far below the lining of her clothes. “A Rainsford I take it,” Aaric asked. She turned around and looked at him. “Is it that obvious?” She sighed. “Yes, it is,” Aaric answered with a smile. Gwyneth too smiled before returning to gaze aimlessly at the coast beyond. Aaric was surprised to see that a member of such a prestigious and albeit cultish family bear the same fate as him, it seemed apparent to him that whoever is responsible for this clearly holds no reverence between the average and the insanely rich. As he looked outwards, he wondered why he had been kidnapped and what trials laid ahead. To the unknowing eye, Gwyneth was simply gazing out unto the scenery, displaying an image of reasonable calmness, but within raged a horrendous number of questions as to what was this situation, she found herself in. This was

like nothing she expected and now she is left doubtful as to whether such an opportunity was as blessed as her father claimed. Many doors further up the hallway stood a Hollow that would now be home to Silas and Skarlet, the two stared at one another from the doors of their bedrooms. The pair of them possessed red hair with physiques of perfect muscular synchronicity. They each noticed the family insignia on each of their necklaces, though Silas’s was tucked beneath his shirt, she knew what it meant. The depiction of a hammer against a partially cracked brick on the necklace’s pendant ensured there was no confusion. Though they didn’t know each other, it was almost certain they were distant cousins. “Which Dorm are you from?” Silas asked her. “Barrington, North-West,” she answered. Silas raised his eyebrow and it was clear to Skarlet that he was surprised. “I didn’t know we had family that far north,” he then said. “Yes, but the Dorm is relatively new,” she replied. “I take it you’re from the south, in Kerry Town?” Skarlet then asked. He simply nodded. The pair stared at each other and were clearly unsure on how to act in one another’s company, since the snapping of their bondage, they’ve been sure to keep a respectable distance. The family believed in the separation of the sexes and lived in so-called Dorms to reflect so and now, in each other’s sight, it’s not just their surroundings that are alien to them. The revelation in which the two found themselves in were perhaps the hardest for them to grasp than any other pair. “It wasn’t meant to be like this,” said Skarlet. “Dancing? We can’t.” Silas struck the wall in anger. “I know!” he shouted. They knew what the gracious art of dancing entailed, close and intimate , and they found the prospect grotesque to their beliefs. A great and overwhelming battle raged in each of their minds as they struggled to contemplate how they can stay pure and succeed to The Succession. This wasn’t what they had imagined, it

couldn’t be further from it. Silas’s sudden striking of the war startled Skarlet and she stepped backwards and began to silently weep, he didn’t step an inch closer and said he was sorry but her response told him that his outburst was not the cause of her sorrow. “What have we gotten ourselves into?” she cried, he turned away and supressed his own sorrow. It was a question that had plagued his mind a hundred times already, how he wished one of his brothers were chosen instead.

Chapter Two

Aaric sat cross-legged on his bed with his head placed firmly on his hands, it all grew too much to bear as the gradual darkening of the sky beyond his bedroom window told him the anniversary was near. But with no clock to tell exactly when, he dared not think of anything else before the sky fell into complete darkness. Lone and solemn tears descended each cheek as he came to realise that this would be the first year, since his cousin’s ing, that he wouldn’t be kneeling before his gravestone. The guilt was all-consuming most days and especially on the anniversaries, but this time was perhaps worse than ever before as this time he would be absent from the gathering of mourners. He blamed himself and despite the situation he found himself in, thoughts of his cousin’s fateful last moment still dominated over all others. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered into his hands, cautious of Gwyneth hearing his weeping from beyond his open door. The tragedy of nine years before ate away at him like a parasite and he knew beyond any doubt that time was not the greatest healer, with every year that es he grows older but at the cost of his cousin’s sacrifice. They were so young when it happened. “It should’ve been me,” Aaric then whispered. Despite Aaric’s grave distress, Gwyneth was completely unaware as she continued to gaze out of the bay window in the open room. But Aaric was not the only one to have a raging plague on his mind. Like him, tears fell down her cheeks and though pain affects them all the same; her anguish came from something entirely separate. She felt that she had been lied to, cheated, sold a romanticised dream of age so that she may make it to The Succession. She knew that she had been naïve, after all, nobody who had took part in the Bonding of Retrouvailles from the Rainsford family returned to speak of the now apparent horrors it includes. They either make it through to The Succession or perish in the process, which is now evident. Gwyneth, like the rest of her family and all those within her house that had been selected to participate, only had legends and tales to reference. Her

father, Lord Zeus Rainsford, had told her and her sisters great fables of how participating in the bonding would require nothing more than praying in the open waters of the sea for days at a time until the famed Island of Tears would surface and lift them from the water. How wrong was he, she thought. But she knew that to blame him would not be entirely fair, for he himself was just ing down the stories bestowed to him by his parents. What only added to her sorrow was the fact that her father didn’t even want this for her, Lord Zeus had always wanted one of his eldest daughters to go first. He had always favoured dear Elenore and Pipastrella over Gwyneth and the younger daughters, ing his disappointed face when she was chosen only brought a heavier flow of tears to add to the pain. Unknowing to one another, the pair silently wept. Though for separate reasons, they were unified in grief. It was as the two suffered in their silent grief that a noise could be heard beyond the door that leads to their Hollow. Gwyneth slowly turned from the bay window to look at the door directly opposite her whilst Aaric rose from his bed and walked to his opened bedroom door, the pair of them looked at each other and didn’t know what to expect. As Aaric stood at his bedroom door, he was closer than Gwyneth and thus was able to guess what the noise was. It sounded as if a key was being turned but this struck him as odd given the fact, they shut the door behind themselves and believed they could simply open it again should they choose to, though they wouldn’t as it would be pointless. The turning of the key in the door clearly proved otherwise and eventually it opened steadily to reveal a woman perhaps fifteen years older than them, possibly in her late-thirties. The woman possessed illustrious brown hair with curls and large eyes with a captivating gaze. She immediately saw Gwyneth staring at her and soon saw Aaric as she entered and looked to her left, she closed the door behind her and tucked the key in her pocket. Nothing is said at first and the simply looks and smiles towards the pair of them. Neither of them knew what to think but the woman’s appearance was nowhere near as intimidating as Hilder’s, though she was a stranger, Aaric saw no threat in her and even felt the urge to smile back as hers proved infectious. But Gwyneth remained sterned-faced and was sure not to lower her guard. She then finally spoke as she stared at Aaric. “You must be Aaric,” she said. He

gently nodded before she turned to Gwyneth. “And you must be Gwyneth,” she then said. Gwyneth too nodded. “I’m Wren,” she said. “I will be your Preceptor for the duration of your time here.” “Preceptor?” asked Gwyneth. “As in teacher?” Wren nodded and smiled. “Why do we need a teacher?” Aaric then asked. Wren sighed. “To teacher dance before the almighty Grievers of course and all that comes in between.” Gwyneth parted from the bay window for the first since entering their Hollow. “Grievers?” she asked. Wren then looked to Aaric and saw that he too did not know what they were, it was then she sighed once more for this was far from the first time such questions had been asked – though they should know the answers already. “Typical Hilder,” she said. “She always fails to tell the pairs what they need to know. I’m guessing she said nothing more than how blessed you were to be here.” Gwyneth and Aaric nodded. Wren continued. “She’s not wrong, you are blessed to be here, but there’s more you must know. The Grievers, they are the ones who will decide your fate in progression. It is they who decide whether you make it to dance before the world watcher. They stand out massively from the others in the audience, there’s no mistaking them.” Aaric felt a great sense of nervousness as he ed how he knelt on the stage and saw the seven figures; their menacing and brazen figures clear for even the blind to see. Wren then approached Gwyneth and began lifting her arms and feeling her shoulders, almost as if she was inspecting her. “Impressing the

Grievers is far from easy and will require relentless dedication to mastering your craft, there are a hundred couples here and half will perish before the second round has begun.” Wren then realised she was getting ahead of herself and was quickly able to guess that Hilder hadn’t told them of the rounds as she often didn’t. Wren then walked over to Aaric and began lifting his arms as well as feeling his shoulders. “Three rounds, three times you’ll have to prove your devotion to your craft and to your masters. But should you progress, you should know that each round is a far cry from the other and will test in more ways than simply dancing. Everything you do on the island, and I mean everything, will be weighed against you. Assume you are being watched at all times,” she explained. “Well, at least I am dealing with healthy participants this time, well-structured and toned. The last ones were far from this,” said Wren as she finished observing Aaric and headed for the door. “I am not a participant,” said Aaric angrily. “Whatever this is, I will have no part of it!” Wren was about to open the door when she his outburst and immediately displayed a look of resentment and disappointment. “You have been blessed to take part in this, many would give their lives in the attempt of getting to The Succession, don’t be so ungrateful!” she said. “Grateful?” Aaric shouted. “You have no idea what this day meant to me, you brought me here against my will and expect me to be grateful? Cleary you see nothing wrong in this and I refuse to be a puppet nor entertainment for those monsters out there!” Wren appeared angry and approached Aaric, not stopping until their noses were almost touching. “If you knew what awaited you, should you , you would be begging for those words to be taken back!” she said in a stern voice with modest volume. She then informed them that she would be back in the morning and advised them to be up and ready for the first trial to begin, she left and the sound of a fondling

key could be heard soon afterwards. Aaric wasted no time in testing the door and, as suspected, it was locked. He began to pull against it, more aggressively with every attempt, which progressed into him barging his shoulder into it. He grew frustrated for the door showed no signs of weariness, he looked back at Gwyneth and saw that she had turned around and was gazing out of the bay window once more. He then hit the door with an open palm and entered his bedroom, slamming the door with force behind him. Gwyneth was left alone and tears began to part from the pair of them once more. The thick of night was soon approaching and once the Hollows’ interiors had darkened beyond a certain extent, the fixed bulbs merged in their ceilings began to brighten. Silas and Skarlet prayed on opposite ends of the Hollow, they stood tall and each had their left arms raised to their right side with their hands grasped tightly. Praying in this manner was difficult for the pair of them and it was not just because of the company they shared but also in the fact that a key element was in fact missing. Their beloved axes would usually fill their grasped hands but they could not be brought, but this was largely customary and was far from what was necessary to pray to their beloved patriarch. The pair desperately tried to ignore the other’s presence and focus solely on their prayer and it saddened both of them that this couldn’t be done, now they knew why their families lived in Dorms – away from the other sex. For whatever reason, the presence of the opposite gender distracts the faithful mind from his or her labour and therefore The Edifice would not serve as sole priority. In the tradition of both their faith and family, they are builders who can erect magnificent structures with nothing more than nails, hammers and axes. They produce such magnificent structures in their Dorms that lay far in the wilderness, but can only be done out of pure dedication and therefore no distraction. Though Silas would never weep aloud, within he did. He felt as if he was failing his family and his faith, just being around Skarlet only swayed his mind in the slightest – but sway nonetheless. Skarlet felt the same pain he did. They both just wanted to make it through to The Succession so that they could their brothers and sisters, who work separately on the great Edifice – the temple of their patriarch.

The Bonding of Retrouvailles is the only way they could get there, but they feel they have been sold a lie. As Skarlet’s mother told her and Silas’s father told him, all they had to do was build a structure that would please their patriarch. The pair felt foolish as they came to realise that what they were told, in regards to the bonding, were of stories handed down from previous generations. No member of their family ever returned from the bonding so how could they know of what it entailed, realising such a reality caused Skarlet to weep – but on the outside. Again, Silas saw her struggle, but like before, he did not approach and simply did not know how to act. Her weeping only distracted him further which only made his sorrow within increase for prayer had been disturbed, minutes ed before she regained composure. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, Silas stared ed her and onto the darkened sky beyond the bay window of their Hollow. The manner in which the sky had darkened brought that fateful evening back to Silas for the sky was too of this darkness when his fate was decided. He imagined that he would reflect back on such an occasion with nothing other than gratitude and bestowed blessing but given the light of the situation, he now reluctantly looks back with nothing but regret. He ed every detail of that evening for it has played in his mind so many times since. The sky was of a warm blue darkness when she visited their Dorm that stood beautifully amongst open green land, built in the shape and style of a cabin but was the size of ten mansions in one. Hilder was dressed in all black as usual and the lengthy heals of her shoes echoed throughout the hall, growing louder with every step as she approached. Silas’s father, Paul Farlaiph, stood with the most arched of backs and the glimmering of his forehead could be seen by each of his sons, even as they stood all the way across the room. Silas could see he was nervous, why wouldn’t he be, it had been so long since a member from his branch of the family (in Kerry Town) had been selected for the bonding. But with only three sons to present to her and all of similar look, the chances of one of his sons getting chosen was slim at best. Silas knew this and so did his brothers, Timothy and Barnabas. With their hair finely combed, shirts neatly pressed and waistcoats refined they did all they could to make themselves presentable. None of them knew whether this sort of effort would do anything to influence her decision, all they could do

was guess. To distinguish one from the other, Silas’s father had bestowed each of them a waistcoat of unique colour as well as making them dye their hair to the same colour of their waistcoat. Silas’s waistcoat was red so he dyed his hair accordingly and even his mutton chops were not exempt, the same applied for his brothers. Timothy had received a waistcoat that was yellow in colour and Barnabas’ was blue. Colour was mainly all that separated them, with them being triplets, even their hair was styled identically. Though his father never openly said it, Silas knew his father was proud of him. Proud with each of them. If he was an emotional man, Silas had no doubt that his father would allow tears of proudness to descend his cheeks as he saw the three of his sons stand shoulder-to-shoulder ready for the most important day of their lives. His sons stood proudly with stern faces and strong physiques; twenty-six years of hand-rearing for this moment. Today could be the day where one of his sons is finally chosen. Then the baroness in black appeared, she entered Paul’s study and said nothing. Silas’s eyes remained fixed on the bookshelves located directly opposite him, they dared not wonder into her piercing gaze. “Is this all of them I take it?” she asked in that domineering tone of hers, their father went to answer but croaked in the beginning. “Yes, yes, these are my sons. From the right; Barnabas, Timothy and Silas,” said Paul. Hilder was quick to interject. “I do not need to know their names yet, only should I grant one of them favourable will that be necessary,” she said. Their father lowered his head as a sign of both acknowledgement and respect. She approached the three of them and stopped once she was less than a foot away, all three of them were nervous and not because of the decision that was to be made. This was the very first Silas and his brothers had been in the presence of a female. “I must say, Paul, you have done a fair job raising three handsome specimens,” she then said. “The praise should be given to our patriarch, we all descend from Father Farlaiph,” he responded. As Silas quickly glanced over, he saw that Hilder had rolled her eyes before

discreetly sighing. He then quickly looked back as she begun the inspection. She had started with Barnabas, Silas again looked over and saw that she was staring at him intensively and began to run the back of her hands across his sleeved arms. “What do you feed these boys to grow in such magnificent ways?” she asked. “We only eat pure foods, grains from the land,” Paul answered. She then moved over to Timothy as he stood in the centre, similarly to Barnabas, she began seaming her hands across his chest. “I’ve heard stories of these Dorms, men and women who build tremendous structures day in and day out. I didn’t think it was possible, mostly because I didn’t think the human body could withstand such demand but now, I concede,” she then said. “It is through our ion and devotion to Father Farlaiph that this is possible,” Paul responded. “You couldn’t have been that dedicated” – she disrespectfully sighed – “your legends say your ancestors abandoned this patriarch of yours, he ran away in tears and thus everything you do now is out of guilt.” Paul’s head lowered even further as he said with remorse, “This is why we need to get to The Succession, so that the Edifice can be built upon his return.” Silas had grown silently angry with Hilder’s complete lack of respect to their faith, but his family tradition ensured his anger was well-suppressed – the same could be said for all other emotions. She then left Timothy and walked over to him, she now stood firm before him and his eyes were sure not to part from the bookshelves ahead of him. As dreadfully expected, by his brothers’ s, her hands began to wander across his shoulders and arms. He felt every inch of her fingers and thought of nothing but his devotion to his beloved patriarch, her hands made a habit to stay firm across his large and well-defined shoulders. It was then she asked him a question directly. “How tall are you?” Silas looked over to his father for he ed the conversation beforehand not to speak with her directly; a gentle nod ensured a response was granted. “6’ 6’,” he simply said with a stern and unimpressed attitude, her blatant

disrespect still present in his mind. It was clear she had noticed that he stood a comfortable three inches above Barnabas and even greater when compared to Timothy. After her hands explored further, this time the sides of his chest, she looked back to Silas’s father. “You’ll be a proud father today,” she said. “I choose this one.” She then immediately left and the sound of her heals could be heard echoing once more. Timothy and Barnabas looked over to Silas with happiness. Great euphoria filled the room as his brothers broke from their stern stances and hugged him, they were confident that their father would forgive the temporary showing of emotions. Silas embraced in the ceremony and looked to his father whilst in the arms of his brothers, a rare smile broke from his lips and a smile from Silas returned. A happy and blessed memory that was intended to be reflected upon as such. But now, given the revelation, it will never be viewed in such a light. The rarest of emotion was shown and a lone tear was quickly wiped from his cheek, though not fast enough for Skarlet had already drifted in his direction. The wandering of his eye had noticed Skarlet’s gaze and quickly turned away. “It can be done,” he heard Skarlet gently say as his eyes faced the door to his right. He slowly turned his head and looked at her. “It has been done, many times already,” she continued. Silas said nothing and a blank glare in his gaze persisted, but her words played with his mind as he came to understand the fruitfulness of their meaning. She was right, he thought to himself, many times have others from the Dorms of their family arrived here and to the same revelation. Granted, there is no way of knowing whether any of them progressed to the end, they would’ve given it their best try with every inch of strength within them. Should even one made it to the end and through to The Succession, then surely that would prove it was possible to endure the bonding whilst maintaining a pure mindset; a mind that is free from distractions of all kinds. He didn’t know it was possible and neither could Skarlet for certain, but perhaps that was the whole point of it, Silas thought to himself. If it could not be denied that such a thing was possible, then following in pursuit would not be out of

devotion but out of direct influence of those who had done it before them. That would not prove their love to their patriarch. Silas viewed this as his defining moment, spurred on by Skarlet’s words, his mind was no longer filled with selfpity nor utter sorrow. Once his mind had wandered, he found that his eyes were still fixed on Skarlet’s. He stood up and did something he never thought possible by his own perception, with one step at a time he crossed the lucid barrier that stood starkly between both sides of the Hollow. Skarlet’s face did not move and no emotions could be read, he approached closely and placed his hands on either of her shoulders. “Then it shall be done,” he said as he looked at her dead in the eye, his mind was clear and was focused solely on the overwhelming task that awaited them. His mind was pure and possessed no distraction, not even as his hands laid upon a female for the first time. He knew this undivided feeling would need to remain so for the entirety of the bonding, it was going to be no easy task but he now knew it was at least possible. As his hands laid upon her bare shoulders, she too brushed all diverting thoughts away. It was then, for the first time since their arrival on the island, that they believed such an outcome was possible. With not an inch of light remaining in the sky, Aaric’s sorrow had turned back into anger once more. For more than an hour he had been pacing the Hollow, trying to find an alternative way out. The bay window possessed many scuff marks as a result of Aaric’s boot, despite numerous strikes of the foot, not a single crack nor chip was in sight. Glass in appearance though clearly reinforced. The window in his bedroom had also been put on trial against his boot and too bore no results. Guided by nothing other than foolish anger, he foolishly believed that the window in Gwyneth’s room would fare better. She was sitting peacefully and crossed-legged on her bed as Aaric struck the window multiple times. She stared at the back of him with a blank expression as he continued to kick, though with tiering effect. He had grown breathless but continued nonetheless. “It’s not going to break, Aaric,” said Gwyneth. “You’ll have to accept that there’s no way out.” Aaric ignored her and continued to protest his capture, her polite words then evolved into an aggressive stance as his persistence proved irritating and the

logic behind them was equally so. “Aaric, even if you get out, you’re on an island!” she shouted. “Where would you go then? Swim for who knows how many miles?” Not a further kick was made after Gwyneth’s justified outburst, Aaric halfheartedly struck the wall beside him and leaned his back against it before lowering himself to the ground. He covered his face with his hand and his eyes began to water, Gwyneth’s words proving too much to bear. He knew he had been in denial about the situation and foolishly believed that he could break his way out of this, the soldier mentality still prevalent within. Much simpler it would’ve been if the anger of false imprisonment was all that motivated his attempts to escape, but with the blacked-out sky beyond, it was now certain that the anniversary of his cousin’s fate had ed. Gwyneth stared down at him from her bed, seeing him weep in such a way told her there was an underlining cause to his grief which was made only worse with the events of the day. “There’s something else here, isn’t there?” she asked, Gwyneth guessing such a fact only made him feel worse. But he knew that with such tears persisting, Gwyneth guessing the fact would be inevitable. Aaric tried his best to compose himself and he wiped the tears from his red and saturated eyes, with much sniffling and inconsistent breathing, he was able to muster a response. “My cousin,” he said, “his ing was nine years ago; to this day, this is the first time I’ve missed attending his memorial.” Stating the fact aloud caused his sorrow to return with brutal vengeance and he could hardly contain himself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he said as he began to thrust his head back and forth against the wall behind him. Gwyneth unfolded her legs and rose from her bed, she walked over to him and tried to pull him up just as his head was returning to the grasp of his hands. He felt her tugging his arm and resisted at first, shaking his head in the process. “Come on,” she gently said. He eventually lightened himself and allowed Gwyneth to hoist him up by the arm, he then immediately fell into her shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “It’s all right,” she said as she locked her arms around him whilst also hushing his wailing. The couple of minutes that followed were of great heart-felt for Aaric, never had he cried in someone’s arms about anything – least of all about his cousin’s

ing. Gwyneth was far from knowing the full magnitude of Aaric’s grief but knew she had done all she could to calm him, she dared not to ask for specifics as it would clearly be intrusive. Should he want to tell her the full reason for his tears then he would’ve told her more and yet hasn’t. She knew he didn’t need questions, just a shoulder to cry on. With his anguish under control once more, he lifted his head from her shoulder and wiped the tears away. “I’m sorry,” he said as the two unfolded their arms from one another. “It’s fine,” she kindly replied. The two stood there, less than a foot apart, and neither knew what to say. Aaric felt somewhat ashamed and embarrassed that he allowed his emotions to reveal themselves in such a manner and even more so that the arms of a stranger was all that could triumph over them. “I need to … get out of these damp clothes so …” Gwyneth then said. “Oh, yes, sorry, I’ll … leave you in peace,” he said as he headed for the door. “Goodnight,” he said as he went to close the door behind him. “Goodnight,” she replied with a slight smile. With the door closed, Gwyneth lowered her head and exhaled for the ordeal had proved exhausting – especially when coupled with the events of the day. Beyond the other side of the door Aaric stood stiffly, contemplating the shame he just felt, with the slight shaking of the head he walks across the open space and over to his bedroom next door to hers. He shut his bedroom door behind him and leaned his back against it, with a large exhale, he took off his deeply damped clothing and threw them on the floor to the side of his bed. He then gazed over to the shower in the en suite, it was time to rid himself of that damp odour that had been plaguing him all day. May it be washed away, he thought to himself, that and the memory of this day he would look back with resentment forever. With the water descending from the shower head, it landed firmly against his scalp and descended in all directions down his body. The first moment of peace he had felt all day, or at least, the most peace he would allow to bear. With his cousin still in his mind, Gwyneth’s hug served well in placing the stitches but he knew that the unrelenting wound would open up again soon enough. Amongst

this entire ordeal, that was all that could be known for certain. Aaric’s running shower could be heard from Gwyneth’s room, she too was consumed in the odour of damp – which any future occurrence would forever remind her of this day. But her need for a shower was made to wait and come after a task of infinitely higher importance, she stood at her bedroom window with her white rose in its miniature vase coloured midnight blue. Her sign of worship, the only object she was permitted to bring, she prayed to her beloved Murielabel as she stared out onto the endless ocean – just as she would’ve done had she been back at the mansion. Despite the horrendous events of the day, the thinking of dear Murielabel was still enough to return her mind to peace. It was the most peaceful she had felt all day. It was as she thought of her dear goddess that she reminded herself what all of this was for, a thought she must always keep in mind from now on, she looked out to the sea and thought of Murielabel on the Island of Tears – somewhere beyond the never-ending blue. She holds onto her rose tightly and dreams of planting it on that heavenly island. “I will get to you, Murielabel,” she said, “whatever it takes, I swear.”

Chapter Three

The Minitus Mansion for the devoted offspring to Murielabel, or more commonly known amongst the locals below as The Moon Mansion stood proudly on the peak of the highest mountain in Lovers’ Country where nothing but the open sea comprised its northern view. Named after the founder of this branch of the Rainsford Family; Lord Zeus Rainsford, his wife and his nine daughters were all that inhabited the insanely large structure which covered more than 155,000 square feet of land. The unique paleness of its exterior and interior walls ensured it glistened like the purest of gems as the lunar rays struck against it. One could easily get lost in its vast space and abundance of rooms, possibly wandering for hours without seeing a further soul between the walls. In the myriad of rooms laid treasures and possessions that would startle even the most travelled of fools, but amongst all the unique bewilderments was a particular piece that remained consistent in every room. Effigies depicting their beloved goddess were everywhere and could not be avoided, even by the most commendable of efforts. The depictions of her were entirely accurate with the reflective skin coloured blue, white bocce of rose heads for hair and the fifty digits on each of her twenty arms. It was impossible not be taken by the depictions of Murielabel for they displayed her incomprehensible beauty so elegantly, not even a person like Hilder could them so carelessly and was compelled to stop and gaze as she walked the never-ending hallway. Just further up the hallway laid a single closed door, on its other side stood Lord Zeus and his daughters. The daughters stood before their father, all shoulder-toshoulder with immaculate appearances. Each had donned the family’s signature white dresses that descended the back gracefully to reveal their markings. Their lips were as white as ever and so were their nails – but they could never shine as brightly as their hair. They stood in order of age with the youngest being closest to the door, Gwyneth stood right in the middle as the fifth daughter. She was nervous for the prophesised day and looked to her father for comfort.

But, as always, his eyes did not return to hers and were instead focused on a particular pair. With the discreet turning of the head, she saw where his eyes had gazed. His eyes and the heart-felt smile that followed were directed towards the end of the line were his eldest daughters stood. Both in their late thirties, Elenore and Pipastrella were viewed in the highest reverence by their father amongst the others. Even then, on the most blessed of days, they stood slightly ahead of their sisters – done deliberately by their father. It was never a declared fact but Gwyneth, as well as the rest of her sisters, knew it to be and ascribed the fact to a particular woman. Gwyneth then tilted her head up as she gazed upon the many portraits of her famed cousins and ancestors from the extended family which filled the entirety of the upper walls. They all looked so beautiful with their electric blue hair, lips and nails. They had done what Gwyneth and her sisters craved; they were assumed entry onto the Island of Tears. It’s only with such a age that one can finally don the blue colours as well as their new reputation as a Full Blood or Sapphire. As opposed to those donned in white, which renders them Half Blood and are yet to make it to famed island. Of course, their portraits were nothing more than assumptions for they haven’t been seen since they were taken for the bonding. The emotions swirling around Gwyneth’s mind were contradictive to say the least; on one hand she was happy that there was such a possibility for her to be chosen but on the other she was defeatist for it was almost certain that one of the eldest were to be instead. Lord Zeus quickly approached Elenore and Pipastrella, granting them a final kiss of the cheek each as a sign of good wishes just before Hilder was to open the door. “Greetings, Hilder,” he said as she opened the door and closed it behind her. “May I present Elenore, Pipastrella and my other daughters.” Hilder said nothing and her eyes were immediately fixed on the daughters as a whole. Within seconds of her entry, Gwyneth’s withering hopes were now completely extinguished and she lowered her head before closing her eyes. She had shut off her senses and blocked all noises around her as seeing and hearing anything more would just tease the inevitable, she thought. She couldn’t wait for the ordeal to be over and believed it was so when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She believed it was one of her sisters so she opened her eyes expecting to see one of them standing before her; her senses immediately returned with the sight of a different face as expected. Hilder stared at her intensively and with a slight smile. “This one,” she simply said. Gasps echoed off the walls and high up to the dome ceiling, the loudest of which coming from the eldest sisters, and her father’s protest was almost immediate. “Are … are you sure, Hilder?” he said in a voice that implied much restraint. “Surely, one of my eldest daughters would prove a far better choice.” She looked at him with a glare of much disgust. “I … choose … this one,” she said. “Of course,” said her father as he lowers his head in respect though his disapproval is explicit. Hilder then walks out of the room and Gwyneth is showered with hugs by her sisters, with the exception of the two eldest. She embraces in the euphoria but at the same time, is all too aware of her father’s disappointment as he stands lonesome and silent across the room. As the thick of night loomed, Gwyneth was walking past the main hallway with a euphoric smile and gazed at every effigy and painting of Murielabel. All as she gripped tightly to the vase that hydrated her pale rose. The shock was yet to settle, she couldn’t believe that she had been chosen despite the odds. Gwyneth believed that it was by the goddess’ wish that she was chosen and consequently, felt closer to her than ever before. The front door grew ever larger as she got closer, she was to meet Hilder outside so that her blessed bonding could begin. How magnificent Murielabel was, Gwyneth thought. Her ancestors had been so unkind to her and left her all but abandoned, despite this, she still grants them the opportunity to have us rekindle in her garden (The Island of Tears). “How I will float for you,” said Gwyneth. “I will float in the endless and cold waters for as long as you wish, I will do anything to get to you and plant my rose.” The door was soon all that filled her view and she went to turn its handle but

abruptly stopped the motion with the sounding of footsteps behind her. She turned to see her father with saturated eyes, still heartbroken by Hilder’s choice, it appeared that he had been waiting for her behind a secluded wall to the end of the hallway. Gwyneth didn’t know what to say and believed that any words would be futile in bringing him happiness, the only thing that could grant him such would probably come with her giving her blessed journey to one of her eldest sisters – but even if she could, she didn’t want to. It was as he slowly approached that the extent of his sorrow could be fully understood, irritated skin around his eyes and cheeks suggested he had been in this state for hours – likely ever since she was chosen. The uncomfortable look of resentment caused Gwyneth to slowly step back a couple of paces, to the point her back was almost against the front door. “Why did it have to be you,” he said in a silent rage. “If only your whore mother hadn’t found me, I knew you seven brats would hinder my beloveds’ chances!” Lord Zeus’ words were spiteful and tears almost immediately began to surface. “We are your daughters … just like Elenore and Pipastrella,” she cried with anger. He sighed from the second she spoke. “You hold my blood … but nothing more.” Angered by his blatant and unjustified disapproval, she bravely regained the paces she had lost. “I will get to that island and will float for as long as it takes, with or without your blessing,” she said. Gwyneth then abruptly turned and opened the front door where Hilder was waiting at the stairs below. “You don’t deserve to be blessed; you will drown!” her father shouted as she slammed the door behind her. She wiped her tears as she descended the stairs and dared not let another drip; his words were of blind hatred and did not deserve further thought. The patient Hilder was waiting and even hinted a slight smile as Gwyneth approached, this was the beginning of her blessed journey she thought. She met Hilder at the bottom of the steps, with the last tear dried, she said she

was ready. Gwyneth stared past her and on towards the sea in the far distance, she smiled as the thought of getting to the family’s dear goddess was overwhelming. This is it, she thought, she couldn’t believe the moment had come. “Look to your left,” said Hilder but Gwyneth was fixated on the open sea beyond and had failed to hear her, she looked to her and implied the fact. “Look to your left,” said Hilder once more. she heard her this time and went to do so. A startled shock caused her to suddenly step back as what stood before her was a blackened figure comprised of murky shadows, a face and body could just be seen beyond the black waves which surrounded it. She looked to Hilder and it was clear she was in shock but Hilder’s face was expressionless and revealed nothing, the figure then rushed for her and it all went dark as if her eyes were compelled to close. The only thing to fill her vision next was the emergence of a face, that of her father’s, the expression was that of harsh resentment for the eyes were bulbous and angry. “You don’t deserve to be blessed, you will drown!” he shouted in a voice which echoed as if in a cave, it was deafening and went right through her. A sweaty and breathless Gwyneth then leapt from her bed; her heart paced as if she had just run for miles. A quick glancing of the walls around her were quick to remind her where she was. She cried into her covers once she had realised what the dream entailed, if described to others it would be a nightmare but she knew it was worse than that – a memory. Waking in a panicked state was certainly a far cry from how she believed the prophesised day would be ed; she thought it would be viewed upon in nothing but the purest of happiness but instead it serves as the source of the very anguish that consumes her.

Chapter Four

Lance cautiously unlocked the door to the Hollow in front of him, he knew he was in for a difficult morning as the pair he had been assigned to as Preceptor were far from cooperative when he left them the previous night. A solemn exhale sounded as he prepared to enter with hopes for a better day and to forget the one that had ed. But before the door could even be pushed forward, he heard the anger of Nathan which clearly meant his anger was persisting further still. The sound of objects being smashed against the walls and floor were all too clear. All hopes for an easier day were diminished from that moment and he sighed greatly as he opened the door with determination but not before placing the baggedclothes that were piled on one arm. Before the rays of sunlight from the bay window hit his eyes, a flying plate of food was sure to greet him first. Already familiar with Nathan’s temper, he was quick to react and smacked the approaching plate to the floor. “Let me out of here!” Nathan could be heard shouting before the shattered pieces had even settled. Lance looked into the Hollow before him and saw a highly frustrated Nathan standing amongst the debris of his own making. Shattered plates, which housed the couple’s breakfast, filled the entire space and so did battered furniture that had been removed from Nathan’s room. Apparent scuff marks on the bay window showed he had tried to escape, but those windows were impenetrable and he was certainly not the first to try – nor the last. Lance walked further in and shuffled the shattered pieces on the ground to the side before closing the door behind him, all whilst Nathan breathed erratically like a feral animal. He was certainly the angriest of participants that Lance had to deal with and whilst other Preceptors would’ve dealt with him in a more robust manner, Lance was somewhat lost on how to enforce such a strategy for it was not in his nature. “Let me out,” Nathan then demanded in a far quieter but no less aggressive voice, Lance looked at him and saw his veins pulsate across his arms, neck and

bald head as if his anger needed more proof. The tattoos scattered throughout his body depicted his life story, it told one of great struggle where his anger serves as the catalyst for his forced personality. Lance had been warned of this lad upon his arrival and knew the struggle ahead would be exceptional. A deeply complexed and battered young man whose anger is the primal form of expression, not surprising given the rollercoaster of a life he’s had in his brief nineteen years of existence. But the Preceptors and Gatherers alike knew that such an individual would be perfect for the Trials of Serendipity. Lance believed that getting Nathan to realising the blessed situation he finds himself in is key to his success, but getting there will require Nathan to discover this for himself and cannot be forced. It had struck Lance as odd that a man who was taken from captivity would render himself so unwilling as his incarceration is no different here as it was there. But perhaps his protesting comes from the fact that his actions led him to his cell back home, they were of his own doing. Here, however, it is not. “I cannot do that, Nathan,” said Lance in a respectful but stern manner. “Now, I strongly suggest that you feast for the day ahead is long and exhausting.” Nathan then stomped on a couple of partially broken plates beneath his feet and released a loud scream before heading over to the table in the left corner to munch on what little wholesome flakes remained, Lance watched him eat and expected a certain question to be hurled his way but surprisingly it did not come. Perhaps he was too hungry to ask what he was eating or maybe it was because he was all too familiar with strange foods from his many years in confinement. “Where’s Sophie?” Lance asked as Nathan scoffed his food, he laughed aloud and responded in a deeply sarcastic manner. “We’re trapped in here, where do you think she is?” he said. A stupid question to all who were not Lance, his intentions were known only to himself as he asked the question with the intent of diverting Nathan’s mind by changing the conversation. Lance gazed over to the bedroom to the right of Nathan’s, unsurprisingly, the door was closed. He walked across the open space and made a conscious effort to avoid treading on any debris, which mostly proved fruitless. With the door before him, he gently knocked on it three times and told her who it was. There

was no answer, but he couldn’t blame her. It was highly likely that she was finding this harder than any other participant on the island, being just fifteen and therefore the youngest. There was probably not a worse person that she could’ve been paired with, but with that being said she is no less blessed than the rest of them. As Nathan had raged outside her room, she would’ve laid there with silence. Polar opposites it would seem, although they possessed similarities that could render them relatable to one another which could go in their favour. They are the only pair to both be teens and their short lives have been far from peaceful to say the very least. Whilst Nathan effectively lived in juvenile detention, Sophie had been ed from one orphanage to another as quickly as a change in the weather. Both prisoners, but by separate circumstances. “It’s no wonder she’s in here, Nathan,” said Lance as he looked back to Nathan. “You’ll need to control that temper and make an effort to interact with Sophie, you’ll only make it out as a pair.” Nathan simply stared and continued to eat with aggressiveness. “I’m coming in, Sophie,” Lance then said as he went to turn the handle. He opened the door and it was as if the room was empty of occupants. Nothing had been touched, not a single item of clothing peppered the ground nor a mark on the window. If the peak of Sophie’s head couldn’t be seen protruding from her bed, Lance would’ve panicked as to where she went. She had tucked herself in tightly and was facing the wall to the side of her bed, the room smelt damp and it was clear that she hadn’t changed nor showered since she was drenched the day before. Despite Nathan’s endless rage, even he had managed to wash and change into the white hoodie and jogging bottoms that were provided. “Sophie, you’ve got a big day ahead. Your first trial awaits, I need you to wash and eat, I’ll then need you to change into the clothing I’ve brought for you.” She remained motionless for the first few seconds but after the calling of her name a further two times her head had risen and she gently nodded whilst gazing in Lance’s direction. Lance then nodded back and proceeded to close the door behind him. Upon doing so, he turned to see an unimpressed Nathan standing with a gaze straight at him. “You said you brought clothing?” he asked, Lance sighed as he knew there was a further battle ahead. A battle to get him to don a suit of pristine standing.

Chapter Five

The sun shined bright on Aaric as well as the rest of the room, despite his bedroom resembling a marvel of design, the absence of curtains was certainly a head scratcher. From the moment dawn broke, getting any further sleep was near on impossible. For Aaric this was a bad end to a bad night, with no clock present, he guessed he had gotten no more than a couple of hours sleep at best and even then, it was patchy. His mind had raged throughout the night like a storm to a ship and he had hoped his eyes would shut only to reopen with it all being a dream, but he knew such a thing was too much to ask for. The smell of his damp clothes on the floor had ensured he was aware of the reality before his eyes had even opened. Aaric digs his palms into his eyes and rubs them in a circular motion before allowing them to adjust to the bright light that reflected from the walls around him, he yawns and stretches and then rises to his feet with much reluctance. Though the bed was of immense comfort, with foam that allowed the body to sink, his body felt rough and knotted as if he had slept on a bed of rocks. It seemed evident that if the mind cannot settle, then neither can the body. He reached for the left side of his neck and throbbed against it with his index and middle fingers, a sharp and knotted pain came with it and could be felt far within the realms of his shoulder below. After some fruitless stretches, the pain persisted and it seemed clear that he would just have to grow tolerant with it and hope it shrivels away over the duration of the day. Standing nude beside his bed, he looks to the floor and quickly realises that the clothes he had arrived in could not suffice for the day. This led his eyes to turn towards the wardrobe across the room and he approaches, completely unaware of the contents it holds – if any. Like everything else in the room, the wardrobe was fancy in appearance and reflected the sunlight immensely. Its doors consisted almost entirely of glass with the exception of its handles, which seemed to be made of chrome. With the turning of each opposing handles, he opened the soundless doors to find nothing more than clothes to form a single

outfit. Whilst the wardrobe’s exterior implied something of the highest quality within, what Aaric had witnessed was anything but. He sighed and shrugged as he gazed upon the white hoodie, vest and tracksuit bottoms, with white underwear to match. Far from a fashion piece, but with his other clothes in a puddle on the floor, he had no choice. He smiled to himself as he donned the distasteful clothes and tutted as he gazed upon his reflection after closing the wardrobe doors, he then sighed once more and headed for his bedroom door. He opened it slowly and stuck out his head to view the open space beyond his and Gwyneth’s rooms. With the large mirror on the opposing wall staring straight at him, he was able to use its reflection to immediately notice Gwyneth in the room. Aaric was surprised to see that she was sitting at a table that harboured two stools in the upper-left corner to where he was standing, it wasn’t there the day before and must’ve been placed there overnight. She was facing away from Aaric but her reflection in the mirror suggested she was eating something, numerous plates on the table ed this. A slight grin came to Aaric’s face once he saw what she was wearing, the same outfit with identical colour though the whiteness of her hair was bright enough to brand her clothes with a slightly darker complexion. “Morning!” she said once she noticed in the mirror that his head protruded from his door. “Morning,” he replied as he parted from his room and slowly approached the table. “Is the door still locked?” he asked, she nodded. Aaric was somewhat perplexed as to the table’s sudden appearance. He guessed it must’ve been snuck in overnight but considering he spent the majority of it awake, it struck him as odd that he didn’t hear any such movement beyond his bedroom door. Realising it was of little importance, Aaric brushed it from his mind and took a seat on the stool opposite Gwyneth. It didn’t take him long to notice the strange contents that the numerous plates beheld; thin flakes coloured white in the shape of a seed. Aaric picked one of the pieces and inspected it, turning it as well as holding it up against the light, the appearance struck him as strange and he was cautious about eating it. But whilst he debated in his mind whether or not to

consume such an edible, he looked across to Gwyneth and saw that she had no problem in eating it. Seeing her eat it so freely led him to think that she may know what it was. “What is this stuff?” he asked. “How should I know?” she asked in a somewhat unimpressed manner. “Sorry, I just thought it was one of those strange things you Rainsfords ate. Like a cult thing,” Aaric replied. Gwyneth stopped chewing and stared at him intensively, not breaking the gaze with a single blink, it was only then he noticed the redness around her eyes. He suspected that she had been crying, likely earlier this morning or last night, she was fragile which explained her sharp response. Realising this and the distaste in his accidental quip made him quick to apologise. She said nothing and continued to eat. With the edible still in his hand, he moistened his mouth and ate it. Whilst he didn’t know what to expect it was fair to say that awaited him was dull and disappointing, it tasted of nothing more than bread with the texture of a seed. But it was hardly any different from the stale and packaged food that he had relied upon during his many years in service. His soldier mentality had made him grow all too familiar with eating any food that was available and the sound of hunger emanating from his stomach only ed this, he picked up a plate and scoffed its contents. Thankfully, there was an abundance of food, though all of the same, he emptied many of the plates over the duration of many minutes. By the time he was full and had finished, he saw that Gwyneth was still eating. Whilst he had been scoffing, she was eating respectfully with just one seed at a time. Raised in a cult or not, she was raised with manners. Gwyneth continued to eat and had her eyes looking downwards to the plates before her, a part of her strictly taught table etiquette was broken. Her parents had taught her to hold her head high when eating so that her eyes were inviting to any who sat beside or opposite her, but this was the first time she had eaten with a stranger thus a degree of discomfort was present. With Aaric finishing his food some moments ago, she could feel his gaze upon her. It only added to her discomfort but in time it was sure to evolve into something else – irritation.

She looked up at him thus her sharp and unimpressed gaze was upon him for a second time. The sudden lifting of her eyes had clearly startled Aaric and his eyes were quick to divert to the plates below him, though he was not eating. Her eyes returned to her food but she had barely chewed her first seed before she felt his gaze upon her once more, again she looked up and this time added voice. “What?” she asked. “Sorry, it’s just your hair,” he said. “It’s so white, I’ve never seen anything like it, it glows so bright in any light.” “I hear that all Rainsfords have hair like this, why is that?” he then asked. As Aaric asked the question, Gwyneth deliberately dropper her food, her irritation clear. “You seem to hear a lot of stories about my family, why don’t you tell me what you think you know already,” she said. Her response shocked him but the absence of sarcasm in her voice told him that the question was genuine. “I heard that you guys were … a cult … spread all across Lover’s Country, you eat strange foods which enables the colour of your hair. You also believe in the existence of a civilisation on the moon.” With every word Aaric spoke, she shook her head with greater emphasis and her sighs grew louder. As expected, he’s been told nothing but lies. Hardly surprising given such stories arise from those outside the family itself. She laughs but not out of happiness but as a tamed reaction of disbelief, the stories he had been told resembled much closer to the beliefs of a certain rival family rather than hers. She giggles to herself with her head lowered and the bridge of her nose being pressed by her thumb and index finger. “Sorry I … didn’t mean to offend,” said Aaric. “No, it’s fine.” She laughed. “What you were told couldn’t be further from the truth, but it’s fine.” It took a moment for Gwyneth to stop giggling to herself and Aaric was left feeling uncomfortable with not knowing what to say, but given his words were what caused this to begin with; he thought it wise to stay silent. Gwyneth had composed herself some moments ago and not a word had been

said since; she was no longer touching her food and he no longer looked in her direction. With the pair trapped together in a moderately confined space; there was no real chance of heading in opposite directions. Sure, they had separate rooms but they were right next to each other and the other’s presence would still be known with no help from the thin wall that separated them. But it was a viable option and it had crossed both of their minds, though neither wanted to be the first to leave the table. Both of them were waiting for Wren to enter and thus for the perceived awkwardness to subside but given the fact she said she would arrive come morning and quite some time had ed since their awakening – they were clearly awake far earlier than needed. “I am sorry,” Aaric was compelled to say but with far more sincerity than before. Gwyneth threaded her hands through her hair and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry too, rough night,” she replied. Aaric smiled for he could easily relate. “Those beds are a far cry from my years of sleeping on the floor and on rusty bunks in the army, I would’ve slept like a baby had my head been clear,” he said. A surprised expression filled Gwyneth’s face. “You were a soldier?” she asked. “Yes,” he answered. “I still am. I was in my barracks when that thing took me … it couldn’t have happened on a worse day.” His head lowered and he found himself yet again making a conscious effort to supress the tears as even reliving the events of yesterday for merely a second was enough for pain to strike with a vengeance. “Could there ever be a good day for that to happen to you?” Gwyneth joked with an innocent giggle, his head remained lowered and his eyes fixed on the ground. He was silent and did not wish to voice his pain any further. It was then she almost gasped aloud once she ed the events of last night, the confession of his grief. She was desperate to apologise although she feared doing so would add insult to his grief; for implying his grief had been quickly forgotten. Getting up to embrace him was also sure to lead to tears and thus she could do nothing other than sit in silence. Then, impeccable timing struck when the sound of a key penetrating through the

door could be heard. They both turned their heads and Wren was soon to enter; a smile of pleasant surprise emanated when she saw the pair of them. Wren’s infectious smile was quick to divert Aaric’s mind from a violent reopening of grief. “I’m glad to see you two are up, and so early,” she said. The pair quickly looked over to each other, realising how early they had awoken – inevitable with the absence of a clock. Wren closed the door behind her. “Did you sleep well?” she asked. An innocent question but if either of them were to tell the truth, Wren’s smile would fade away and the pair’s grief would surface yet again. “Could’ve been better,” Aaric answered as if for the two of them, an entirely bleak response which served as an injustice to the truth but resurfacing it for either of them would do no good. “What are those?” Gwyneth asked as she was quick to notice the two large transparent bags in her arms. “These are your outfits,” she replied. “Outfits?” questioned Aaric. “Yes, you won’t be able to dance before the Grievers in those. Nor the clothes you came in with. These are your outfits and you’ll need to wear them for the day ahead,” Wren replied. “We’re dancing today?” Gwyneth queried. “Oh no, and even if you were, you wouldn’t wear these for practice – only during the rounds themselves. You’ll be wearing them today by the request of Hilder and because of what awaits,” she explained. Aaric and Gwyneth looked at each other in confusion. “All will be revealed in time, but for now just put them on. Within the bags you’ll also find grooming products, use them well and present yourself in the highest standard,” Wren then said as she handed each of them their bag before ushering the pair to their rooms. But Aaric had stopped and displayed a look of reluctance, Wren recognised it from the day before and was quick to add voice. “I know you are still yet to realise your blessing, Aaric, but I implore you to grasp this with both hands. Believe me, the day that awaits you is one that will

end with all burdens lifted,” she said. Her words made no sense to Aaric and he displayed a look that reflected so. “What do you mean?” he asked. Wren lifted his arm, the one that held his bag. “Wear this … and all will be answered, I swear,” she replied. Aaric looked down to the bag in silence for a moment, he then sighed and went into his room to don the clothes as requested. This would be the first time he entertained the island’s game. Aaric placed the bag given to him on his bed, the transparency of the bag revealed the clothes to be of a light blue and though he was yet to feel the texture itself – he could tell it was of the highest quality. He unzipped the bag and slowly unearthed its content. He first pulled out a magnificent pair of gentlemen’s tros with suspenders, then a fine buttoned and collared shirt, then a long trench coat and finally a pair of black and shiny shoes. With every item of clothing that he pulled out of the bag, a surfacing smile grew more and more apparent. Seeing clothes of such quality was alien to Aaric and couldn’t be further from the standard of clothing he was used to, what with his poor upbringing and mud-stained army uniform. Had he harboured any more water in his dried-out ducts, a tear of happiness may have surfaced. Seeing all the clothing laid out on the bed before him, it was only then he noticed a possible theme to his outfit. Though the quality and the colours were completely different, he couldn’t help but feel the outfit resembled that of a military uniform – only tailored for dancing. He knew there was a possibility that his mind was taking too much inspiration from his damp military clothes on the floor, but he did believe there was certainly a resemblance to say the least. He pinched one of the sleeves of the trench coat, pinching it with his thumb and index finger, and gently descended it. The feeling of the material certainly reflected the pristine look it possessed and whilst it felt like leather, it felt a little too mouldable to be rendered such. But he was no expert and considered the possibility of it simply being designed for ease of movement on the dance floor, though he couldn’t be certain. He then brushed his hands across the tros and then the shirt, differently to the coat, it was obvious what their qualities were – that of a cotton and polyester blend. Finally, he took a look at the splendid boots, which shined bright and reflected the sun’s rays. They were so shiny, shinier than

his service boots ever could be, it was almost seemed unnatural. Whilst they were clearly boots, like the coat and the outfit in general, they seemed to be tailored for dancing and did not appear as dense as normal boots and did not scale halfway up to the Fibula as one would expect. Aaric was about to take off his hoodie and then vest, to put on the shirt, when the bag caught his peripheral sight. It still contained content, a box, he reached in and pulled it out. Being made of cardboard, it obviously wasn’t transparent thus its contents could not be seen. But Aaric ed Wren’s words of the bag containing grooming products. He opened it and it was just as suspected. The box contained grooming products of all calibres; there were numerous gels, comes, trimmers and hell knows what else. Aaric didn’t even know what half of these things were, but it was clear the box harboured all the tools a man would need to look his best. Though he was already well-groomed, given the standards set by the military, he knew that his current look would not suffice for the outfit he was to wear. A pristine suit deserves a pristine face to match. He thought it was best to groom himself before donning the outfit, so he moved a small table in the corner of his room and placed it in front of one of the mirrors on his wardrobe door. He wasted no time in gelling his hair and coaming it slightly to one side, he then used a pair of tweezers for his nose and ears as well as nails. Finally, he used a face cream to present his face with a shining glare. His attention then turned towards the suit on his bed, he started with buttoning the shirt and then donning the tros before hoisting the suspenders. Then he donned the boots and tied them before it was time for the finishing piece, the part he was looking forward to the most. He lifted the trench and stared and looked with awe at its tailored design, with one arm through and then the other, he donned the coat. It hugged him tightly and he could feel every part it covered, it was warm and inviting. It complemented his physique nicely and suited him better than he thought it could. He then fastened its toggles and the look was complete, a sight to behold. He gazed at himself in awe as he stood before his reflection, feeling warm and worthy, never did he think that clothes could make him feel such a way. It fitted him to perfection, not too big nor small. His arms, shoulders, legs, behind and back were all complemented in their own way and even revealed features Aaric never knew he had. He was baffled to think that such a suit existed and to fit him so well, what added even further bewilderment was the fact it had been tailored by a person or people who he had never met

before. Aaric struggled to believe that even a tailor armed with his measurements, endless resources and finances could present him with such perfection and yet it has been done without any. But he gave it no further questioning and took warmth in the thought that the suit was made perfect for one individual, that individual being him. Whilst Aaric was expressing an unexpected love in a state of euphoria in his room, next door, Gwyneth too had donned her given clothes though was in no such way. She stood before the mirror of her wardrobe, fully dressed and groomed, but this was far from an unusual sight for her. Being a member of the Rainsford family, she was no stranger to the most prestigious of clothing but couldn’t help but feel impressed by how well the outfit suited her – though the resemblance it had to the clothes she owned back at the mansion could not be ignored. She had no doubt that this was done deliberately, clothes which respected the traditional look for girls of the Rainsford tree. The dress was identical to the ones at home, only it fitted perfectly and displayed all features in a manner she found mesmerising. It even possessed the same transparent sleeves that stretched across both arms and ended two inches before the wrist, it also descended down her legs until just before the tip of the knee. The only major difference was its colour, of a light sky blue as opposed to the white at home. The shoes also possessed a slight difference though it wasn’t colour, they were boots almost as pale as her hair which hardly stretched beyond the tip of the ankle. They shined bright in the light and could reflect one’s face if they were to stand close enough, this was opposed to the ones back home which had no such reflective properties. She gave a gentle twirl in the mirror and watched as the bottom of the dress spun like a dream. This was her; this was how they wanted the Grievers to see her and should she be so lucky the world watcher too. She leaned in to the mirror to check her face once more, her lips were as full and white as ever and her hair elegantly descended her back as well as the front of her shoulders. A deep exhale before she went for the door. Aaric opened his bedroom door and slowly came out, though he loved the look, he had never donned such clothes that could be scrutinised by others. Gwyneth was soon to emerge from her room, less than a second after Aaric had. The pair instantaneously gazed across to one another and the sight was one to behold for the pair of them. Aaric was almost unrecognisable to Gwyneth, so much so that

she would’ve thought it was someone else had he not came from Aaric’s room. A handsome look with a military theme that complemented him greatly, she thought. Aaric stared and hardly blinked, the sight was truly mesmerising and it was clear by her demeaner that she was no stranger to elegant dresses. To be expected given the wealth she comes from. The colour of the dress only made her hair appear brighter, that and her lips – which had clearly been topped up with lipstick. It was then he noticed her piercing eyes for the first time, complemented beautifully by the identical colour of the dress. “If looks were enough, you would be winners already,” said Wren. The two broke from their fixation on the other and had briefly forgotten Wren’s presence in the room, Aaric smiled for the comment was a first for him whilst Gwyneth gave no such expression. “Now that you walk in matching colours, all will know that you are a pair,” Wren continued. They looked over to each other once more but this time in a different light. “Now, one more thing before we go,” Wren then said just before she took each of their hands and ushered them together. “As a participating pair, you will need to stand as such. The dancer’s stance.” Once she had ushered the pair together, she lifted Aaric’s left hand and placed it around Gwyneth’s back and on to her left hip. She then took both of Gwyneth’s hands and placed one upon the other on top of the hand on her hip. Finally, Wren places Aaric’s right hand on his own hip. “Closer,” Wren encouraged. “You will have to get used to being in close with each other, no such thing as a frigid dance couple.” With considerable reluctance, the pair awkwardly got closer to the point their hips were almost touching. It was uncomfortable for the pair of them but they knew Wren spoke the truth, they were going to have to get well acquainted with each other’s bodies as time progressed. “That will have to do for now.” Wren sighed. “No doubt in time your bodies will relax and so will your faces.” Wren then walked closer to the pair to have a quiet word and her voice displayed a serious tone for the first time today. “I am going to take you back to the main hall, there, Hilder awaits for what is to be your first test,” she said. “What is this test?” Gwyneth asked, ed by the nodding head of Aaric. “It’s not my place to say,” she replied. “Just know that what awaits will be hard and painful.

But, by the day’s end, the fires which blocks your paths will be extinguished and nothing but serenity will follow.” An eyebrow from each was raised as Wren turned away from them and headed for the door. Questions flooded their minds as they thought of Wren’s words, they spoke no further for they knew it would only add to their confusion. What on earth could she mean, Aaric wondered. She speaks of hardship and pain for the day ahead, possibly an indication of torture? He didn’t know how likely it was, but he was here against his will and such an outcome is certainly a possibility. But no, he then thought, how could serenity follow after torture? Like Aaric, Gwyneth’s mind too raced and also considered a possibility of torture. Though it was soon dismissed out of confusion once Wren’s last sentence was considered. Whatever could she mean, Gwyneth asked herself. The questions and guesses that flooded their minds were soon interrupted with the opening of the door to their Hollow, Wren looked back to them and her infectious manner and mood had made a sudden return. “Come on then, let’s get this done,” she said. “What, just like that?” asked Gwyneth, but in reference to Wren’s sudden change in mood. “Yes, just like that,” she replied believing Gwyneth was referring the test ahead. Aaric and Gwyneth stared at each other with the tiresome raised eyebrows. “Come on, Hilder will be waiting,” Wren said – ushering them to start moving. Just like the day before, when Hilder ushered the couples to venture into the hallway to find their Hollows, there was a persisting reluctance that was prevalent in the pair of them. “Come on, you will be fine, come the end,” said Wren with that signature smile of hers, but this was the first time her infectious smile would not infect Aaric. With the door open, the day of unknowing hardship awaited them and it suddenly became far realer than when Wren was simply explaining. Aaric felt tense and this was felt by Gwyneth as his hand pressed against her hip, she took a deep breath and parted from him and towards the door. Her perceived

willingness to go prompted Aaric to do the same and he was soon to follow. “There we are,” said Wren as the two approached. Wren was first to exit the Hollow and waited for Aaric and Gwyneth to leave behind her, she then locked the door and led the way. She led the pair down the hallway and towards the closed double-doors at the end. “Catch up, Aaric, you two must walk in closeness and union,” she said. Aaric closed the gap between them for he had been walking slower and now walked barely three inches behind Gwyneth’s right shoulder. Seeing those double-doors again brought nothing but anxiety to the pair of them and their traumatic mindsets tried to make a resurgence, Aaric recognised it straight away and tried to shake the anxious thoughts from his head. Gwyneth tried to do the same but the pair were struggling for their minds were already plagued with anxiety for the unknown hardship that laid ahead. As the double-doors grew larger and the gap between them smaller, both of them found their feet dragging and were soon to stop once Wren had arrived at the doors. She turned around. “Come on, you can do this,” she said. Wren’s voice was so calm and soothing, but it had little influence on the pair’s minds for it was clear they didn’t have a choice in the matter and this was beyond Wren’s control. Aaric had developed a nervous sweat and looked back up the hallway, towards their Hollow. He could never have guessed that he’d long for his Hollow less than a day after trying so vigorously to escape from it. Whilst his mind wandered and dreamt of a better place, Gwyneth briefly closed her eyes and blocked all influences around her. She had to remind herself once more why she was here, for Murielabel and for the Island of Tears that awaits. “Move, now,” said Wren in a stern tone for she grew inpatient, her sudden change in demeaner once more proved the final nail for Aaric and he made a sharp turn for the Hollow. Gwyneth quickly extended her arm and grabbed his sleeve, he looked back. “We can do this,” she said in the highest perceived confidence she could muster. Aaric was no fool, he was a soldier and knew all too well the look of fear in a person’s eyes. But he was to be won by something else glimmering in her eyes, the look of determination. If she could do it then he must, he thought. With a deep sigh, he turned back around and walked closely behind Gwyneth as the pair approached the doors.

That familiar smile and gentle voice returned. “You can do this … good luck,” she said to the pair of them before opening the doors and revealing the sight beyond. But the sight that awaited was one that ensured their sudden courage was shortlived. Their legs were frozen, paralysed by the many eyes that gazed upon them and by Hilder who stood above the stage. They were faces they had seen the day before, only they were far fewer in number. Seeing them the first time did not render such an effect. But now, as they too don their pristine outfits, all the pairs now gaze at each other in a different light. For now it is clear that they are no longer just participants, but competitors also. “Come in, you are the last ones,” said Hilder. Wren nudged them forward and closed the doors behind. “You are to stand over there, in the corner to the right,” Hilder then said. They did as instructed and headed for the designated spot, ing most of the couples along the way. They could feel the eyes gazing upon them from all directions, but as Aaric did his best to walk proudly he could see that the look of fear was present in most of their eyes. But just like in Gwyneth’s eyes before, he could see their gazes were harbouring something other. Possibly that of rivalry, it was an emotion none of them wanted and yet knew they’ll need to possess. Aaric and Gwyneth went to their spot and the piercing eyes were no longer upon them, from where they stood, they could see all other couples comfortably. They emulated the standing position that Wren had taught them and it was clear that all other couples had been taught the same. They stood together, though with the same frigidness as before. Together, they all waited eagerly for what Hilder had to say, like the others, Aaric and Gwyneth had so many questions but given Hilder’s last speech it was unlikely they’d get any direct answers. Gwyneth looked around and was confused. What hardship awaited them, she wondered why were there only ten couples in the room – just a fragment of the couples in here yesterday. Wren had even said there were a hundred couples, well where were the other ninety? Standing in-between two couples at the front were Nathan and Sophie, like all others, they too were nervous of what laid ahead and stood frigidly as a pair. Nathan hated what he was wearing, a pale vest that gripped onto him tightly and

a dashing pair of gentlemen’s tros coloured white. The vest was so pale that his many tattoos scattered across his chest, abdomen and back were clearly visible and could fool onlookers to believe he was topless. He fidgeted greatly as he awaited whatever news was to come and made slight coughing sounds to clear his throat, which was saw from a night of protest. Even as he and Sophie stood closer to Hilder than any couple, his head still wandered clearly as he tried to look for ways to escape. All whilst Sophie stood frozen. At the tender age of just fifteen, it was no secret that she was youngest, her face made it obvious but her dress stood in contrast. Unlike Nathan’s, her outfit (dress) was coloured black and was in the form of a two-piece. It exposed the shoulders as well as part of her abdomen and lower back. If one was to stand behind her, the guessing of age would be considerably higher than in truth. When she had donned the dress, a slight smile dared to emerge but it was quick to leave when she was in the presence of Nathan once more. His anger had been constant and it was only now that his voice had rested, though she was nervous as she stood ahead of the other couples and before Hilder, she took pleasure from the absence of Nathan’s angry cries. But Nathan was unpredictable to say the least and she knew he could make a dash for a suitable exit, should he find one. Sophie was the only one to think that the free movement in and out of the Hollows from today was a bad idea, justified out of fear that Nathan would cause trouble for himself and therefore her also. She didn’t know her captors, nor how serious or deadly they were, what if Nathan was to take a step too far and have his life ended as a result? What was to come of her should such a thing be? The thought of it only added to her nerves, but it also fuelled an anger within. Anger for his selfishness. He was not the only one here against his will, she was too and yet she didn’t foolishly try to provoke their captors to the point it could put the pair of them at risk. She ed Lance’s words from the day before, words which only plagued her mind more and more with every act of aggression that Nathan displays. They will be judged solely as a couple and everything they do will be put to scrutiny. She believed that Nathan’s careless and aggressive attitude was tarnishing her chances to getting to The Succession. Neither of them had a clue as to what The Succession was but she knew, as told by Lance, that this was the only way they would get out alive. Thus, she knew that her and Nathan would need to perform with immaculate dances in order to get there, but at this stage it seemed impossible because of his selfish actions. The so-called first round was nowhere near and they were yet to have a single dance lesson,

but it’s clear that Nathan has no intentions to even try and will escape at the earliest opportunity. Even now, as the very first test is yet to be told. “Look around!” Hilder suddenly shouted; everyone jumped (even Nathan) and felt compelled to do so. “You ten couples are group one,” she explained. “Whilst everyone will be competition for all, it is the ones around you in this very room that will stand in your way for the first round – the first dance to the masters. Only half of all couples will survive the first round, half of each group … will die. This means that five couples in this room alone will perish … but know that the five who progress will be one step closer to performing before the World Watcher and therefore, will face a chance at gaining entry to The Succession.” Gasps filled the room and everyone gazes at one another began to linger. Gazes were changing. First each other couple were participants, then perceived rivals and now they were enemies. This was the mindset that was needed if they were to survive. Such a mindset came naturally to Aaric for he had stared in the eyes of many enemies and in such a moment, a face came to mind which caused the tears to threat a return. For Gwyneth to view others in such a light was far from natural and stood in complete contrast to Aaric, but he had guessed such a case and could see it in her eyes. From then he knew he would need to be a strict voice in her ear should such a time come. The fact she struggled in this way was justified for she came from a different to Aaric, a life of peace and prosperity. But her mind was not entirely of innocence in the situation for the thought of Murielabel was present in her mind and as she told herself the night before, the thought of what lies at the end will need to be ed frequently. Aaric watched and assessed the looks on all their faces, seeing who would be the quickest to view their fellow participants in a sudden new light. Most were as suspected and reflected that of Gwyneth’s, frightful, but amongst them one did stand out. Her hair made her obvious and the long dress that matched, the one who bravely or foolishly questioned Hilder in this very room just the day before. She stood with her partner to the top left of the room, she glared at them all and was the only one to don a smile. Aaric found it almost disturbing how she viewed everyone in the room so differently to just moments before, but she was alone in this with not even her partner emulating the look. Aaric was confident that none others in this room were soldiers and thus were strangers to viewing people in such a way, but even he would not don a distasteful grin such as that.

He watched as she audaciously glared at each couple in the room one by one, some saw her gaze and their nerves were made worse whilst others were trying to psych others but to little effect. She then finally gazed upon Aaric and Gwyneth, he saw it coming and was immediate in returning his gaze – being no stranger to intimidation. But it was clear that Gwyneth had not fared so well and Aaric saw her look away down to her side. To Aaric, it appeared that Gwyneth had been psyched by the blonde’s glaring like many others but this was only partially true. Like the day before, Gwyneth tried to avoid catching her gaze and was barely successful – but it was to be impossible this time. As the motionless panic ensued, Nathan was strangely calm and displayed a grin himself. Sophie looked up to him and was disturbed by the sight, he saw her and she immediately lowered her head. “Don’t worry,” he whispered as he lowered his head down to her and whispered in her ear. “We’ll be long gone before any of that.” She looked up to him in shock, shock not only to think he could avoid this but to think he was taking her with him. She was no fool and was quick to whisper her protest. “I will not go with you, I will not give them reason to kill me,” she said. “We’ll see,” he said with unjustified confidence. She was adamant in staying and was sure that her look to him would reflect such, but his grin persisted long after their eyes broke away. It was then she began to question whether he was as foolish as she initially believed, he knew that she was committed to this – motivated entirely by fear and the absence of no alternatives. But he knew, as well as her secretly, that should a person be presented with a legitimate opportunity to escape – they would. It was instinctive, especially to the likes of them. But she knew they were on an island with nothing for miles beyond in any direction. Plus, she knew he had a temper, he was reckless. If Nathan was to make a run for it only to swim out into nothing, then she wanted no part of it. She would only consider such a thought if a genuine opportunity and method existed, which was near on impossible and was therefore unworthy of thought. Hilder’s loud voice then made a return and all gasps as well as intimidation tactics were brought to an end. “However! Before your lessons for the first dance can even begin, you must first be freed of the shackles which hold all of you

down,” she said. Everyone looked to their partners and others in confusion. Aaric and Gwyneth were no different, the look of bewilderment being ever present once more. “A triumph in union,” she continued. “Everyone is held back by something, something that festers within and takes a piece of you each day. With wit, it can be supressed in the day-to-day, pushed back and ignored. Those who claim not to possess such a burden are liars or at the very least do not know themselves as they should. Such shackles can be ignored beyond this island but here they cannot and must be broken. But one cannot break his or her shackles and thus it falls to the partner to free the other, only then can you be free. What’s to come of this will be a shared serenity and indebtedness between you and thus you will be bonded as is required and dance with truly connected minds.” A triumph in union, Aaric thought to himself, she must be referring to the union of raised eyebrows that face towards her and the eyes that are too baffled to blink. But as she spoke, Aaric did think of the haunting memory within that eats away at him. What she described as shackles was entirely accurate. Her words did resonate, but he was cautious of connecting dots that may have no relation whatsoever. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the idea that she was referring to something specific within him, within them all. But even if she was then how could one’s partner fix it, he thought. How could Gwyneth seal a wound that never heals and to flip the coin, how can he fix whatever plagues her? Naturally, he was confused and saw no way how such a thing could happen, he then sighed after imagining the prospect of being made to be counsellors. Foolish, he knew. But the slight feeling of embarrassment was soon to follow for he felt foolish as he thought of Hilder’s words with such eminence, despite no clear reason to do so. Perhaps his mind was all too eager to align his reasoning with her words out of desperation caused by his grief or maybe he just simply tried to find more meaning in her bleak words. Either way, he was embarrassed but as he looked around it was clear that he was not the only one thinking this to himself. Any further thought on the matter was to be abolished with the emergence of two hooded men from the door directly behind Aaric and Gwyneth. “Everyone is to move to the middle of the room now!” Hilder shouted in the process. The hooded men were each carrying a sizeable chair made of what appeared to be sapphire, they had very thick legs and looked heavy by the way the men carried

them. Some were quick to break their stance and morph in the room’s centre, fearful of Hilder’s voice as well as the hooded men’s’ presence, whilst others moved at a more cautious pace. Aaric and Gwyneth were among the slowest to walk and stared on in confusion as the men settled the chairs on the ground and had them facing towards one another. “Hurry up!” Hilder shouted with a louder voice than before as she grew impatient with those who were yet to gather, even then Aaric and Gwyneth’s pace remained the same. Once all had gathered at the centre, Hilder descended the stage and the hooded men left the room – closing the door behind them. “What the heck are these hideous things?” Nathan asked as he sighed disrespectfully, Sophie looked up at him and was blatantly unimpressed – how she wished he wouldn’t garnish them unique attention. “These are two halves to a single throne,” she replied. “Like you, they are separated. They must be unified by abolishing what separates them.” “So … you want us to … unify the chairs?” Nathan then questioned, followed by slight chuckles from a couple of others. It was then a girl standing at the front abruptly spoke. “It’s not difficult! Our pairs are the throne and like these chairs we are divided, the aim is to be united by sitting upon the chairs,” she said. Nathan’s smug grin had subsided and so too had the chuckling; silence was all that filled the room as they looked towards Hilder as she stood before them. None of them could believe their eyes once the hint of a weak smile emanated from Hilder, it was almost inviting and was not anything like the one she gave us yesterday. “Very good,” she said. “You should all aspire to be like this one, have an open mind and many things will make sense.” As she feared, Hilder looked towards her and Nathan – that fool had rendered them special once again. Sophie was compelled to lower her head in the hopes that her own objection to her partner can be known, whilst Nathan does no such thing and stares straight at her. “If one wishes to remain foolish, then he … and she … will not last long and may even fall before the first hurdle comes,” said Hilder with the highest sternness. Nathan sighed whilst Sophie was silently furious. It was just as she had suspected, they were to be treated as one and thus whatever idiotic he does and said will be tarnishing to her also. A tense few seconds followed as Nathan

remained fixed on Hilder’s sharp gaze, but eventually, he looked away and her attention turned to the group as a whole once more. “By one pair at a time, you will take your turn on these chairs and will free the other of what shackles them. Then, and only then, can you advance,” said Hilder. Gwyneth stared at the chairs with a raised eyebrow, though not as highly raised as most of them. She saw sense in Hilder’s words for the first time, it made sense that a pair must be in complete union if they are to dance together and it also made sense that only truly free minds that are not shackled by a diminishing thought can progress. But whilst there were elements that could be related to, elements of the opposite were equally present. She simply couldn’t see how Aaric, or anyone else for that matter, could free her from what plagues her nor could she see what the purpose of the uniquely presented chairs had to do with it. However, after some further thought, she began to consider the possibility that what awaits them is perhaps beyond what they deem logical. It struck her as foolish that she would still try to make sense of a situation like this, or anything that occurs on the island. After all, the lot of them were expected to dance before monsters for goodness’ sake. It was clear to her that all logic would need to be discarded or face a permanently bewildered mind. Her eyebrow was the first and only to lower as she was prepared for whatever was to come next, whether logical or otherwise. “Aaric and Gwyneth, you are first up,” said Hilder.

Chapter Six

As prepared as she could be, Gwyneth’s heart still pulsated with the shock of being first. She had hoped that at least one couple would go before her, so that what awaited her could be known in advance, but it was evident that such a wish was too high an ask. But at least her shock could be tamed, Aaric was so shocked that he felt compelled to shout “What!” in a tone that was too obvious to suggest otherwise. “Come forward and take your seats,” said Hilder. “You are blessed to be the first.” The shock made their hearts thud loudly and was only made worse with the gazing eyes of all the other couples, they gave each other a quick glance and slowly walked past the couples in front of them and towards the sapphire chairs. The immensely short distance proved deceptive and felt as if the chairs stood miles away, they felt every pulse of blood within them as well as the eyes upon them. Especially Gwyneth as she walked past the audacious blonde, who grins as she es. “Gwyneth, to your left,” said Hilder as the pair stood before the facing chairs, Gwyneth took the left seat which left Aaric with the right. They slowly sat upon the chairs which were surprisingly cold to the touch and could be felt easily through their layers. The pair stared at each other with their knees almost touching, the looks on their faces saying more than words could. They were scared, nervous of whatever awaited. Aaric wanted to just jump off and run back to his Hollow or even exit the building altogether and make a run for the beach, it was certainly possible with none of those hooded men present. But even if they were, the option was likely to still be there given Wren’s revelation that the island was now open to them. But what would be the point, he asked himself, what would it achieve? It’s clear by the bay window that there’s no way off the island and the only way to survive is to succeed at every task thrown at him, if he runs now, he will just fail later. He must do this and not just for him, he thought, but Gwyneth too as he ed Hilder’s words of couples being viewed as one.

Gwyneth too shamefully contemplated running out of the room and to who knows where but she knew Hilder had spoken sense about connected minds, which is essential for dancing and thus progression. If she was to fail now, this soon, then she would perish and never make it to The Succession. Whatever this was it had to be done, she told herself, there was simply no other way. “Now, your foreheads must touch,” Hilder then said. Simultaneously, Aaric and Gwyneth both looked up at her with the same look – that of questioning her seriousness. But her face remained stern and it was apparent that it was said with intent, the two slowly and reluctantly leaned forward. Wren teaching them to hold each other in a dancer’s stance was awkward enough but this was a different level altogether, their eyes diverted and desperately avoided locking – but this only grew harder as they got closer. Nathan whistled immaturely as their foreheads almost touched, which only added to their discomfort, Sophie saw Hilder look over once more and she suddenly elbowed his side in the spur of the moment. Finally, their foreheads were locked and there was nowhere to look other than down. The awkwardness was immense to say the least but Hilder’s next sentence was sure to only add in their discomfort. “Aaric, place your hands on your knees with open palms facing up and Gwyneth is to place her hands upon them,” she said. This action was done far faster than the head locking, likely out of motivation to get it done sooner, their hands were placed as requested and together they awaited the next instruction. “Finally, close your eyes and repeat after me,” she then said. Closing their eyes was certainly the easiest of the demands, it was done swiftly and they awaited the words to recite. It was only in this moment that Aaric dared to consider something beyond his realm of belief was possibly about to happen, being sat upon the sapphire seat made him feel light and almost weightless. The sharp coldness beneath him seemed to be the catalyst of this effect, it was strange he thought, it almost felt like he was about to succumb to a forced sleep. It was evident that these chairs were more than just unique in appearance. Gwyneth too felt the strange motion of perceived light-headedness and thus it was just like she entertained – there was more to this than meets the eye. “See what I see,” Hilder first said. “See what I see,” they recited.

At once their bodies began to experience a sense of vibration that was entirely consistent throughout. “Let me be free,” she then said and they were soon to follow, the vibration getting steadily intense with every word. “Be the only here to know and release one from sorrow.” Was what followed, their bodies began to feel numb – starting from the feet and progressing quickly upwards. They couldn’t panic for their minds had grown dormant from the moment they began reciting. “Then may we be bonded, bonded as one.” They then felt a floating sensation followed by a gentle and persistent tugging from all directions. “So, let it be vanquished and thus the sadness be done.” What immediately followed upon the final reciting was a sharp and brisk wind, striking them harshly against their faces. Aaric opened his eyes and found himself lying flat on the ground under a clear night sky; it shocked him greatly and he jumped up – completely unaware of where he was. “What is this?” he asked aloud as he looked in all directions, he had awoken on a pathway that stood between a small village at the bottom and a magnificent mansion-styled building on a mountain peak. It shinned like white gold and reflected the lunar rays spectacularly, and could clearly be seen far beyond the sea that faced it. But though the sight was one to behold, it was a clear second when paired against his confusion. He was somehow off the island and in a land, he had never seen, he simply didn’t know what to make of it. Am I dreaming? He asked himself, or have I been kidnapped again? Though he didn’t know what to make of the bewildering scenery, it wasn’t long before he was able to disprove what he had wondered. It couldn’t be a dream for it was simply too real; he felt every gust of wind and could smell the apparent sea that laid beyond in the short distance – the smell of salt water being ever prevalent. And he was confident that he hadn’t been kidnapped for the events that led to this was entirely different; with no dark figure being seen beforehand. It was then he put it down to the only possible attributor, the chairs. He couldn’t explain it, but those chairs clearly had something to do with this.

The strange motions he felt upon reciting those words whilst sitting on it led his confidence to approach certainty. There was next to no doubt in his mind, but he had to reserve some on the possibility that he may be mistaken. After all, nothing makes sense to him anymore. He stood there, gormlessly, not having a clue on what to do or where to go. “I don’t understand,” he said aloud, but quietly, to himself. He was close to tears for he couldn’t bear the struggle anymore, the last two days had been nothing short of a living nightmare. What was the point of this, he thought to himself, how was this place to free him of what Hilder described as shackled burdens? He soon began to doubt all the words she had said, the lies, and he had never felt like a greater fool for interpreting her words in the way he did. “Damn you!” he shouted. “Damn all of you!” As his voice lowered and winds momentarily subsided, Aaric heard approaching footsteps from behind. He was quick to turn around, armed with a clenched-fist for his anger persisted, but what awaited ensured sudden relief. “Gwyneth?” said Aaric as he saw a girl with obvious white hair approach. “Aaric,” she said. He felt an urge to hug her out of joy for the presence of a familiar face. But whilst he was happy to see her and smiled, she expressed nothing such and had her eyes fixated on the mansion standing upon the mountain’s peak. “Gwyneth, are you all right?” he asked her, he thought it was strange how she stared at the sight above. Her expression was different to his, whilst he looked at it and found a sight to behold, she did so in a manner that described clear dread. Gwyneth was yet to answer and hadn’t even heard his voice since seeing the sight behind him, but it was not to be a surprise for she recognised the scenery instantly and knew the mansion was to follow. Wren was right when she described the hard day that they were to have, she thought, and Gwyneth’s trembling knees were testimony to it. She knew that what she had to face, what shackles had to be broken, awaited her in the mansion ahead – her home. “Gwyneth, I think Hilder has lied to us!” he said in an embarrassed manner, feeling foolish for believing her words and he assumed that Gwyneth had done the same. “She didn’t,” she replied. “What?” asked Aaric as he turned towards her in shock.

Tears began to flow as she sharply turned away from the mansion and it was only then he realised what it all meant. He was right to interpret Hilder’s words the way he did and so was Gwyneth. She couldn’t do it; she couldn’t face the heartache of seeing her father. Seeing him favour his eldest daughters once more and hearing his disappointment of her getting chosen, oceans could be filled with the tears she had spilt in the last couple of days because of him and the thought of seeing him was enough to send the grief rushing back. But she knew this proved that Hilder was correct; this was a burden to her and it shackled her progression. How harshly the anguish was quick to return showed it was still ever present in her mind, she knew what had to be done but she simply couldn’t do it. She couldn’t remove the pain from her mind. She heard Aaric approach from behind, he stopped and she had turned to see what could be the start to ending her pain. His hand was extended; open and ready to be grasped. “Gwyneth,” he said. “You can do this … we can do this.” He didn’t know what plagued her and he doubted he would until it was facing the pair of them, but he knew that only with his help can she triumph over it. She wiped her tears and looked to the mansion once more, she then took his hand and gripped it tightly before giving a determined nod. With the pair of them knowing what they must do, Gwyneth to face her burden and Aaric to overcome it; they marched for the mansion. Aaric led the way and Gwyneth was close behind. As they marched, she wondered what this place was. She knew it was her home, or was made out to be at least. She ed sitting on the sapphire chair before and was doubtful that she had been teleported; she instead believed this was the conjuring of her mind by which she was now present in – almost like a dream but more realistic. Truth is, she didn’t know how she was here but she knew that wasn’t important. The mansion grew ever larger as the pair got closer, eventually, they arrived at the front gate which was large and imposing. It stretched several feet above them and possessed the inscription. “The Minitus Mansion for the devoted offspring to Murielabel.” In its centre, Aaric pushed against it and the gate opened with a creaky and eerie effect. It was as the gate opened that he could feel Gwyneth’s grip loosen and so he tightened

his grip to prevent digression. “You can do it,” he said as he led the way past the gate, whilst tugging at her arm as she stood stiffly. “Almost there.” It was only upon entering the front gate that the true size of the mansion could be seen, Aaric was astounded and found it impossible to imagine how people can live with such wealth. But whilst the building itself was impressive, it was the way its white reflected from the moon. It was truly mesmerising and almost matched the whiteness of Gwyneth’s hair. But he shook himself and was certain to why they were here; he continued to lead her and the two approached the front door. He found no need to knock and opened it aggressively to reveal a dazzling hallway lit up entirely with lunar. Utterly magnificent, he thought. He had never witnessed such a sight nor did he think one was possible, the white-coloured walls and the pearl-style flooring created a view to behold. Already a second nudge was needed as once again his mind had diverted from what laid ahead. Only seconds in from opening the door, he knew where to go as he followed the direction of Gwyneth’s fixation – a single closed door across the end of the hallway. Her eyes had fixed onto that door like a dog to a steak, only there was no desire to approach. He fastened his grip on her even tighter, to the point of discolouration, before a single step was to be taken. The move proved wise as her feet began to drag from the outset, the sound of screeching leather against the pearl tiles echoing throughout the interior. But Aaric was prepared for it and was sure to be harsh out of kindness. All she wanted to do was scream, scream as loud as she could until she woke up. But she knew it wouldn’t work for she wasn’t simply asleep, and she knew there was no avoiding this. Her mind was mixed she wanted to kick Aaric’s leg and run, but at the same time she wanted to run ahead of him and boot down the door. She wanted this to be over so desperately, but she simply couldn’t muster the strength to do it. It was torture for her, wanting to end her slavery and yet couldn’t. All she could do was hope that he could give her the freedom she needs. One cannot free themselves from the shackles. They had only reached halfway and her feet dragged more than ever, she grew heavier for him but Aaric was yet to notice for he was distracted by multiple paintings that granted him nothing but a head-scratch. Strange depictions,

seemingly of the same person or thing. Though the moon shinned brightly, he couldn’t quite make out what it was though he doubted he could make any more sense of it even if the sun had been shinning in a cloudless sky. What was clear to him though was that it clearly resembled some kind of deity, likely the catalyst to their reputation as a cult, no doubt – though he had heard no rumours of them worshipping a deity of any kind. Murielabel, he wondered to himself as he ed the gate’s inscription. His fixation on the artistic pieces was soon to be snapped as Gwyneth’s resisting proved stronger than his fixation, he turned around and used both hands to pull her forwards. “We can do this, Gwyneth, this can be done … it must be!” he shouted as he dragged her. “No, please!” she shouted. Aaric ignored her and was now speeding towards the door, but little did he know that her cries of protest were not directed at him. Her wailings were her own for she didn’t want to resist against Aaric’s tight grip and relentless pulling and yet felt compelled to do just that, in her heart she wanted this over but her mind could not deliver. Then, the door was all that stood before them. Her cries suddenly stopped and with it so did his dragging, a complete silence was present for the first time since their entry; no conflicting words nor screeching caused by the pulling of leather shoes against the pristine floor. “Are you ready?” he asked her as she stared at the door aimlessly, she said nothing and closed her eyes along with the rest of her senses. This was it, she thought to herself, the defining moment. She knew that if she couldn’t even face hearing her father’s harsh words and see his unforgiving face then she might as well kill herself and be done with it. She opened her eyes and looked to the nearest depiction of Murielabel to her right, she knew she was with her. All that was next to fill her mind was her pale rose that sat peacefully in its vase back at their Hollow. It must be planted … it will be! She looked back to Aaric, who awaited her answer patiently. “I am,” she said in a croaked and angered voice. Determined yet frightful. He nodded and barged the door open with brute force.

What awaited them was a large open room and though it was no stranger to Gwyneth, she appeared equally as shocked upon seeing half the room standing in complete darkness. Aaric found it immensely odd, the darkness was entirely unnatural and stood out sorely amongst the sheer whiteness that the leading hallway possessed. But the darkness was so intense that even if the mansion had harboured not an inch of light, this shade would still catch the eye swiftly. The sight confused the pair of them, Aaric was at least expecting to see an induvial and Gwyneth had expected to see her father, but all that awaited was a seemingly endless darkness where nothing could be viewed beyond. With one cautious step; Aaric entered the room so that its entirety could be seen. It appeared to be nothing more than a large hall that possessed numerous paintings of women at the peak of its walls – depicting women of blue hair and lips. He took a further five paces and Gwyneth dared to follow at a distance, but it was clear that the room harboured nothing other than this darkness. “I don’t understand,” said Aaric as he turned and looked back at her, she had no words and all she could do was slowly shake her head. He watched as Gwyneth lowered her head and gazed defeatedly at the ground, he didn’t know what to say nor do and thus stood there and said nothing. How could words be said, he asked himself, and even if so then what? What are we meant to do now? But it was as he stood there that he felt a strange sensation, that of vibration on the floor. He thought it was just a foot spasm at first but noticed it was being felt in both feet simultaneously, the vibrating was soon to grow stronger and he was beyond any doubt that something was happening. “Gwyneth,” he said as he looked over to her, she had been blissfully unaware for her mind was focused elsewhere. “What?” she asked, though she soon realised and required no answer. Aaric’s head then slowly turned towards the darkness and his eyes grew larger, he could hear the faint stomping of approaching feet that were quickly growing louder. Something was coming and fast, the sound could not be mistaken and Aaric quickly turned behind him after hearing Gwyneth fearfully call his name. He gave a sharp and solid gaze, allowing no room for doubt – the time was now. Her body had never been stiffer and she was too frightful to even breathe clearly, but she made a strong and conscious effort to keep Murielabel in her mind. Horrendous screaming then sounded and Aaric jumped back out of shock as two

women in white were quick to emerge from the darkness. The pair harshly barged Aaric, causing him to fall to the floor, before lunging for Gwyneth. She screamed as she stood helplessly and watched some deranged forms of her sisters, Elenore and Pipastrella, rushed for her with bloodied eyes and mad expressions. It was the stuff of nightmares and she reacted as if it was so, they had grabbed each of her arms and threw her to the ground facing down. Gwyneth screamed further as they pressed their wait against her, digging their knees into her shoulders. Aaric, slightly disorientated from striking the ground, was slow to stand up but upon doing so he rushed to help Gwyneth only to find himself abruptly stopping. He slowly turns around as he hears a voice and steady-footsteps emerging from the darkness and Gwyneth was soon to stop screaming once she heard the voice herself, the voice seemed too far away for him to grasp its words but Gwyneth knew the words instantly and also who spoke them. “Daughter of a whore,” the voice said over and over, Gwyneth would hear it be said half a dozen times before Aaric could hear it. The voice grew louder and more aggressive, whilst continuing to chant the same sentence, a man emerged from the darkness with bloodied eyes and a mad expression. Upon his emergence, Gwyneth cried aloud instantly and shrieked as if in the most tremendous of pain. This must be it, Aaric told himself, the cause of what plagues her! Seeing him once more and hearing his terrible words rendered all of Gwyneth’s bravery upon entry useless, the tears and anguish had come back more effortlessly than breathing itself. His raged eyes bloodied further and expression more horrific, his voice had loudened and the words had changed. “You don’t deserve to be blessed; you will drown!” he shouted time and time again, each time to higher volume and with blood dripping from his eyes. His shouting was horrific and was only made worse with Gwyneth’s relentless screaming; Aaric looked back at her and saw the pool of tears that gushed from her eyes – all as the women holding her down start to laugh. Gwyneth’s mind had darkened and she could think of nothing nor feel anything. The grief, the anguish, it was so prevalent that nothing else functioned. The tears flowed unnaturally and there was nothing she could do; this anguish was pure and had been building for the past many years. Why couldn’t he just love her,

she begged to know, why couldn’t he accept her and her sisters? They may have had a different mother to his eldest daughters, but they were his equally. Why couldn’t he bless her for the bonding, why doesn’t she deserve it and why would she drown? The questions polluted her mind like a plague and they trapped poor Gwyneth as her sisters pressed their weight further against her, whilst her father’s harsh words grew even louder. Aaric’s heart raced in panic, seeing her in such a way was enough to draw his tears but he knew he had no right to. What was he to do, he frantically wondered? Covering the man’s mouth or pulling the women away from Gwyneth was not going to be enough for the pain would just continue, there was something else that had to be done. The man then approached Gwyneth, he was somehow able to scream his words even louder than before – now so loud that his voice was tearing. The women’s sick laughter only intensified and Gwyneth’s screams were more desperate than ever. “No, stay away, stay away!” Gwyneth screamed, Aaric rushed over without thought and stood in front of her – blocking his way to Gwyneth. But he didn’t even flinch as Aaric made his presence known, instead, he just continues in his chants. He stood less than a foot away from Aaric and screamed straight through him towards Gwyneth, it was as if he wasn’t even there. But it was as the two stood so close that Aaric noticed something embedded in the man’s hairline, a gemlike object coloured black. A dark and shadowy eminence surrounded it, just like the dark mist that he came from, it was oval-shaped and was reflective. A sizeable portion appeared to protrude from the scalp and it wasn’t known how deep it was. A thought came to Aaric’s mind, he had no idea if it would work but something had to be done to end Gwyneth’s sorrow. Aaric himself screamed as he reached for the black gem and pulled away at it, the man did nothing to stop him but subsided in his chanting only to release an almighty scream. It was deafening, so loud that not even Gwyneth’s profuse cries could be heard and it only intensified as Aaric’s force grew greater. The gem was stubborn to budge and he was doubtful whether this was the solution, but the immense screaming that was caused by it indicated otherwise. “Come on!” Aaric shouted as he raised his second arm to help, he tugged with force and the man’s head was pulled downwards in the process. A sweat came upon him and his muscles began to shake as he pulled with all his might, it was

then he felt it begin to loosen ever so slightly. His eyes grew big as he realised this and grew larger still when he saw the man’s skin start to rapidly darken. This must be it, he said to himself, it’s working! Aaric kicked the man’s knee, causing him to fall and the grip was tightened. He then pressed his leg against the man’s chest and pushed him downwards as his arms pulled the other way, this was very effective and it was soon to loosen further. The skin was now far darker, almost the same shade as the darkness ahead of him and the gem was as wobbly as a dangling tooth. With one final roar, Aaric pulled the gem and it was separated from the man’s head. The hole that was caused by the gem’s absence released a great and dark smoke and the man’s body was soon to evaporate, as did the large gem in Aaric’s hand. Sweaty, breathless and tired. Aaric fell to his knees in relief and appreciated the calm silence, he looked up and saw that the dark mist was gone – symbolic that the ordeal was over. He looked behind and saw Gwyneth kneeling, but only her with no women present; she too appeared tired but her tears had rapidly dried. “Gwyneth?” he said as he stood up and walked over to her. “Are you … all right?” As he stood over her, her head slowly lifted and the look was now clear. There was no mistaking that look in her eyes, she was free. He offered out his hand and helped her up with care. “Gwyneth?” he said once more. She couldn’t believe it. The pain, the torment and the sadness – it was all gone. Not gone from memory, but accepted and left behind. What plagued her had been cured and her mind was no longer shackled, it was only with this feeling had she realised just how much her father’s resentment had affected her. Being chosen for the bonding was just the final nail but was by no means the sole cause, it had plagued her for years and she had grown used to it. How sad, she thought, but how free she now was. Tears began to fall as Aaric faced her, but it was clear that these were of happiness and relief. And for the first time she truly smiled. Seeing her in this way caused Aaric to also smile in happiness for her, he was glad to have been successful and felt a sense of euphoria in his achievement. She couldn’t stop smiling and found it odd but welcomed, she lunged forward and hugged Aaric

tightly. She didn’t tell him what the catalyst to her anguish was nor did she need to for he saw it all as the gem was pulled from its submersion, a terrible man with favoured daughters and a preferred wife. But what he saw was partial and he didn’t quite understand, he knew why her father preferred the eldest daughters but the question is for what? What he saw suggested they were being chosen for something. But that didn’t matter, it was irrelevant for now. They hugged one another tightly, he embracing the peace and she the freedom, not a word was spoken for none were needed. But there was a coldness despite the warmth of their hug, both had felt it steadily rising but thought it was unworthy of mention and put down to the draft from the opened front door. But it grew sharp and a familiar feeling of numbness was soon to return, they had only experienced it once before but they knew what it meant. Their bodies felt light and it all went dark before either had a chance to voice what was happening. Though she had experienced something like this before, the sudden occurrence caused Gwyneth to panic but there was nothing she could do about it. Darkness was all that filled her vision and she couldn’t see nor feel anything, it was like a sentient sleep. She wanted to shout but couldn’t, looked for Aaric but saw nothing – a complete state of nothingness. Was this it, she wondered, were they on their way back to the island? An unknown amount of time was to , a few seconds or many minutes, when she suddenly felt the use from one of her senses – that of the nose. She could smell something and it wasn’t pleasant, like burning rubber with a bloody hint, she found it grotesque and it intensified rapidly. She felt the urge to cough and cover her mouth but physically couldn’t do neither, she could feel it ing her chest and into her lungs. What was this, she panicked, what was going on? The urge and desire to cough was becoming so great that she tried to physically do so despite feeling bodyless, it was odd how she felt like nothing more than a lone consciousness and yet felt the bodily urge to cough violently. She tried to cough once but to no avail, then for a second time to the same effect, then she gave one more attempt – harder than the ones before. Then she heard it, a loud cough and could feel it clearing her chest. Feelings of the body were soon to follow and she didn’t feel so weightless anymore, but the urge to cough persisted and she was able to cough again. This time she could hear them, the sound of her harsh chokes. And with it she could hear what enrages around her, the sound that correlated with the smell. Burning and fire. One by one her senses awoken and

she guessed that her body laid motionless amidst a great unfolding chaos around her, then the last of the senses were to awaken and the light was revealed. Her eyes suddenly sprung open and the sun was shining immensely before her, but her urge to cough was so great that she thought to do that before having the sense to cover her scorching eyes. She rose to the side of her hip and coughed greatly, the sound of her wheezing and desperation for clean air echoing all around. Many times, she gasped for air and even more times she wheezed, her hand was locked against her mouth and she dared not to remove it. It was only after the gathering of sufficient air and the steadiness of her breathing, that Gwyneth was able to grasp her surroundings and the sight to behold was just as it smelt, abhorrent and raw. The sight that awaited her was that of burning vehicles, lifeless bodies and baron sands. A sight of death and destruction, Gwyneth found herself in what never could be mistaken as anything else – a warzone. She had never seen one before and though her mouth was covered, she couldn’t close it. The smell of bleeding corpses and burning metal was a far cry away from the scent of fresh sea that laid beyond her mansion, there was no brisk wind here to carry the delights of the mountain. Instead, the desert blows with the odours of flesh and bullets. Who would witness such terrible things, she asked herself, who was this for? But it was then she ed Aaric’s weeping the night before and then his words of being in the army the following morning, and thus she knew who this was for. Gwyneth rose to her feet and the smell had grown even worse as the light wind blew higher, her hand remained firm around her mouth and only breathed when absolutely necessary. It was only upon standing that the full scenery was to be known, more bodies and higher flames stretching far and wide. A horrendous sight, one that no soul should see. It was overwhelming and struck Gwyneth with tears and it wasn’t even her nightmare, she could only guess what kind of terror happened here. It was a miracle that anyone could stay sane after witnessing the sight on its own, yet alone a catalyst that lurks within this scene. It was then she heard an almighty cry coming from her left. “Aaric!” she immediately shouted as she was quick to recognise it. She franticly ran in the direction of his overbearing anguish as it echoed all beyond, the smoke from the many fires created sheets of smoke that were hard to see past and thus relied on following the cries. “Aaric!” she shouted once more as she ran and moments before tripping, a lone piece of debris caught her stride and she tumbled over. A

scuff of the knee, nothing compared to the butchered bodies around her but the pain was hard to ignore for one who had been raised in such comfort. It was likely she held onto it too much as she stood back up and continued running, though at a far less dramatic pace. His cries grew louder and she knew he was near, likely over the last smoke sheet ahead of her. Knowing he was so close and hearing his anguish to clearly caused her to refute the intensity of her so-called injury and she ran upright after removing her hand from the affected knee. Holding her breath once more as she dashed through the last sheet, Aaric was in view – crying into his hands as he knelt on the floor. There was a short distance to go but Gwyneth could see from there that his palms covered his mouth and yet his wails stretched so far, proving how strong they were and heartfelt. “Aaric!” she shouted as she ran, he lifted his head and the redness of his eyes could be seen even at a distance. Seeing Gwyneth had brought him some comfort but the grief was so prevalent that it simply couldn’t show. She was soon to close the distance and knelt to his aid, wrapping her arms around him as his wailing continued. “It’s all right,” she spoke gently, in what was an emulating of the night before but with greater reverence. The poor soul, she said to herself, speculation of the catalyst here would be endless as everywhere she looked was a nightmare. Aaric couldn’t cope, the thoughts and the guilt were bad enough but the scenery proved to be the final nail. Whether what surrounded him was real or a conjuring of the mind as he sat upon the chair, the affect and the anguish was all the same. Thinking back to Hilder’s words and how he speculated their meaning, he knew he had been foolish for even thinking he would be ready. Tears had flowed rapidly from the moment the smoke entered his nostrils, that smell was unforgettable. Even when his eyes could open, they stayed closed and he lowered his head into his hands – only opening them for the first time when he heard Gwyneth. She hugged him tightly and hushed his cries but she knew this alone was not enough, she would have to do what he did for her. “Come on,” she said as she pulled him up. There was resistance and he made no effort to lift himself but with great struggle she had managed to force him up to his feet. “Open your eyes,” she told him. He shook his head rapidly and had his head tilted

downwards, she moved to the front of him and placed her hands against either side of his face. “Open your eyes,” she said again, gently raising his head. Again, he resisted. “Come on.” With fruitful patience, his eyes slowly began to open though with great reluctance. His eyes had opened but had birthed a frantic state, seeing it all was worse than the smell. His head wandered and rapidly turned in all directions, crying loudly as he did, but Gwyneth was to calm him and tried to centre his eyes on her. “Aaric, it’s fine … everything is fine!” she tried to shout over his screams and with one hand on either side, she only allowed him to view her. “Calm,” she whispered. Her calming face and words of equal effect hushed his frantic behaviour and he was soon to breathe normally once more. “I’m sorry,” he said as he apologised once more for his anguish. “Where is it?” she asked, wanting to know where the catalyst was, his finger was slowly raised and pointed. He knew exactly where it was, even as his face looked away, she followed his finger and saw a small collage of buildings in the short distance to the right. Heavily damaged, the plain buildings stood lonesome amongst the sands. She lowered his hand and wrapped it around hers. “You know where we must go,” she said as she wiped some of the endless tears from his face. He said nothing and continued to sob but she knew he understood, just as she did when he led her to the mansion. She led the way and he followed behind her fully stretched arm, but his eyes again closed and head faced the opposite way. Though it stood no more than a couple hundred metres away and along relatively smooth ground, the journey getting there was long and each step laborious – caused by his reluctance to move quickly and digging heels. With the sun beaming, fire burning and feet dragging – Gwyneth was sweating madly and grew breathless. The level of physical hardship was alien to her and many times she considered halting, but all thoughts of this kind were stomped once she heard his never-ending cries and saw his suffering sorrow. As the destination grew closer, Aaric’s feet became further reluctant and they were now moving so slowly that a couple of inches was an achievement. “Aaric, come on, this has to be done!” she said as she used her second arm to assist in

pulling. “I can’t, I can’t … please don’t!” he protested. Realising they were getting no further, Gwyneth stopped altogether and pulled his face in close once more. “Listen to me, Aaric, listen!” she shouted as she pulled him in close and blocked his every view as his eyes wandered. “This has to be done, whatever this is must be removed!” “But I can’t!” he screamed. “It can’t be done; I can’t forget such guilt and how I failed!” He then pushed her to the side and faced the other way, she was silent and didn’t know what to say. The emotion he felt in the moment was new and yet familiar at the same time. The guilt had always been prevalent in him since the day it happened and it never left his mind, but given the opportunity, he always thought he’d jump at the possibility of vanquishing what plagued within but he never really thought such an option would come. No counselling could ever relieve it but when Hilder spoke before, he believed for the first time that such an outcome was possible. He was desperate to try and after seeing Gwyneth’s anguish be toppled; he knew it was his turn. But now faced with it, it has never been so strong and he doubts greatly that he can overcome it. He stopped crying aloud and fell to his knees in silence, quietly whimpering in the process, his anguish was too great. “I’m sorry … I just can’t do this.” He wept. “I can’t overcome this.” Gwyneth knelt down beside him and wrapped her arms across his back, leaning in close to his ear to sound a gentle whisper. “That is why I am here, just like you were for me, only together can this be done,” she said. Aaric had forgot Gwyneth’s purpose for being there, all logic had left his mind and had been replaced by overwhelming sadness. She couldn’t face her grief unaided, thus why he was there, for him it only be the same. He needed to entrust her in freeing his mind just as she had for him. He looked at her and gave a gaze of readiness, ready to face this once and for all. “Come on,” she said as she stood up and offered her hand to him, but he got himself up and headed straight for the decrepit buildings that awaited. She smiled for his courage was irable, but she knew it would be down to her and her alone in ridding him of

his pain. Had they walked the full distance at the new pace since the beginning, they would’ve arrived in mere seconds. They were soon to enter the complex of erected buildings, which were far from wholesome with some appearing fragile to even the lightest of winds, Gwyneth took his hand ensuring his pace persisted. “Where is it?” she asked him, like before, a raised arm was all the indication she needed as he pointed towards an open space that stood in the centre. She led the way with her arm steadily extending as before, his feet were beginning to drag but it did not matter for they were so close. Many left and right turns were needed along the way as the pair moved around countless chunks of debris and stacks of bullet shells. “Almost there,” she said as she tries her best to calm him. It appeared to be working and for the first time his tears had stopped, but it was soon to violently return after a black mist was in view. It was the same as the mist in Gwyneth’s mansion, it stood within the centre and they knew the plague was to be revealed. To think that something so black amongst scenery of golden sands couldn’t be seen from a farer distance. This baffled Gwyneth for they had to be just a few feet away to see it, but given the scene around her the bafflement didn’t stay for long and was hardly comparable to the fact the mist was there to begin with. Approaching the mist was harder this time around for they both knew something dreadful awaited, especially Aaric, but at least this time they were prepared – or at the very least tried to be. Their hands were locked tightly and Aaric no longer stretched her arm as he now stood beside her, they were as prepared as they could be. But any sense of a formation was after the emergence of a figure. “No!” screamed Aaric in such a horrific way as that face made itself known and lunged out of the mist towards him, he broke his hand from Gwyneth’s and pushed her to the side. “You! You bastard!” Aaric screamed as his haunting adversary violently approached and struck him to the floor, he then wrapped his arms tightly around Aaric’s neck and squeezed. A teen, no older than sixteen, with bloody eyes and a feral smile. “Stop!” Gwyneth shouted as she rushed behind the teen and tried to pull him off, but he was unnaturally poised and didn’t move an inch. Even as she thrusted in desperation, the lad didn’t so much as flinch and Aaric’s strangulation only tightened further. That grip was so tight and appeared disproportionate to the relatively scrawny size of the teen.

All attempts to separate them were fruitless and not an inch of Aaric’s neck had been freed, but she continued trying nonetheless – fuelled solely by desperation. But it was as she did this that she noticed another figure emerge from the mist before them, one in a uniform with slick-back hair, Aaric immediately tried to scream but instead released a horrid gurgling sound as his neck continued to get chocked. “You should’ve killed him!” the emerging figure said time and time again. This must be him, she thought to herself, Aaric’s cousin! Like the teen, his eyes were bloody but there was no smile – only an aggressive chant said deliberately to cause pain. Gwyneth looked over in horror as Aaric desperately tried to scream and speak, presumably ask his cousin for forgiveness, and flowing tears that formed a puddle below his chin. “You failed me!” the man then started to chant, only adding to Aaric’s pain. He tried to move but was harshly restricted by the teen above him, he was helpless and he was fragile. But Gwyneth knew what to do as she ed Aaric’s actions against her father. She rushed for him and saw the black gem in his scalp, she screamed and pulled at it. She knew it was going to be hard as she ed Aaric using both hands to pry it away, she did as he did and kicked the man to the ground to get a tighter grip. It was then she saw it, the unfolding story that birthed this grief. How terrible, she thought, no wonder his tears could not be contained. He had spared that boy, the very one that now strangles him, and let him go when none were watching only for him to return later with a grenade later on. It was thrown and headed straight for Aaric as he stood ahead of the others in the convoy, his cousin Hendrik pushed him out the way and consequently took the blast. His cousin perished and Aaric was left with the guilt, oh how she shouldn’t have taken pity on that falsely innocent face. Seeing what she saw and knowing the crux to his guilt only motivated her further to rid the gem from its submersion and free the suffering Aaric. She screamed louder and pulled with fury, she couldn’t free it as quickly as Aaric had but she didn’t give up and loosened it with one inch at a time. “Almost … there!” she screamed, the gem wobbled greatly and success was imminent. Then, finally, the gem was freed and the afflictions that tormented Aaric were gone. Fading away just as they were, a bad memory. With the mist gone as well as the gem, Gwyneth rushed over to Aaric as he coughed and wheezed heavily on his knees. “Aaric, are you all right?” She panicked as she lunged on the floor to his aid, he tried to regain his breath and looked up at her as she knelt before

him. He was still for a moment and she was to ask how he was feeling, but before she even got the chance, he hugged her tightly and uttered “Thank you” many times. He cried with his arms around her, but these were tears of relief for the first time in nearly a decade. The memory of his immense failure would still live in his mind but would no longer fester, no longer consume and prohibit any fresh thoughts or progression. It happened and could not be undone, but it could be moved on from thanks to a free and fresh mind. Then it all went dark around them and that weightless feeling was to return, neither of them panicked and instead embraced it for they knew what it meant. Their eyes were then to open and they saw what they expected; connected hands with touching foreheads and the spectating couples. “How are you both?” asked Hilder, her voice fell on deaf ears for neither of them answered nor even flinched. Instead, they remained fixated on each other and breathed erratically before beginning to cry. “Hey, are they all right?” one of the onlookers asked Hilder. “Is that normal?” asked another. All the others saw were the pair sitting on the chairs in perfect stillness for no more than five minutes, then suddenly they awake in a breathless state. No one had seen what they had and nor will they ever, their own plagues will be unique and so will the experiences to come. Suddenly, Aaric and Gwyneth locked arms and embraced with great emotion. Crying loudly with a profound sense of relief and indebtedness to the other for what they had done. “They are fine … just fine,” answered Hilder.

Chapter Seven

Lance walks with pace and a stern expression down the hall as he approaches the Hollow of Nathan and Sophie, disappointed and frustrated. The other Preceptors, who walk with relieved faces, head for the Hollows of their participants. How easy they must have it, he said to himself in a somewhat jealous tone, how rebelieved they must be. Releasing the other of their grief is the first hurdle and is only a taste of the struggles to come, how doomed are they to be if they can’t even make the first jump! Blaming them as a pair was compulsory, for they will always be judged as one, but in discreet fairness the blame lies with one of them – for now. It was surprising to him and had it been the other to mess up, as he initially believed upon hearing the news, then perhaps his frustration would not be so prevalent as it at least would’ve been predicted. But, then again, he should have this as a likely outcome also for the other’s apparent lack of will was all too obvious. Either way, he’s one of only two Preceptors to face this right now and thus a stern talking to is certainly needed. As he approaches, it is no different than it was in the morning for he could hear Nathan before even opening the door. But he doesn’t walk in with caution, like before, and instead storms making his feelings immediately known. The sight that awaited Lance was somewhat predictable with Nathan leaning over and shouting at Sophie as she wept whilst sitting on a chair. It was clear that Nathan shared in Lance’s frustration to Sophie’s failure to free Nathan of what plagues him, something every other couple has been able to achieve for one another. To those who don’t know how the trials work, they would think such a sight would be helpful for Lance as this would surely save him giving Sophie a stern talking to himself. But this only added to his frustration for he needed Nathan to know that blaming her in such a way will not help his case anymore than hers. “Nathan, stop!” Lance shouted, a rare display of the emotion. As Nathan had been shouting at her, he failed to notice Lance enter and was shocked with the sounding of his voice. But his absence of words was short-lived and soon returned, only now directed at Lance. “Why the heck should I?” Nathan

protested. “I have a right to be mad, it’s her fault I’m in this mess!” Sophie’s cries only grew in volume and a clearer look of displease dawned on Lance’s face, he walked back to shut the door behind him and walked closer to the pair as they stood near to the Hollow’s Bay window. “You must stop this, Nathan,” said Lance in his normal voice. “This lone attitude of ‘I’, I’ve already told you and as has Hilder that you are judged as a pair – two as one! Her mistakes and failures are yours and vice versa. The sooner you understand that, the better your chances will be.” “What chances? Any chance we had now is surely out the window. I heard Hilder’s words, connected minds are essential for progression. But what plagues me is still there, deep down, I never even knew it was there till today,” replied Nathan. Nathan sat down and a rare silence filled the Hollow, only Sophie’s now discreet tears could be heard. “I’m sorry.” Sophie then wept. “But, Nathan managed to free me from my anguish – from the director at the orphanage.” Lance walked up to her and knelt down below her gaze as her eyes were fixed to the ground, she saw him and looked the other way. The look on his face telling it all, she probably knew the answer already. “It doesn’t work like that; two minds cannot be free to connect if one is still shackled,” he said. “But he can’t be shackled,” Sophie innocently protested. “He didn’t even know his mind was plagued by that prison warden.” Lance gently shook his head; her hopeful mind was bliss but would serve her no favours in this wilful ignorance. “Everyone is plagued by something whether they know it or not, it festers and can hide behind many things. For Nathan, it may add to his constant anger,” Lance said as he looked at the pair of them. They were both silent though Nathan clearly had many more things to voice, for once he suppressed them. Lance stood up and walked back to the door, but was certain not to leave without them knowing one more thing. How they would react to this in the moment is not of importance but whether they act on it or not is, it would be solely down to them. It would be risky for them, and for him even more so, but this was necessary to see if the pair had a future in the trials that await. Lance was not blind and could clearly see Nathan wanted to leave,

perhaps an opportunity could be presented and two birds be killed with one stone. He took part of his inspiration from another Preceptor who also possessed a helplessly defiant male and a pair who failed on the seats, he was told of how this Preceptor was to test his participants in the same way as Lance was to. “It’s not over,” he said. Nathan and Sophie lifted their heads and Nathan’s rare silence had persisted further still. He continued. “The Seats of Sapphire get put back into a secluded room to the right side of the hall.” “So?” Sophie questioned tearfully. “How does that help us?” Lance then opened the door and went to leave, but not before one last sentence was given. “It’s easily done, forgetting to lock a door behind you. I just hope there is no distraction and any adventure is done by morning,” he said before he closed the door behind him – with no following sound of turning keys. Lance stood on the other side of the door, he was nervous for them and himself, it was in their hands now and all he could do was hope they’d return come sunrise. Sophie’s head lowered once again and Nathan looked towards her, he was to speak but could see by her eyes that she already knew what was to be done. The night had revealed itself and the second day had reached its conclusion, like the night before, Aaric sat in his room as Gwyneth sat in hers – only this time they embraced the sleep that was to come. Sleeping, or at least trying to, was the most painful time as there were no distractions – but now it is awaited with free minds. Aaric sat on his bed and couldn’t erase the slight smile he had, ever since they arrived back in their Hollow, it’s been there and is yet to leave. He laid back on his bed and embraced this new and yet once familiar feeling, he had once known this but it had been banished nearly a decade ago. A great exhale was given and he was truly at peace, an emotion he never thought would be possible ever again – especially here of all places. It was then Wren’s words from before played on his mind and that of Hilder’s, he never thought he’d say it, but perhaps his place here was ‘blessed’ like they claimed. Blessed to be free of his own prison. But he had to keep himself in-check, this was only the second day and only served as a taste of what was to come. The days to come were only

going to get harder as the dancing begins and the numbers cut. The events of the day caused him to forget that momentarily, but he knew lives were at stake and numbers were certain to be slain in the coming weeks or months. He had to try his best so that he could survive what stands in his way. But not just for his own sake, but Gwyneth’s too. He was so grateful to her, he felt as if he owed so much in the strongest sense of indebtedness. All his years of anguish, of darkness and plague were removed by her. He saw her as his liberator. It appeared Hilder was right again, this time about connected minds and that feeling of strong owing. Knowing the catalyst to what darkened her and she knowing his, created a bond that none other could know beyond them. They knew a part of each other that no one else could, which put them on a unique wavelength that was only relevant to them as a pair – true connection in mutual liberation. He wanted to do his best for her so that she may survive, he owes her that much at least. Feeling such a way gave him a partially forced and willing motivation to commit to the trials ahead, he could clearly see that being successful on those chairs were more than just beneficial to them but also to their Preceptors – as now they have willing participants. He wanted to see her, after all, they hadn’t said a word to each other since the dramatic embrace on the chairs. Even as Wren congratulated them, they barely donned a smile at the other. Aaric believed she felt awkward for this was how he himself felt. It was strange to think that this emotion would follow after the day’s events, but knowing each other’s darkest corners was no substitute for the fact they still didn’t know each other – not personally at least. They are still effectively strangers and the emotional hug and comforting of one another earlier was enough to render the afterthought embarrassing; once the heads had cleared and emotional states subsided. But Aaric decided to remove that awkward feeling and the effort of avoidance, he rose from his bed and headed for his door. He slowly opened it and found that the open studio that stood beyond their two rooms was dark and the sky beyond the bay window equally so, it was only then Aaric had realised how much time had ed since they both entered their room. He could see by the reflection in the massive mirror ahead of him that Gwyneth’s door was partially opened and light was escaping and filling part of the open space beyond, but the door was not open wide enough to see Gwyneth herself nor what she was doing. Was it a bad time to see her? He suddenly thought to himself, though he was confident that she wasn’t in the shower for it was off and was equally certain that she

wouldn’t be inappropriately dressed for the door wouldn’t be open otherwise. Then again, he thought, do these horrendous tracksuits count as inappropriate dressing? They are hideous enough. Aaric smiled at the thought and decided it was safe for him to go visit. He left his room and the lights above, evidently motion lights, suddenly turned on and rendered his exiting from his room obvious. But there was no sound from her room, not even the slightest, and he wondered was she sleeping. He decided to continue and crept over to her bedroom door, he slowly opened it and reared his head through the largening gap. The sight that awaited him was certainly not one to be expected. The expected sights he deemed likeliest were either her sleeping peacefully or crying discreetly on her bed with tears of euphoria, but she was doing neither and instead stood stiffly facing away from the door and looking towards the window in her room. He could see in its reflection that she was holding something in her hands, a white rose of equal shading to her hair and a small blue vase that watered it. Beyond the door, the room had appeared silent though now he has entered Aaric could hear inaudible whispering coming from Gwyneth. She was clearly saying something, Aaric said to himself, and it was clear it was of high reverence as her head was lowered with firmly closed eyes. Praying perhaps? He realised this would make for a distasteful intrusion should she see him so he retraced his steps and went to leave the room, but the knocking of his heel against that darn door ensured that any means of a silent retreat would now be impossible. He froze and his eyes dared not blink as he stared at her, ready for a harsh telling. But how she reacted was far from what he dreaded would be. Instead of a sharp turning of the head, with bulbous eyes and a fierce expression, she gently lifted her head and looked to Aaric’s reflection in the window. Aaric didn’t know what to do other than just stand still, running out the room or saying anything would prove further intrusive. She stood stiffly with her vase and rose for a further few seconds before walking over and placing it onto the shelf of her window, before she even had chance to put it down Aaric was voicing his apology. “I’m so sorry … I didn’t mean to intrude like that!” he said. “What … you meant to intrude in a different way?” Gwyneth responded.

“No … I …” Aaric panicked; she smiled and told him she was messing. He placed his hand on his chest and released a sigh of relief before smiling and wagging his index finger. “What is that if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Aaric with caution, worried for appearing nosey like the morning before. She looked back to the rose and paused for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to tell him. The absence of an immediate answer told Aaric that she may have reservations. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” he said. “No,” she was quick to interject. “It’s fine, it’s … a Tear Rose. My Tear Rose.” Aaric looks at her with the clear look of confusion. She then paused once more and debated whether Aaric should be told anything else, there were no strict rules about telling outsiders of the family’s beliefs but she was doubtful whether he’d understand. But if they were to be partners and dance before these so-called ‘grievers’ then perhaps it is best he knows, whether he can understand it or not. She continued. “We are not a cult … but we are a family with strong beliefs. We have a patron Goddess for our family, Murielabel, she lives on a floating island somewhere in the endless ocean. The Island of Tears. Long ago, in the abandoning, our matriarchs abandoned her and swam away – taking all the roses with them in a symbol of their abandonment. Their hair was once blue as they lived under the dark sky and it was soon renounced after they wanted no reminder of their once dear goddess. But they were foolish and believed they could live without their beloved mother. With time, their descendants wanted to go back and live with Murielabel on the famed island and plant their roses on her beautiful flowerbed once more. Thus, their blue hair can return and live in unison with our goddess under the night sky. The only way to get there was by the bonding, which I had always believed was nothing more than floating in the open water and waiting for Murielabel to approach on her floating island and lift one to safety. Our white hair shines beautifully under the moon and ensures she can see us from a farthest of distances, this is why we look the way we do. It was only upon coming here that I realised that the bonding was far from what I thought it was – what I was told it would be. But I was chosen nonetheless and am seen as blessed by my sisters for being here, however, if they could see what I see now I’m doubtful they would maintain that thinking.” Her revelation to him was confusing to say the least. What initially came to his

mind was that of confirmation that the Rainsford family were certainly a cult with strange beliefs, albeit it was different to what he had been told but the fact remained nonetheless. But as his mind dwelt on her words, he began to understand it in a deeper light and saw the aligning of dots that may have been kept separate otherwise. The way she spoke of the bonding and how it was a part of her family’s belief, coupled with talk of her being chosen, led him to believe that she was sent here rather being taken against her will as he was. This evolved into almost certainty once he ed pulling the black gem from her father’s scalp and what he saw in the process, her father preferred his eldest daughters and for a certain purpose. At the time, Aaric didn’t know what that purpose was and believed it to be irrelevant – until now. A question then came to his mind and he wasted no time in asking it. “Is that what your father wanted his eldest daughters to be chosen?” he asked. “For a chance at The Succession?” “Yes,” she answered. “He wanted them to be ‘blessed’ and come to the bonding, but I was chosen instead.” “Chosen … by who?” he then asked. “Hilder,” she replied. Gwyneth had said it so innocently and little did she realise that her simple oneword answer connected further dots in Aaric’s mind. He couldn’t believe it; how could such a fact evade him until now? Then again, the shock and relentless stress in the situation ensured that the single sentence was brushed away from his mind within seconds of it being spoken. He ed Gwyneth’s words when the two of them knelt on the stage upon arrival to the island. “Hilder, please, what’s happening?” he ed Gwyneth asking the woman, who was yet to reveal herself as Hilder, in the hall afterwards. Aaric shook his head and went to leave the room. “What’s wrong?” Gwyneth asked. He stopped half-way out the door and turned back. “Even with supposedly connected minds, I still don’t know you. Didn’t you think that as I panicked and stormed the Hollow, trying to get out and flee, that you could’ve at least told me that you knew Hilder before all this and of the place we are in?”

Gwyneth walked closer to him, unimpressed with his toning. “I already told you, I don’t know what this place is! I knew Hilder was coming to choose either me or one of my sisters for the bonding but I had no idea this would be it. But yes, I did know of Hilder before and should have shed light on the situation for you. Although, in truth, I doubt it actually matters.” Aaric walks back into the room. “Matters? Of course, it matters, if you knew Hilder before this and the concept of ‘the bonding’ then I have a right to know – and so do all the other souls here for that matter.” “The perception of the bonding me and my family have is unique to us alone, other families and communities will have their own perceptions.” “Well, I don’t,” Aaric protested. “I’ve never heard of such a place or even the term and I am certain none others here have.” Gwyneth shook her head and faced away, sighing. “You’re wrong.” “What do you mean?” he asked, not knowing whether to prepare himself for another revelation or not. She turned back around. “I am not the only one here who has been chosen for the bonding, rest assured, most that are here are in the same situation as you but there are some like me,” she answered. “Are there?” he said unconvinced. “I’ve seen no one else with hair like yours,” she explained. “I am a Rainsford, just one family, there are five other families who have selected for their own perception of the bonding – The Successive Six we are collectively known as. Hilder is likely known to them all and is seen as a Gatherer, one with high privilege who acts on behalf of a patron deity who alone decides who is worthy. The dark and misty ones that accompany her teleport the chosen for a process we call the Bonding of Retrouvailles. You see, each family has different beliefs but our stories are the same; we all abandoned our patrons and are now looking for a way to get back to them. But I am in no doubt that being here is just as much of a shock to each of them as it is to me.” “And what are these other families then?” Aaric asked bewildered. “What do they believe the bonding is?”

She continued. “Farlaiph, Lujan, Murgatroyd, Phearson and Casterwill. I’ve seen from each of their families here, made obvious by their family insignias, but I don’t know what they believe. Like you, I’ve only heard stories.” Aaric was so confused and for the first time felt that the participants were not in this together for some are clearly here by wilful circumstances, whether they knew what it actually entailed or not. A sight within his memory came back to him and he ed how some heads nodded in agreement with the audacious blonde as she objected to Hilder. Of all the two-hundred heads, only a small but significant number nodded and thus he knew there were perhaps around fourteen or fifteen people who were here in the same situation as Gwyneth. He ed that blonde one and thus another pair of dots were connected, the sight of Gwyneth looking away as the blonde tried to psych people out – but was this the case or had she avoided her sight for a different reason? “That blonde one … is she of one of these families?” Aaric asked. She was hesitant to answer but the absence of words was all that was needed. But, in time, she was to reply. “She is … Lexy Lujan, her blonde hair and strong words made her instantly recognised. Like the others, I don’t know what she believes but I’ve heard that it may have something to do with a civilisation on the sun. But any from that family are fearsome with a warrior’s mindset, though finding herself on this island will be a shock to her as it is to me, she will exceed at this with nothing but aggression and determination.” “I get the impression she doesn’t like you,” Aaric then said. “The Lujan family don’t like anyone, but my hair makes me obvious and I’m not who she expected to see. It was no secret among the families that my father preferred his two eldest daughters and the fact that I’m here instead would be seen as belittling to my family name,” Gwyneth responded. The last few minutes were certainly an eye opener and was far from the conversation he thought would happen upon opening her door. Whilst this was bewildering, Aaric found it somewhat necessary for now he can view this in a different light to before. He could now see that they weren’t all the same and he had many answers given to questions he never even asked. But this was favourable for now he could see how some other participants, or rivals, were motivated. They were not all simply scared individuals who had been taken against their will.

But despite learning this, there was one more question to ask – birthed after a culmination of new truths. It would require a compelling answer to ensure any further effort on this island worthy. “The majority of us here are not from these families, so most of us don’t know the concept of a bonding nor The Succession, including me. So why are we here and why should I try to progress to The Succession if I have no such patron to go to?” he asked sternly. As expected, Gwyneth fell silent for a moment and appeared to have struck a blank. But to his surprise, she was then able to muster an answer. “ Hilder’s words from the beginning, to most this will be a trial and to some a bonding. But those who endure to the end will get what they deserve. I know what awaits me should I make it through to The Succession for my perception of it is only relevant to me, and though you don’t know what yours is – it will be deserving should you make it through nonetheless,” she said. Aaric turned sharply in frustration and put his hands in his head. “That’s not enough … I need to know what awaits at the end!” he shouted. Gwyneth walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “The Succession means life, if anything, that should be reason enough. And should you learn what your perception of The Succession is in the process, then that only adds to the incentive,” she said. Her words were wise and resonated as he hoped they would, the right to live was motivation enough and anything else a bonus, he placed his hand upon hers on his shoulder. “Whatever lays ahead … I will face it with you,” he said. “Connected in mind and now motive and I will not let you down, I swear.” “I too promise,” she said as the pair’s eyes locked. The pair were in unison, and for the first time felt zero awkwardness upon laying their hands on each other, but in another Hollow, the same could not be said for Silas and Skarlet. They stood in the couple’s stance with his hand around her hip and her hands upon his, it was of immense discomfort but also by choice. They practiced the stance in front of the large mirror and had barely moved since entering their Hollow after sitting upon the sapphire seats. Like for nearly all other couples, they were successful in freeing the other from what plagued them.

But whilst others went back to relax and embrace in euphoria to end a difficult day, Silas and Skarlet did no such thing and instead agreed to dedicate the evening to becoming familiar with the other’s touch. Connected minds they may now be, but the overwhelming awkwardness upon touching remained and had to be quashed. They were even still in their pristine outfits and were yet to change. Silas’s outfit was of a fine suit coloured black with a waistcoat to reveal pale shirt sleeves and a bowtie-coloured red like his hair, whilst Skarlet’s was a red and sparkly dress that revealed much of her large quadriceps and showed the full roundness of her very broad shoulders – with high definition and veins for all to see. It matched her hair perfectly as it too was red, which descended elegantly down the back. Despite the large amount of time in the stance, Silas hardly felt any more relaxed this close to Skarlet as he was at the beginning and the thought of the interment that would be required when the dancing begins only added to his discomfort. It was clear in his eyes and equally so in hers as he saw her reflection. They knew that such measures would need to be taken as their frigidness was clear for all to see when it came to the touching of their foreheads when sitting on those chairs, such a simple action and yet almost impossible to do. At least some awkwardness was spared when hardly a word was spoken in agreement to practicing the stance, they were clearly both on the same page and knew this had to be done. Skarlet didn’t like it any more than him but at least his hands were still and did not fidget, hers on the other hand could not stop twitching which only made it worse for the both of them. Her breathing was also erratic, more so than his, and she found herself exhaling deeply from time to time after periods of holding her breath. “Breathe normally,” Silas gently said after her latest deep exhale. “I’m trying,” she answered in clear discomfort. Silas mentioning her unsteady breathing only made her more conscious of the fact and soon she couldn’t take it anymore. “I can’t … I simply cannot do this,” she said in frustration as she suddenly broke from the stance. “Come on, Skarlet, we have to try,” he said.

“We have tried, for hours, it’s not working!” she shouted as she kicked the meal table to the corner. Being apart for the first time in many hours led Silas to realise just how tense he had been, from the moment she broke away, his body had stopped tensing and he could breathe fully once more. Being in that awkward stance for so long had caused him to go blind to the side effects that came with it; such as the tight chest and heavy pulse. Every muscle had been tensed, so much so that now they were shaking in fatigue for they were no longer being strained. It was clear he had been struggling more than he initially thought and shared in Skarlet’s frustration. They both knew there was so much work still to be done if they are to make it to The Succession and see The Edifice, but dancing was only part of it. But they couldn’t give up and they both knew this, not a word was said as they stood back into position to try and hold the stance for the second time. No matter how long it takes, this has to be done.

Chapter Eight

“Sophie!” Nathan screamed as the guards held him down in the courtyard of that decrepit prison, where his anguish secretly came from and the warden treated him inhumanely. But she wasn’t moving and was yet to approach the warden near the black mist, even as he stood only a few feet away, the fear of a repeat from before was quickly becoming more likely. “Sophie, please!” he then shouted, she looked to the ground and began to breathe deeply as she tried to psych herself up for the daunting task ahead. “Do it, just do it,” she whispered sternly to herself. Her head rose and eyes were fixed on the warden, who donned a horrendous smile. She screamed and lunged for him, striking the knee as Nathan had instructed before, and began pulling at the gem. Despite the intense anguish of seeing that warden once more, Nathan still found it within himself to cheer Sophie on for encouragement increased her chances of success. “Almost there, come on Sophie, you can do it!” he then shouted as he could see her grip strengthen as the gem revealed more of itself, her screaming loudened and soon she was using both hands. She took a deep inhale and released an almighty tone as she knew one more pull was all to be needed, she tugged massively one last time and the gem’s submersion was over. “Yes!” she shouted with exhaustion as all the figures faded away along with the mist and the gem itself. The pair were soon back in the secluded room to the side of the hall, sitting upon the seats with their foreheads touching and hands connected. It was almost pitch black in there with the only source of light being provided by a single lunar ray that broke through a pitifully small window, it was very cramped and it was clear it had served as some kind of storage area. The small size of the room meant that

the seats were closer than they had been out in the hall so the pair were very close together. “Good job,” said Nathan as the two opened their eyes and saw they were back. She had done it, she had freed Nathan from his shackles and now they could advance fully to the next trials like all the others. Until now, Nathan had been the only one not to be free after the day’s events. But now that he had, he felt a sense of rare happiness which was reflected in his eyes. He reached over and gently patted Sophie’s shoulder in what was his sign of gratitude. Whilst Nathan was happy with the result; Sophie on the other hand was in mixed minds. She was happy to have been successful but also disappointed that it took her a second attempt to do so, whilst all the others did it upon the first go. She saw this as clear precursor for what was to come and knew the struggle ahead would be hard, perhaps harder for her than most – a theory made evident by the day’s events. There would be no second chances when the dancing rounds commence, she told herself, nor any risky favours from the kind Lance. But this was the first step done at least, which was worthy of some relief, but what laid ahead simply couldn’t be ignored and it was clear in her eyes. She knew the chances of her making it past the first round was slim, even with the one-in-two odds, yet alone progressing to the final round where the prospect of the so-called Succession awaits. She had no idea what such a place was, nor did Nathan, but she knew it was the only way she’d get out alive – but the odds of getting there were pitiful at best. But Nathan’s motivation to sneak into the room and sit upon the chairs was a welcoming sight to her, it was only yesterday that he showed no willingness to participate. A sudden realisation perhaps, she wondered, or an action done with the intention of escaping afterwards. Either way the moment was somewhat bittersweet. “You all right?” asked Nathan as he saw Sophie’s eyes fix on the ground. “Yeah … I’m fine,” she answered as she broke from her many thoughts. “Right … let’s get out of here,” he said as rose from the chair and stumbled to the door, Sophie too rose and close behind. That sentence – “Let’s get out of here” – played on her mind. Was he talking of leaving the squashed room and heading for the Hollow or leave the room and make a dash for the coast? Where he was concerned, she couldn’t be certain. She

ed the words she whispered in her ear earlier that day, showing clearing intentions of escaping, but what she told herself then was still true now. Only with a credible option, would she dare to attempt it. Getting out of the packed room was even harder than when they entered, there was so much junk that they could hardly place their feet flat on the ground. The lack of light certainly didn’t help, which left them extending their arms outwards for warnings ahead. “Damn it!” said Nathan as he stumbled over who knows what, he fell down to one knee and cautiously rose up again by grabbing onto whatever sturdy object he could grasp. The room wasn’t very big and they knew the door awaited just ahead, they were there soon enough and Nathan went to find the handle but stopped after hearing something on the other side. “What are you doing?” asked Sophie. “Hush, I can hear something,” he whispered. Sophie tried to him and lean her ear against the door as he just had, but he put his hand out and it soon touched her shoulder. “Stay still,” he then whispered. Nathan leaned his ear as closely to the door as he could and listened for any repeat of that sound. A sound that he swore was a pair whispering. Upon closer focus, he then heard footsteps but faint ones at that. The hall was large and it was likely that whoever they were, were standing on the other end of the hall. Any sense of a mistaken sound had now left him and Nathan was certain they were not alone in the hall’s proximity, he was nervous and didn’t know what to do. They could be hooded guards and if so, then this could spell the end for the pair of them and Lance for that matter. How he wished he hadn’t tripped and caused such a noise. This night had held high-significance for him as he hoped to not only have Sophie free his mind but also find a means to escape afterwards, he had no intentions of heading back to the Hollow and instead was going to make a dash for the beach. But that could be in jeopardy now if those beyond the door are who he suspects.

Thinking of the prospect of escape being blocked by a couple of men frustrated Nathan and he began to breathe deeply as he psyched himself for what was to come. “What are you doing?” Sophie whispered, confused by his sudden behaviour. “There’s people outside, likely guards, I’m going to rush them,” he whispered back. “What? No,” Sophie protested. “You can’t you’ll get us both killed.” Nathan immediately turned to Sophie and an angry gaze was in clear view, despite the darkness. “If we stay here, we’ll both die! We don’t stand a chance in making it to that damn place. The Succession … whatever that is. It’s obvious, the only way we’re leaving is in a body bag or by escaping! Right here, right now!” he whispered sternly. It was as she suspected, and feared, he had done this with the intent of escaping afterwards and it brought her great panic. His pending actions could cost her any chances of surviving and she wasn’t just going to let him throw her life away. “Just wait!” she said with grinding teeth. “Let them , let us live another day!” he said as she grabbed his arm tightly. “They won’t , they know we’re here!” he protested as he resisted her grip. A desperate struggle was to follow, a great struggle for them both and for different reasons. He wanting to fight and risk it all for an escape and she wanting to hide and hope for the best so that they may live to progress. The tight space of the room was no place for such resistance and many objects were soon disturbed by their antics. This only caused more noise and any attempt to maintain discretion was now hopeless. The noise made Sophie panic and she stubbornly continued to resist against Nathan despite there being no hope in preventing their detection, the noise too caused Nathan to panic and he shoved her violently into the pile of junk that stood behind her. “No, Nathan!” she desperately shouted as she fell. He franticly searched for the handle and found it in good time, he thrusted it open and was ready for whatever

fight awaited him. He stormed out that room with fists clenched, arms raised and knees bent. Breathing heavily with a locked jaw. But a fight did not await him, not as anticipated, but instead that of a cowering pair. “Please, don’t hurt us,” one of them cried. “Please don’t,” added another. Nathan was quick to calm and lower his stance, he saw a male and female standing across the hall – barely visible with the absence of light. Sophie heard the commotion as she tried to lift herself from the pile she had been harshly shoved into, she was shocked to hear the fearful voices and was eager to see what was happening. Eventually, she unearthed herself and emerged from the secluded room to see what Nathan saw. “Keep your voices down!” Nathan urged them, they did so. “Who are you?” Sophie then asked. “I’m … Charles,” the male answered. “Linda,” she followed. “I’m Sophie and that’s Nathan,” Sophie replied. She couldn’t believe it, she thought that was the end, but whilst the sight was of somewhat relief the confusion as to why they were there could not be ignored. “How did you get out of your Hollow?” Sophie asked. “Our Preceptor, he said we could make a run for it come nightfall. He didn’t lock the door,” the one called Charles answered. Nathan and Sophie stared at one another in confusion, why would their Preceptor just let them out like this and freely try to escape? “But why? Why would he let you do this?” Sophie asked. “He said there’s an island two miles north of the coast, he just said we could try and make a run for it – providing we accept the risk of harsh waters,” answered

Linda. “But you still haven’t answered my question,” said Sophie. “Why has he let you do this?” “We don’t know, he didn’t say, but that’s not of our concern!” replied Charles, clearly growing impatient with the questioning. Nathan then grabbed Sophie’s shoulder and turned it so she would face him. “It doesn’t matter, Sophie!” he said. “What matters is that there’s a way out of here! A way to freedom and a way to live, a golden opportunity.” Nathan couldn’t believe it, what luck? he thought. He had intended to escape on this night but was doubtful as to where he’d go if he made it to the coast, obviously there would be islands ahead but he never thought he’d be so lucky to find out that one lays just two miles beyond. It would be tiresome but certainly possible, there was more chance of him making it to the neighbouring island than progressing to the end in this damn competition of sorts. His feelings were apparent and he was certain to let them be known to Sophie. But she was hesitant, hesitant for the reasoning for the other pair’s Preceptor was questionable. Why would their Preceptor risk all of this for no reason? She didn’t know how the Preceptors worked, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that this kind of action would render severe punishment to all those involved. There must be more to this, she thought, a test in temptation maybe? It was certainly possible but why just them and not all the couples? The idea that this was a test was prevalent in her mind, but so was the resurged hope that a way off this island was possible, she had no intentions to escape on this night but that came solely from a hopeless prospective. But now, presented with a genuine opportunity, she was tempted to say the least. But fear was strong in her as always and would emerge the victor once more. “I can’t, Nathan,” she said with apparent reluctance. “Screw this, we’re wasting time, we’re out of here,” said Charles as he grabbed Linda and proceeded to run across the hall and over to the doors – the very ones that led to the stage upon arrival. But they didn’t open and attention soon turned to a small door discreetly placed

at the far-right side, that time was successful and the pair were soon out of sight. Nathan was eager to follow and had even took a few paces forward, but an unexpected emotion came upon him and he was compelled to rush back for Sophie. “Come on, Sophie!” he said eagerly. “There won’t be another chance, not like this!” Her eyes locked onto Nathan’s, then the double-doors leading back to their Hollow and finally the newly opened door ahead of them. A decision was to be made and right this moment. “Come on, Sophie, come on!” he said desperately. In a motion that couldn’t come soon enough, she slowly nodded and he grabbed her hand. At once, the two dashed across the hall and to the newly opened doors and were eager to catch up with the others. Upon exiting the hall, they immediately found themselves standing at the top of a lengthy staircase that descended downwards. What it led down to was clear for the many glass windows left no room for speculation; the beach and its coast beyond – lit beautifully by a clear sky and full moon. The sound of stumping feet carried and rose up to them, Nathan looked down and could see Charles and Linda descending with great haste. “Come on,” he said as he released Sophie’s hand and began running downwards, she looked back one last time before being quick to follow. The steps were made with granite and every stomp of the foot rendered an echo, every step making noise. If any of those hooded ones, Preceptors or Hilder herself were in proximity, they would certainly hear them. But there was no going back, not now, not that it even crossed their minds. Every echo made them run faster, but there was only so much speed one could muster when descending narrow stairs. The sight beyond the many windows ahead of them was one to behold with luscious sands in full view, but none of them so much as brushed a glare for their eagerness to flee was all that concerned them. Upon ing every turning-point on the staircase, a door was revealed to them. Heck knows where any of them led, possibly resting rooms for the Preceptors and guards. This only added to their fright and thus they began jumping many

sets of stairs at a time, but even the fastest of sprinters couldn’t get down fast enough. But the time finally came and the bottom was reached, as expected, Charles and Linda got down there first for their head-start. But Nathan and Sophie had tightened the gap considerably since the start of their descent and were no more than a couple of seconds behind. They soon were on the ground floor and all that stood before the lot of them was a single glass door that led outside. Though sweaty and breathless, none of them wasted any time and rushed straight for the door. They barged it open and ran out onto the open beach, under the night sky with the coastal breeze pushing against them with moderate force. It was only as they parted further from the building, that revealed itself to be shaped like a cube; that the size of the island could be put to scale. It was far larger than any could guess from within with a vast landscape of trees stretching far to the east of them and only more sand to the west. Upon looking back, Sophie could see the building and all the bay windows of the Hollows that faced this side – what would they think if they saw them now? Would they shout in encouragement for good wishes or in dismay for we had escaped and they could not? Either way, the thought was not worthy of any time for it was clear all the motion lights in the Hollows were off and thus they were all asleep. The coast drew near and the time to swim was fast approaching but there was a key fact missing and its absence simply couldn’t be ignored. “Where’s the island?” Sophie shouted. She began to slow and was doubtful of swimming, the skies were so clear and so was the landscape – surely an island only two miles away would be in sight from here. She had all but stopped and Nathan noticed, he slowed and went back for her and thus the group began to drastically widen. “Sophie, what are you doing?” Nathan demanded to know. “The island should be in clear view from here, but there’s nothing for miles. And why couldn’t we see it from the window of our Hollow?” she asked. “Our Hollow faces the other side, that’s why,” Nathan was quick to answer. “And yet the sea is just as blank on this side as it is on the other,” she interjected. Nathan saw the doubt in her eyes and shared in it. But as he looked to the others ahead, they ran with more determination than before – as if what they longed for

was in clear view. “There it is!” they heard Charles’s echo carry. “Almost there!” carried Linda’s. Had they grown deranged, Nathan thought to himself, or had they lied about the island but intended to swim anyway. Nathan and Sophie stood still and it was in that moment the sand beneath their feet and around them began to vibrate. “What the?” said Nathan as the sand suddenly began to part and meld into multiple apparitions of humanoids. Sophie was frightened and did not part an inch from Nathan. She wanted to hide behind him but the apparitions were appearing in all directions, effectively encircling them and there was nowhere to go. Nathan’s first instinct, which was always to fight; was absent and he stood stiff with no words to follow. Before they knew it, a great many humanoid figures surrounded them, made entirely of sand with no distinctive features of any sort. “Please, help!” Sophie desperately shouted, presumably over to Charles and Linda – who were unaware of the situation behind them. But truth was, she was calling for anyone. Charles and Linda didn’t so much a turn their heads after Sophie’s cry for help, possibly due to her call being subdued by the dominant sounds of waves or more likely out of an assumption they had been caught and didn’t want to be handed the same fate and thus continued. The sudden increase in their speed suggested the latter. Nathan and Sophie were left behind hopelessly as these unknown figures surrounded them. Could they be guards, Sophie wondered but if so, then why could the others escape? Then suddenly, one of the figures takes a step closer whilst all the others maintained a distance in perfect symmetry to one another. “Stay back,” said Nathan, though without a hint of authority and for the first time Sophie saw Nathan in a light where his anger wasn’t the dominant force. Sophie too was fearful, though perhaps not as much so as him. She didn’t know what they were or what kind of a threat they posed if any, but their body language and gentle sways in the coastal wind gave her the slight impression that

they may not be as imposing as first thought. The one who had broken from a seemingly strict formation, approached even closer and did not cease until it was standing no more than two feet away. Then, in a stark surprise to them both, a voice sounded – despite the absence of a mouth. “Don’t be foolish,” it ominously said. “Don’t be like them.” It then moved to the side and all of the humanoids preventing a clear view of the fleeing couple parted, Charles and Linda could be seen so close to the coastline – the time for them to swim was just moments away. “Their time is done,” the closest figure then said. Nathan’s eyes had wandered over to it and was confused as to what it meant, but all was soon to be revealed after the sudden emergence of two other figures. Two black and misty figures, of the same calibre that had kidnapped them, suddenly appeared just beyond the coastline and thus in view of Charles and Linda. The pair had been running so intensively and as the figure’s apparition was so sudden, there was hardly any time to react. The dark figures materialised long and vicious blades and mercilessly pierced fatal blows to each of them, they fell to the ground and remained there for barely a second before seemingly evaporating at the same time their heartless murderers did. Sophie was so shocked and sickened by what she witnessed that the conscious thought to scream never came and all she could do was stand there motionlessly. Nathan reacted in the same way and was equally as shocking to him, despite being no stranger to witnessing horrendous violence. The many humanoids then closed the gap once more and the closest figure stood before them once more. “Who … what are you?” Nathan asked in a falsely confident voice that was riddled with insecurity. “We are what remains … we are what fails,” the closest answered. Nathan gazed stiffly at where the eyes would be, whilst Sophie’s wandered the surroundings and saw the sheer magnitude of numbers.

“We await beneath the sands for another chance, for another glimpse at salvation. Only the World Watcher can save us now.” It continued. Whilst it rambled and as her eyes drifted, she saw the sudden emergence of two more humanoids. They stood right at the back and were difficult to view, but Sophie could swear she saw them glimpsing at their hands and arms, as if new to the state. How very odd, she thought. But as her attention diverted, it was immediately recalled after a stern calling from the talking humanoid. “Listen to me!” it said sharply and her head returned. “It is not over for you, much glory awaits dedicated souls, do not throw this opportunity away,” it said. “Why save us and not them? We were escaping too!” Sophie bravely argued. “You saw no island beyond these shores,” it replied. “For there was no pure incentive to leave.” The humanoid’s words confused the pair of them and had struck a nerve within Nathan, Sophie looked as she saw the humanoid made a point of staring specifically at Nathan. Despite no eyes, it seemed evident that it could see something she could not. “That’s rubbish!” he protested. “I had incentive to leave, it has been my intention from the start and was the first thing I thought of when Lance left the door unlocked!” Sophie elbowed him and clearly wanted him to hush. How foolish could he be, she thought, his words are only going to render them the same fate as the other two if he carries on. “And yet the first thing you do is commit to sitting upon the seats once more, a priority before leaving it seems,” the humanoid said. It had struck a nerve with Nathan for he didn’t want to face the element of truth in its words, he did want to leave the island but was also conflicted with progressing in the trials by using the seats. The fact alone that his mind grew concerned with the trials was evidence enough to show some level of commitment, no matter how small it was. Sophie was soon to see that its words resonated with Nathan and it was clear that

her thoughts back in that room were correct. He was committed, no matter how small nor how much he wished he wasn’t. But he was, which meant their chances of survival could only increase with added effort. It was clear now why they spared them, it was only plausible that the other pair were beyond help and showed no intention to stay and may have hallucinated an island for the means of escape. Either that or it materialised in their minds by those black and misty things, it was a stretch to imagine but was certainly possible on this abnormal of islands. To consider such a possibility didn’t seem so foolish, especially as she stood surrounded by talking sand people. “Go, return to your Hollow, and embrace this opportunity. The Succession awaits those who impress the almighty highest,” it then said. “The Succession? Why should we stay and fight to see a place we don’t even know entails?” questioned Nathan. The figure approached even closer and placed its hand on his shoulder, all the others then followed and too drew ever closer. Either Nathan’s question was so foolish it led to anger among them or it was of such importance it rendered a close and sincere response. “The Succession … is a place of purity and comfort, a place where one can be their happiest. To be given a chance to get there is blessing enough, but to make it would be ever more so,” it said. Then, without a moment’s notice, all the humanoids fell to separate granules of sand and vanished before them – leaving only the pair out on the vast beach. The words resonated with them and did to such an extent that upon the humanoids’ vanishing, not a flinch nor display of shock was present among them. No words were needed for all with value was already said, instead Nathan slowly turned around and headed back for the door – with Sophie following close behind. She felt for the first time that survival was possible and dared she think it, but Nathan was possibly more committed than ever before.

Part II

Chapter Nine

The early sun fills the amber sky at half-mast, the clouds weaken and that distinctive coastal breeze emanates beyond the bay window. Aaric and Gwyneth sit facing opposite one another, both embracing the morning for the night each of them had was one of welcomed change. They had slept well for the first time and this was easily noticeable to the pair of them. As the pair ate, Aaric noticed a new and immoveable grin – a clear sign of removed stress. Whilst Gwyneth noticed the same of Aaric, though his was not made obvious by facial expressions. His peaceful state was seen in the manner by which he ate, for this was the first time he ate the strange food with such willingness and appetite. The pair were at peace with uplifted minds but this was different to relaxed, by which they were certainly not for the day’s arrival signified the start of the next stage. This was the day where the dance training would begin in preparation for the first dance, it was going to be difficult and Aaric knew this. He had never danced before, neither did he think he’d ever need to, and was nervous for the day ahead. He ate the unknown food before him eagerly, not just in a revival of appetite but knowing fuel would be needed. This wasn’t the first time he scoffed for such a reason but he knew the importance of it this time was paramount. How the events of the day ensue could give an insight into how difficult this test will be. Gwyneth too was nervous for she had never danced before either but had always found the prospect delightful, but she had always imagined that such an opportunity would come out of choice and not forced. The fact she didn’t know how long they had to practice before the first dance arises didn’t help the situation, for all either of them knew they could have days, weeks or even months. A time frame would determine how much they can expect to learn and also how long to try and perfect it. No doubt they would find out, and soon, but for now they could only torture themselves by guessing. Both knew that the arrival of Wren was immanent for they were awake and eating at the break of dawn, by Wren’s request, in those shoddy pale tracksuits. The idea of having to wear this attire for the entirety of the day didn’t sit well

with Aaric and he had initially thought they would dance in their bespoke clothes, but then he ed Wren’s words of those clothes never being donned for practice. A shame, he thought. “Today it begins,” said Gwyneth, Aaric’s eyes parted from his food to look up at her. “Indeed it is,” he said in apparent nervousness. “Nervous?” she asked, clearly noticing it, he knew the answer was obvious and saw her light smile. He smiled too and gave a gentle nod, a slight shaking of her hand as she went to eat a piece of that strange food indicated she felt the same. Ridiculous, he thought to himself, ridiculous that they were both silently panicking about the prospect of dancing before it’s even began. It was only the night before that they were both racing and ready for whatever was to come but now, faced with the imminent arrival of Wren, those nerves proved very hard to trample. But the wait was soon to be over and the turning of keys beyond the door sounded. Aaric had only just scoffed a large piece of food and was rushing to finish it, the door then opened and Gwyneth was first to see her as she was seated facing the door whilst Aaric was facing away. “Excellent, you’re both up as requested, I hope you’re ready for the day that awaits,” said Wren as she walks in and closes the door behind her. As Aaric finishes swallowing the food in his mouth, he turns around to look at Wren but finds himself choking slightly as the food descended his throat for the sight was not expected. She was dressed differently, in a more liberal manner. Instead of a sable-coloured two piece with her hair down, she wore a hugging top with high-raised shorts to match and her hair was up in a messy bun. Quite the difference from her usual appearance and it had struck Aaric in a way he least expected, but of course it should have been foreseen for she would need to teach them both in a practical manner. But whilst most Preceptors were entering the Hollows of their participating couples, Lance still walked the seemingly never-ending hallway at a pace by which the legless could rival. But this was done with intent for he was foolishly delaying the inevitable, he didn’t want to enter the Hollow of his participating

couple. He was weakened and hardly achieved a wink of slumber the night before for his worry was too great. On that night, he had regretted leaving that door unlocked since the moment he left and desperately wanted to go back and reverse his actions. But he knew he couldn’t for this calibre of action was necessary, their future here had to be put on trial. But now, on the following morning, the truth was to be known and Lance was dreading it. He felt ill inside, if those two haven’t returned and were slain on the coast then his very right to live will be in question. If he’s lucky, he knew he’d lose his rights and privilege as a Preceptor but the worse outcome could come instead if they choose not to be merciful. Either way, Lance knew he was screwed should Nathan and Sophie’s Hollow be empty. With every step he felt worse and was driven to shake once their door came into view. By now, at this distance, Nathan’s usual shouting would be faintly heard but there was nothing. This only intensified his shaking and the distance gained with each pace forwards grew smaller. He approached that door and rose his shaky hand to grasp the handle, but not before inserting the key to enact on falsely unlocking it should anyone be watching. The door was slowly opened and its contents revealed. Nothing, to his greatest dread, there was no signs of life. The open space was empty and the table to the corner harboured untouched food for the breaking of fast, he closed himself in the Hollow and began to breathe erratically for the realisation was too much. “No, no, no,” he said in a quiet panic to himself, how dreadful this feeling was. This was to spell the end for him. With the realisation that his seismic gamble didn’t reap the hoped-for result. Lance fell to his knees and began to weep as discretely as he could. This was it, he thought to himself, he was a dead man. His breathing then grew louder, his emotions grew harder to contain and with it came a strong and desperate outburst. “I’m a dead man!” he shouted, with no longer any regard for prying ears. He then struck the floor with an open palm multiple times, shouting “Stupid” in the process. But a sudden sound between the thuds and the selfdirected insults led Lance to halt his action and fall completely silent. His head then slowly tilted over to his left where the bedroom doors were, more

specifically Nathan’s. Could it be, he dared hope, that sound was too convincing to have come from the neighbouring Hollow. Lance slowly rose from the floor and walked four paces over to the door of Nathan’s room, his hand was shaking greatly and his tears grew as he reached for the handle. He was desperate, this had to be true. Holding his breath, he opens the door sharply and nearly faints at the relief. “Nathan?” he said softly with a breathless undertone, Nathan was laying on his bed with only part of his head protruding from the covers. His eyes were barely open but he was awake nonetheless. “Can you come back in a little while, didn’t get much sleep last night,” Nathan asked. Lance sighs with a relieved smile and lowers his head in acknowledgement before leaving the room and gently closing the door behind him. He then crept over to Sophie’s room with the intention of peeking through, but the sound of her subtle snores ensured he didn’t even need to rear his head. Lance walked across the room and sat at the table where the pair’s food laid ready and waiting, he was so relieved and viewed a late start to training far more preferable than compared to what could’ve been. That gamble of his had paid off, the two did have a future in these trials and he didn’t even need to wonder whether Sophie freed Nathan from his shackles. No doubt the world watcher saw all of this, as he sees and judges everything, but Lance knew the ordeal of last night would only serve in the pair’s favour for Nathan and Sophie had ed a test none others had. A test of grave temptation, one where freedom was teased, but they ed and now face a credible chance at competing for the first time. But Lance was sure not to be foolish and knew that the dancing was yet to begin and thus their fate on the island could still be short. But that is down to them and how they respond to the training. However, if the actions of last night were anything to go by, the pair show courage and determination – which is all that’s needed to progress in these most testing of trials. Lance sat there with the intention of waiting for no more than thirty minutes, but little did he know that he wasn’t the only Preceptor to be faced with participants who had overslept. The Preceptor known as Peacock for the myriad of colours displayed in his hair and fashion choices, was standing before Silas and Skarlet as the pair laid lifeless on the floor. He was not impressed with their lateness and was steadily tapping his feet in an effort to wake them, but it wasn’t working and a dominant

clearing of the throat was needed. That deliberate and sharp sound ensured Silas was soon to awake, though Skarlet was still sound asleep, he awoke and saw the imposing stance of an unimpressed Peacock. He rubbed his eyes for they were dry and sensitive to the light entering from the bay window, he then looked across to Skarlet and saw her lifeless state. The pair were wrapped in each other’s arms and were in close , likely as a result of the stance they had been practicing last night. “What happened?” asked Peacock clearly dismayed. “The Dancer’s Stance, we were practicing it, though I don’t know how we ended up like this,” Silas replied whist gently unfolding himself from Skarlet. “How long were you doing that?” Peacock then asked as he extended his hand to help Silas us. “I’m not sure, quite some hours, long into the night,” he replied as he rose to his feet. “Standing still for such a length can cause light-headedness and even fainting, you’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourselves. But the same cannot be said for your pristine clothes, oh, look at the state of them!” said Peacock. It was apparent that a night on the floor had not been kind to the tailored outfits, they would need to be cleaned thoroughly and possibly re-stitched if needed. Peacock then gently nudged Skarlet’s feet a number of times and she too was now awake; she was clearly half-asleep still so Silas took her arm and hoisted her up to her feet. “Get back into your whites immediately, so that these beautiful masterpieces can be saved before it’s too late. Then perhaps we can get started with the day ahead and start dancing as we’re supposed to,” Peacock demanded in that sassy tone of his, the pair did as they were told and went into their rooms to change. Silas was shaking with nerves as he took off his pristine clothes and donned that distasteful tracksuit, it was only with Peacock’s final sentence that he ed what significance the day held. Today was to be the first in learning to dance, a day of much that he dreaded greatly. The way he feels now led him to believe that the night just gone, with the many hours of standing in close ; was of no use and a tremendous waste of time. Thus, now he feels even worse after a late night and heavy slumber. His nerves suddenly grew into

frustration for nothing was working, he was still nervous about being in with Skarlet and it was soon becoming clear that nothing was going to change this. It all seemed hopeless, that is, before an action from mere moments before popped into his mind. He had helped her up and so effortlessly without a hint of awkwardness, it was almost as if it was normal. A very minor event in the grand scheme of things but significant nonetheless, a moment of ease came upon him as he thought of the ing night in a different light. Perhaps, he thought, those many hours standing was not as fruitless as he’d initially believed. Back at Aaric and Gwyneth’s Hollow, they were ahead of most others and were among the first to begin the practical dance lessons. Wren stood close to the large mirror with a facial expression similar to that of a child who waits patiently for the imminent opening of a candy store. She had spent the last ninety minutes, or so, explaining to them the basics of the natural spin and was now waiting eagerly for the pair to begin enacting the move. But eagerness would only serve as half of her emotion for the other was that of nervousness. After all, it’s in the very first moments where the natural skill in dancing can be seen and thus, she will soon know how easy it shall be for the pair to be trained. But the two stood facing one another with nervous expressions, displaying no signs of body language – never a good sign but of course was predicted. They just stared at each other and not directly, instead they looked around each other with no sense on how to start. It was as if Wren’s hour-long explanation had left their minds and nothing but blankness filled them. But in truth, they knew what to do but the hesitation to place their hands was all too prevalent. “Come on,” Wren said lightly like gently encouraging a child. “Take your positions.” The two nervously got closer to each other, as close as necessary, and rose opposite arms to lightly cup the other’s hand. Aaric rose his left and Gwyneth her right. Then Gwyneth’s left went over his shoulder and then his right went around her pit and cupped gently at the side of her back, toes less than an inch apart on opposite ends and they were ready to go. But, before they were even yet to move, Wren could see the expected stiffness by the pair of them and didn’t harbour much hope that this was going to go smoothly as hoped. Their faces were stern and emotionless whilst distinctly

nervous shakes were in view, but she didn’t stop them for she needed to see what she was working with. “From the top,” said Wren as she readied them to move. “Three, two, one and.” Then it began, a moment that was almost certain to bring embarrassment to the pair of them, their feet started to move in the appropriate direction but that damn stiffness was clearly going to maintain a strong presence. The sound of the pair’s bare feet striking the ground in contrast to Wren’s words of elegant movement and the absence of unity was clear to all present. To say the two were novices at the art was an understatement, but even they knew this was far from what Wren had hoped to see. “Come on … one … two … three … one … two … three,” said Wren encouraging them to keep their steps, it also worked wonders to drown out the sound of their feet thudding heavily. Her counts did help and enabled the pair to their steps more easily. Her words from before were going through Aaric’s head, which he used to physically recount the steps to himself. “Right foot forward, left to side, right foot to left foot, left foot back, right foot to side and close left foot to right,” he said to himself time and time again. Gwyneth was doing the same and repeated to herself continuously. “Left foot back, right to side, close left, right foot forward, left to side and close with right.” By now they both knew the steps and slightly more natural footwork was coming into play, but that was all they possessed and the key elements were far from present. Aaric wasn’t leading Gwyneth at and his feet were not smoothly turning and Gwyneth was not allowing herself to be led with elegance, but ultimately, there was no chemistry – which is vital above anything else. Perhaps it was harsh that Wren viewed these problems with such severity, especially given it was the pair’s first ever attempt at dancing at all, but these novice traits had to be eradicated with the upmost urgency or face it being embedded into them permanently. Aaric felt so awkward and was conscious of every movement and function, he was even conscious about his breathing and made a resounding effort to avoid exhaling too close to Gwyneth’s face. Gwyneth herself wasn’t much different and even felt uncomfortable over the gripping of the hands despite them

touching ever so lightly to begin with. Inside they both stressed and frankly, couldn’t wait for any kind of intervention. “Stop, stop, stop, stop,” she said, they both stop immediately and appear quite relieved to do so. From the moment they broke away from each other, they limbered up and the stiffness went. “Thank goodness for that,” Aaric muttered ever so quietly to himself and Gwyneth’s face told of the same relief. Wren then tells Gwyneth to stand where she is, she does so whilst Wren walks over to Aaric. She raises her arms and he knew what was coming. “Take your position,” she then said. He gulps and the little moisture remaining in his mouth soon leaves completely, the thought of strolling with Wren only takes the situation from bad to worse. As stunning as Gwyneth was, there was something about Wren that Aaric simply couldn’t ignore. Perhaps it was that infectious smile of hers or those piercing sky-blue eyes which stand out so brazenly against her brunette hair. Truth is he didn’t know, but it had been present within him since the moment she made herself known and has steadily strengthened throughout the ing days. Potentially peaking now as she wears such enticing attire. “Come on, Aaric,” she then said. With the strongest reluctance, he takes position by ing her raised hand with his and placing his remaining hand around her pit and gently cusping the top of her back. She then closes her other hand around the tip of his shoulder and dreaded stroll could begin. “ the count,” she said. “And.” Then the stroll began, like before with Gwyneth, only more intense. “As the male, this is what you must do,” she said as she led him thoroughly. “The male leads the movement and is dominant with the stance, a woman’s duty is to follow.” Though Wren appeared to be teaching only Aaric, Gwyneth knew this was equally for her benefit.

The dominant movement of Wren ensured Aaric could do nothing more other than follow with as much grace as possible, this was how Gwyneth would need to be and not try to anticipate Aaric’s direction. It appeared simple enough, she thought, but it was clear this would require a significant amount of practice. “One … two … three … one … two … three,” said Wren as the pair of them continued to stroll and turn. Aaric didn’t take much comfort in being led but could see why this was essential. It was clear that his lack in ability to lead Gwyneth was enabling her to anticipate the direction, thus, Aaric knew that he was the main obstacle that was hindering their progression as a pair. He could see his error clearly now and wanted to lead Wren himself, but his confidence simply wasn’t there – not with her. But, soon enough, Wren halted and told Gwyneth to come back and take her place. As requested, Gwyneth came and switched places with Wren and the two took to their positions once more. But in doing so, a question came to Gwyneth’s mind and she felt compelled to ask it. “What of the music?” she asked. “Should we not be dancing to that?” A good question, Aaric thought, and he considered himself foolish that such a question hadn’t been conjured by his mind. After all, music is essential to any dance. “The music will come and soon,” Wren answered. “But it’s essential to know the steps first and stay in sync with my counts without the music polluting my voice. Now, into your positions.” A credible answer that made sense, thus, the two got into position. This time he took a stronger hold as his hand cupped across the left side of Gwyneth’s back and whilst she tilted her head back and arched herself more than before, thus, enabling more weightless movement. Wren watched from the mirror as she had like before, she could see commitment this time and had a genuine intrigue as to how this would play out. Then Wren called for them to start their steps and they responded accordingly, it was immediately noticeable that Aaric was leading firmly this time and Gwyneth appeared far weightless. The steps were better too with minimal interference from opposing feet. For the most part, they were in step and in sync with Wren’s

counting of numbers. “Good … one … two … three,” she said. However, despite clear improvement, the most vital element was missing. That connection. It was apparent that the two were focusing too greatly on the steps as well as their roles, thus, that natural flow of elegance and effortless connectivity was vitally missing. Their strong-starting performance was soon to weaken as with the ing of time, their synchronicity began to slump. They were missing steps and that dominant stance of Aaric’s was quickly fading, consequently, Gwyneth returned to her habit of anticipating his directions. “Come on, Aaric,” said Wren. “Maintain that stance, keep in step and lead.” Her words did nothing to strengthen his diminishing performance and appeared to have acted as the final nail in the proverbial coffin, with just a second later, he trampled on his own foot and then one of Gwyneth’s. The fact he was in the process of a light turn at the time, caused the pair of them to fall to the ground with acute harshness. “Damn it!” said Aaric in clear frustration. He was quickly back up on his feet and extended his hand to help Gwyneth, who was still on the floor. “Don’t worry,” said Wren as Aaric assisted Gwyneth. “This is good progress, there is much time to get it right.” “Is there?” Aaric asked in confusion. Him and Gwyneth were yet to be told of any timescale and again Aaric considered himself a fool for another important question had avoided conjuration in his mind. “How long do we have, exactly?” Gwyneth asked. Wren appeared hesitant and had clearly preferred the question be halted for another time. “Well?” Aaric prodded.

A bad time for the question to be asked, Wren thought to herself, and a worse time for it to be answered. She saw the sweaty and stressed faces of Aaric and Gwyneth and knew the answer would grant them no comfort. This was not the right time to tell them but, then again, would there ever be a good time? Wren knew she’d have to tell them eventually and, given the sudden prodding, it may as well be now. “Two weeks from today,” she answered. The pair’s faces dropped like sudden death, two weeks seemed only a glimpse away and was far from a comfortable amount of time to prepare. To think Wren said there was much time, Aaric thought to himself, and to think she is casual about it. Not even Wren’s captivating smile, that often-infected Aaric, could settle him this time. Gwyneth certainly felt no better and was filled with dread over the prospect of what looms only a fortnight away. We have spent hours on the very first move, thought Gwyneth, and it possessed so many errors and this is just the tip of what’s to come. Realising this caused them both to stress and they looked at one another to reflect so. No words were spoken for none were needed, but they knew the conversation that would have been should they open their mouths. They would need to buckle down and fast, time was clearly of the essence and there would be little room for error. Wren saw the look in their eyes and knew of the words that need not be spoken, on the outside she appeared calm but within she was as stressed as they were. But she was no stranger to this ordeal, for she had trained many pairs before, but it never gets easier. She would have to remain calm and set an example as Preceptor; but she too struggled within. Of course, she wasn’t the only one for every Preceptor faced issues of this calibre. But across the hallway and into the Hollow of Silas and Skarlet, the flamboyant Preceptor dubbed Peacock was struggling perhaps more physically in the moment than any of his counterparts. Dear and weary Peacock was trying to demonstrate to Silas a move he called The Saviour for its resemblance to saving one from a nasty trip. But in essence it’s far more than that and requires great stillness where a perfect moment can be created, but it was no simple task. It involved the female being held downwards in an arched pose, with her back leaning against the male’s knee with an elegantly raised leg and a single hand gently holding the male’s neck. This allows the illustrious hair of the female to flow downwards towards the floor for all to see. All whilst the male leans so softly over her with his knee outwards to hold her and his hands to gently hover at the back of her head. This move, done

correctly, creates a perfect still of the highest finesse. One where the woman is astonished to be saved by an unknowing stranger and where the male has given it his all to save the dear damsel from colliding to the ground. This particular move had been secluded in Peacock’s collection for some time and is only in use now for the pair he is now charged to work with are perfect for such a movement – providing he can first teach it to them. He was struggling greatly to mirror the fantastical move from his head as Skarlet was simply too wholesome for him to grasp, her dramatic size proved too much and he knew the move could only be mastered by his verbal instruction rather than physical demonstration. Silas watched awkwardly as Peacock tried to emulate his move, not only was his blatant failing hard to watch but the fact that Silas knew he would be required to take the role of Peacock in performing this move with Skarlet. During all of this, Skarlet was panicking within. The move was quite uncomfortable for Peacock clearly couldn’t position his much smaller body around hers, which caused a lot of disbalance. Plus, she had spent a great many hours adapting her mind to the prospect of dancing in close and potentially intimately with Silas and was slightly coming around to the idea. But she had given it no thought that the moves would initially need to be demonstrated by Peacock, after all, he is the teacher. Never in her life had she had so much physical with a male, but she knew she would have to adapt to Peacock’s touch – just like she has been trying to with Silas’s. “Silas, come over here, I’ll have to explain it rather than show,” Peacock suddenly said, though it was inevitable, Silas nervously walked over and Peacock took a step back. Though Peacock had clearly struggled to do it, Silas was able to grasp what he was trying to do. Peacock went to explain but Silas and Skarlet had already started to move into position, though it was very slow and frigid. This was their very first dance move and they felt just as they knew they would, with tremendous nerves and abnormal breathing. Peacock decided to be silent and watch as the pair commence in an act that was clearly uncomfortable for the both of them. Skarlet slowly arched over, just as she had with Peacock, and Silas steadily placed his knee beneath her back and gently grip the back of her neck. Her hand then went over his back and, with all parts in position, she finally lifted her leg to finish the move. Amongst the debilitating awkwardness; the two never

broke eye and their breathing dared to return ever so slightly to some form of normality. Peacock was astounded, not only for the perfect finish first time, but for the end result was even more beautiful than what was in his head. Their tremendous sizes of immaculate muscle, coupled with the perfect light and shading, created a true masterpiece. One where every muscle was tensed and complemented the other in near perfect proportion, very unusual and yet simply mesmerising. He knew he was right to suppress using the move for so long, on one of his earlier couples, for this move was clearly destined for these two alone. Those with standard or toned physiques could never emulate this nor could it mesmerise the spectating eye, no, this was rightfully reserved for the most muscular of couples. Those who do not possess the artful eye would say this sight was abhorrent, especially when there’s a woman of this size. But all those of the craft would strongly protest otherwise. Granted, it was different but this was truly magnificent. Peacock felt compelled to clap but didn’t want to spoil the moment, he could see how they looked into each other’s eyes – with bliss and newly found emotion they had never known. Peacock didn’t know much of the Farlaiph community but knew their genders lived separately. Perhaps such a way is fruitless, he thought to himself, as clearly the two sexes still long for the other. Another Preceptor who watched in oar of their couple was Lance, he spectated from a distance as Nathan and Sophie gently strolled across the room. It was incomparable to professional standards and was a far cry from what was needed, but the sight of relief was how the pair were committed for the first time. Sophie showed willingness and Nathan’s signature protesting was absent. Great relief came upon Lance for his most fearful of gambles had paid off and now he is presented with a willing couple like all the other Preceptors. Now, they truly faced an equal chance like the rest of them. The two stroll peacefully and a rare silence ensues the room, a silence that is exempt from worry and anguish. They strolled from one foot to the other with their arms gently wrapped, both knew this was not part of their actual dance but served as a key initiator to learning effortless steps. It was nice to feel such peace for the first time since arriving on the island and they embraced it with newfound appreciation.

As the pair strolled seamlessly, Nathan dared to entertain the possibility where the two actually won. He ed the words of those sand people and how they spoke of The Succession that awaits the victors. A place of comfort and happiness, he ed them claiming. If someone had spoken of such a place just days ago, before he was kidnapped, then Nathan would consider them under the influence of drugs and would never entertain the idea. But now, after everything he’s seen, he’s ready to believe. Both comfort and happiness are perceptive and unique to the individual, Nathan knew that such a place would be catered for him and him alone. Considering he had never truly been happy nor comfortable in his entire life, thanks to his dreadful parents and poor living in prison, the opportunity to be taken to such a place was motivation enough. Thus, he would give this his all. Sophie too mustered enough confidence to conjure the belief of making it to the end, the prospect of comfort and happiness was enough to motivate anyone – especially the likes of her. Her entire life had been plagued with caution and uncertainty, what with her mother’s constant threatening and the never-ending disappointment of not getting chosen for adoption, this was to offer her a way to part from it all. She then discreetly glanced up to Nathan without him knowing. Perhaps we are not so different, she thought. Though she didn’t know his background extensively, she knew they were both victims of segregation facilities – those where certain calibres of folk are whisked away from larger society. An orphanage and a prison are different, she knew, but they acted with the same premise. A shared past in philosophy which could enable a united front in striving for a mutual end, one where they both know peace for the first time.

Chapter Ten

Later that day, Aaric and Gwyneth continued in their efforts and all those spin and turns were proving tedious. The pair were also getting hot and sweaty which only added to their frustration, they had taken their bulking hoodies off some two hours ago and were down to the vests beneath. Long gone was the awkwardness of touch from the beginning. At the start the pair grew uncomfortable as their skin touched the other, whereas now their sweats brush against their partner and neither appeared the slightest bothered. “One … two … three … one … two … three, come on that’s it,” said Wren as the pair’s endless moving ensued. It was clear to Wren that the pair grew tired of the persisting movement, physically and mentally, but this was necessary as it tests how naturally the movements are being learnt. Any novice can learn a move after a moment or two of practice, but true stride comes from the ability to maintain the movement long after the body grows weak and fatigued. This was what separated the professionals from the amateur. The tiredness spread to their faces and breathless expressions corrupted them. “Come on, maintain a composed look,” Wren said. They try their best but it’s not enough and it’s soon obvious that their performance is sharply dwindling, soon enough, Aaric stumbles over Gwyneth’s foot and the pair break their formation entirely. Both were too breathless to voice their anger and instead referred to bodily expressions, by waving their arms and shaking their heads in disbelief. “It’s all right,” assures Wren. “There’s plenty of time.” Though Aaric was clearly spent, Wren’s poor words of assurance enabled him to quickly take in enough air to protest. “But we haven’t, do we,” he said. “Fourteen days to conjure a performance that

will save our lives and yet we can’t even progress past the first steps.” Wren tries to assure them further, more specifically Aaric but she’s met with more protest from him. As Aaric disputes with Wren, Gwyneth gently gazes out of the bay window and towards the sea beyond. Like Aaric, she was frustrated and though it was he who messed up the step, she knew it would’ve been seconds before she had done the same. She looked out unto the sight beyond the window and did her best to block out the disputes behind her, she had hoped that the thought of her patron goddess on the famed island would’ve helped to calm her and perhaps grant some inspiration but instead she only grew more frustrated. Frustrated for she knew getting to where she desired couldn’t be further away, she was miles away from being ready for the first dance and it hardly seemed in reach – with the other two being completely out of sight. She knew it was only her first day in attempting this form of art and knew that creating a masterpiece would take months, but she only had a fraction of this time which meant much had to be achieved with every ing hour – something she and Aaric had so far failed to achieve. A shameful moment came upon her, one she’d never speak of, how she wished the bonding wasn’t required. How easy would it be, she wondered, if the bonding could be wavered and The Succession immediately within reach. She had shamed herself and her family by even thinking about it. The Bonding of Retrouvailles was a blessing for it demonstrates devotion and the journey on going to The Succession, the revelation of what it turned out to be was irrelevant and was still to be held dear. To skip would be cheating and contemplating it was equally as bad. She was tired and frustrated but that was no excuse to think so impurely, she wiped a discreet tear as the dispute behind her persisted. By the time Gwyneth’s moment of impure thoughts had ended, she found that the heated exchanges between Aaric and Wren had reached an abrupt end. Though, looking at Aaric’s face, it appeared to be more of a pause if anything. Gwyneth noticed that Wren was facing away from the pair of them and could tell she was thinking, but of what? She then looked to Aaric and could see the lack of patience in his eyes and as well as that same look of frustration that had been persistent all day, clearly, he had said something which has triggered Wren’s reaction to suddenly facing away. She wanted to ask what had happened but knew such a question would be foolish for she should have been listening and not allowed her mind to drift towards the thinking of a desired alternative.

Wren thought to herself of Aaric’s words and knew he had a point, whilst Gwyneth’s mind was elsewhere, he had questioned about advancing on with the dance routine for he argued a change in movement would be beneficial for him and Gwyneth. This would be a first for Wren as usually she insists on her participants acting out a sole move constantly until perfection, or close enough, had been achieved. But Aaric’s words made sense and had struck a thought in Wren’s mind, thus, now she was to carry out an action she hadn’t done before – disrupt her strict training routine. Wren sharply turns around. Aaric looks at her, expecting a certain answer, whilst Gwyneth stares blankly as she is yet to know what was discussed. “All right then,” Wren said. “You can progress onto the first lift.” It was then Gwyneth was able to guess what was discussed during her selfinduced blackout and Aaric stood with a stiff expression wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Foolish was he to assume the next move would be simply a more flamboyant step, but no, instead it is a lift and only the “first” one at that. Wren saw his surprised expression and was far from sympathetic. “You regret it now?” she cheekily asked. His face said it all but he decided to react with false words of confidence. “No, definitely not,” he said. Some time was to as Wren called the pair to come closer and listen carefully to what she said, lifts were the signature pieces of dance routines and can leap a pair into victory if done correctly but it can also spell disaster if done anyway but. With every word she spoke, Aaric felt a stronger sense of regret and Gwyneth was consumed with nothing other than nerves. If dancing was a rifle then lifts were its ammunition, without them the dance serves as no threat to the other couples. Gwyneth knew that lifts were inevitable and had dreamt at times of being elegantly lifted back in the times she considered dancing for a pastime. But now, faced with the imminent prospect, she thought herself idiotic to desire such a dangerous motion. In every lift it is the female who takes flight, meaning all trust falls to the male below and Aaric’s unsteady temperament in the moment did not fill her with assurance. But of course, there was more to it and she knew that lifts climax with an artistic pose of some kind. To trust Aaric with holding her was

only the half of it and she knew adequate confidence was needed to carry out the elegant poses that all lifts demand. Wren’s description ensured this lift was of particular difficulty and she could do nothing other than tense and hope for the best. Wren’s explanation was precise and the pair were confident of what it entailed, though enacting the lift was a different story. She then took Aaric’s hand and led him to the room’s centre, he quickly grew nervous and knew what was to come – he would first have to act out the lift with Wren. The situation couldn’t get any worse and his mouth had never been dryer, performing the spin turns with her was one thing but this was quite another. The physicality and the technique were far more demanding than simple strolls and he knew there were no alternatives for his hands to grip. At least with the strolls he could lightly cusp his hands on her but, with this, the firmest grip was required. She places one hand on each shoulder. “Ready?” she asked. He nods nervously. “One … two … three … and.” Then she jumps up and wraps her legs around Aaric’s hips. He catches her and reluctantly grips her hamstrings tightly. “Now, spin with moderate pace,” she said, he does so and when she’s ready she extends her upper body outwards with Aaric continuing to spin. With fully extended arms, beautifully arched back and dangling hair it made for a tremendous sight. Though a distinct shaking could be seen, caused by Aaric either out of fatigue or nerves. He spun perhaps a further six or seven times whilst Wren was ‘fully extended’ and Gwyneth watched in oar of the magnificent sight. A beautiful sight, she thought with iration, such a move done well would certainly deem them worthy contenders. Wren then told Aaric to stop and he did, she was lowered and Aaric’s spout of the highest awkwardness was over – for the moment at least. “You see,” said Wren. “The full extension will create a splendid and captivating view, but you must trust in yourselves or it cannot be done.” She then called Gwyneth over and it was then her smile subsided. ing she was the one to be lifted in such a way and extend ensured that smile, caused

by a captivating view, was immediate to scarper. Thus, those weary nerves returned. How she wished Aaric had kept his mouth concealed. The walk from the mirror to Aaric in the room’s centre appeared a long one as if he was many miles away and the journey was certainly prolonged, done deliberately by her dragging feet. “Come on, Gwyneth,” said Wren in a bid to hurry her, Gwyneth’s long walk was welcomed by Aaric for it allowed him to prepare – though all the time in the world would never seem enough. With good time she arrived and faced Aaric as Wren walked back to the mirror. “Just as I did, ?” said Wren, the two stared at each other and were hesitant to start. “Come on, just do it,” Aaric heard Gwyneth whisper to herself sternly, like him, she was clearly out of her comfort zone but they both knew this had to be done. “Do it!” said Wren with a rare hint of sternness. At once she jumped, with a held gasp and tightly clenched eyes, and Aaric was strong in catching her. As with Wren, her legs were wrapped around his hips and his hands were firmly placed on her hamstrings. It was as if everything had stopped as the two gazed at the other and Aaric was shaking, perhaps more so than with Wren, for he was clearly cautious of dropping her. Wren then coughed but it’s was obviously out of a genuine need to clear her throat, rather a sound to remind one of what to do next. Aaric knew it was a nudge for him to start spinning and hadn’t done so yet deliberately, he was terrified of dropping her and could feel her shake intensely for her nerves were severe. He was reluctant to move out of fear for what would happen but another stern reminder from Wren ensured there was no more delay, thus, the spinning began. Her head slowly shook in strong abjection but knew Aaric had to act, he believed her fearful gaze was out of fear for she couldn’t trust him when in truth it was actually her doubts towards her own capabilities. Now being lifted, she knew Aaric had a grip that was tight enough to be rendered safe but she doubted whether she could “fully extend” as Wren had. To arch the back, extend the arms and dangle the hair appeared so effortless for Wren and with perfect stillness. Yet, Gwyneth could hardly control her shaking. She didn’t trust herself to do it,

Aaric could hold her up as strongly as he could but if she can’t fight the gravity when extending outwards then that is her own undoing. Aaric had spun a few times and the moment for Gwyneth to fully extend was imminent. “Do it now,” said Wren. “Come on, come on … do it,” Gwyneth said, speaking to herself once more. Then, the moment of reckoning. Though still highly reluctant, Gwyneth began to arch her back, extend those arms and dangle her neck backwards so her hair would descend. Wren refused to blink in fear of missing the moment but, as Gwyneth began the extension, Aaric doubted he possessed the strength to hold her and began to buckle. He was so scared of dropping her and seeing her reach out in such a way rendered him fearful, strangely, unlike the time when he did it with Wren. But, at the same time, Gwyneth too doubted herself and it rapidly grew stronger with every inch of further commitment to the lift. Consequently, at the same moment of impeccable timing, their own errors proved too much and the move ended disastrously. They both fell and hit the ground harshly, conjuring a loud thud, leaving Wren slowly shaking her head. “With connected minds, you trust each other,” she said. “But that old fable of trusting yourselves still shackles you, but you already have the keys to free yourselves from that.” She had seen it many times before and knew it was the fault in themselves that was to blame. Lifts were different to grounded moves, with the latter, a pair can rely on each other equally for the moves are in unison whereas lifts are separate with each of the pair having their own role. Thus, they must entrust themselves to carry it out and should it go wrong there would be disastrous consequences for the both of them. Across the hallway and over to the Hollow of Nathan and Sophie, they too had progressed to a lift. However, unlike with Aaric and Gwyneth, these two had progressed to performing a lift not out of a request from an inpatient male to advance but as a result from Lance’s unique situation. Lance was eager to start with a lift, with one in particular, for one of his participants was not only the youngest, but likely the smallest too. Sophie’s very young age harboured her a small frame and thus a unique and mesmerising lift was available to them, one

that no other couple could replicate. However, this would demand tremendous ability from the pair of them for it to be done correctly and if done so then it could serve as their catalyst between ing or succumbing to the first dance. Learning this early was vital and was undoubtably the hardest move attempted out of any couple on this first day of learning. Harsh it may seem, but Lance knew this was too good an opportunity not to take full advantage of. Literal pools of sweat sporadically echoed the floor, this lift was no easy task and demanded great contraption from all the major muscles. Many attempts had been given since the start of the afternoon and Nathan was clearly growing fatigued but he was a strong lad, with a capable and athletic physique; Lance knew he could do it. Getting Sophie up was not the hard part, but the holding on a single locked arm was what proved the move’s worth in difficulty. A fantastic degree of balance was required from the both of them and displayed in perfect unison. The Turning Sculpture, the lift was dubbed and was known to most Preceptors and those who taught this art, seen as a highly adept move with significant risk, but possessing participants of the required frames to carry out such a lift were scarce and thus it is yet to be displayed to the Grievers. Another reason why it was rarely done was the well-established risk, but Lance was aware and accepted it – believing it would be worth it should the move pay off. Unsurprisingly, the move was yet to be done successfully but the pair were now very aware of what was required for the move to be completed. Lance had tried to demonstrate on Sophie before the pair tried it for the first time, but she was scared and clearly didn’t trust him so he decided to allow her and Nathan to attempt the move a great many times – learning more about its requirements with every attempt. Such a move by Lance made sense for the two were clearly starting to trust each other, why not let them test this trust by learning this lift together from scratch instead of interrupting it with Lance’s demonstration. Even with the ing of many hours and perhaps a dozen attempts, the two appeared no more confident than their very first try but Lance could see they were still determined despite the fruitless results so far. Clearly, they viewed this move in the same reverence as Lance did, performing it correctly was certain to increase their chances of progression by tenfold. “You ready?” asked Lance as Nathan and Sophie stood together, expressing

much tiredness and fatigue. Sweat was rife on their faces and Nathan was down to his vest, but somehow Sophie was still wearing her thick hoodie. Sweat on white clothing was hard to see but not impossible, their tired states were so great that their whites almost appeared grey. Lance was met with no verbal answer but clearly saw the committed nodding of their heads, Nathan stood ready to hoist Sophie up and she was soon to approach. She couldn’t believe what she was doing, what was likely to be the fourteenth or fifteenth time, and if she could tell her past self from the morning what she was to do it was likely she wouldn’t be believed. To even consider doing such a dangerous lift, with no experience, was foolish enough but actually attempt one and so many times was absurd. But Lance’s explanation of the lift, as to why it was necessary to learn so soon, made sense to Sophie and thus she was willing to try it. But that primal enemy of fear was certain to rear its ugly face and remained persistently throughout the afternoon, she feared being hoisted up so high and dreaded the very real prospect of falling and colliding head-first on the ground. Such an impact could render her fate sealed before the first dance was to come and with it the same would be said for Nathan, for if she perishes then his future hear will end too. Of course, she had fallen many times already with every attempt but Lance was thankfully there to catch her. But what if she was not to be so lucky on the next attempt or another to follow after, it would only take the one fatal miss. She had thought about it many times, more strongly with every approaching attempt, and believed her luck would soon runout. She had taken longer in preparing for the next attempt, longer than all the others before, but whilst Lance urged her to start Nathan could see that look of hesitation – the distinct kind that was unique to this attempt. He was no mindreader but it was clear to see what troubled her, that one fatal fall, and he looked to himself to ensure she would not be dropped again. Despite her light weight and small frame, holding her up at that height and on one arm was not easy – especially for those who are not experienced dancers. Even with two hands this would be difficult. Nathan knew that the lift would require an equal effort from her, to stay upright and still, but he knew that his attempt at lifting her onto one arm was the problem. She would barely stay up there for a second before his arm would buckle under the alien pressure and lead her to come crashing down, thus, she doesn’t even get adequate time to carry out her role in the lift. Perhaps if she was given that chance then she may grow familiar up at that height and may possess more confidence as a result. It was

just a theory and one that could never be known, unless Nathan provides her with that opportunity. “Sophie, I’ve got you,” he said with a light and assuring voice. She couldn’t explain it, but hearing those words and seeing the sincerity in his eyes blew the fear and doubt away like webs to the wind. “This is it, you can do this,” she whispers, not knowing for certain who the words were directed to. Possibly to herself, equally likely to him, but it wasn’t important. Some words are not always said for a single person. With the last full intake of air, Sophie speedily approaches and Nathan hoists her up with both hands. He stabilises himself as he readies for the next move. “Come on, you can do it,” encourages Lance. With a sharp bending of the knees, Nathan hoists her up further, this time on a single hand, and she balances at the top. Like all previous attempts, it was shaky and Nathan struggled greatly in stabilising himself. But the fact she remained balanced on Nathan’s now solely raised arm, for more than a couple of seconds, proved to be a record. Lance held his breath in anticipation but was certain to be ready to catch her should the usual happen, but he was hopeful this could be the one. The deep and prolonged gasps for air were clear to hear as Nathan continued in his struggle to compose himself, his feet dashed from left to right and his raised elbow would bend unexpectedly. “Steady, Nathan, steady now,” said Lance gently, not wanting to startle nor distract him. Those first thirty seconds or so were tense for all involved but eventually, with great ambition, Nathan was able to muster a degree of composure with his sharp and sporadic movements being brought to an end. Now, he was only moving slightly with a consistent but subtle shake. His breathing maintained its heaviness but at least, for now, it was under some form of restraint with its volume being lowered. Lance was desperate for Sophie to fulfil her part; he could see all the pieces coming together and knew it was so close to its completion. All she had to do was balance on one leg, which ever was her strongest, and spin as he spins. Of course, there was more to this move. The execution would require Sophie to spin in mid-air before landing gracefully in Nathan’s cradled arms, but that could wait for another time.

Sophie knew this was her moment, the only true opportunity she’s had so far to attempt her move, and she dares to raise one foot and prepare the spinning motion. Balancing was difficult but it came more naturally to her than it had to Nathan, perhaps due to the size difference or just natural ability. The foot is raised and they both go for the spin, Nathan and Lance gasp though for different reasons and a couple of full turns are achieved. Unfortunately, Nathan simply couldn’t beat the fatigue anymore and Sophie couldn’t spin with enough pace. Consequently, the attempt could ensue no more and Nathan’s arm was radically lowered. However, in huge relief to Sophie, Nathan was able to muster some control and lower her with a degree of ease and Lance’s assistance was not needed for the first time. Lance had expressed a long closing of the eyes in disappointment of the outcome, but he was soon to correct himself by realising the great strides that had been achieved in a single day. That was unfair of him but, at the same time, the disappointment of knowing how close they were to achieving the full lift couldn’t be ignored. The technique of the strides that had been achieved were sloppy to say the least and required much attention, but Lance was confident that eventually the two would get it right. “I’m sorry,” the two said to the other simultaneously, displaying frustration within themselves, but Lance was quick to interject. “Neither need to be sorry,” he said. “Much has been achieved today and I can say in regards to you two, with more confidence than ever before, that you have strong enough potential to rival the others.” The two, even Nathan, gave a slight and accomplished smile knowing the day was not a waste. Lance had spoken with the lightest on consciences for it was of the highest truth; the commitment the pair had shown stood in complete contrast to the days before and he had never been happier to have taken such a dangerous risk. The first day of learning the craft, filled with many struggles and triumphs, drew near to its end and the sky evolved into that familiar shade of amber that never missed its que. For many, the sessions were over whilst others were drawing near. One of the Preceptors still working in this hour was Peacock, who stood and watched in a mesmerised state as Silas and Skarlet ended the day so strongly. With every ing hour they had grown in development, displaying

more confidence and emotion. Even now, as their bodies became seized and tired, they held that signature so elegantly and to near perfection. They held onto one another more tightly than before, with more confidence and authority, and Skarlet’s leg was raised higher with a stronger acclaim under the amber-coloured sky. The natural shading from beyond the bay window made their physiques even more impressive than compared to the daylight from the sun at full-mast, everything seemed even bigger with more definition. As their confidence grew, they tensed everything harder which only added to the impressive finish. Peacock was so pleased with them and dared to believe these two would stroll ed the rest in progressing to the second dance, but he was sure to catch himself and not to be too confident for the training was young and the other elements of the routine were yet to be practiced. The feeling of accomplishment was equally present in Silas and Skarlet too, with the pair donning a discreet smile to one another as their faces lay so closely. They were proud of themselves and each other, what had been achieved on this day was inconceivable in the beginning and now here they were. Only a fraction of their routine had been attempted and even less had been learnt, but the victory of the day did not lie within the realms of accomplishing the moves but rather something else. Something that only those two could truly understand. With that sky growing ever darker, Lance had not long left the Hollow and Sophie was gazing out of the bay window. She gazed at those sands below, serving as a reminder of what the two saw, and it was then a question came to her mind – one that she hadn’t gave much thought until now. A fresher Nathan emerges from his room, fresher for having washed, and could see Sophie at the bay window. He walked over and it was immediately obvious that something was on her mind. “What’s got you all frozen?” he asked jokingly. She wasn’t quick to answer and it was clear she was contemplating whether or not to do so. Was she right to think of such a question, she thought, or was she just being stupid? But with Nathan standing there, expecting a response, it was only right she told him. But it was not to be said confidently for the feeling of foolishness was persistent. “Do you think that … Lance knew we’d make a run for it … and come across

those … sand people?” she eventually asked, the question initially struck Nathan as somewhat far-fetched. However, with consideration, it didn’t take him long to understand where she was coming from. It was obvious that Lance wanted the them to go for the chairs but surely, he must’ve known Nathan would’ve been presented with an impeccable opportunity to try and flee. Perhaps he did know, Nathan thought, perhaps he allowed us to make that defining decision to flee and get stopped by those sand people – where their fates would be decided. “The risk he took, what if we hadn’t come back, he may’ve been killed or something terrible could’ve happened,” Sophie then said, realising the risk Lance had made. There’s no way such an action would go unpunished, Sophie thought, his whole life would’ve been put on the line that night. Nathan had seen logic in Sophie’s thinking and was quick to respond to her words, he placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up to him as he opened his mouth to speak. “Best not let him down then,” he said. She slowly nods and the pair are ever more committed, not just to each other but now to Lance as well. If he had put his life on the line to allow them a defining moment, then it seemed only right that the two ensure that tremendous risk was worth it. Across the hall and over to Aaric and Gwyneth’s Hollow, the pair are conducting their final and practice and are amongst the last to do so. They were amongst the first to start and now last to finish, thus, their day was long and they were steadily tiring. The sweat from both of them was extreme and dripped in all directions amongst the endless movement, it was far from graceful and the frustration from the pair of them were clear to see. Wren knew she had been harsh on them, allowing such a long and demanding session, but discipline and high expectations was how she taught her participants and it was only with the rapidly lowering sun that she allowed this to be their last attempt. But this was more than a simple display of spin and turns or the graceful lift from before, but a culmination of the two. To transition from the beginning ground move to the first lift was a key demonstrator in showing progress and

will be watched upon closely by the Grievers when the first dance comes. To move from one move to another with an effortless feel is what gives a routine its natural and unchoreographed look, anything less will appear overly rehearsed and robotic. The two strolled vigorously across the room with those repetitive steps, their irregular gasps for added air rivalled the volume of Wren’s counts and the dragging sounds from their feet were also worthy contenders. This was supposed to be their most polished enactment yet, but it was hardly better than their very first attempt. Wren was disappointed but at the same time, she couldn’t ignore the cause for it – overtraining was always a problem in the beginning but she was confident the pair would grow out of it in time. “Come on,” Wren shouted. “Keep in step!” Her verbal reminders did nothing to smoothen their performance and, if anything, it made their frustrations stronger. Aaric even dared to turn and gaze towards her, letting his emotions known and Gwyneth’s grunts told a similar story. Wren knew she wasn’t the most popular person in the room and was no stranger to such a feeling for all her participants before had expressed such looks towards her at some stage, but she wasn’t there to be liked or even tolerated, but to be the foundation that a house can be built upon. The steps had been achieved, barely and with great dragging, and it was time for the transition into the lift. As instructed before, Gwyneth’s footing was stopped and quickly positioned with the feet pointing outwards at shoulder-width apart. Ready for the lift, a breathless Aaric goes to hoist her up. He was so exhausted that he could hardly do it and she was lifted with minimal flight; it was so minor that Gwyneth couldn’t even fold her legs around his hips for not enough traction had been gained. Thus, the lift was a complete non-starter. Aaric turned away and shouted with as much air as he could grasp. “Damn it!” The shout was long and required much air and it was evident that he may not have been as exhausted as initially believed, to muster such a roar with the lungs apparently being so spent would be impossible and thus it appeared he had hit more of a mental wall rather than a physical one. Granted, the chap was tired and clearly appeared so but there was still reserves within it seemed. Wren saw this instantly and lowered her head with a subtle shake which wreaked of disappointment.

Gwyneth saw Wren’s reaction and did not think highly of it, assuming it was directed at the pair of them, and Aaric was too busy screaming at the wall to notice. Wren saw the day was spent and did not linger in her removal. “Well done for earlier, I will be back tomorrow. Be up bright and early,” she said before making a swift scarper. Aaric’s wailing had finally drew its close and he was sure to conjure a sentence before Wren had even closed the door behind her. “What’s the point?” he said. There was no response and the door was closed to an eerie effect. The breathlessness of the pair was all that could be heard now and none really knew what to say, a distinct feeling of failure and disappointment was prevalent in the pair of them. Neither knew it but the other felt a sense of guilt to the other for the day was largely fruitless. Yes, the first steps had been learnt and were successfully implemented for a time and the first lift was a partial success. But the transition between these moves and the complete lack of natural elegance were too strong and had little difficulty in suring the achievements made on the day. Perhaps what plagued them the most was how the day had ended, with a performance as shoddy as the very first or maybe it was nothing more than a tired and frenzied state that was blocking their sense of accomplishment. Either way the moment was not a sweet one nor was it one to be complacent in. The pair stood there for a moment and Aaric’s breathing had finally calmed, he turned to Gwyneth and let her know of his sincerity. “I’m sorry,” he simply said. Her face was still and nothing but heavy exhales emanated from her mouth. He then faced away and went to his room, sharply closing the door behind him. A drenched Gwyneth was all that occupied the open space beyond their rooms, her body odour was strong and her muscles fatigued equally so. A far cry from her glorious appearance before she left her mansion. She turned around and headed for her room but unexpectedly stopped once her eyes crossed the view beyond the window. A tear of shame was quick to return as it saddened her that it wasn’t the magnificent view that filled her mind, but rather that shameful temptation from before. Being in such a state of tiredness and fatigue made it hard for her mind not to wander and contemplate a reality where this was not needed, but she dared not allow her mind to wander as vastly as before and was

quick to shake her head – clearing the thought away. “Stupid,” she whispered aloud to herself as she lowered her head, thus the eyes away from the window, and headed for her room.

Chapter Eleven

The thick of night was quick to loom and many of the couples didn’t hesitate in retiring, many fell asleep within moments whilst others peacefully drifted. It had been a hard day for them all, despite varying degrees of progress and advancement, the day proved equally demanding for them all – in both the physical and mental states. Though all were tired and most would sleep, the final thoughts conjured within the drifting minds were not identical for all. For some, they would drift peacefully knowing the day was one of new leaps and encouragement whilst others were to drift with dread and fear for their day had not proved so fruitful. Such thoughts of either discretion harboured the potential to keep minds awake after usual days, but after one demanding as that just gone, none had a say in the matter and were quick to drift once their heads hit their pillows. One of the last to drift was Silas, he had not longed showered and donned his night clothes before crawling into bed. A welcomed exhale had sounded upon landing as his body had finally been granted a rest. As he laid there, the aches and twitches from the demanding day had rendered an uncomfortable end physically but mentally he felt no such discomfort. On the contrary to how he believed he would interpret such a night; he was at peace and felt a great sense of accomplishment in the day just ed. Sure, there were moments of immense discomfort as anticipated but that realisation bestowed upon him at the day’s start, where he had helped Skarlet from the ground with such ease; served as the precursor for the day to follow. That night before had clearly helped in a way unintended and had worked wonders, perhaps a night of similar consequence could render a similar effect for the day to follow. Such a thought had crossed his mind earlier, before he had even showered, though to replicate the events from the night before would be hard to do – at least on purpose. Could forcing such a replication have the same effects, he wondered, could it decrease the pair’s inherent awkwardness further or do the reversal and actually increase it? The other night, when they stood in the dancer’s stance, it was deliberate and had rendered much tension. The true catalyst appeared to have come from them ing out in each other’s arms,

which was accidental. Silas didn’t know how to interpret the events, nor how to advance with them, his mind was too exhausted to wonder such things at this hour and he decided in the moment to postpone such thoughts until the following morning – though this was likely not out of choice but rather a forced action taken from a besieged mind that was too tired to contemplate. A whacked Silas had retired his mind and was drifting in and out of consciousness as his body readied for slumber. But, just as his mind was about to drift entirely, a sudden creaking sound rendered his eyes to open. Though his eyes were open, his head remained firm against the pillow. He was too tired to try and guess what it was and gave it no further thought. But the sounding of footsteps crossing the open space beyond his bedroom caused him to reconsider. Such certainty in the sound caused Silas to muster whatever strength he could and raise his head, with his eyes focusing on the door. The footsteps only grew louder which indicated whoever it was dawned near, the trotting feet then stopped right before his door and a subtle turning of the handle beseeched him to sit as upright as he could. Could it be whoever delivers that strange food overnight, he thought to himself. Though, this would be the first time he’s heard he or she enter. But the food was always placed on the table outside the room, he thought, so why would they be opening his door? Such a realisation led him to think otherwise. The door opened slowly and an eerie creaking-sound echoed across the room, his heart began to pace slightly and the old fatigue was starting to subside – as if readying for an unexpected confrontation. He was now almost sat completely upright and was ready to leap at whatever was entering, he wanted to shout and ask who it was but he didn’t want to reveal to the one entering that he was awake and alert. The one behind the door could not be seen until the door itself was fully open, and with it so he saw the obvious – the only one it logically could’ve been. But it was never conceivable to his mind and thus, he didn’t even consider it. Their eyes locked on each other and not a word was said, she slowly closed the door behind her and approached. With every step she took, Silas steadily laid back down on his bed. Neither could believe this was happening, deliberately and in a place so interment, only days ago they would’ve considered this sinful in the strongest sense and seen it as a grave abjection to their families’ beliefs. But that was back when they were foolish and incapable of considering the fact

that other Farlaiphs had come before and would’ve had to adapt as they are. If not, then it would be right to believe that none in their families ever sured the bonding and made it through to The Succession. Such a step was needed and they both knew this; she had acted just as Silas had considered just moments earlier. Silas just stared at her as she stood solemnly at the post of the bed, despite the darkness, her face told a tale of a debate within. It was as if she was having a last-minute consideration whether to retreat and scarper, which was an option and could easily be done. Silas wouldn’t blame her if she did, he couldn’t for he believed he’d heavily contemplate it should he be in such a situation. The look on his face reflected so and thus she knew the choice was hers alone. Skarlet had stood there for some seconds with her eyes drifting to the door a couple of times, but her mind was eventually made and she approached the headboard. Silas shifted to the side of his bed where the wall was and Skarlet lifted the covers and got in. The space was tight, as they knew it would be, and the front of Silas’s legs were touching the back of Skarlet’s. It was awkward in the beginning but this was more of a natural calibre rather than the stronger and inherent variant. He had debated with himself whether or not to position his arm around her to create a similar fashion to the night before, but he didn’t know how she was feeling and didn’t want to make the situation any harder. His hand had been hovering over and was doing so with such tenderness that she didn’t notice, or so he thought at least. Not wanting to cause pressure, Silas had gently began retracting his hand with the intention of resting it upon his own leg. But Skarlet stopped him in the process and gripped hers around his, she then placed his hand around her hip and left it there comfortably. She couldn’t believe what she had done and so willingly, never would she have thought of doing such a thing and yet here she was. An element of shame was present for she could imagine the horror on her sisters’ and mother’s faces should such a sight be seen; filled with anguish and disgust. She would’ve given her sister a similar look should she have seen a sight herself, but the truth was none could know of what was needed unless they themselves were here in the bonding. To experience a process that was in stark contrast to what they believed it was, consequently, a new mindset was required and not the premeditated one that was inscribed viciously into the minds of all from the family.

Silas had brushed away to slumber and had done so surprisingly quickly with his snores filling the room, leaving Skarlet sleepy but awake. Clearly, Silas’s inherent awkwardness to the opposite sex was fading more quickly and with ease by every ing encounter. Skarlet, on the other hand, had her awkwardness fade at a more gradual pace with it only beginning to with the ing of nearly a whole hour. With him snoring away, Skarlet lightly tucked herself in closer and took an emotional warmth from his touch. It was clear a particular emotion was attempting to fill the void left by the fading awkwardness and she was quick to realise it, she gently created a minor distance between them and gave herself a stern talking to for allowing such a moment. As slight as it was, she was certain it would prove as the first step of an endless voyage should she allow it – which she mustn’t. How foolish she had been and how certain she was that it wasn’t to happen again. The night advanced and Skarlet was finally granted entry into slumber and thus she ed all the others, only snores and the eerily sound of coast beyond their windows were all to be heard. That was, until a discreet and yet surprisingly brazen sound could be heard. It emanated from the open space within one of the Hollows and thus it bore the capability to awaken a single soul. Gwyneth’s peaceful slumber, which was well-deserved and needed, was abruptly interrupted by this very sound – the likes of flurrying feet with intakes of air. Tired and woefully fatigued, she sat upright and rubbed her eyes before looking towards her bedroom door. The motion lights beyond, where the open space lied, were on and she could see moveable shadows interfering with the light that escaped into her room at the bottom of her door. She was frustrated for her sleep was in great need, not only to recover but for fuel towards the next day. Unimpressed and not knowing who it was, she steadily got out of her bed and rearranged her sleeping attire before heading for the door. Though annoyed, she didn’t want to approach with too much audacity in the fear of startling an innocent party – possibly being the secret caterers who deliver the food every night. But it was as she stood directly opposite the door that she brushed away any doubt as to who it could be, his panting and footwork had made it obvious. The door was opened with finesse and at a great pace of discretion, stopping once the gap was big enough, she saw the determined Aaric performing his turns and lifts in a party of one. An immovable smile donned across Gwyneth’s face as

seeing such a view rendered her heart warm. Even after the day he had, filled with stress and relentless setbacks, he was still determined to master the craft set before him – even now at this hour and with absence of sleep. The sweat on his face, coupled with the breathless state, told her that dear Aaric had been there practising for some time – perhaps hours. It may have been possible that he could’ve restarted his efforts just a couple of hours after Wren’s departure. The effort he displayed was irable and impressive with his form actually showing steady improvement considering the lack of sleep, his footwork was in step and the transitioning to the lifts were much better. Perhaps this was what he needed, she thought to herself, a moment on his own to master the elements at his own pace. To think of it, she could’ve done with the same but she knew such a luxury was not possible for Wren’s speedy training schedule and the timescale available to them just couldn’t permit it. Upon seeing him, she had initially conceived the motion of discreetly closing the door and retreating as if she had seen nothing but after realising the unrealistic luxury, she thought it necessary to act otherwise. She opened the door further, as far as it would go, and it didn’t take him long to notice her in the mirror’s reflection. The sighting of Gwyneth led Aaric to stop in his tracks, just at the point where he was about to transition into the lift. His breathlessness and splashing of his sweat descending the floor was all that was heard and not a word was ushered. Aaric’s initial reaction was to apologise for waking her but he soon retracted the thought after seeing the look on her face, it didn’t tell a tale of irritation. Instead it told one of pleasant surprise, which only became clearer as she left the darkness of her room and entered the lit-open space. But she didn’t stop once entering the light and instead continued to approach Aaric, who persisted in his silence and did not break away from her gaze. She crossed the entire open space to get to him and didn’t stop until she stood just inches away, she then looked up and made her intentions known. She gently grabbed one of his arms and raised it, carefully cupping them together, before resting her other hand on his shoulder. He knew what she meant and cupped his remaining hand around to her back, following Wren’s instructions from earlier beautifully. They could both see it in the mirror, the perfection and the natural elegance, it was unlike anything displayed earlier in the day. Aaric smiled for the sight was truly one to behold, even before they started moving. If only Wren could see them now, they both thought to themselves, but perhaps it was Wren’s absence that such a stance could be

achieved. Wren was of immense help and essential to learning such a stance to begin with, but her presence and heckling had now proven to be counterproductive – preventing the sight that now presents itself to the pair of them. With a foot yet to be moved, they both knew a performance to outdo the predecessors was easily upon them. With Aaric taking the lead, he took it upon himself to count. “And one … two … three,” he whispered gently before the pair began their steps, beginning so effortlessly on the correct foot. Keeping in step, turning and spinning where of the highest standard and all with minimal strain. It almost appeared natural to the spectating eye, possibly leading one to believe they were no strangers to the craft. Their individual roles were also of pristine order with Aaric leading for the first time with confidence and Gwyneth allowing herself to be swayed. Like a General leading a trusted soldier through the battlefield of expectations, where none others could distract nor divulge. Subtle grins were birthed across their faces as both knew such great strides had been made, ones that were worthy of the mammoth task ahead, and both could see it don on the other as each of their reflections came into view each time, they faced the mirror. But they were to be cautious for the real test was to come, one that had rendered them the most anguish in the day just ed. The transition and into the lift itself. With the final turn finished, Gwyneth elegantly breaks away and positions her feet in the appropriate manner. Aaric then approaches with assertiveness and hoists her up, more cleanly and steadily than any attempt before, and she is granted with the perfect height to wrap her legs around his hips with no hesitation nor rush. That spin was then to come, the one so dreaded, only this time they both had trust in themselves to carry it out with success. He span a number of times before it was time for her to extend, this was to be the defining moment and she knew it was all down to her. He believed in her, all she had to do was believe in the same. After the sixth spin, she released her hands from his shoulders and allowed her back to arch with outreaching arms. Neither was to usher a breath in this most defining of moments, her inhibitions were washed away like pebbles to the sea and what replaced was nothing short of pure liberty. She was spun through the air, tearing through it as if it were made of paper, and Aaric was mesmerised by the sight before him. Damned if he had seen a display of this manner before and thus, he couldn’t describe in any other way than the braking of shackles that had been

placed by prying eyes. Only then, with only the two of them in the room, could that bird be brave enough to fly out of its cage. They spun many times, more than was needed, not wanting the moment of bliss to subside. But it couldn’t last forever, unfortunate as it was, and Aaric reluctantly had to lower her so his fatigued arms could rest and her dizziness be brought to an end. She was lowered with finesse and the two shared a gazing of locked-eyes for a moment as Gwyneth’s feet touched the ground once more, the unexpected moment of triumph and emotion coming to its unwanted conclusion. He still had his hands gently caressed around her waist, even now after she’s landed, the instant was to last a few seconds before Gwyneth suddenly looked down and politely removing his hands whilst innocently sighing. “Sorry,” he said with equal innocence. “No, it’s fine,” she said. Gwyneth then suddenly walked away and entered her room, closing the door behind her, leaving Aaric on his own once more. Her departure was not explained but Aaric didn’t need one for he was able to guess, an unforeseen moment that was almost too ionate for comfort. The poor damsel was likely afraid of a potential advance made by Aaric as their eyes laid fixed, which was almost certain to be denied and thus the night end on a horrendously awkward tone – the last thing either of them need right now. A wise move, Aaric thought, for he wasn’t sure what was to follow had their eyes remained fixed. But the moment was sweet enough, sweet for the magnificent performance achieved, and he knew the night could end with ease. The motion lights in the open space finally fell dark and coupled with the sound of a closing door; Gwyneth could tell Aaric had retired for the night. She laid in her bed, with the duvet up to her waist and her arms folded as she stared at the ceiling – which was sporadically lit by lunar rays. The moment just ed played on her mind and it was a mixed bag to say the least, a subtle smile came to her uncontrollably and she didn’t know how to take it. She lied to herself and said it was in reverence to the successful dance, which was partially true, but she knew another thought was trying to emerge triumphant. She shook it away and tried her best to grant it no further thought; but even as she drifted it remained in the back of her mind.

Chapter Twelve

The early morning start for the second day proved difficult for Aaric and Gwyneth as they sat at the table and unenthusiastically munched on those yet to be known edibles. Munching endlessly with minimal swallowing. Such a late night and demanding day beforehand had already taken its toll on their underdeveloped bodies who were far from familiar with the physical demands of the art, everything ached with every twitch of muscle fibre being easily felt. The initial nervousness had subsided which meant less adrenaline, consequently, there was no resource that could be relied upon to eradicate their tiredness. As the pair sat and ate, Aaric looked across the table and over to Gwyneth. Her eyes subtly lifted for she knew he was looking. “What?” she said as she chewed. “Rough night?” he asked with a cheeky grin and joker’s tone, she dawned a light smile and shook her head gently before rubbing her eyes. “Gosh, I feel rubbish,” she exclaimed, Aaric sighed with a laugh and said he felt the same. Though the lack of sleep and high-levels of fatigue were blatant to see, the look of accomplishment remained on their faces – with the achievement of last night still being prevalent. The looks were similar to those displayed on the first morning after their minds had been freed, with identical effect and relief, the feeling to follow was also the same in the sense that a new chapter had begun for them. Only, this one was not of mental calibre but rather a physical kind – where the art of dancing was concerned. They continued to eat though with much reluctance, but they knew energy would be needed for the day ahead. It was as they continued to munch with drowsy demeaners that Wren entered the room, they could hear her keys turning but didn’t so much as turn their heads. Even as she walked in, they barely acknowledge her, thus her infectious smile was welcomed with no reception. “Morning,” she said with that uplifting spirit of hers, again to fall with the absence of return. But such a reaction was expected for she had seen it many

times and herself had experienced identically way back when she first studied the art. Bodies would ache and the minds would be sore, typical to this sport just as any other. But that wasn’t all Wren could see, she saw something else, something embedded discreetly behind light smiles. On Gwyneth it was obvious and even as Aaric had his back towards her, she could still see it on the side of his face. Wren took a very brief moment of euphoria for they had done as she secretly hoped, just as some of her previous participants had. To learn the moves voluntarily and alone was a strong sign of commitment and the grins told the tale of success, a strong comeback it appeared. Wren closed the door behind her and it wasn’t until she stood right in front of the table that the pair gave the consideration to lift their heads, only upon doing so did they notice the smiling Wren standing gracefully with an unexpected object in her palm. The cusp of her hand covered its majority with only its edges and colour in view, it was rectangular with a number of buttons and all coloured black. “What is that?” Gwyneth asked predictably. “This? Oh, it’s just a remote,” Wren was quick to reply. “A remote?” Aaric questioned. “A remote for what?” Wren then stood away from the table and walked across the open space until she stood at the centre of the large mirror, the two looked over with far more intrigue than when she first walked in. “A remote for this,” she said as she rose her arm with the remote and pressed one of the buttons, a sound then began to suddenly emanate from what appeared to be the mirror itself. The two stood up out of surprise and tried to see how the sound was possible, Wren could see the confusion in their eyes and pointed to either corners of the mirror. Closer inspection revealed there to be secluded speakers that were reflective as the mirror was, the two smiled and were shocked to think they hadn’t noticed them before – seeming obvious once known. But the discovery of the speakers themselves had hindered what Wren had hoped would captivate their attention, but it was yet to so she had to prompt them. “Listen to the music,” she said, the two do as requested and alas noticed the

pristine sound. The sound of a decorous young woman singing with the most captivating of melodies, amongst instrumentals that complemented her beautifully with eerie and elating effect. The sound of her voice and the music that followed would change sharply from a calm calibre to a far harsher one, like a still coast becoming dashed by a storm. “What is this most magnificent of sounds?” asked Aaric, using language and a tone he was unfamiliar with. The music had clearly struck such a chord that Aaric found himself speaking in complimentary to the beautiful sound. He asked the question but Gwyneth found no need to as she was able to quickly guess its significance, even as far to presume the sudden upbeats in the instrumentals and vocals to be initiators for sudden movements – such as lifts and turns. “Aaric, Gwyneth, this shall be your music for the first dance,” said Wren. Aaric displayed the look of revelation whilst Gwyneth displayed one of confirmation. “But … I thought you said we had to learn the moves first,” Aaric argued. “Yes you do, but given you know the starting part so well. You can practice this part to the music,” she replied. The music then drew its conclusion and silence was to fill the room once more, the length of the music entailed a full-performance of just under three minutes or less. The first part Aaric and Gwyneth had learnt would be lucky to consume even a fifth of that time, thus, it was clear there was still much of the routine to even learn yet alone practice. Aaric looked over his shoulder and stared at Gwyneth, she looked to him and the pair knew this to be a fact. But a light smile displayed by Aaric, then Gwyneth, acted as a symbol to one another of assurance and belief. That they were both capable and together, could sur the expectations needed to survive. The week to was one of tremendous hardship for all involved; not a single participant nor Preceptor was unaffected by the stress that came with the demanding routines and timescale. Despite many of the Preceptors being no strangers to the process, stress could never avoid them – how could it with each couple being unique with different progression rates and abilities, not to mention original routines to learn. Some were training only their first pair, others their tenth and some their twentieth yet all were the same when it came to the demands being met and the anguish that came with it. The simple reality was that a fortnight was enough time to learn their craft, contrary to the participants’

beliefs, but they first had to learn such a fact and not allow it to diver their judgement. They also had to keep in mind what the entirety of this process was, regardless of whether to some it was a trial to some and others a bonding. It isn’t about who performs the best, but who demonstrates the greatest commitment. Aaric and Gwyneth showed terrific promise and were advancing greatly as the days went by; they had grown with the music and had learnt to stay in step with seemingly less and less effort. Aaric was leading with strong dominance and Gwyneth was being led so gracefully, they had even been to able rival the performance taken in private on that fateful night – only this time it was in the presence of Wren. Wren was confident in their progression and did not waste time in advancing them to practicing the rest of the routine. That was when the pair learnt that the lift, they had practiced so well was only the first half, what was to follow was Gwyneth unfolding one of her legs and allowing the remainder to wrap itself around one of Aaric’s – all whilst he continued to spin but with a faster effect. The coordination was already present and, consequently, it didn’t take long to grasp. But what came afterwards was a dramatic lowering of the music’s intensity as Gwyneth returned to the floor; this would be when the pair froze for a moment before Gwyneth steadily arches her back and arms downwards – folding themselves over Aaric’s cusped hand. The music was then to rise and the pair would enact an array of spins and turns, similar to those from the beginning only wider, before Gwyneth would be required to glide gracefully around Aaric’s shoulder. Then all ended with a frantic but static spin. As expected, the routine was demanding and had certainly birthed numerous arguments as well as petty disputes. These predictably came from minor mistakes conducted by the both of them as well as frustration, stress and tiredness. Wren never involved herself when such incidents occurred for she found that only prolonged the situation, instead she stayed out and the arguments would subside with little time ed. But with every argument or squabble, the reunions that followed made them stronger and only more determined. Wren had noticed the change in the pair of them, which grew and became more apparent with every ing day. As individuals, they had grown stronger and more confident in themselves, proving to be solid obstacles to their counterparts and very difficult to stop. And together, claiming a force to be reckoned with would not serve justice. As every day ended, Wren would stand and watch in

ever-growing oar as the pair enacted the moves with more finesse. Their progress was beyond expectation and the confidence Wren had was immense, but she had such a feeling before only for it to culminate into nothing. Thus, complacency couldn’t be allowed to fester and so she never stopped pushing them. The week that flew by was also one of resounding success for many of the other couples, such as the likes of Silas and Skarlet as well as Nathan and Sophie. Beyond Peacock’s knowledge, Silas and Skarlet had innocently spent the night together at the end of each day, awaking more connected for each dancing session to come. The positives that came from it were clear to see with every move being performed with added ease and less awkwardness. Of course some was to remain, for something so inherent could not be removed so easily, but it had evolved into something far less than the realm of apparentness. Nathan and Sophie shared in similar success, though their motivations were different. That realisation they shared on the night following the first day of practice had stuck with them and served as a motivator to push forward, coupled with the motivation of knowing something each had longed for but never had. But despite great strides being made, that persistent bickering never left. It was in Nathan’s nature to annoy and grow frustrated with failed attempts, such notions would be directed towards Sophie which would in turn see a fiery response. The two argued at times like a married couple and Lance faced moments where he could do nothing more than leave the room to return once the pointless squabbles had subsided. But such incidences were minor in the grand scheme of things and were easily overshadowed by the resounding commitment demonstrated by the pair of them. Their natural chemistry grew, as did their tolerance, and Lance dared to consider that the two were growing fond of each other – almost in a way of the unlikeliest friends. He had even been so brazen enough to voice such an opinion at the start of the fourth day, when the pair were eating at their table, which was met with unconvincing repulsion and by Nathan throwing food in Sophie’s face for a laugh. These couples and their Preceptors, along with all the rest, were met with a week peppered with moments of triumph, frustration, argument and reunion. Combined altogether to create what was to behold come the end of the week, adequate dancers with the appropriate mindsets and Preceptors with fading woes. What faced each and every one of those dancers in the mirror was a reflection unknown upon day one, and only with development had their new

images became known. It would only be then they’d know the secondary purpose for the imposing mirrors, it was far from being there only to monitor form. But to see how one can change with every ing day.

Chapter Thirteen

That gentle sun rose from the sea and politely broke through those menacing clouds, thus another day was to begin. Aaric was spent and had hardly felt rested despite the many hours in slumber, the ing days were just too demanding and his body groaned at moments for adequate rest. But such a luxury was unaffordable. Though he clearly would benefit from further sleep, his body had grown accustom to the early risings and had appeared to sync itself with the emergence of the sun. This likely stemmed from Wren’s demands for an early start and also from a natural stress knowing precious time was being wasted. He groaned to himself and sunk his face into the pillow, knowing that any further sleep was impossible, he began twitching his toes and stretching in preparation for arising. But not before releasing a colossal yawn. He then unearthed his body from the duvet, dragged his body over and placed his feet on the floor. Aaric rose like a dead man from his grave and all the clicks and knots were heard and felt with every inch in height that was gained. Sharp sighing was uncontrollable at times and the eeriness of the room enabled an almost echoey effect. Once stood upright, he negotiated his way over to the en suite bathroom and went to use the shower. He closed the coning door behind him, undressed and entered the shower. The hot water was a welcomed feeling with its density enabling his tight muscle fibres to stretch and relax, slight groans were released but were ones of relief. With the deeply demanding and battering week just gone, this part of the day soon became his most anticipated. To feel no pressure or expectation for a few continuous minutes were rare moments worth more than gold, of course, he never forgot what weight he carried on his shoulders but the simplicity of taking a shower was all that familiarised him with the world beyond and thus, for a moment, his mind could wander ever so slightly. But even then, he couldn’t forget, just with everything else, that time was of the essence and so he knew there was no time to be gradual. Aaric ensured he was no longer than a couple of minutes and was soon finished, he then exited the shower and wrapped a towel around himself as he went to re-enter his room. He opened the bathroom door and the sight to behold on the other side ensured he was red-faced and reversed

his action to swift effect. “Aaric, my apologies,” said a startled Wren. With the door only cracked open he asked her what she was doing and why she hadn’t knocked. “I did knock,” she explained, “you mustn’t have heard me. Doesn’t matter, I’ve brought you your prestigious clothes to wear.” Still armed with only a towel, Aaric opened the door far enough to stick his head out and looked at the bagged clothes Wren was carrying. As suspected, though confusingly, she was holding his specially tailored clothing reserved for the big performance. “I don’t understand,” said Aaric. “I thought we couldn’t wear those on training days.” “Oh, you can’t,” she simply replied. Aaric was only more confused and couldn’t see her reasoning for bringing them, he looked at her and it soon became clear that she was holding something back. “What is it?” he asked, guessing the fact. She was resisting to answer, as futile as it was, but she dreaded the response that was likely to come upon hearing the revelation. But it had to be done and so she just came out with it. “Today … all the pairs will demonstrate their routines in front of the other couples within their group,” Wren explained, he slowly shook his head in disbelief and felt a familiar sense of dread that had been vacant since the start of the week. The nervous fear he felt was sharp and sudden, with a sickening effect that rendered a degree of shaking that was hardly subtle. This feeling was strong enough to supress the embarrassment of being in a towel, he opened the bathroom door fully and approached Wren. She could see that look on his face, it was so clear and she was no stranger to it. It was then, as she feared, that such an announcement could enable a dramatic reversal. But she knew such a test was needed and all she could do was try and get the pair of them to understand. Aaric’s eyes were fixed on his bagged-clothes in Wren’s hands, his throat grew

dry and hands shook further as she cautiously handed him the items. “Why … why didn’t you tell us about this?” he asked, guessing she knew of it in advance as if the event was routine in the trials. “Skill is not determined in advance, but on the spot,” she said in a slogan fashion. His eyes remained fixed on the clothes in his hands and it was then Wren decided to leave. “Get dressed and come out soon, I’ll now go and tell Gwyneth the same,” she said as she exited the room and closed him in. A few moments would before Aaric even looked away from his clothes, those inherent nerves he felt upon first arriving on the island had returned in a familiar fashion but yet different. The same fear, only adapted for what was to come. Who would’ve known that a mind could change so abruptly with no warning, he had awoken ready of another day of learning the craft and instead he now finds himself expected to perform before a crowd? Though his mind was in a panicked state and little logic could break through its dense structure, enough was able to slide through in allowing Aaric to see an embedded fault within his expectations regarding the day of the actual dance. He realised that the actual dance would involve a large crowd, far superior to the size of their group, and he was yet to overcome the fears that came with that. It was a thought he hadn’t considered before and he was betting Gwyneth hadn’t either, he then ed the beginning of the week when he and Gwyneth began the dance sessions. He ed how the pair of them struggled to perform in front of Wren and her ever-critical eye and it was only with the night’s performance, when they were alone, that they emerged triumphant. And it was only with the ing of a few days that they became familiar with Wren’s watch. But to expect an identical scenario on the night of the real performance is wholly unrealistic, Aaric told himself in a stern manner, they would be dancing before a crowd of presumably thousands. Plus, the very judges, or Grievers, who would decide their fate right there and then. How foolish he had been, he thought, how they both had been. What was now expected to come later today would only be a grain in the sand compared to the actual performance only a week away, he knew that this recently discovered naivety would need to be dealt

with and with the highest urgency. He shook his head harshly to usher away the bombardment of thoughts and focused his attention of donning the tailored clothes once again. With every addition donned, his nerves increased and his shaking grew ever more obvious. By the time he had donned the entire outfit and done his best with the aesthetics, he was almost shaking so badly that one would be forgiven in assuming a case of hyperthermia. He was ready to leave but dared not to before settling himself in the mirror, he looked upon himself firmly and gently whispered to calm down. To steady the breathing and return to some form of normality took a moment, likely too long by Wren’s standards, but it had to be done. Allowing Gwyneth to see him in such a way was certain to only add in her struggle and make her state worse, he was yet to see her but could guess she too was on par with his. With himself as composed as he could be and in the requested attire, there could be no more delaying what was inevitable. He cautiously turned for the door and twisted its handle with regret, he stepped out into the open space and could see Gwyneth already standing beyond her room. He looked over to her, the identical gaze of dread as predicted. “This is necessary,” said Wren as she stood before the pair. “And I hope with time, if you haven’t already, you will know why.” The shock was great and certainly rendered the morning sperate to the ones before, but as Wren explained, they were not the only pair to wake up with this news. All couples were to know, with no exceptions, and the initial effects were almost identical. Some naturally adapted to the news and the sudden expectation quicker than others, whilst some remained too bewildered to prepare. Silas and Skarlet were among the first to embrace the sudden hurdle and held another’s hand in unison for what was to come, they were not fools to deny their nerves to Peacock but at the same time they knew they were ready – as ready as they could be at least. Nathan and Sophie weren’t quite as solid in their mindsets but shared identical traits, they knew there were numerous elements within their routine that were far from what professionals would deem standard. But they equally were aware of elements that struck right on point. Ultimately, though none of the pairs were exempt from the nerves initially felt, they all knew it was within them to dance triumphantly if they just believed in themselves and each other enough. To those who were of the solidest minds, this would be the real first performance. And those who were even smarter knew this would demonstrate the threats

posed from each couple, as if it were the loading of a rifle being poised to fire – only not just yet. With the ing of almost an hour, and with the pair being granted a moment to eat, Aaric and Gwyneth soon found themselves being led down the narrow hallway leading out unto the main hall once more. That same feeling of sickening nerves filled them every time they approached it, with this now being the third time. Such a feeling could never go as no purpose for heading there was ever one of welcomed news, but instead the direct opposite. As Wren led the way and the two nervously walked shoulder-to-shoulder closely behind, Gwyneth suddenly reached for Aaric’s hand and wrapped hers around it tightly. She couldn’t believe what was happening, she was far from prepared but perhaps that signifies the relevance of Wren’s words from before – about skill being tested on the spot. She knew it made sense and would act as the most realistic way to test the routines before the actual performance, but that naïve feeling of nervousness was still persistent. Naïve for she had been yet to contemplate dancing before a magnitude of prying eyes, by which now she is realising for the first time. It was as the approaching door grew larger that Wren chose to voice her final words. “This is a great opportunity, not only to test your performance before the scrutiny of others but also to demonstrate the threat you pose to them. It may sound harsh, but a sound performance here could cause others to hinder and fail – thus increasing your chances of progressing to the next round. , only five couples in this room are going to make it. Make sure you’re one of them.” By the time her words were finished, the three of them were standing right before the closed double-doors. She turned around and looked at them, their scared faces clear to see, she took a hand from each of them and rubbed them gently. An assertive nod was all she gave afterwards before she opened the door and hurried them in. Expecting a sight like before, the two had braced themselves for abrupt silence and a multitude of watching eyes. But what awaited them instead was a sight of disorganised souls who scattered the room, expressing concern and speaking with others. The sight took them both by surprise and they hardly noticed Wren closing the doors behind them, and the others were squabbling too much to even notice Aaric and Gwyneth’s arrival.

The voices of group one filled the room, many of whom were chatting with rival pairs. “What’s the point?” asked Gwyneth, believing that voluntary communication between rival pairs was entirely pointless. “That’s a good question,” replied Aaric, immediately guessing what she was referring to. The chats between the pairs differed from one to another, whilst some were aimlessly familiarising themselves with others. Other pairs were attempting to psych rivals out with fighting talk. Either way, such voicing was perceived as a waste of time by the both of them. Aaric looked up to the elevated point, where Hilder would usually stand, and guessed that her arrival would be imminent at best. He suggested to Gwyneth that the two of them did what none of the others were doing; get into position and await Hilder’s arrival. She agreed and the pair headed for the bottom corner of the room, the very place where they stood last time, but found themselves becoming suddenly blocked in the journey. That audacious blonde, who somehow had avoided being spotted until now, had made her presence known and stood right in the way of Gwyneth – with her clearly inferior counterpart Jace just behind. “Lexy,” said Gwyneth in a voice of unwelcoming stature, along with a stance that appeared braced for whatever negativity was to come. “Hello, Gwyneth,” Lexy replied in that cocky manner of hers. “I’m so glad we can finally have a moment to chat, you know, about this bonding that clearly doesn’t resemble anything any of our families told us. Although, it must be said, I was expecting to have this conversation with one of your elder sisters instead. Were Elenore and Pipastrella so ill they couldn’t attend upon Hilder’s arrival?” And there it was, the belittling dig Gwyneth knew was coming, Lexy had clearly been wanting to say it since the moment she knew Gwyneth was here. Gwyneth knew what she was getting at and was quick to protest, knowing Lexy saw her presence here a mockery to the Rainsford family. “Hilder chose me, without hesitation, my elder sisters were there but Hilder saw no interest in them. To imply otherwise would suggest you believe Hilder made a mistake!” she said with a ion that she never knew she could muster against a member of the Lujan.

Aaric just stood there, not having a clue what to say. He looked across to Jace just behind Lexy and saw a look in his eyes that told the poor guy was use to feeling such a way. “Oh, I’m not implying anything. Though I do doubt that had Hilder known of your circumstance, then I do assume she would’ve chosen otherwise,” countered Lexy. “Then again, it does strike me as odd that the wise Hilder hadn’t heard of you and your younger sisters – the resentment towards you. After all, your father’s resentment towards you was well-known to the other families – even other branches of yours. In fact, he would often refer to your mother Camille as ‘The Whore of the Rainsfords’. A woman he used and left behind with seven brats.” Lexy then paused for a sadistic giggle before continuing. “I even the outrage he displayed in my father’s presence at the annual gathering when your mother dumped you and your sisters at the gates of Moon Mansion. ‘The whore found me and now those little brats must in the choosing, my poor daughters’ chances will be quashed by those rodents. Should any of those be chosen instead, they will not go with blessing,’ I think it went,” she said with a distinctive grin. Aaric looked discreetly over his shoulder to see Gwyneth’s reaction, her demeaner appeared smaller than ever and her head had been lowered greatly, this made him feel angry for her and he was desperate to intervene. But just as he was to Gwyneth spoke, though with little pride. “The fact remains, Hilder chose me, and I don’t need a blessing to be here. I will get to the end and see dear Murielabel, you’ll see,” she said. Lexy sighed once more and was sure to respond with an ending reply that proved to be the final nail in preventing Aaric’s anger from being known. “Well, though I am doubtful, extremely doubtful, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see then,” she said. “Yes, you will, so in the meantime just keep that damn mouth of yours shut!” Aaric said with intent, that spiteful grin was soon to escape Lexy and Gwyneth was stunned to say the least. Her head was to rise with meaning once more after Aaric’s defence and that

insecure stance of Gwyneth’s was soon to fade. Lexy then huffed and swayed her hair before strutting off in the direction from whence she came, with Jace following behind. He displayed a look of dislike towards Aaric after that abjection of his, but didn’t usher a word before following in Lexy’s direction. Aaric and Gwyneth then continued over to the side corner of the room, getting into the couple’s stance and awaiting Hilder’s arrival. “You didn’t have to do that,” said Gwyneth quietly, appreciative for the defence but yet somewhat embarrassed. “, we’re in this together,” he simply replied. She smiled discreetly to herself, realising the truth in his words. Gwyneth looked across the room and over to where Lexy was, walking brazenly amongst the other couples. Clearly trying to intimidate like before, trying to make her presence known. She continued in her strutting until her shoulder was abruptly shunted by that of another female in the group; an extravagant and slender girl with pink hair of the strongest shade and dressed in black attire that covered her entire body and acted as a second skin. Fuchsia she was called. Despite the numerous conversations persisting all around, Gwyneth was able to hear the words to follow for both their voices were distinctive. “Oops, sorry honey,” said Fuchsia, with a voice that described the most affluent of upbringings. Lexy leaned in closer. “Do that again … and you will be,” she said with that menacing tone. Fuchsia then proceeds to blow a kiss at Lexy, completely undeterred by her threatening, before brazenly exiting with her head held high. The male that had accompanied her, dressed in a pristine tux with an unbuttoned blazer and all coloured a lighter shade of pink, also appeared undeterred and had even branded a clenched fist and a cocky smile to the male that stood by Lexy. Kaiser his name was. “Did you see that?” Gwyneth asked Aaric. “See what?” he replied. “Doesn’t matter,” she said.

What she saw had taken her by surprise. That couple, neither of whom from one of the six families, appear so confident and prepared despite never being able to grasp the full-significance of the bonding – or what they would call the trials. And yet there they were, undeterred even before Lexy’s domineering glare. If they knew her, and what family she came from, then perhaps they would’ve acted differently. But perhaps it’s because they don’t that, they can have such confidence, Gwyneth then thought, maybe the weight on their shoulders are less. Gwyneth felt a sudden but short moment of envy the pair and all in general who were not of the families, to not have expectations from others as well as oneself to survive the bonding could be beneficial. Unlike her and the likes of, for they knew the reverence such a process has. Across the other side of the open hall, Sophie and Nathan stood – though not in a stance nor in conversation with any of the other couples. Despite being one of the first couples to enter the hall today, and thus more time to prepare their thoughts, Sophie looked around with a persistent fearfulness that was equally intense now as it had been upon entry. Great progress had been made in her and Nathan’s routine and she was not modest in knowing it, but seeing the other couples once again rendered her the shakes. But whilst others would consider her nerves to stem from performing her routine, her main tribute to the feeling was actually knowing half of the people in this room were to cease in only a week’s time. Even if she was to survive, five couples would go and the wondering as to which couples would fall foul created an eerie demeaner. With every couple that entered after them, her shakes had grown worse for more faces came into her guesses – more potential victims of the first round. But Nathan was unknown to this and believed her blatant nervousness to stem from the expected performance to come. He placed either hand on both her shoulders, as he stood closely behind her, and rubbed the arms up and down – as if warming up the skin. He needed her calm; any nerves of this calibre would ensure the practice performance would be a non-starter. But had the routine been the true cause of her nerves, then the words he was to speak would’ve been poorly chosen. “Think this is bad, wait till next week for the real thing,” he said, trying to put the day’s events into perspective. Though he didn’t know the true reason for her nerves, his words could equally resonate to what was festering in her mind. He was right, she thought to herself,

next week would be worse for even more faces would be in view. More faces, from other groups, with half of them guaranteed to perish. She said nothing and sighed. It was as Nathan tried to calm her, a male known as Lucas approached from behind and saw the sight ahead of him. He was the counterpart of Shannen, the one who had impressed Hilder during the test involving the Seats of Sapphire. He watched on with a face that told a dual tale, one of the disgruntled kind and the other a cocky sort, and it was only when he spoke that his presence was made known. “I must say I find even breathing in the same room to someone of your … preference … is very uncomfortable,” he suddenly said. Nathan lowered his hands slowly from Sophie’s shoulders and turned towards the voice of the Lucas – knowing instantly that the words were directed against him. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Nathan asked, gently grinding his teeth. He had an inkling as to what the chap was implying, and knew such a conversation would be inevitable, but asked the question openly in the hopes the male meant something else. But that look on his face heavily suggested what Nathan had already guessed. “Nathan, walk with me,” said Sophie, knowing his temper. But Nathan shrugged her and maintained an unbreakable gaze on Lucas, who continued. “Well, I mean … she’s fifteen. Fifteen, my friend. I’m guessing no one here were dancers before all this and I’m also assuming we all knew what dancing entailed … intimate . Surely, you knew that and yet there hasn’t been a hint of rejection from you and to caress your paedophilic hands all over her. Even now, as we are yet to perform!” Every word he said, was spoken with amplified volume for others to hear and soon all were silent to hear the commotion – including Aaric and Gwyneth. Eyes were on and Nathan and Sophie found themselves becoming the centre of attention. Nathan was so angry and was almost snarling like a hound, every word of poison to come from that Lucas’s mouth only intensified his anger. “You don’t even

know me,” said Nathan with severe restraint, seemingly holding back on a fabled amount of anger. “You know nothing, keep that mouth shut!” Lucas’s face then displayed the most infuriating of grins and Nathan was struggling to contain that unearthed anger within, but Sophie was rational and could see what was happening. “Nathan, calm down, he’s just trying to get to you. Don’t let him, stay calm and focused,” she whispered into his ear, it was only then he uncovered the plot against him. It made sense, clutching at anything to anger or put down others, to increase your own chances of suring this test. Such a notion hadn’t crossed Nathan’s mind until Sophie pointed it out to him, now aware, he was trying to calm himself. But that irresistible grin of Lucas’ still remained. Nathan exhaled loudly and begrudgingly turned away so that the face was no longer in view, Sophie turned with him and decided to help further by taking his hand and ushering him away from the situation. But Sophie’s innocent assistance would prove the final straw for it prompted the heckling lad to conjure a sentence that couldn’t be ignored. “Yep, you take her hand … without hesitation. You damn per—” Lucas began to say but found himself being abruptly stopped by a flying fist, that lad had no time to react and such a blow nearly took him from his feet. “Nathan, don’t!” pleaded Sophie as Nathan saw red, he broke from her grip and continued in his pursuit of the most audacious Lucas – grabbing him and choking his neck. He had started with a face that displayed such a grin, knowing entirely what he was doing, and was now as red as his blood cells below. Sophie rushed for the pair, as well as many others did, and desperately tried to separate the fuming Nathan. Aaric, as he and Gwyneth stood lonesome in the hall’s corner, went to assist but found his hand being pulled by Gwyneth. “Let them,” she calmly said, knowing intervention would be pointless. If simply talking with the others pairs was deemed to be a waste of time, then separating rivalled squabbles would be equally so. Sophie knew that calming Nathan in such a state was going to be extremely difficult, a fact that the other couples were only just starting to realise. Even with a host of bodies trying to pry Nathan’s hands, which were locked firmly around

Lucas’s neck, the struggle was great. Even Lexy, who Gwyneth was surprised to see, was trying to get involved. Though, it was likely out of a display of dominance rather than genuine aid. She was pulling like the rest of them but soon found her intentions changing once a rogue arm struck her in the face and lit a rage within all Lujans that the likes of Gwyneth were all too aware with, she traced the origin of the limb and struck the belligerent without mercy. An impeccable coincidence that rendered her words from only a moment ago, true. Fuchsia wiped a lone streak of blood from her nose as she looked at Lexy with a discreet grin. “You weren’t kidding,” she said. Fuchsia then brazenly struck Lexy back and the pair started fighting, as did Kaiser and Jace in an attempt to even the score. Others noticed the increased commotion and did what they could to separate them. Before any knew it, utter bedlam had occurred and there appeared to be no end. That was, until Hilder stormed the room along with multiple guards. They appeared to have entered via a door out of view to the side of the elevated ground, where Hilder would usually stand, but their sudden presence was mostly unnoticed with the chaos diverting most of the group’s attention. Only Aaric and Gwyneth were to notice. “Break it up!” shouted one of the guards. “Back away!” shouted another. Despite the half a dozen guards, their efforts were making little progress in separating the participants and it was only with the sounding of a certain voice that such struggle would stop. “Stop, now!” Hilder shouted, all did with the sounding of that dominant and unrivalled voice. They had all paused so suddenly as if they were frozen, the guards too, though Nathan’s grip was still placed firmly around Lucas’s neck. Such a view prompted her next command. “Release your hands from his neck!” Hilder then shouted. Not even her voice could render such an action swift, he was hesitant and clearly wanted to do otherwise. But he looked over to Lucas’s squabbling face and knew he had enough; he released his grip but by his own accord and distanced himself from him. Sophie followed closely behind him, lowering her head and shaking it slightly. The others then began to separate and a begrudging Fuchsia and Lexy

parted – as did their counterparts. “Don’t waste your efforts in this way!” Hilder shouted. “To strive for the best here is necessary and thus rivalry is inevitable, but conducting it in such a manner is not the way to do it! Now gather yourselves and prepare for what is to come, today, your most important performance yet is upon you!”

Chapter Fourteen

In the time to follow; the pairs were positioned in a wide circle that enclosed the entirety of the room, the guards had left and a bespoke set of mesmerising speakers were unveiled. Then, one couple at a time, they performed what was to be their first performance before the Grievers that stood only a week away. These performances were vital to say the least; a solid practice here would serve as a precursor to come. It also showed the talents of the couple, their confidence, and the threat they’d pose to rivals. To fail here would not spell the end by any , but would certainly knock one’s mental resilience to succeed when the day for the real thing finally arrives. Some couples did better than others, with some performing with minor mistakes whilst others hardly made a move right. Dion and Kassandra, dressed in those ridiculous one-pieces that made them look like siblings, displayed a smooth performance with only a handful of marginal errors. Other couples, such as Richard and Jennifer as well as Markus and Juniper (twin sister of Jennifer), performed with rivalled adequacy and had replicated the pleasing look on Hilder’s face. But perhaps the greatest of them all to date, was that of Lexy and Jace. They had performed so well and had ensured that eyes could not be diverted away from them, no matter how much one despised her. It couldn’t be denied that her performance was one to be noted and that was when Gwyneth’s hidden hope had been dethroned; Lexy was more than a loud mouth with nothing to show. All that fighting talk had relevance after all, it appeared. However, as expected, not all could perform so well with some couples wishing the day away. The displays from Latham and Rona, as well as Cain and Tess, were pitiful at best and they knew it – with hardly a step done smoothly and in tune. It was unfortunate to see that among the group of failures were Sophie and Nathan, a strong performance to start with but quickly descended into something other. And that finishing move of theirs, the famed one dubbed The Turning Sculpture fell flat in a literal sense. The turns and the footwork at the start appeared brazen and done with confidence, thus, it seemed evident that the two were unfazed by the events of only moments before. But the moves at the start

were simplistic compared to the ones to follow and that’s when their downfall began. Those turns grew shoddy and the hip movements sloppy, and that final lift sealed the performance’s fate. But when they went into it, Aaric and Gwyneth as well as a few others, noticed a rare hint of expression on Hilder’s face. Her eyes had widened and her the sides of her lips rose; it was almost as if she was bracing for a moment of excitement. None of the other couples knew what this move was going to be or what it entailed, but the immense preparation displayed by the pair, coupled with Hilder’s surprised expression, told that this move was one to behold. Perhaps if such a move was done right, then their act could’ve been saved. Nathan had lifted Sophie up with a notion of mixed frustration and determination, he knew their performance till now possessed an absolute myriad of mistakes but also knew that performing this final lift correctly could save it all. Sophie didn’t hesitate in being lifted and was sure to herself up, all whilst she was holding back tears of disappointment. Despite a week of evergrowing progress, those technical moves require far more polishing then first believed – either that or the prying eyes rendered the pressure too great. Soon enough, Sophie had been balanced onto Nathan’s single-raised hand and she began to raise one of her legs. Literal gasps could be heard during this with spectators now knowing the harsh technicality. Plus, knowing that such a fall would render severe effects. Those who had been glancing up to Hilder saw her face light up with no discretion, likely believing such a move was going to happen. Then the moment of triumph or misfortune was to come and Nathan began spinning, as did Sophie. The gasps had only intensified and it quickly rivalled the volume of the music, this led Sophie to lose track of the beats and distracted herself. In that sudden moment, with no more than three spins being achieved, Sophie began to wobble sharply and it was too much to recover from. The stability in Nathan’s single-raised arm couldn’t take it and his elbow buckled under the weight, she fell down and he did his absolute best to retrieve her. The fall happened too quickly for the gasps to be relevant and were still from the shock of the spins. A horrible end that ensured the performance couldn’t be saved. Gwyneth stared at Sophie from across the room, looking past Fuchsia and Kaiser as they performed in the hall’s centre, the tears of the poor girl were infectious. She unexpectedly found herself releasing a tear for dear Sophie, an emotion Gwyneth didn’t expect. If she saw socialising with the other couples as pointless, then surely feeling sympathy for them would be equally so, she thought to

herself. She could see that Sophie was gutted, guessing she would be too if such a thing had happened to her, but her blessings should be considered for at least she landed in one piece and uninjured. Gwyneth then looked to Nathan beside her and could see that he too was disappointed, though he didn’t show it so openly. But at least for him, his sorrow had been interrupted by the witnessing of a certain someone fail – from the couple who performed after he and Sophie. Lucas and his partner, Shannen, had followed and performed with equal dismay with a horrendous finish. Gwyneth noticed Nathan’s grin when he saw that smug Lucas lose as he did, justice served it seemed. Gwyneth’s gazing across to Sophie and Nathan was no accident, she had been distracting herself from the sight to behold just in front of her. Fuchsia and Kaiser were performing and to say it was bordering perfection would not be deemed audacious but rather an acknowledgment of fact, the way they moved with ease and in time was unlike anything displayed by any couple yet. Kaiser was magnificent in his own right, with assertive holds and flamboyant hipmovements, but all knew it was Fuchsia who stole the show. Her body moved like water, like a stream ing through piled rock, nothing could stop her as she moulded herself around Kaiser. The seductive look she gave as she did so, displayed a beauty strong enough to emanate fabled stories to be told for generations to come. A handful of males in the room watched on like dogs glaring at the sun, like hounds dying of thirst. But Aaric would do no such thing. Gwyneth didn’t want to stare at the masterpiece before her not only for its threat, but for knowing what was to follow. Once Fuchsia and Kaiser were to be done, Gwyneth knew it would only be her and Aaric left to perform. She sighed to herself as she contemplated the emotion she felt when they got into the circle and Hilder prepared to call the first couple to dance, to think she begged within that she didn’t want to go first was absurd. To go last was a worse fate, Gwyneth now realised, for those who go last have been granted the most time to doubt and to succumb to heightened-nerves. Plus, those who go last have an inherent expectation bestowed upon them to ensure the day’s events finish with a bang – something she heavily doubted she could provide. Fuchsia and Kaiser’s performance was reaching its end and upon realising the fact, Gwyneth started shaking and breathed erratically. It was sudden and unexpected, she tried to contain it by breathing in deeply and diverting those dominant thoughts – but containing it proved difficult. That dreaded calling drew ever nearer and Gwyneth began to shake even more knowing that she couldn’t

perform in such a state, to be like this would render every move stiff and every lift static. With little progress gained, she closed her mind away from what was ensuing around her – cutting away the noise and the sight. This was her last resort, the last attempt to settle her, but to her dismay it didn’t work. That sounding of her tremendous heartbeat filled her ears and did nothing to calm her. The defence mechanism that had served her so well before, had now failed her for the first time. She was now borderline panicking, though she did her best to make it discreet. She was sharply fidgeting and her breathing was beyond control, but the placing of a hand brough it to a sudden revoking. “It’s all right, we can do this,” Aaric whispered into her ear as he placed his hand on her shoulder and hushed her woes, he then rubbed her arms up and down. To feel such a calming afterwards was a surprise to Gwyneth but was certainly a welcomed one, though she was still fearful, her state was now at a level deemed controllable and now only the natural nerves remained. Before Gwyneth knew it, the music had stopped and thus Fuchsia and Kaiser’s performance had reached its end – and in climatic fashion. The end pose of Fuchsia dangling upside down with her arms caressed around her face, legs wrapped around Kaiser’s neck and the cheeky tongue display almost garnished a resounding applause from the group but none wanted to appear partial. Not that an applause was needed to convince the two of what they already knew, they smashed it and the looks on the both of their faces told just that. Before Fuchsia had even a chance to be flipped back onto her feet, Hilder’s expressions were already made known. “Tremendous performance,” she said with a heightened voice but stern face still. “By some margin, the best yet.” The two were then told to return to their stances from the corner they came from, they did, but not before Fuchsia gave the most audacious of grins as well as a wink over to Lexy. That look on Lexy’s face told that of a murderous intent, she was furious that the brazen toff had sured her performance and that she was so cocky about it. How she wished she could’ve struck her there and then, but the option was clearly not available. With the enclosed circle now clear, Hilder called for the last couple of the group and that most dreaded of moments came to surface for dear Gwyneth. When her name was called, she didn’t move, she heard her name but pretended she hadn’t. Aaric tried to gently and discreetly usher her forward by pressing against her lower back, but her feet remained fixed in position, he too was

overwhelmingly nervous and Gwyneth’s actions were certainly not helping. With her standing ahead of him, she is supposed to lead out unto the dance floor but it appeared highly unlikely that this was going to be the case. With the stiffest of legs, Aaric reluctantly placed one foot ahead of the other and brushed ed Gwyneth’s shoulder. But even as he paced three times ed her, he looked back and noticed she was yet to move. He turned around. “Gwyneth, come on. We can do this,” he whispered. He had spoken to her with words similar to before, words that had rendered her a new sense of belief. But now, faced with the imminent expectation, she finds all comforting words to be weightless. She looked in his eyes, to Hilder’s and then the rest’s. Refusing to move only prolongs the already difficult ordeal, she sternly told herself, compose oneself and move. A deep and solemn inhale was taken and Gwyneth finally moved from her frozen stance, Aaric extended his hand and the pair made for the hall’s centre. Finally, the pair heard one of the spectating couples say as they took to their starting positions. Both with one arm raised, hands locked, her other hand on his shoulder and his cusping around the top of her back, feet in corresponding positions and they were ready. Hilder counted from three in preparation for the music’s start. The pair gave one another a final look as she counted, it was quick and subtle. Yet, it spoke great meaning. The look displayed was that of worry and fear, an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. The nerves were all that filled them and were strong enough to divert all other thoughts, even the memory of the routine itself. They felt as if they knew nothing, like novices, just like they did when Wren told them to dance for the first time. It was as if the week just ed never happened and no achievements had been made, insane to think all progress can be shunned when it comes to demonstrating what was learnt. The music then started and the two entrusted their bodies to find the spark they once had, from that most pivotal of nights. Unfortunately, from the very first stroll, they knew such a thing wasn’t going to happen. They had, to their dismay, mistimed the first step and spent the remaining others attempting to catch up without appearing forceful. But the mistiming of the paces would only serve as a precursor to come. Their turns were stiff and their spins equally so, all culminating to further dampen their confidence. With the steps as bad as they were, the lifts were surely going to be worse. And they were. Starting with the first one, the very one that had been performed to near perfection, was shoddy to

be polite. The nerves had ensured Aaric lifted her with too much velocity, she ended up folding her legs around his mid-section – far beyond the realm of his hips. She needed to scale down but doing so rendered synchronisation with the music even worse. What was to follow was uneven spinning from Aaric and a barely arched back from Gwyneth to extend her arms. The remaining lift that entailed her to fold her right leg around Aaric’s left was somehow even worse than the first, with Aaric mustering enough bad luck to trip on his own foot as he turned. The rest of the routine followed was not worth the attention, nor the effort to carry it out with that final and frantic spin not even being granted a start. They had done so badly that Hilder had stopped the music early, the performance couldn’t have gone worse. The pair were so embarrassed and ashamed, Gwyneth was shaking and nearly released a tear of despair to confirm the shame that all others could already see. Aaric too was close to bring tears but they were of a different kind, the sort associated with immense anger and self-loathe. Neither so much as gazed an eye towards the other as they headed back for their space in the corner, going before Hilder had even told them to do so. Both had wondered why the other dared not look at them and guessed it was due to resentment when, in an unknown truth, neither looked to the other out of a stern belief that they were to blame. Neither could muster the courage to gaze at the other with the eyes of disappointment and disaster, such an action was likely to set them both off and uncontrollable tears would start to flow. But the absence of the gaze was not all that was missing, they also hardly touched one another as they took to their stance position. Their hands were gently wavering over one another and whilst it was not obvious to the other couples, it was to them. Aaric didn’t have a single finger placed against her hip and neither had she a digit over his hand. Sophie looked over to them discreetly, as many others did, and felt an immense sense of pity for them – especially Gwyneth. The poor girl was distraught and was clearly compiling all her strength to maintain her composure. She stared on with such sympathy, just as Gwyneth had towards her before she knew she was to suffer in the same failure – only more severely. The two had been in their stance for a number of seconds before Hilder spoke for the first time since the end of that most dreadful performance. “It is important to stay composed in these tests, to fall will spell death,” she said. Those words only added more weight to the tears Gwyneth was holding back for even though the words were conclusive and directed towards all of them, she couldn’t help but feel a particular person was in Hilder’s mind as she spoke. But

her anguish was to grow even harder contain as Hilder continued. “But what others must also sustain is their commitment, today, some of you have fallen and it’s best it happened now rather than when it really comes. To commit now will show great testimony and devotion, but getting back up after a tragic fall is never possible alone. You must be there for one another, anything less and you will both collapse together.” It was during those words that Aaric tightened his hold on Gwyneth’s hip, believing in Hilder’s words of togetherness. Hilder’s tone then changed and she suddenly lowered herself from the elevated ground and went to stand amongst the lot of them in the circle’s centre. “Best you all listen now, what I say next is not meant to discourage you but to be truthful in what to expect should your performances be replicated come the actual test. If I call your names, step forward,” she then said. All the couples looked to their counterparts and neighbouring pairs with expressions of confusion. Hilder continued. “Fuchsia and Kaiser, Lexy and Jace, Richard and Jennifer, Markus and Juniper, Dion and Kassandra.” The five couples stood forward as requested and the others remained still, with looks of confusion ever present. “For those standing behind the ones called, know that this is a symbolic gesture,” said Hilder. “All those whose names were not called … would have their throats cut should this of been the real trial. This would’ve been the end for you, but know that you have a week to fix this. What you do now will decide your fates.” Hearing such news should not have been a surprise to Gwyneth for the holdingback of tears came from knowing this fact already, but hearing it aloud rendered her efforts of composure useless and the tears started to fall. The most terrible thing she had ever heard, to know that not only her life would’ve been taken but also knowing that her arrival to The Succession would never be. Realising the latter was by far the hardest to accept, after all, this was what her family lived for. To know the dear Murielabel once again and to live on her famed Island of Tears, to think that her own failure would prevent such a fate was devastating. Aaric lowered his head against her shoulder as she struggled to contain her anguish, he wanted to tell her it would be all right but knew such words would serve no comfort – not this time.

The remainder of that day was too difficult to describe with the lowering of the sun unable to arrive soon enough, Gwyneth had locked herself away in her room and remained there ever since their arrival back to their Hollow. Aaric too confined himself to his room but only for a couple of hours and was sitting at the breakfast table gazing out the bay window by the time Wren had visited. The sky was very dimmed by this point and it was a welcomed sight for them both, knowing the day was fading into a sight that matched the way they felt. But as the sun would die and reborn a new, both doubted that they would not fair so simply. The performance simply wouldn’t die with the ending of a day, nor would their sense of belief be reborn upon the morrow’s rising sun. Aaric huffed a great many times as he stared out unto the glorious view, he was yet to shed a tear though the feeling remained ever persistent. But such an action would not help him and would only immortalise the anguish within. Wren was standing with her back against the closed door of the Hollow’s entrance and had been there for quite some time, standing quietly. She hadn’t snuck in and Aaric was aware of her presence, though Gwyneth likely wasn’t, but she knew a stern lecture of any kind was not what either of them needed right now. She was, of course, disappointed with the news from Hilder that the two practically flunked on every move, step and lift but knew that such realities weren’t unheard of when it came to these practices. This is, after all, why they are needed. As disappointing as it was, Wren would rather it happen now than on the actual performance – a feeling she was certain to be replicated within the minds of Aaric and Gwyneth. But a blow is still a blow and this would be hard to recover from. The Hollow was silent, with Aaric aimlessly gazing and Gwyneth tucked away in her room, it was after the ing of some minutes that Wren felt the need to ask a question that was certain to yield a predictable answer. “How are you feeling?” she asked the defeated Aaric. “I’ve felt … better. But never this ashamed or embarrassed,” he answers after a long sigh. “To be expected,” she continued, “but you are not the first to face such an ordeal, what you do next will determine your fates.” It was then he broke his gaze from the view for the first time and looked behind

to Wren, expressing a look of frustration and belittlement. “Knowing what others have been through before does nothing to help me, nor does this little motivational speech. We failed, I failed, plain and simple. We knew that routine perfectly and yet couldn’t perform a single step of it to standard in front of those couples and given we won’t be performing before another crowd until the real thing comes, I’m guessing our fates are decided already,” he said sternly. It was clear that with Aaric’s disheartened mindset, he couldn’t be reasoned with in the moment. He was simply too sour about the raw ordeal so Wren decided to approach Gwyneth to speak with her but, as she approached the door, she found that it wouldn’t open. “What the,” Aaric heard Wren mutter to herself in surprise. “She’s probably locked herself in, I heard her moving some things in there earlier. She’s too upset to talk with anyone,” he told her. With Aaric’s revelation, coupled with the quick realisation that the door wasn’t budging, Wren resorted to talking from the other side of the door. “Gwyneth, please, let me in,” she said. “I just want to speak with you, find out how you are.” There was, predictably, no answer though she could hear discreet weeping when her ear was positioned against the door – a persistent sound that Aaric had been hearing since Gwyneth barricaded herself within her room. Gwyneth cried into her pillow as Wren called for her from the door’s other side, her saturated eyes looking ed her bespoke dress on the floor and to the handle that had a bar positioned beneath it – a bar that had been angrily separated from the side of one of the wardrobe doors. Hearing Wren call her name did nothing to calm her, she just wanted to stay alone in her room. This was reflected in her tears as her sobbing only intensified, knowing this, Wren abandons her efforts and steps away from the door. She turns around and looks to Aaric, who’s staring straight at her. “I’m sorry we failed,” he simply said. She sighs, realising the hopeless effort in the situation, and exits the Hollow –

leaving them in peace to deal with the failure. Gwyneth heard Wren’s exit and welcomed the end of attempted sympathy, an approach she simply didn’t believe was deserved. She deserved no consolation, empathy or anything of the sort. She was a failure pure and simple, she told herself. “You failure,” she whispered angrily to herself a host of times, each with tougher gritting of the teeth than before, and eventually she tossed the pillow in her hands with resentment. Tossing it harshly behind her, not caring where it landed. But the sounding of a collision, followed by a crashing plummet to the floor, led Gwyneth to sharply turn – knowing what it could’ve been. What she feared had happened, though seeing the sight didn’t render a sickly shock as she would’ve expected. She stood up and approached the shelf next to her bed before looking downwards, where her beloved rose dwelt. There it was on the floor, with spilt water but the vase intact, she wiped her tears and went to retrieve it. But it was done with slight resentment and no real sense of urgency for handling such an object was, shamefully for her, the last thing she wanted to do. To hold such an item in her palm was nothing less than an insult to Murielabel, she told herself, seeing herself as a hopeless failure. “Damn this bonding,” she said with discretion, “why must I endure this to get to you, Murielabel? Why must I suffer and face death should I fail? Do you hate me, do you hate your devoted daughters? One must so if she wants to see them endure such a bonding!” Every word was uttered with reluctance and was motivated by doubt and hatred for herself, thus, every word spoken rendered more and more tears. With the vase and rose in her hand, she approached the bathroom to fill it with a slight amount of water once more. She turned on the tap ever so slightly and waited patiently for it to fill, it was in this moment she couldn’t escape the reflection of her gaze as she stood before the mirror. She had avoided it since turning the tap, not wanting to see the failure and hatred in her eyes, but resistance proved futile and she caught her own gaze soon enough. Her avoidance was for good measure as she hated what she was to see, the reflection of a defeated girl who had just spoke horrendously in regards to her

dear patron goddess. How foolish she had been, she then thought, not only to speak in such a way but to verbally question the need for the bonding – something she had only conceived mentally until now. You abhorrent fool, she thought, of course the bonding was needed as devotion must be shown and why should it be easy. How can one expect mercy when one’s ancestors treated Murielabel so badly and heartlessly abandoned her? Leaving her lonesome on the island. They took her love for granted, that and the prosperity they once had. To expect an easy bout of forgiveness was hopelessly naïve, she told herself, even though her emotion was not entirely genuine and was in part fuelled by the anguish of her failure. Steady tears began to flow as she rediscovered her sense, though her face did not crease nor did her lips quiver. Instead, only a stern face of blank expression as the tears flowed. Such a notion continued far beyond the vase’s filling of water and further it pursued into the night. That never-ending sound of overflowing water could be heard from beyond the door of Gwyneth’s room, Aaric could hear the noise brazenly and allowed his mind to drown within it. Hoping to divert his mind from the frustration he felt. Such a night of sadness was far from unique to the two with many other pairs from all the different groups experiencing similar sorrow, such were the likes of Nathan and Sophie. But instead of separating oneself from the other, the two embraced in the other’s sadness and were bonded in the mutual failure. Lance had left long ago, expressing that sadness in his eyes; and Nathan and Sophie were left to hold one another. Such a notion would’ve been unthinkable just days ago, yet now they find each other their only source of comfort. Neither had planned the phenomenon nor did they speak in its process; instead they were silent as their minds wandered. Though Nathan teased Sophie relentlessly as the practices ensued, he had developed a great fondness for her but was damned if he would ever voice it aloud. Having much in common, from torturous childhoods, granted them compatible enough but the mutual goal in mind in achieving entry to a place of great comfort (The Succession) only added to the motives. This allowed Nathan to commence in a motion that he had never experienced before. Bond. In the week that has ed, he found himself feeling this way more and more and could no longer deny it. This only confirmed his feeling once he saw Sophie’s tears upon returning to their Hollow after that disastrous performance, her tears saddened him unlike the times she wept when they first met. Though this feeling

was new, he was certain that such an emotion was separate from the likes of romance and lust but rather a friend only more. Of the deepest kind, the sort where only those two can understand. Sophie felt the same but she too did not say it, for the moment at least, and took comfort in Nathan’s arms. The way he had changed in his attitude towards her over the last many days had not gone unnoticed and it sparked an emotion within, one she least expected. Yes, he still teased and had done endlessly up until moments before leaving their Hollow to enact this test. But she could see the teases change, in a way only she could see, she saw his attitude towards evolve from heartless commentary to harmless annoyance – in what she now knows is his way of showing affection. She knows she has a degree of care for him now, equally knowing it was reciprocated, and accredited it to being far more than complacency for being paired with one another. They wanted what was best for one another, which was getting through to the end. Contrast to before, where they each believed they had to bear the other in order to live for their own gain. Failing the way they did today was hard, but both as they hugged, quietly considered such a day to be needed so then such emotion could be realised and accepted. Such a day, they were certain, would not define them but rather release their full-commitment to each other from here on out. The remaining week to follow was initially believed to be easier than the one just gone, that was, until the pairs learnt of their sudden practice before others in their groups. Regardless of the outcome, whether a pair triumphant in the test or flunked altogether, all pairs were granted a new state of mind – a new sense of unease. It came from dancing before one another in what was a grand reality check for the real test to come, to dance before adversaries knowing either you or they would perish creates a strong and sick feeling within – this is mutual between those on either side of the performing spectrum. But whilst it affected them all the same, only a fool could deny that those pairs who failed upon the surprise test had an added strain bestowed on them. Perhaps this added strain couldn’t have struck any couple with more might than Aaric and Gwyneth, that second week on preparation stood in stark contrast to the original with an added sense of dread that only grew stronger with the ing days. That failure of theirs had ensured long-lasting damage with the performances to follow being deemed a far cry from the natural progression that they had witnessed beforehand. The spins, turns and lifts were smooth enough, though far from prodigal level. But that key element of connectivity and union

was entirely absent, their demeaners had plummeted as well as their motivations. That life in Gwyneth’s eyes had gone, the very sparkle birthed by the ion of reaching her dear Murielabel, now empty. On the day of that failure, she could’ve used the harrowing event to motivate her forward by ensuring such an outcome never resurfaced. But that ion never came, instead what arrived in its place was the harsh view that she simply wasn’t worthy to reach for that famed island. The doubt that had emerged, along with the abhorrent questioning, the moment she met true failure served as testimony to her lack of worthiness. It was clear she was not ready, she thought, and it was obvious that Hilder had made a mistake in choosing her. Believing such a notion birthed nothing more than added weight to the stormiest of clouds that floated above her dome, with its rain becoming her tears. Such a change of events for her, for it all to change to suddenly. Her temperament was also to change in this time, with her soft and elegant voice being commonly replaced by abrupt outbursts of anger and dismay. For the most part she was quiet and only voiced rage when Aaric or Wren attempted to motivate her, but that anguish within remained ever present. Her appearance was to see a transformation too with grand black circles around her eyes from a lack of sleep and oily skin from an absence of washing. Gwyneth’s lack of will was persistent and had advanced to all parts of her, far beyond the realms of dancing. This was how Aaric knew that Murielabel was far from Gwyneth’s motivation to simply dance, but served as a motive to live. And now, faced with a prospect of not knowing her, all aspects of Gwyneth had subsided. No more a person but a ghost; a shell without a soul. The week had been no kinder to Aaric though the burdens upon him were different; he had no patron deity to be dismayed for but rather the simple notion of accepting that death was likely to arrive soon. He was not blind and no comforting words from Wren could shy him away from the fact, he and Gwyneth were facing certain end come the imposing day’s arrival. Even at twice the level of progression, he knew they were far below what some wouldn’t even consider standard and that crucial element of connectivity was still missing. He had tried to enact so, when dancing with Gwyneth, but her darkened demeaner ensured such a notion was not replicated. Trying to persist in maintaining an affectionate look in the dance was futile for both parties would have to demonstrate so, but Gwyneth simply wasn’t responding – or couldn’t more like. Even if she could muster the strength to fake such it feeling, it would still grow short to match

Aaric’s. Then again, even if she could match his, the Grievers were unlikely to be fooled by emotion that was anything less than genuine. Such a look was given in Wren’s eyes as Aaric asked the question of fooling the Grievers with fake emotion, in what was an attempt to motivate Gwyneth, but that look was obvious and thus he knew it to be fruitless. Gwyneth’s mind was too darkened to work with, a fact that was clear to see by Wren, but Aaric secretly knew that blaming Gwyneth’s coldness was not entirely fair. Secret was, he too had lost the ion to progress – albeit he was more discreet when it came to showing it. That defeat told him they had learnt nothing in the week leading up to the surprise test, a notion ed by Wren’s words of testing skills on the spot. Realising such a fact and knowing that death was almost certain to follow was bad enough but perhaps another reality that stemmed from that fateful day was even more so. His devotion to Gwyneth was gone, or at least was so slight that it couldn’t be known. The feeling followed swiftly after that damned performance, fuelled by Gwyneth’s mistakes then and her lack of ion now. A great shame came upon him every time the feeling came to his mind for, he knew it wasn’t fair to display any degree of greater resentment to Gwyneth for the failure of that performance, the blame laid perfectly wedged between them both. He desperately tried to ignore it and had initially attributed the emotion as mere saltiness to the immediate aftermath of the loss, but the days progressed and he found that feeling only growing in severity – especially as Gwyneth became emotionally detached. To feel such a way was out of character for Aaric and he deemed it shameful that he couldn’t properly justify why he felt this way, he knew what had caused it but struggled to find a justification. It was as much his fault as it was hers any yet he blames her more, a feeling he’s likely not to know the reasoning behind but also one he deems irrelevant. Say he was to know why; would it change the endless failures endured in the ing week? Nay. Thus, over that next week, their minds evolved separately from one another. Detached once more, perhaps even greater so than at the beginning when they first met. Though Nathan and Sophie had too failed, their devotion to one another remained intact. Of course, their confidence had taken a harsh blow but they remained dedicated to the goal. Of all those who had failed that day, it was likely that Nathan and Sophie emerged the most motivated and Lance counted his

fortunes upon realising the fact. He wasn’t present when the two rekindled after the fateful day, but nonetheless, he knew something had been said between them. What is was, wasn’t important to Lance and thus there was no need for him to know. But he could see clearly that whatever was said granted them a new lease of commitment, stronger than the other outbursts from before. The week that ed for them was one of mostly progression, with other lifts and fancy footwork being green-lit, but that ending stunt still proved troublesome. Many times, the pair protested the move’s necessity, believing it was staining their performance, but Lance insisted it had to remain. He explained to them, with great ion, that such a move had never been done before the Grievers before and would effectively guarantee the pair’s advance if done correctly. The two saw sense in their Preceptor’s words but couldn’t help but question him after each failed attempt, as if their minds reset with every failure. As the days progressed, the routine came together swiftly with the exception of the last lift and the pair’s confidence had grown massively. As did their desire, knowing the first true hurdle to sur was in reach. Though their confidence was strong, they could do nothing other than rival that of Silas and Skarlet’s – unable to sur theirs. But such a way should be expected, these two surged ed the others within their group and were informed by Hilder that the pair would’ve survived had that practice been the real thing. Such a confirmation brought smiles to their faces, as did it to Peacock. The shock initially felt after the test, knowing the competition that other couples brought as well as seeing that half were certain to die, didn’t persist long and it was soon blown away like webs to the wind – courtesy of their success. Sleeping in the same bed had continued to work wonders and the pair had even progressed to sleeping face-to-face rather than back to front, consequently, their holds became longer and more natural in their routine and that awkwardness was now so minuscule that it harboured no real thought. It was amazing to think all those years of separation, creating a grave sense of marginalisation between the sexes, and it only took a fortnight or so to comfortably reduce the debilitating awkwardness it had created. However, with great strides and tremendous changes, one element of their old selves was to remain and it was certainly of the welcomed calibre. The very kind that had made such things possible, serving as their mutual motivation within.

Their prayers. They never ceased in their nightly routines to pray in devotion to their patriarch no matter how fatigued they were, they prayed separately but only out of tradition and habit rather than genuine wish to stay apart. Silas thanked Father Farlaiph for the blessing bestowed upon him in the ing days and asked that it may continue, his conscience was clear and he viewed himself in a different light – that of a stronger kind. But on those nights as Skarlet prayed, her conscience was not so clear though she kept pretending it was. With every prayer given, along with the ing of each day, an emotion was steadily surfacing. One she didn’t recognise straight away but soon evolved into one that was deliberately hushed, though was yet to be dealt with. That emotion of a particular kind. Any of this sort was bad enough for it was certain to cause division if accepted, but this was of the worst type. Skarlet knew not a word for it as such a term never found a place in any of the vocabularies in her dorm, but the feeling was known nonetheless and she tried her best to shut it away. It was the very worst thing, the one demonised greatly by her mother, the true sort that could divert one’s mind from their devotion to their patriarch. She had thought she was immune or was at least strong enough to resist it, but instead she finds herself steadily succumbing. She knew that laying in the same bed as Silas night after night only made the feeling worse but a combination of denial and desire prevented her from stopping. Come the end of the final week to practice, her feelings had firmly invaded her mind when it came to most things. From the showering to the dancing and the praying to the sleeping, that emotion worked to consume her and the thought of him soon triumphed over anything else. But such a fact was known to her and only, successfully secluding it behind the front she displayed before Silas and Peacock. She believed all others were blind to this feeling she now embraced. One would be forgiven for considering Silas a fool for not noticing her loving eye, but the emotion was unknown to him also and thus he could never recognise it. A dangerous game, she knew, and one that should’ve caused shame. But she felt none, at least not yet, for the surge of this never before known desire swallowed her whole.

Chapter Fifteen

Just a day to go until his end is to be met, the last day till the slaughter. Such a sentence played in Aaric’s head time and time again as he laid in his bed aimlessly staring towards the ceiling, a lifeless gaze in his eyes as he did. That week had been dreadful and he knew such a penultimate day would come. But now, with its arrival, it felt far different to how he guessed it would be. In anticipation of the day, he strongly believed its arrival would come with nothing but despair from the moment the sun rose and lasting far beyond its lowering. Just counting the days till this very one rendered a nervous effect, filled with heavy-breathing and sadness. But the emotion that awaited him on the day dreaded stood in the highest contrast. The emotion he felt was simply nothing, no anger nor fear, he simply hadn’t the ion to feel anything. To feel such a way was the saddest thing, though Aaric couldn’t realise it, to feel nothing only comes with acceptance. He had no fight left in him and he was now nothing more than a sheep, only one that is aware of its imminent slaughter. He had laid in that gazed position, with that ominous sentence plaguing his head, for what he could only assume was quite some time. The sun’s rising from the sea was nowhere in sight when Aaric first gazed to the ceiling, but now it was fully risen with its brazen symbolism in view. He could easily stay like that all day, wishing away his presumed final hours like a frail man too weak to move, but a sudden knocking on his door ensured that couldn’t happen. His head reluctantly lifted and thus his eyes broke away from the ceiling for the first time since his awakening. “What?” he said without a hint of enthusiasm. The door opens and its Wren, holding bagged-clothing in her arms. They were white and he could instantly tell that those items were not the bespoke outfits. “What the heck are those?” he asked. Wren’s hopeful smile only grew upon the question being asked. “Just some

appropriate clothes for the terrain,” she replied. Her response baffled him and so he asked what she meant. “Put them on and come out here, I’ll explain,” she replied. Wren then left and closed his bedroom door behind her. Before leaving, she had placed his clothes neatly against the handles of his wardrobe. He stared at them for a moment before releasing a deep exhale in the pursuit of getting up. It was smart of her really, forcing him to part from his bed so that his questioned could be answered. It was possibly premeditated, with Wren anticipating Aaric’s lifeless demeaner on this final day of practice. Aaric unbagged the clothes and threw them onto his yet to be made bed, what awaited him were pale T-shirt and tros. They shared similarities to the joggingbottoms and vest that he was already wearing, only these new garments appeared thicker and more durable. They were clearly made for a terrain, though different to this one. He sighed as he reluctantly took off his looser clothes and donned the thicker ones, they were less comfortable but of great quality. Once on, he exited his room and found an ever-enthusiastic Wren awaiting him. Gwyneth was also waiting, though with no such smile and instead that everdarkening cloud above her head. Gwyneth too donned the new clothing and awaited an explanation just as eagerly as Aaric, with no obvious interest whatsoever. “Come on, what is this about?” asked Gwyneth, awaiting the question. Wren has hyped to answer. “Well, it’s been a tough week. I think we can all agree on that,” she said, Aaric and Gwyneth both rolled their eyes as if the biggest understatement had been voiced. “As is tradition, the final day before the first dance is one of exploration,” she continued. Though Wren had answered their question, the pair still felt confused – which was obvious as they looked across to each other. “And what is it we’re exploring?” Aaric asked. “This glorious island!” Wren answered with glee. Again, the pair looked to each other, emanating looks of confusion with a

complete lack of willingness, they both found such an event to be pointless and Aaric was quick to voice the feeling. “But why, what is the point? Surely, such a day is pointless given it’s the last opportunity to practice,” he argued. Wren’s face told she had expected such a comment and thus she was quick to respond. “So if such a day didn’t happen … you’d practice your routine instead?” she asked. Neither of the pair said anything. “Every couple has learnt all they can, what happens tomorrow is solely in their own hands,” she continued. “It’s certain that for half of you, this will be the last day of simplicity before meeting an abrupt end. To any such a fate should fall on, the least that can be granted to them is the wonderous nature that this island has to offer. A worthy memory to have before a cold end.” As much as they wanted to, out of unjustified protest, it was hard to argue with Wren and the two reluctantly saw meaning in her words. Gwyneth looked to her left, through the bay window and down to the beach. To feel the breeze and step upon the sand would be welcomed, that, she couldn’t deny. Aaric too took comfort from the idea and a feeling dared to be conjured, one of slight delight. Thus, for the first time that week, the feeling of approaching death was not upon them. “Now, before you are set free upon the island, there are some things you should know,” Wren then said. “Firstly, don’t take this amazing opportunity to try and escape – believe me it will not end well. You can swim out unto the water but you must ensure you do not venture at a distance deemed too far. Secondly, ensure you are back within the building before sundown – abscondence will be harshly dealt with. And thirdly, there is a cliff edge by the name Knavery Point. You are not to descend it nor its boundary – everything beyond that point is out of bounds. Even for us Preceptors.” The last point got the pair’s hackles up and a point of intrigue was expressed. “Really, why is that?” Gwyneth queried. “Couldn’t say, I haven’t seen it, but gossips tell there is something dark down there,” she bleakly answered.

For a third time, the pair looked to each other, this time not knowing what look to express. But inklings of confusion, surprise and fear were among the combination. Later that day, come early afternoon, the time had finally come and the pair were granted exit from their Hollow and led down to the coast beyond the building. Aaric and Gwyneth were now eager to see the naked sun and feel the breeze upon them for the first time in quite a while, though that familiar defeatist attitude was still prevalent in the pair of them. But their desire to go outside had been steadily increasing with every hour that ed after Wren’s revelation and now, all they wanted to do was run past the slow-walking Wren and go see the grand sight that awaited. She had led the pair from their Hollow, through the hallway and now the grand hall. Other couples were also being led by their Preceptors, most of them were not from their group and were faces they hadn’t seen since the first day they arrived. The looks on their faces were all the same, regardless of how their routines were coming along. None could tell whether one couple had excelled at their training or completely failed, whether they were filled with certain confidence for tomorrow or absolute dread. Whatever feeling dwelt within each of them, they were firmly hidden behind the looks of eagerness – as if not a single person could get outside fast enough. Eventually, the lot of them were led ed a door to the side of the hall which revealed a beautiful spiralling staircase that descended many floors. Aaric and Gwyneth looked over the top railing in surprise, only now, they had just realised how high up they had been this whole time. Of course, they could see from the bay window of their Hollow that they lived on a floor of erected hight, but seeing how many flights of stairs laid below them was an eye-opener nonetheless. They descended them, iring the myriad of glass windows that laid to the side of them. Those magnificent windows revealed the beautiful sight beyond, they could see that glorious beach in a far superior view than the bay window granted them. There were already couples down there, exploring the sands and testing the waters. All embracing this rare moment, one of calm and simplicity. That view proved captivating and neither were aware how close they were getting to the door on the bottom level. “Here you go,” Wren said.

Her sentence broke their hypnosis and the door was opened before them, the light penetrating in the building as a consequence filled their skin and allowed their pores to open. It felt as if a lifetime had ed since such a feeling was known and it was welcomed by them greatly, as well as the other pairs that stood right behind them. The view was evermore mesmerising and the pair were yet to move despite other couples ing them. “Go on,” said Wren as she gently nudged them. They looked to each other, embracing the imminent bliss, before going to take their first step out unto the naked sands. But just as they did, Wren grabbed Aaric’s shoulder. “, back by nightfall,” she said. He smiled and nodded, Wren then closed the door behind them and the glorious sight awaited in full view. The first thing they noticed was the heat reflected from the sands on their bare feet, the sun’s brazen waves were obvious and it was very hot. But it was welcomed tremendously and the pair looked to each other, twiddling their toes in the sand and releasing a cautious smile. It was then Gwyneth thought to herself for a moment all those times she took the feeling for granted, that feeling of heat from the sun. Many times, she had stood beyond her mansion back at home, with the sun shining in its glory before her, she never truly appreciated it and never gave it thought. What a mistake that was, she now knew. It was only after the ing of a couple of minutes that the pair dared to part from the closed door and branch outwards onto the wider landscape, they walked closely together and did not stop until they stood in the centre of the sands – perfectly between the water and the building. They were now amongst the other couples, who stretched far into the vast scenery, there was happiness in the air but no outward displays of brazen joy. None were brave enough for that. But the smiles were numerous and the event had clearly been welcomed by all. This would only be the second time all the couples were within view but given the first occasion they were all cramped together in the hall, it was only on this one that the magnitude of people could be grasped. To see so many in view, scattered across such a large landscape, really showed how many faced this ordeal. They both stood there and looked across the view in all directions, they noticed

that some of the pairs were hardly in sight for they had dared to walk far beyond the coastline. Aaric’s eyes followed the farthest pairs to his right, he saw how they were wandering off into the dense trees beyond the sands. He had seen that magnificent green from the bay window, when looked upon at an angle, but it was only now he could truly see just how splendid it was. It was far bigger now in full view with the trees stretching far beyond the eye’s capability, he could just guess the epic scenery within those locked branches and dense leaves. As he stared across, Gwyneth took the moment to look behind her and onto the building they had emerged from. She was likely the only one to have done so for who in their right mind would want to focus on that place, the source of many people’s pain, when confronted with such a fantastic view ahead of them. But she wanted to see the place that had imprisoned her for such a time. The clear view of its exterior was not what she expected, then again, she didn’t really have a view in mind to begin with. The whole thing was shaped like a cube with a great magnitude of windows, the stairs they had descended only moments ago were in full view and stood at the building’s centre. It was quite clear to Gwyneth that the windows to her left were mostly the bay windows within all the Hollows but there were other ones, more splendid and larger, the more she looked to the left. Such rooms appeared more extravagant and bigger; no couples were thought to inhabit those rooms so she was left guessing as to their purpose. She then looked to the right and found its physicality to be different to that on the left; the windows were darkened and their contents within unguessable. She had wondered what it beheld within but then she ed the grand stage where she and Aaric knelt upon, that was where they were. Then it hit her; that was where they would go to perform in less than a day’s time. Realising such a fact rendered her to focus in an ominous stare towards the building, now completely ignoring the beauty that surrounded her. She remained like this for a moment until a sudden movement in her peripheral view led her to break away from her staring. Gwyneth looked to her side and found that Aaric had started walking, the manner in which he walked matched that of a tremendous longing for something, something simple and usually taken for granted. Gwyneth followed him, about five or six paces behind, and was equally fixated on what laid ahead – though for a different reason. In that moment, without any care in the world, Aaric brushed ed multiple souls along the way and one of those was Nathan. Nathan hadn’t noticed Aaric’s slumbering approach until he could feel his should

brush ed his, Nathan’s mind had been focussed on something other but the fixation in Aaric’s eyes diverted Nathan’s attention. His eyes followed Aaric, wondering where his feet would lead him, and soon saw Gwyneth cautiously marching behind him. “At times I wonder, what others would do if they knew what lurked beneath these sands,” Nathan heard the voice of Sophie say, he broke away from his fixation on Aaric and returned to sight that he was previously fixed on. He turned to see Sophie opposite him, staring at the sand below her in a way that none others could understand. “What do you mean?” he asked. “To know they’re here is shocking enough, but knowing what they represent is tenfold,” she explained. “Charles and Linda … they were slaughtered only metres away and moments later two more of those things appeared.” It was only seconds before she spoke, that it suddenly came to her. A subtle connecting of dots that had escaped her until now. It was only in the moment, seeing the sands once more, that brought it all back. And it was with the approach of a clearer head that such a determination could be known. Nathan still looked at her blankly and it was clear she would need to spell it out. “The two that appeared checked their hands and legs, as if they were shocked. It is my belief that they Charles and Linda and couple that with the words of ‘await beneath the sands for another chance’, said by the one who spoke. I am left to believe that—” “You die you’ll come back here,” Nathan interrupted. She nodded, seeing that Nathan had connected the dots as she had. Nathan’s eyes were widened, both physically and philosophically, and he looked out unto the wider landscape – seeing all the other couples. “Not even death is a means of escape here,” Nathan muttered to himself. “No, it’s not,” Sophie said. Knowing such a fact did nothing to dampen the pair’s motivation and if anything only strengthened them, death was a bad enough alternative to winning but

dying then coming back to live as a featureless humanoid made of sand was certainly a worser fate. Though, in the moment, it wasn’t spoken of. Both knew not to so much as breathe a word of this to any other couple, for knowing such a fact could either decrease all others’ motivations or increase them spectacularly. It was the latter that frightened them and although their dance routine and technique was far from the best among the couples, knowing the fate that awaits the failures could give them a tremendous advantage over the others. They looked at each other and knew what the other thought, and thus it was to be their secret. As that revelation was unearthed, Aaric approached ever-closer to the what he desired and Gwyneth was following closely behind. Then he was close enough and the sudden brushing of water against his naked feet rendered his next action almost uncontrollable. He cusped his hands and covered his face and hair with the salty water of the sea, and coupled with the light-breeze, he was a happy lad. Aaric smiled as he lifted his tro legs up to the peak of his calves and entered. He sured the coastline and didn’t stop until the lower part of his legs were submerged, he then donned himself with more splashes of water and his smiling only grew wider. But for Gwyneth, there was no such happiness for viewing the sea so clearly rendered an entirely different effect. Viewing the vast waters from the inside of the bay window rendered a harsh enough reality alone, but seeing it so nakedly made it almost unbearable. Seeing it brought all those negative feelings back, the kind created by the endless failures endured in the last week. Her eyes grew saturated and reddened as she ed such facts, but the water to descend her face was separate from what she had foreseen. A sudden splashing of water descended her face and then most of her body, she released a gasp out of shock as she cleared her eyes. The sight that awaited her afterwards was that of Aaric displaying a cheeky grin. Given how she just felt, Gwyneth didn’t know how to react but another sudden splashing rendered a particular reaction unavoidable. She gasped again, only this time with a smile, and she dashed for Aaric in the water. He laughed as she approached and continued to splash, all whilst being sure she didn’t catch him. He ventured further into the water to avoid her but she was soon to catch up, she lunged for him and submerged his head below the water. But little did she know that she was to be given the same fate, for Aaric grabbed her legs and she too was pulled below the water. Soon enough, both were back up and completely soaked.

Laughs filled the space as they joked around and all within ear-shell looked towards them; seeing them so carefree was to prove infectious for one by one the stern faces and demeaners fell. What was to replace them was the outward displays of joy that had so far been out of view. Without Aaric nor Gwyneth knowing, they had granted others the bravery to be happy in such a time and embrace in the now rarest of emotions. But such a feeling could not reach those beyond their gaze and so Silas and Skarlet remained unaffected, they were walking far to the west of the building – by which they had dubbed simply The Cube after viewing its exterior for the first time. They had wandered aimlessly with no goal or interest in mind. Whilst most had headed east to venture into the green and the trees that laid ahead, Silas and Skarlet took the opposite route – one where nothing but further sand and rock beds awaited. They were alone and silence filled the area with a single word yet to be spoken between them, but they were like the others and welcomed the scenery around – though they were not so brazen to show it. Skarlet walked a pace and a half behind Silas and her eyes were locked on him, he was unaware of her gaze as he had his tilted upwards facing the sun. She was now unapologetic for her feelings, audaciously making them known when none were watching. Such rays of light were welcomed greatly by Silas, as was the coastal breeze. With neither focussing on what laid ahead, neither were to notice the closing gap between them and a yet to be known figure. Thus, it was only with a particular sound, emanating from ahead, that the approaching presence was known. The sound of something solid striking against rock was carried in the weakest of breezes and Silas lowered his head from the bliss of the sun to see what it was. “What the …” he said as he began to pick up the pace. It was only in this moment that Skarlet’s fixation broke and too saw the sight ahead, she then hurried as Silas had and the pair were almost running. With every step gained, Silas’s face donned a more and more audacious grin and the sound served as music to his ears. Such a sense of sudden euphoria was to take over him for the first time since arriving on the island and his primal traditions were making a swift return. Skarlet too embraced the moment and was happy to hear and see what lied ahead, though she wasn’t as eager as Silas. This would be immediately clear to any who could see them, but there weren’t and Silas was too fixed on the view to notice Skarlet’s newfound hesitance.

With little time, the sight ahead grew larger and too did the figure, it was a person now recognised. A male who addressed himself as Illu to Hilder, he was a fellow Farlaiph and from the same group of dancers as they were. He was from a different Dorm though, one neither Silas nor Skarlet was aware of, but not knowing his character was not important for he was one of them and thus raised with the same values. This would make him one of a very small group of people amongst the populous of this island to truly understand the struggles they face. But not only that, somewhere down the line, they were related. “Illu!” Silas shouted upwards in a bid to grab his attention. Illu ceased clumping and only then noticed the pair behind him. He was elevated quite high from the ground and was arched over a folding of melded bedrock; the structure was magnificent and Silas could hardly contain his excitement. He hadn’t been able to build anything since leaving his Dorm back home and doubted he would get the chance to upon entering the island, he could mainly see sand from his bay window and hadn’t considered crafting a structure out from the bedrock. Illu looked down to them and said nothing, instead of getting a warm reception, the face displayed told that of a lad who had no interest for the people before him. Silas’s innocent smile began to shrink at this point, sensing the cold stare, but his embrace persisted. “Are there other Farlaiphs?” Silas then said. After a lengthy pause. “Not that I’m aware of,” Illu finally replied. Skarlet then stepped forward and was surprised by the answer, clearly expecting a particular one like Silas. “You mean … you built this yourself?” she asked. “Indeed,” he bluntly said before turning back and continued striking and melding the bedrock, using a fabulously crafted hammer comprised of the same material. The pair were astounded; to see such a structure built by a single man, and in such a short amount of time, proved a sight to behold which prompted an eager Silas to ask the next question. “May we you, brother?” Silas asked. But such a question was not welcomed as he had foolishly believed, Illu threw

down his hammer and jumped down from the great structure. The apparent disgust in his eyes would serve as a taste of what was to imminently follow. “You have fallen further than I thought you had,” Illu said sternly. “I could see it clearly then, as you danced, just as I can right now!” Silas took a step forward to Illu whilst Skarlet stepped back, fearing a confrontation. Illu continued but was first sure to stand even closer to Silas. “To forcibly coerce ourselves with the other kind, on this island, is unavoidable. Thus, compromises must be made in order to progress. But as our bodies become dirty, our minds must stay clean. Which neither of yours have.” Silas grew visually frustrated for the offence was great and, for the first time, displayed a feat of anger in the presence of Skarlet. “What are you implying here, Illu?” he asked. “Such a question to be asked only proves my point,” Illu said. “The manner in which you two caress in each other’s arms in the dancing and become fond of one another’s company serves testimony. You no longer tolerate the other out of requirement, but out of a genuine wanting. Thus, you have fallen from your devotions and our family’s ways.” The last sentence proved to be more than he could take and Silas grabbed Illu and pushed him backwards. “How dare you say that I have fallen from my ways, I have not and never will!” Silas shouted. Illu composes himself before displaying an assertive grin, whilst Silas’s look of anger persists and Skarlet’s cautious stance behind him remains. “And yet, you ask me if you could both me. If our values were still prevalent in your mind as you claim, then surely you would that the two kinds are forbidden to work on structures together. And not only that, but even asking a fellow Farlaiph to in their building means you see your input as different to what was already built. Brothers never ask to add their hand into the making of structures, they do so without permission being asked nor given. For we are supposed to be the same and with it, so are our visions for the structures we build. You are tainted Silas, it’s clear in your eyes, though perhaps not as much as hers.”

After the harshest of speeches, the sound of the waves was all to follow as Silas contemplated the words barraged against him. He looked behind to Skarlet, who stared back at him with fearful eyes. Eyes that told an entire story without a single word being needed. Seeing her in such a way rendered him angry and he struck Illu with all his might, consequently, Illu fell and was incapacitated. Skarlet gasped loudly out of shock. “Silas, what have you done?” she asked fearfully. At once, Silas turned around and hushed her. “It’s all right,” he said as he grabbed her arm and travelled back the way they came. He hurried her away swiftly and ensured she didn’t look back behind her, just as he was sure not to grant his mind any more thought to those brazen words that were spoken.

Chapter Sixteen

A magnitude of hours came to since the pairs were allowed out unto the island’s wilderness and the sun grew evermore wavery in the sky. Many of the couples, by this point, had made a conscious effort not to venture too far beyond the view of the building, knowing they would be expected back soon, whereas other couples had already retired for the evening. But neither circumstance could be said for Aaric or Gwyneth as they were deep within the trees that stood so proudly to the east of the building. The pair had ventured far into the region of endless trees and roots but not far enough to correspond with the time they had been in there. For their journey amongst the trees was a slow one, with the two casually strolling and enjoying the sights that lurked beneath the dome of overlapping branches above. Their clothes had long dried since the happy hour in the water and now only a salty eminence remained. The thickness of the trees above served well in suppressing the sunlight which had played a role in the pair’s loss of time keeping, though a carefree mindset shared mutually between them also played an equal role. The intensely amber sky wasn’t to become apparent until they had broken away from the cover of trees and found themselves standing above a sharp cliff edge, viewing its sudden appearance was a surprise for them both as neither saw it coming. “Whoa,” said Gwyneth as the steep cliff edge came into view. She hadn’t been fast to react upon seeing it and was slow in halting her advancement, luckily for her, Aaric was much sharper in response and was sure to pull her back by the arm for her own good. There couldn’t have been more than five or six paces between the scenery of cloud-covering trees and the furthest tip of the cliff edge, without Aaric’s sudden action, any other couple may have fallen. “Thanks,” said a rather breathless Gwyneth, realising her luck, Aaric smiled in her appreciation. The pair stood there for a moment before Aaric decided to give in to his curiosity by approaching the cliff’s furthest edge and peeking his head over it to see the sight below, he whistled in a relieving way as he saw just how

steep the fall would’ve been. “That … would hurt,” he joked. “Yes, it would, so best not tempt it,” Gwyneth replied, insinuating he should step away. He thought her words wise and knew he should retreat, but he unexpectedly found himself in awe of the sight below. All he could see were further trees no different to ones he had just emerged from, but the view was rather different for he could only see the heads of the bushy trees which were so thick that none of the contents within were in sight. Aaric’s mind wondered as to the imagery below those dense branches, but he guessed it would just be more of what he’s seen already. But the sight proved a splendid one nonetheless, though he found it would be abruptly disrupted after a single sentence from Gwyneth. “What … is that?” he heard her ask. Aaric turned back to look at her, she was pointing at something far ahead of them though the fact she was now standing closer to the edge told Aaric that she may have initially planned to him in viewing the sight below and stopped midway after catching a glimpse of something in the far distance. He followed the direction of her pointing finger and found it silly that he hadn’t noticed it before; the sight to behold was that of a large and dome-shaped structure coloured in the darkest shade of black. It stood so menacingly and wasn’t complemented by the luscious green that surrounded it. To see it so brazenly and at this distance told the pair of them that it was of a colossal size, neither could begin to think what was harboured within. “Haven’t got a clue,” he said just before taking a couple of extra paces to the side as if it would grant him a closer look, he really squinted his eyes but couldn’t make out any distinguishable features. The distance between them and it was simply too great. “Strange,” Gwyneth said. “Very,” Aaric added. Seeing such a structure had certainly been viewed as odd by the pair, what was its purpose and why was it so far away? What was in it and did it hold any significance to the trials or the bonding? Such questions swam through both of their minds, though none saw any value in asking them out of the certain assumption that the other wouldn’t know. Thus, no other words were spoken.

Only moments were to before Gwyneth noticed the gradual-darkening of the sky and given the distance they had to travel to get back, she knew timing was now of the essence. “Come on, Aaric, we need to go,” she said whilst nudging his arm, but he was yet to move and found himself so focused on the structure in the distance that he hardly heard her words. Consequently, she nudged him again and spoke a sentence of similar wording. He heard her more loudly this time and was soon to break from his gaze. “Are you all right?” Gwyneth asked him. He lightly shook his head, as if revitalising himself after a spout of dizziness. “Yeah, I’m fine, let’s head back,” he eventually replied. But Gwyneth is suddenly not so quick to move and halts Aaric as he tries to her. “Aaric … are you sure you’re all right?” she asked again. She couldn’t be certain, but there was something in his eyes that told her he wasn’t all right. Could it be seeing that structure, she wondered to herself, or was it something else. Aaric couldn’t see why she stopped him, or at least that’s what he tried to portray in his baffling look displayed towards her. But he knew that, for some unknown reason, he had been rather shaken after gazing upon the structure for a fair length of time. It was a unique feeling; one he had never felt before. One of fear but with an element of respect; quite the combination. But fear and respect for what, he wondered, for that most peculiar of structures? Such a feeling made no sense and the confusion that came from it only added to his shaken state. Aaric placed his hand on Gwyneth’s shoulder. “Trust me, I’m fine,” he falsely exclaimed. She stared straight through him and although she was yet to be convinced, she knew any advancement on the conversation would have to wait till after they made it back to their Hollow. “All right,” she said before turning around, ready to lead the way back. But just as the pair went to leave, a sudden rustling from the trees beyond them rendered their journey back to a halt.

Before either had a chance to question what was happening, a sudden figure emerged and dashed for the two. “What the…” said Aaric in a panicked state whilst Gwyneth released a fearful scream, the figure approached with a terrible laugh and was too sharp in its movements to be seen. It moved so unnaturally; it was as if every bone in its body functioned separately. It made for one horrendous ordeal and the two were frozen with nowhere to go, they were still on the cliff edge. The hideous sight then got to within arm’s length and mercilessly struck Gwyneth, she screamed as she was struck off and fell down from the cliff edge. Aaric’s instinct was to shout for her and maybe even carelessly jump to get her, but such thoughts didn’t have time to become action as that thing then struck him. Aaric then too descended the cliff edge, with his screams and frantically swaying arms being the last things he did before it all went dark. It wouldn’t be until the sun was dead and gone that Aaric was to open his eyes once again, waking up in a daze and semi-frantic state. His instinct was to stand up but he was sure not to do so with such carelessness, after all, he was yet to know if any injuries had been sustained. Minor twitches, starting from the feet and rising to the head, scattered his body for any abnormalities and whilst there was certainly tenderness, all in all he was in one piece. A miracle, he thought. Aaric gently lifted his head to grasp his surroundings; luscious green was all that filled his view. Trees and bushes of the thickest kind, all connected with twining roots. The boldness of the moon ensured it was all lit up in a fantastical display. A perfect harmony with not a leaf out of place, that was, until he saw the leaves and branches above him. Aaric had looked up to the tree that had encircled him, he immediately noticed a host of broken branches and scattered leaves – shaped in the likeness of his body. It then became clear to him that this was his entry, far from graceful. He took to his feet, using the branches around him to hoist him up. He then slowly turned in a full-circle, taking in everything around him. “Gwyneth!” he shouted for she was nowhere to be seen. Not a single disturbance was to be seen across the landscape that surrounded him, not a further branch broken nor leaf overturned, which instantly told him Gwyneth was nowhere close by. A fact he found surprising initially, but then he recalled how that oddly moving figure struck them off different sides of the cliff

edge. “What the heck was that thing?” Aaric whispered to himself as he looked up and through the man-shaped hole in the tree, seeing the top of the cliff edge beyond it. Though he was quite shaken and the thought of that thing gave him the shivers, Aaric wasn’t to dwell on it and instead he focused on the more pressing matter at hand. “Gwyneth!” he shouted once more but again to no return, he blindly ventured away from his landing in the hopes of finding her. There was no sense in why he chose one direction over the other for all paths led to the same scenery, but he knew that staying put was the only path to lead him nowhere. “Gwyneth! Gwyneth!” he shouted one time after another, with every calling growing louder and more desperate. Sweat would drip mercilessly down his face and it was not a symptom of the very humid air, but rather stress of not having the faintest idea what to do. There was not a single indication that he was going the right way, for all he knew, he could’ve been going further away from her. There was no plausible plan to enact and thus he could do nothing more than senselessly call out her name like a lost child seeking its mother. But even that would have to come to an end eventually, for his vocals grew tired from the endless calling. He tried to resist and continue shouting, but the croakiness was to become too great and to the point that no credible sound could be carried across the landscape. Aaric desperately trekked and despite weary legs, he eagerly persisted. If hours hadn’t ed, then it certainly felt like it. At times he would to the sky, looking through the sporadic gaps in the overlapping branches above, it was already in its darkest shade so no referencing in the lapse of time could be given. To him, the night appeared to be never-ending. Oh what Wren must be thinking, Aaric thought to himself, the warning she gave if they were late told of harsh consequences but what would that entail? Couldn’t mean death, if so, she would’ve said. What then, a beating? Speculating on such an outcome served no favours to him in the present and he knew he would just have to cross that bridge when it came to it. With the night as dark as ever, Aaric relied upon the rays of the moon in the

clear sky to guide his path. It had served him well in the most part, but it couldn’t warn him of everything. The light itself was patchy as it only broke through the gaps in between the leaves and so there were limitations. The ground of this endless green was largely uneven with sudden pot holes and irregularities hidden beneath the thick cross of interconnected leaves below, the moon couldn’t guide him from those and thus he was to trip and stutter a many of times. But such instances proved mostly to be minor inconveniences than anything else, but there was to be one stumble that revealed itself to be much more than just that. Without a second’s warning, as Aaric casually strolled, his foot was to be misplaced and find itself in a hole – only far larger than most. Before Aaric even had time to lift his foot out of it, the initial striking of his foot against the tender soil caused much of its imminent surroundings to crumble. This consumed Aaric and he was plummeted to a lower level, to a place that told him the soil above was hollow. The fall had rendered short effects and he was back up on his feet in good time, he looked up to the hole above him and considered himself lucky that a harsher blow had not been dealt to him. Shaken but relieved, he composed his breathing and lowered his racing heart. And it was only with its calming that a separate sound was to replace the then dominant thudding, that of water descending elegantly to a larger body of itself. A waterfall. His earlobes tingled as he heard the sound and with only one direction ahead of him, there was no guessing as to where it could be coming from. The interior of this so-called cave was almost entirely blackened without a hint of light beyond the moon’s rays descending from the hole he created, the path ahead was one to be avoided and Aaric looked to his surroundings in the hopes of finding a way of hoisting himself back to the upper ground. It would only take him seconds to know that such a hope wasn’t possible and thus he was left with no alternative but to venture into this system. Aaric had begun his journey with caution and as one could expect, he tripped amongst the many irregularities beneath the darkness. He had no idea as to where he was going but was using the ever-intensifying sound of the waterfall to guide him, believing that a body of water would lead out beyond the cave. But aiming for such an outcome proved lengthy and tiresome, in what had foolishly been anticipated to take a decent amount of time, the journey proved to be a slow one. Soon enough, Aaric was to grow frustrated with the constant blind walking as well as relentless tripping and brazened himself to speed up his efforts in

locating this damn water. Increasing the pace only rendered each trip more severe and he almost fell entirely a couple of times, grunting and huffing more vigorously with every incident. He was close to tears caused by a host emotions. He was lost and nowhere near to finding Gwyneth, they were out far beyond the curfew and the first dance was less than a day away. But of all these stresses, there was one that struck him the hardest. Gwyneth was missing and he wanted to find her but not out of a wanting, rather a necessity. His lack of care for her persisted even now, after a cheerful day together and a harsh separating by who knows what. To still feel such a way, even in a situation like this, led him to despise himself. But there no amount of self-rebuking could fix it. The feeling, or lack of, was a firm one and was evidently very stubborn to shift. That is, assuming it could be shifted at all. Truth was, he knew that he’d need to find a way to dethrone that resentment of his – otherwise the end would be a certainty before the dance has even been performed. It wouldn’t be for some time before Aaric would see something other than pure blackness, for a gradual light was coming into view. Coupled with that, the sound of the water was louder than ever and Aaric dared to don a smile of relief in hoping an exit was near. He increased his pace even further, as fast as he physically could, and dashed for this ever-largening light. With a fast approach, it soon became clear to Aaric that the source of the light was further rays from the moon. It took him just moments to approach and with it, the sight was in full view. A glorious waterfall descending into a large body of water that laid so elegantly amongst the cave scenery, the moon shinned gracefully upon it for there was no slab of earth concealing this part of the cave. With a brazen smile, Aaric ran out unto the open space beneath the moon and stood just inches before this majestic lake. He could see vines descending the walls in most directions. “Yes!” he shouted in euphoria. Seeing enough of this blasted cave, he raced for the nearest vines and grabbed them tightly before using his feet as leverage against the wall to scale himself up. With every pace gained, a more hopeful grin was displayed. He looked up to the top, seeing the distance lessen, and great progress was made. But a sudden sounding was not only to halt his ascension, but find it reversing.

“Aaric,” said a voice below him in a lustrous and revealing way, it startled him greatly and to his dismay he plummeted back to the bottom. He was on the floor for a mere second before he was back up on his feet, with the adrenaline and shock pulsing through him. “Who … who’s there!” he demanded to know, looking all around him. There was no one in sight and the depleted Aaric was quick to consider whether his weariness was getting to him, at least that’s what one part of him was saying. But the other told of near certainty that he heard his name be called. A further calling was said to be certain but again to no response nor anyone in view, he listened to the logical side of him and attributed it to tiredness. He went to turn away and reach for the vines once more, but was not to even grab them before something grabbed his attention. “Aaric,” said the same lustrous voice once more, he turned quickly and was shocked to see a sudden figure in the water. Its abrupt appearance was shocking enough, but who it was proved even more so. “Wr … Wren?” he asked in confusion. What was she doing here, he thought to himself, and why did she sound different? She was just standing there amongst the water, with everything below the tips of her breasts beneath it. Though there was a distance between them, it didn’t take Aaric long to guess she was naked. Seeing her in such way was uncomfortable and Aaric wanted to look away, but the way in which she looked at him was captivating and he found that he felt compelled to stare back. “What are you doing h—” Aaric went to say before being interrupted by the return of that revealing voice of hers. “Come for a dip,” she said. A strange and perceivably forward request, one that Aaric would’ve denied. But he was overcome by something, something that ensured he wasn’t himself. It was sudden and consumed him with little will of his own. He looked down himself and saw that he too was naked despite no memory of taking his clothes off nor were there any clothes on the ground, he maintained focus on her gaze and entered the water. With hardly a blink between them, their arms folded around one another. The moment would prove quite surreal had Aaric’s logic

prevailed, but his mind was consumed by something other – that of a kind foreign to the body. Wren then leant even closer to him and stopped no more than a couple of inches from his lips. “Kiss me,” she whispers. Utterly compelled, he does and the two embrace in a ionate manner as the moon descended upon them. Aaric had faced nothing but hardship since his descent from that cliff edge and now embraced in this moment of bliss, but Gwyneth was yet to be treated so well. She had landed far into the western side of the forest below that cliff edge and hadn’t landed quite as softly as Aaric had. She was unfortunate enough to scrape her arm as she landed in the arms of folding tree branches, unlike Aaric, she had landed consciously and her limbs were kicking in all directions as a result. Her squabbling broke the branches that had caught her and thus she was to land harshly. As Aaric had wondered aimlessly searching for her, Gwyneth had done the same in pursuit of him. She had seen him fall immediately after she did and so she knew he would be around here somewhere. “Aaric!” she had called many times, perhaps even more times than he had called her but the endless calling harboured the same result every time. Nothing. She had grown stressed as well as sweaty and feared a fate beyond these trees was no longer possible. With a combination of frustration and fear, Gwyneth fell to her knees and wept silently to herself and remained there for some time until a voice was to call her. “Gwyneth,” a voice gently said, she rose her head at once and was quick to look all around her. Seeing nothing, she wiped her eyes and composed herself for she believed her weariness was conjuring false sounds. But a second calling ensured such a feeling couldn’t be true. “Gwyneth,” again the voice called. This time Gwyneth stood up and sharply turned her head in all directions far less casually than before. “Hello? Whose there?” she asked frightened. A distinct rustling from the numerous bushes to her left ensured she could face no other direction, her instincts told her to run but she was physically spent and possessed a strong enough element of intrigue to render the opposite. She

squinted her eyes in an effort to see the approaching figure but the moon’s rays were scarce and barely sured the dense branches above her. It wouldn’t be until the figure had fully emerged, that Gwyneth could finally see what it was. The figure emerged and broke away from the bushes, Gwyneth took a couple of paces back as a precaution. She was quick to notice that the figure was a female but the poor lighting made it difficult to decipher anything else. “Gwyneth,” the voice said again. “Y … yes?” she responds. The figure then slowly approaches her and that instinct to run made a swift return, only to be ignored once again. She was intrigued to see who this figure was and what she wanted, but of course that element of fear was to remain in the back of her mind as she ed that unknown figure that pushed her off the cliff edge. Though it was clear this figure was strikingly different, the threat it could pose had the potential to be the same. Every step the figure made increased Gwyneth’s nerves but this was to come to a sudden halt once it caught the light of the moon. After walking beneath a gap in the trees above, she ed through the clear light of the moon and Gwyneth noticed features that were of the kind only she would know. Despite only walking beneath the open light for no more than a couple of seconds, Gwyneth instantly noticed the woman to possess electric blue hair with lips and nails to match. To anyone else, even those from the other families, they wouldn’t have deemed this significant. All major sense of caution was to subside from that point and Gwyneth even grew brazen enough as to approach and meet the figure halfway. They met at just inches apart and Gwyneth didn’t need the light of the moon to confirm what she had already seen. This woman was of her family and not only that, Gwyneth believed she knew who she was. Iolanthe Rainsford, she recognised her from one of the many portraits that pepper the upper walls back at the mansion, a woman selected for the bonding and assumed entry onto the famed Island of Tears years ago. She was of a different house though and so Gwyneth never knew her but rather of her. Her blue hair, lips, nails, and now-discovered rose heads that descended her back told Gwyneth that she was indeed a full-blood. Just as her portrait depicts. “Iolanthe, is that really you?” Gwyneth asked in disbelief, she doesn’t reply and

instead just places her hands on Gwyneth’s shoulders whilst displaying a comforting smile. “Come with me,” Iolanthe said before gently leading Gwyneth’s arm away. She allows herself to be led away despite not knowing where to. Usually such a circumstance would render at least a degree of reluctance for it was not in Gwyneth’s character to simply be led to an unknown location by a stranger, even if she did know of them. But that calibre of instinct wasn’t to even voice concern and thus Gwyneth went ignorantly. To the naked eye, one may assume she went out of trust believing that Gwyneth thought Iolanthe could lead her out of this damn forest. But in truth, there was no such thought process in Gwyneth’s mind. The ing of time wasn’t to make its presence known as Gwyneth was led to an unknown fate and so she couldn’t even guess how long the two had been walking. The endless trees around her ensured that scenery didn’t change and had Gwyneth been her normal self, she would’ve wondered where this destination was. But the ing of a particular collage of trees revealed a sudden sight, one that should’ve struck Gwyneth as odd – especially given that she should’ve heard it long before seeing it. Gwyneth was led out by Iolanthe unto an open beach, though situated on the other side of the island and therefore far away from the beach that stands just beyond their Hollow. Gwyneth couldn’t believe what she saw and was relieved to see the end of that forest, the open beach was welcomed but did little to grab her attention for her eyes were soon to be focussed on the sight just beyond her. Standing before the coastline were three further figures, though the moon shining down unto a clear landscape ensured they were seen far more clearly. Not only could Gwyneth see them but, as with Iolanthe, she believed she knew them as well. Narcissus, Eldorysse and Ezriella. Like Iolanthe, she recognised them from the portraits in her mansion – all full bloods with assumed entry to the island. They were all so beautiful and it was clear that their depictions back home were no exaggeration. Gwyneth was led down to them; she didn’t have a clue what to say and thus was silent. The three women stared at her intensively but, unlike when the couples gazed, she felt no such nerves. They were, after all, her family. Iolanthe then parted from Gwyneth’s side and ed the others who stood facing her, Gwyneth stared at them and could see a unified smile emanating across all of their faces. Somewhat confused, she felt it courteous to smile back – though to

nowhere near as much tenacity. It wasn’t long until one of them was to speak. “So, are you ready?” asked the one known as Eldorysse with noticeable hype, Gwyneth displayed a frank expression of confusion and questioned what she meant. The four women then stared at one another for a moment before equally parting to opposite sides. Revealing the segment of water behind them, Gwyneth was to notice something far into the sea. It was so far away but Gwyneth had no difficulty in grasping what it was, it led to an abrupt emergence of tears along with a state of shaking. “Wh … what is that?” she asked, knowing what it was already. “You know what it is,” Iolanthe replied. “She’s waiting for you.” Hearing the words allowed led Gwyneth to excrete uncontrollable tears, she tried wiping them away but it was no use. She had dreamt of hearing such words and viewing such a sight since the day she was told of her family’s ways and now there were no words strong enough to describe her feeling. “I … I can’t believe it,” she then said. “Believe it,” Iolanthe whispered before extending her hand out, Gwyneth looked to the offered hand and then to the others. They all stared at her, displaying an encouraging look. She wiped the remnants of her tears and gently locked hands with Iolanthe. She began to lead Gwyneth once more by guiding her for the water, she moved gently and Gwyneth followed with no resistance. Narcissus, Eldorysse and Ezriella followed closely behind. Gwyneth had waited for this her entire life and had contemplated many times as to how she would react, as she was being led, she displayed a subtle and immovable smile but it was far from how she perceived it would be. The feeling that laid within her was now far different to her initial euphoria she felt upon seeing the island for the first time, now it was one separate from simple happiness but rather a collage of conflicts. Such emotions quickly surfaced the moment Iolanthe started leading her to the sea, she was happy but within was significant hints of guilt, sadness and shame.

This was not how she dreamt it which, upon thinking about it, did not surprise her. It didn’t surprise her for this was not how it was meant to be, for the bonding was not yet done. To enter it now, by skipping the bonding, serves as a mockery to her families’ ways and acts on the shameful wish she made in her darkest moment. Soon to realise this, she stomped her feet firmly in the sand and refused to take a step further. Iolanthe was suddenly pulled back, she turned around and saw a determined Gwyneth. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Gwyneth sternly shook her head. “I can’t do this … I won’t do this,” she said though unsure who to. It was said in the direction of Iolanthe but her own image was in mind, as if she was sternly telling herself. “But this is what you want isn’t it?” asked Eldorysse as she and the others behind approached closely and placed their hands upon the back of Gwyneth’s shoulders. “Not like this,” Gwyneth said ionately. “The bonding is our way of proving devotion, to prove we are worthy of forgiveness. To simply disregard it and enter the island by our own accord proves nothing and serves no appreciation for Murielabel’s love!” Iolanthe leaned in closely to Gwyneth whilst the others behind tightened their grip against her shoulders, creating a stern and chafing effect. Her gentle tone was then to change upon her next question. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? In those most shameful of moments?” Iolanthe’s words struck Gwyneth harshly and were strong enough to even physically make her stumble. Gwyneth breathed erratically and expressed fear as she stared straight into the eyes of Iolanthe and it was then a frightening revelation came to be, one where Wren’s third instruction was ed. Of that cliff and how none should descend it. Wren had spoken bleakly of how something dark was beyond it and now Gwyneth believes she knows what it is. That fearful gaze of Gwyneth’s was quick to relapse and her determined gaze resurfaced, now fully realising what she was facing.

“It was, and I still feel shame from it,” she said. “There was a moment where I doubted, I could ever view the bonding in the same reverence again after feeling such a way.” An audacious sigh of relief came upon her just as she continued. “But now, after seeing that beautiful island, I am more devoted to this than ever before.” Gwyneth then shrugged the women’s arms off from her shoulders. “I’m sorry Iolanthe … but I’m not going,” she then said aggressively. Just as Iolanthe’s voice had evolved from a gentle tone to a far more aggressive one, her expression was now to follow. She harshly grabbed Gwyneth’s top and pulled her in even closer, as close as one physically could. “Foolish!” she said with frightening sternness. “Maybe then, but not now … not ever again!” Gwyneth brazenly replied. Iolanthe expressed a misleading grin and shook her head at a menacing pace. “No, not that,” she whispered. “Foolish … for thinking you had a choice.” The chafing grips of Narcissus, Eldorysse and Ezriella were sudden to return against Gwyneth’s shoulders, and she fearfully found herself being pushed into the water. “No, please!” Gwyneth pleaded. “Shut up!” Iolanthe shouted aggressively as she pulled Gwyneth from behind. She cried loudly and begged multiple times for them to stop, but each plea was ignored and drowned out by the aggressive grunting as the women tried to force her into the water. Poor Gwyneth resisted as greatly as she could but it proved fruitless, she was soon to feel the water brushing against her feet and was quickly submerging more and more of her. With nothing else she could do, Gwyneth screamed as loudly as she could, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear. Aaric and Wren caressed one another with their wandering hands as their lips locked, Aaric had been with her for quite a while now but time had no value in the moment and he wanted it to last forever. The ionate degree of breathing and battling tongues were all Aaric could hear, along with the light movement of water around them. His eyes were closed firm and he allowed his ears to tell of the tale around him. It was sudden to advance when Wren pushed him to the lake’s side and then wrapped her legs around him, the ears were to

such sounds forever. The fierce ion for the most part but then, to his abrupt dismay, there was to be a different sound. One that heightened the opposite senses, one that ensured Aaric was returned to reality. That immortalised scream carried all the way to Aaric, his eyes were to immediately open and a sickening memory was to resurface. He ed Gwyneth’s harrowing shrieks of anguish when her father made himself known, way back when they used the Seats of Sapphire. The pain in seeing him surfaced a pain deep from within, one that was sickening to any who heard it. The scream now, that he hears emanating far into the distance, was of the exact kind. Hearing such a horror had brought back that terrible memory but with it, so had the commitment he felt for her. The very emotion he felt when he lunged for Gwyneth’s father, his motivation to end her pain. Aaric’s eyes were open, mortified by the screaming, and yet Wren continued to fondle him as if she heard nothing. At once, he tried to move and push Wren from on top of him but her legs around him were to tighten and so were her hands. With harsh effect, she squeezed him tightly and broke away from his lips. He looked to Wren and instantly noticed her expression had changed, no longer was she gazing at him in a seductive way. He struggled against her hold and tried to free himself but found little progress being made. “Get off!” he demanded. “I thought you wanted this,” she said in a strikingly different voice to before. “You feel lust for me.” “Lust, but nothing more,” Aaric shouted as he continued struggling. “I care for Gwyneth, for her like no other!” Wren then shouted angrily and forcibly submerges Aaric’s head beneath the water, she grips tightly around his throat and squeezes for all it’s worth. He struggles and desperately tries to move but the strength given by Wren does not match that of her size and he soon finds himself overpowered. He’s quick to feel the urge for air as his frantic movement depletes the scarce oxygen his body possessed, air bubbles are then to leave his mouth and he’s soon to take in water. It was to appear that this was it, his eyes were slowly succumbing and his frantic movements subsided. His eyes then closed and darkness filled him. The sound of water around him was steadily fading. In that moment, Aaric could think of nothing other than Gwyneth and the sudden guilt he felt towards her. Only now,

in this dire situation, had his comion for her returned. The guilt was great for he had to hear those awful screams to how he use to feel, to allow his mind to return to a state before that seemingly endless week of failures ensued. The pain he felt from that was far greater than the one he physically felt in the moment, even as Wren’s grip tightened more and more. The fact he was to perish brought anguish that was pitiful when compared to that felt when he considered Gwyneth’s fate, for should she survive her ordeal, a future for her on the island without a partner could hardly be called a future at all. If she was somehow to return without him, she’d be lucky to make it back to the Hollow. There’s no future for individuals here, only pairs. The thoughts to follow were sharp and torturous as multiple images scorched his mind, he could see her in grave distress, struggling against who knows what. Of course, he couldn’t picture where she was right now but could see the facial expression clearly along with the manner of pure panic. He ed the look she expressed when she saw her father back at the mansion, how her face was scrunched with wretched tears and how her hands shook beyond control. But this time was to be even worse than then, for at least back then he could be there to help. To free her from what caused pain. That image of her alone and suffering played in his mind over and over, each time with more detail and focus. Her screams, struggles, fear, desperation, begging, it all plagued him and he couldn’t shake it. He envisioned a terrible beast beating her harshly, striking her and causing dismay. His hand was to make a sudden twitch upon such thought, enacting a physical urge to intervene. Aaric was then to envision himself in the scene, watching helplessly. “Please, Aaric, help me!” she’d cry to deafening effect. “Gwyneth!” he shouted whilst trying to aid her, but cannot for he is not really there. “Please, Aaric, why won’t you help me?” she persists, again he tries but cannot. “Aari …” she said one more time, though with a tone of dying life. “No!” he screams in the world of his tormented mind before he iterates it in the real one. Enraged, Aaric opens his eyes and screams as he regains movement in his body and begins to struggle with Wren once more. He latched onto her poised grip

around his neck and made quick work of prying them away. He then hoisted himself up and grabbed Wren, pulling her in close. “No!” he shouted in the most colossal of manners. Despite his lungs’ need for air, he was able to muster an almighty exhale shouted the word in desperation until his voice shrieked with torn vocals. His eyes were closed in that moment and only when he opened them could he see that Wren, or whatever it was; was suddenly nowhere in sight. Utterly breathless and frantic, he looked all around him in all directions before dunking his head below the water. To the highest of confusion, she was gone. To witness someone vanish like that, like they never even existed, would be enough to halt someone in their tracks and leave them standing motionless contemplating how such a thing could happen. But a far greater power was to besiege Aaric, one that ensured he remained still for no longer than a second or two. He rushed out of the water and ran in the direction of where Gwyneth’s screams originated, she had long since stopped but he knew exactly which way to head for. He took off in the direction that led through a fairly condensed tunnel, he crawled through it gruntingly and was quick in emerging on the other side. Just like that, in what had taken him a great amount of time until now, Aaric had escaped the seemingly never-ending confines of that cave system and was now sprinting amongst the trees towards Gwyneth. It was as he ran that his eyes looked down upon himself and noticed the strangest of facts. His clothes, they were back on and soaking wet. Such an anomaly would render a scratching of the head but there was simply no time to comprehend what had happened. Like a man possessed, he ran unapologetically and was hardly fazed by the numerous knocks and bumps endured along the way. Many times, he brushed against the harsh branches and stumbled across the hazardous ground beneath him, but he never so much as flinched nor broke his gaze away from what was in front of him. He desperately wanted to shout her name, to let her know that her cries had been heard, but to do so would be foolish for it would only waste breath and slower his pursuit. He couldn’t have known it, but his undeterred trekking led him across a terrain of almost two miles in only a matter of minutes and Aaric found his pursuit leading him to a beach. He could see it, just beyond the last trees ahead of him.

Soon enough, a spent Aaric breaks away from the trees and find himself amongst the open beach. His eyes were almost instantaneous in noticing the footprints along the sandy landscape, his eyes raced as they followed the direction of the feet – ending from the beach’s opening down towards the coast. He could see many footprints in a host of angles, too many to be a single person. As he followed the feet, he suddenly noticed their manners evolve. No more were there simple footprints, now there were lined markings in the centre – consistent with a dragging motion. He began to follow the markings with even more haste than before, Aaric followed them across the width of the landscape and only stopped when the waves of the night sea brushed against his feet. He raised his head, seeing nothing but the endless waters ahead of him, his eyes moistened as he feared the worst had happened. “Gwyneth!” he screams, overwhelmed with emotion. The wail reached far beyond and ventured in all directions but, to his dismay, nothing was to be returned. He fell to his knees in stricken grief. “No, no, no,” he said silently to himself. He was too late, he told himself; it was over for them both. The sounds of gentle flowing waves ahead of him and the swaying of the branches behind were all to fill his ears. He desperately listened out for her, hoping for an inconsistency to be heard, but none of the sort. He knelt there for a moment, hoping to hear a voice. He was to in time hear one, though different to what he expected. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked a voice unknown to him, it came from his left and he was quick to turn and see who it was but was even quicker to build a distance. “What the!” he shouted as he flew to his feet and took a number of paces in the opposite direction. But strangely, he wasn’t to flee and did not feel the typical tropes he thought he should feel. The figure that had spoken had been staring out unto the sea when Aaric first gazed at him and still was, not so much as flinching when Aaric rose to his feet. Aaric was confused by the appearance and only grew more so when his size was taken into . How could something that big creep up on me without making the slightest of sounds, Aaric wondered. Where had he came from? How long had he been there? Such questions swam throughout Aaric’s mind and he was foolish enough to consider wasting time in asking them, knowing that on

this island it wasn’t going to matter, but after ing who the figure was, he thought it even more pointless. Despite only seeing him once before, it took less than a minute for Aaric to recognise him. After all, such a size is unique and he was big enough to even stand out amongst those he sat with. He was one of the Grievers, one of those who stood out amongst the many on the very first day he and Gwyneth arrived on the island. His skin was dark blue, even darker than the shade displayed by the night sea, and possessed pointy ears that of the same colour that had the sharpest of ends. He wore a suit that tailored him perfectly and was of the most intimidating builds, he was seated once to the right from the middle amongst those other Grievers. Aaric had noticed his size then for he was clearly bigger than the others but it was only now, as he stood before him, that his height could be truly understood. Somewhere between ten and eleven feet wouldn’t be a bad guess, Aaric thought as he tried to put the Griever to scale. So, this was one of them, one of those who only tomorrow would’ve decided if they lived or died. Realising this fact would’ve made Aaric nervous and fearful for he didn’t want to hinder his or Gwyneth’s chances for the day to come but now, knowing it wasn’t going to happen anyway, Aaric stood there with heightened boldness and was sure to answer in the manner he pleased. The menacing figure, for the first time, broke his gaze from the sea and looked to Aaric which was met with a raised eyebrow and shrugging shoulders – telling him to elaborate. “The island, it’s beautiful is it not?” the figure was to elaborate. “Luscious sands, perfect waters and an enchanting green. Paradise, many would call it.” Aaric quickly felt a sickening feeling and was brazen to approach closer, regaining the steps he’d lost at first. “How can this be paradise with the evil that’s here?” he asked candidly. “Evil can be anywhere,” the figure responded. “Even in paradise.” The figure then looked away and faced out unto the open sea once more, but not before asking Aaric another question. “Who would you say is the evil here?” he asked him but in a condescending manner, as if he expected a particular answer.

“You, surely, and all the others that dwell in that hall,” Aaric answered, somewhat predictably. “And how is this?” Aaric was then asked. “For what you put us through!” he answered hotly. “Kidnap us and force us to dance so that some may have freedom!” The figure soon turned back to him and was even quicker to sigh, with Aaric’s perceived and apparent ignorance in full view. “Is that what you see this as? You are aware that there are those who came willingly?” he asked. Aaric dared to lean forward in his response. “Yes, but even they didn’t expect this. Gwyneth didn’t expect this!” he said. Aaric was then to turn and wipe away some abrupt tears, suddenly overcome with emotion. He then kicked the sand vigorously shouting. “And now, because of this blasted island, she’s gone!” He kicked many times, releasing his anger on the poor sands before becoming breathless and falling to his knees, no longer making an effort to supress the tears. He wept to himself with his hands covering his face and it was then the figure spoke once more. “You feel so strongly about someone, a person you’ve only known for a matter of weeks. A person you wouldn’t have crossed paths with otherwise. But she was your counterpart, one who struggled just as you in the same pursuit. The connection you had was rare for so few get offered this kind of opportunity, and yet you will still not consider yourself blessed.” “How can any of us be blessed for being here?” Aaric asked as he wiped away his tears. “And what is this ‘opportunity’ exactly?” “To know him. For this is all for him and he is all for you,” the figure answered with much-revered ion. Aaric gazed in unenthusiastic bafflement. He wasn’t to even conjure the anticipated question in response and instead simply stared at him. The figure continued. “None beyond these shores know of him, not even those from the families. They place all their hopes in their patron deities and beliefs but it is he who decides, who awaits The Succession. And it is up to me and my counterparts to choose who awaits him, for only the most devoted can

stand in his presence for they will deserve it. Only those who can conquer whatever is put in front of them, no matter how difficult or terrifying. In the scheme of things, dancing is not the trial but rather what is displayed through it. The union, discipline, finesse, effort and commitment. To work together, no matter how different you are from one another, and progress as one in the name of a sole aim. It is so hard to do and thus many fail, but to know of such an opportunity is blessing enough. But it’s even greater for those who make it, who stay true to themselves and each other, for The Succession awaits. A land like no other, a place where only peace is known. All who make it will rejoice in its scenery and live in the truest of harmonies.” With every word spoken, Aaric was to grow less resentful and what began with stern hatred soon evolved into a symphony for his ears. The way in which the figure spoke of this place was incomparable to anywhere else and the ion was infectious, Aaric never knew a place could be spoken of in such a way. The images that filled his head as a result of the figure’s words were soothing and, despite never seeing it, he felt compelled to go there. He uncontrollably envisioned it to be a magnificent field of simple green where the sun forever shined just above the sea, only nature’s songs filled the air without a brush of conflict. As a soldier, he had longed for such a peaceful moment and his mind had conjured it perfectly. Then it hit him, was this to be his vision of The Succession? He dared to wonder and dared further to dream it. The most solid of smiles was to dawn upon his face, not only the first since the island but the first ever. But among that great feeling was a persistent element, one where he felt somewhat teased. He wanted to control himself as he went to speak, for he had a newfound respect for the figure, but a ionate tongue was always hard to contain. “Why tease me like this?” he asked. “My time here is done, Gwyneth is gone!” The figure looked to him and said nothing, it then turned around and began walking away into the trees ahead. “Hey, where are you goi—” Aaric went to say before the moving of the figure’s large physique revealed an approaching sight behind it. Tears sored in disbelief and his breathing could hardly be controlled, he wasn’t to notice the figure take a further step as he rushed for the approaching sight.

What was to approach him did the same and rushed whilst wiping their tears, they embraced halfway and didn’t dare to let go. Neither could believe it. “I’m here now, I’m here and I’m never leaving again,” Aaric whispered into her shoulder, with entirely symbolic meaning rather than literal. “I know,” she whispered emotionally as she kissed the side of his head. “And I won’t try to. Never again.”

Chapter Seventeen

That most awaited of evenings came to be and the couples filled the dancer’s booth, in their separate lines in accordance to their groups, with the sternest of faces and the stiffest of backs. They look across the magnificent hall, the very one they each knelt before with knives to their throats only weeks ago, and towards the couple whose dreaded turn was now. It was Nathan and Sophie, one of the last to perform in group one, their performance was far from the brazen sharpness of the group’s leaders but this was to be their best yet. Every turn, lift, hold and twist had been enacted with swift action and with minimal haste. Though not the best technically, their improvement was certainly the highest amongst their group. They had done so well and the moment proved quite surreal, they had focused solely on each other and appeared to be hardly fazed by the myriad of eyes spectating them, it was as if they were in their own world. However, with all hurdles being triumphed until now, there was the magnificent end that was yet to be ended. The Turning Sculpture, it was already in motion and thus the routine was too close to its climax. Nathan already had her up and she had swiftly raised one leg, but that awful spinning was yet to ensue. But, whilst they would usually hesitate, no such action was replicated and instead what showed was that of effortless professionalism – as if it had been done to the highest standard a million times already. She spun on one leg as he did with two below, creating a moment of captivation amongst all those who spectated. There was absolute silence amongst the crowd as the music roared and the spins ensued, sighting the performance’s end. The lights above them descended beautifully and created a celestial feel as the shadow created by their movement proved equally captivating. Four turns, five turns, six turns. One after the other they were performed effortlessly, without a single one slacking to its predecessor or successor. Then the spins were done and the final jump was to arrive. With the final turn, Sophie was leaped into the air in a semi-spinning state and

landed perfectly in Nathan’s cradling arms. An emotional end to a superb performance. There was to be an initial silence, where only the couple’s gasps for air could be heard, but was soon to be replaced by a tremendous unison of applause. Nathan put Sophie back onto the safety of solid ground and the two stared into the endless crowd with the sound of a thunderous display of appreciation ensuing around them. That was to be their most surreal moment, one where no amount of shaking could wake them from the most realistic of dreams. But the guards were sure to end their fixation and emerged from the stage’s sides to usher them away and so for them it was over, but for one final couple of the first group it was not. Aaric and Gwyneth couldn’t believe their luck, or lack of it rather, as they stood secluded behind the stage’s intimidating side curtain awaiting their turn. To be last to compete in their group served as a re-enactment of the practice dance only a week ago. Last to perform was bestowed upon them yet again, only this time, a similar performance would spell their end. They were nervous, so very nervous. The week that had ed them had rendered no routine to be proud of and the late night before ensured that the precious hours of this day couldn’t provide a final touch up on their skills. The pair had spent a large margin of the day asleep, for that most recent night occupied them until the rising of the sun. The last day had proved to be mentally and physically exhausting and they still reaped the effects of it, yawning even as they nervously donned their pristine clothes back at their Hollow. But their current states would have to do for there was no more time to be gifted, the pair knew this as they nervously stared at one another. But that look was to display far more than just the sort of stoic resilience, it told of the gravity of the moment. That this was it, the defining minutes that would spell the length of their futures. They shook vigorously as their announcement was imminent, Aaric took Gwyneth’s hand and displayed a look that could only have relevance to Gwyneth. The kind that told of his readiness and resurged commitment, if any other had done this then it would have held no value. She displayed the same unto him and the pair of them knew that the failures of the past week would have no relevance to this performance, knowing that this bond between them would serve as the catalyst. The stage curtains were then drawn and the couple were ordered into position,

they took to their starting stances and awaited the ing of the final seconds. Staring deep into each other’s eyes in those final moments Gwyneth released the slightest of smiles, discreet enough that only he could see it, she was grateful to him, to know him and have him as her partner. Though this was far from how she envisioned the bonding, she wouldn’t want any other person to face it with. Not a word was ushered but he knew what she would say, he returned that smile with told of his own response. He was to tread this dark tunnel and couldn’t do so without her, without her being the light. Flashbacks to the previous night trekked across both their minds and as painful as it was for them, both knew it served as the glue that stuck them back together. A blessing in disguise neither doubted. Tightly in each other’s arms, their eyes did not break from each other not even as light began to escape from the curtains’ opening. The lights and the faces were steadily revealing more and more as inches grew numerous in the separating curtains. In the beginning, they had been faced with a similar ordeal only this time they were not two individuals scared of the sight before them. Instead, they are one who together embrace this sight with determination and readiness. Those curtains were soon fully parted and the heat of the towering lights soared like the sun along with the uncountable eyes whose stern gazes were firmly upon them. Among the endless heads; potential foes who could spell their end or allies who can prolong their fate. To their lefts be the booth where the dancers of other groups stand, hoping for their downfall no doubt. The music was long awaited and at last sounded, thus this most weighted of trials could start. Enacting the routine as before, but with a finesse like no other, they allowed their feet to grow weightless and effortlessly surf across the waves of the stage in sync with the music. The turns were performed with bliss and sharpness whenever needed, any inhibitions they felt were steadily being shunned with every turn and footstep. The moves were swift and the time equally so, before they knew it, they were progressing onto the first lift already. Gwyneth’s legs folded around Aaric with dominance and landed with a perfect strut, they spun and Gwyneth opened out her arms like a warning swan. The degree of stalwart was so high that it even rendered literal gasps from sections of the audience, a confidence boost for certain though they did not allow it to inflate their egos. Soon enough she is returned to the floor and a host of following spins ensue with her right leg wrapped around his left, magical and mesmerising, the spectators

watched as if they had never seen this art before. They were unapologetic in their movements, making sharp and audacious flaunts with every beat of sound. The spins and loops were magnificent, explosive, harmonious and beholding. Then, with a cascade of a performance behind them, the final lift was to arise. Aaric hoists her up, as the music reaches its dramatic close, and Gwyneth is lifted by the pits. She arches over his profound grip and allows her head to tilt downwards as if she were dead. Creating a display like none other, like a sacrifice for the wind to take. The music ends and with it, so does the most important moment of their lives. The lights slowly dimmer as they hold that pose and an eerie silence ensues, as if not a soul filled the room. An applause was expected or even boos, but there was nothing. No indication of anything. But the only not to know why were the two themselves. Truth was, all were astounded and felt compelled to clap but had reservations fearing that a simple clap wouldn’t serve justice. This feeling was unanimous even amongst those that resented it, even those within their group. Aaric lowered Gwyneth with the greatest care, their eyes had locked and were inseparable as her feet touched the ground. In that moment, in what seemed to be timeless, nothing else around them mattered and it was as if not a single eye was on them. His hands gently released from under her arms and her hands unclenched from his shoulders, their touches had been tender and neither were in a rush for that unprecedented fixation to end. But a sudden happening ensured it was abrupt. Before they knew it, a troop of those shadowy apparitions appeared and with them, the other couples of the group. In the space of less than a second, they were all lowered to their knees at knifepoint. Barely Gwyneth, Aaric or any of the others in group one had a second to grasp what was happening until they felt the sharpest of blades hovering over their necks, just like what had happened upon their first day. Despite all being tremendously afraid, it was perhaps Nathan and Sophie who experienced this the most – having seen already first-hand what these darksome figures were capable of. Their heads were gripped tightly and directed in a way that ensured none could view anything other than the Grievers, who sat so brazenly in the audience’s centre. Aaric saw them all but focused particularly on one, the very figure that had visited him only the night before. Its words of ion for this so-called world watcher and for the disciplines displayed through the dancing – by which he hoped had been shown as clearly as possible.

The crowd was eerily silent with only the thundering heartbeats of the couples being all each of them could hear, knowing their fates were being decided. Then, in the slightest of moments, the sound of slicing flesh and bloody chokes could be heard from left to right. Gwyneth squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for whatever was to come. Her eyes were saved from it all but her ears could not escape it, that sound of pouring blood and the collapse of lifeless bodies. It created an image so sharp that seeing it with her eyes may have been less harsh. But that sickening sound of the most heinous act ceased and the ears told of a tale that was over. Her eyes dared to open and her head was suddenly released from the tight grip of the shadowy figure above her, being able to move her head, she immediately turned to Aaric on her left. Intact, of course, for she was also. His eyes replicated hers, telling of relief and yet still so fearful. It was only with the ending of the ordeal that she felt the permission to breathe, she exhaled deeply and inhaled so – many times as the adrenaline surged. She didn’t want to break her gaze from Aaric but felt compelled to after catching the unavoidable gaze of red in her peripheral view, her eyes reluctantly moved and found themselves fixed on the bloody sight which laid to her left and more presumably to her right. The sight of those butchered pairs on the floor, with their twitching bodies and gurgling necks, would in any other case prove a ghastly sight so strong that Gwyneth would likely scream uncontrollably. She felt so sickened but possessed no desire to physically act in such a way, strange at first, but how can one predict how they’d act in such a situation. As she stared at her left, a gaze from one of the surviving pairs dragged her eyes away from the murdering sight. That of Lexy’s. She and her partner knelt between two slain couples of their group, Lexy had been gazing at her and whilst Gwyneth was expecting some kind of threatening gesture. Instead, what she got, was Lexy displaying a single nod. It certainly took Gwyneth by surprise. It was as if she was finally acknowledging Gwyneth’s place in the bonding, accepting that she deserved to be here. But Gwyneth wasn’t to be fooled for though that nod was given, the look in Lexy’s eyes were of the fiercest kind. The resentment still there, perhaps stronger than ever. Gwyneth’s head then slowly turned from left to right, three butchered couples awaited this side as well as the rest of the survivors. In what was a similar fashion, she found herself being gazed upon once more – only this time from Fuchsia and her partner, Kaiser. It was no surprise that they were still alive.

Those confident grins of theirs so strong even now, they smiled and gave a universal nod with Fuchsia playfully sticking out her tongue. A harmless gesture one would think, but Gwyneth saw through that false image. She knew that behind that smile held a different message, one that corresponds with that playful mindset of hers. “Let the real games begin,” Fuchsia was telling her. Nathan and Sophie knelt to the right of Fuchsia and Kaiser and were the farthest to the right of the stage. Neither of their eyes wandered for the shock of survival filled their every thought. Pleased they so very were to still be alive, but the ordeal was still so stressful and surreal to say the least. It had paid off, their relentless efforts, and now they are one step closer to what they desire. But hearing those sounds of slain flesh rendered the victory bittersweet, and rendered almost sour as the blood of the fallen began to reach their knees. Sophie exhaled in shock as the blood came and memories of a certain fateful night came to surface, knowing where those fallen souls would go. The shadowy figures were gone and what seemed like forever, the aftermath was over as the guards came from both directions of the stage and lifted them to their feet. Those ominous curtains were then steadily closing and as the remaining pairs were ushered away through the stage’s back door, Aaric’s head faced the opposite direction and looked to the Grievers in the final moments. Just as before, during and after the fateful decision was made as to who would live or die, those faces remained as stern and emotionless as ever. Not once did their heads move, nor eyes twitched or words spoken. It was strange, he thought, as it was as if they had critiqued, judged and decided the fates of all group one without any need for communication. Swiftly and sharply, the remaining pairs were ushered through the dark hallway beyond the back door of the stage. Despite experiencing something identical before, it was still dreadful for them all and could never be welcomed. That door at the end, with lights escaping from its sides and keyhole, emerged larger and larger and with it the hall awaited. Soon enough the pairs were harshly shuffled through and the door was opened, behind it bearing a host of familiar faces. With all of them ushered through, the guards were quick to leave and slam the door behind them, barely a second was to before Wren wrapped her arms firmly around the necks of Aaric and Gwyneth. She was so relieved to see them and unapologetically made it clear. The ordeal was still raw in their heads and so a return of emotion was non-

existent with not even a raised arm between the pair to fold around Wren. But the cold reception clearly didn’t faze her. Wren was so happy and relieved to see them again not only for knowing her investment in them had proved worthy, but because she genuinely wanted them to reach the end – just as any good Preceptor did. “I’m so glad to see you two.” She exhaled in relief as her grip around them only tightened, her voice sounding very emotional. The hug was warming to Gwyneth, in time, and she dared to form a smile on her fearing face. She was even soon to raise an arm to return Wren’s feeling. But no such warmth came for nor from Aaric, his face remaining as stern as the moment he heard those blades strike the necks of the fallen intensified by the sight of besieged Preceptors who walked away with saturated eyes and lowered heads, now knowing who the slain were. Such witnessing brought it back to him, bringing back his overall experiences fighting in the Desert Wars. It doesn’t matter who they were or what it was for, surviving when knowing others didn’t was never an easy pill to swallow. Only a few metres to their left were Sophie and Nathan, standing motionless before a slowly approaching Lance. He had not been standing so closely to the door as his counterparts and it may seem he assumed the result in advance, potentially loitering around the hall’s exit for a swift leave when the survivors emerged. He didn’t doubt them, not once in their routine, but feared emotions could’ve got the better of them. A notion he was now gladly mistaken in. When that door opened, Lance had feared the worst and already turned away in preparation but found the whiteness of Nathan’s clothing catching his side view. He was so shocked, but pleasantly, and made slow work in approaching them so that his mind could adjust to this most welcoming of realities. No words come to his mind in that moment and all he does is offer his hand to Nathan, Nathan does not hesitate and gladly accepts it and shakes sternly – grateful for Lance’s effort in them. Nathan nods at him respectfully to which Lance’s nods back though with slight motion and many a time. He grew teary as their hands shook and when they parted, Lance suddenly hugs Sophie and struggles to contain his emotions. She hugs back and smiles as she looks over to Nathan standing beside them, he too smiles and then looks outwards unto the wider scene. The other couples, they share tender moments with their Preceptors

and though signs of relief were clear, the contemplation of what they had all just been through was equally so. Even with the likes of Lexy, though it was rather short lived. An emotion was then to hold influence in Nathan’s mind, one he didn’t see coming and had rarely ever felt, the sort of shared empathy in those that surrounded him. Even for Lucas, the brat who had teased him so relentlessly. It was a sad moment, knowing that as time progresses only more and more will perish. More hardships ahead and more blood to be spilt, he was in no doubt. Aaric had continued to daze, in the heaviest of contemplations and even after the so-called group hug had subsided, until the snapping of figures ensured it came to an end. His mind returned to the room and with it he saw Gwyneth standing before him and Wren a few paces ahead. “Come on, we’re going,” said Gwyneth. It appeared the fragility in Gwyneth was gone or was temporarily replaced by the warmth of Wren’s affection, she smiled at Aaric and was trying to move him along by gently pulling at his hand. With a couple of tugs his feet were to break from their concrete stance and follow as Wren led the way, taking them through the familiar double-doors at the side of the hall and through its narrow hallway. “Back to the Hollow,” Gwyneth quietly said to herself, relieved to even be able to go back. “Not quite,” said Wren. Aaric and Gwyneth suddenly stop, confused by her words, and Wren turns around to them. “Just follow me.” She teases, they do so and soon walk past their Hollow. Continuing right up the hallway, beyond the doors of all the other Hollows, the pair find themselves in a part of the building unknown to them. After ing through another door, a separate hallway was revealed to them. Similar to the one before, this hallway possessed numerous doors on either side only these were far larger and made of a far grander wood. The doors were shiny and had a glossed look to them. Wren continued to lead them and it was in this moment Gwyneth believed she knew where they were, she ed the other portion of the building as she gazed upon it from the beach – it seemed almost certain that this was it. She ed those splendid windows to the farthest left of

the building. Eventually, Wren stopped in her walking as she ed a particular door to her left. Unlike their previous Hollow, the doors here were blank and possessed no names for occupants. Wren then pulled out something from her pocket and stuck it against the top-centre of the door she was standing at. “This one will do,” she said as she does it. A closer look revealed it to be some kind of sticker that bore the names their names. Gwyneth was soon to become excited, knowing that the size of the windows outside indicated a very large space within, and held Aaric’s hand tightly. Aaric possessed no such excitement but could guess what awaited, not that he cared that much given what he had just been through. Wren looks back to them and releases an excitable smile before opening the door for them to see its contents within, what awaited was a sight extravagant enough that even Aaric’s unhidden and dismal state revealed an uncontrollable grin in amazement. They were shuffled in for their surprise had rendered their feet frozen, but their eyes were never so as they dashed across the entire space. A sight of magnificent chocolate-coloured flooring which shinned naturally like a glacier, night ocean blue walls, a bay window with diamond rims, the smoothest of couches instead of a wooden table and chairs and all amongst a space that was easily three times superior to their Hollow. “Welcome to your Dwelling,” said Wren as the couple took their first steps within. They were both speechless at the sheer beauty of the place, mesmerising to say the least, but Gwyneth’s shocked-fuelled silence was to evolve into an outright gasp once she saw a particular feature that had previously been secluded by the door. The most beautiful of mirrors, of monstrous proportion and showered with sapphires across its sides. Aaric stood beside her and shared in her hypnotic state. “You like it?” Wren asked. “I … it’s beautiful,” uttered Gwyneth. Aaric discreetly looked to Gwyneth and had initially been struck by her reaction for a couple of reasons, she comes from a mansion and yet she is so surprised by

these living conditions, as if the Hollow was a dump. And her reaction gave Aaric a wanton impression, as if such living conditions actually mean something. It had caught Aaric off-guard and he rose an eyebrow in his confusion before almost questioning Gwyneth’s reaction aloud, but subtle reasoning within his mind quickly rendered such action unneeded as he came to understand. Aaric considered the notion that Gwyneth wasn’t surprised by such things for their physicality but rather what they represented, which was progress. Yes, this Dwelling was magnificent but perhaps it is the step up from the Hollow that truly captivates her. To show that her efforts and survival had been rewarded which would explain her wanton demeaner, as this is what she’s wanted since the moment she arrived – to advance and finish the bonding. Upon coming to understand, that eyebrow was lowered and he rested his hand over her opposing shoulder as the pair gazed into the mirror. Their eyes locked in its reflection for a moment, a brief and discreet smile given in contempt of where they found themselves. But it was only to last for a moment as Aaric found his eyes becoming dragged to a feature in the Dwelling that was previously unnoticed, the reflection revealed it to be directly opposite and so Aaric turned around to see it with his naked eye. “What’s in there?” he asked Wren, seeing a single-closed door ahead of him. “What do you think?” she teases. Perhaps he was being simple in his thoughts for a moment but Aaric didn’t know, despite Wren’s demeaner suggesting it obvious, so he quickly went to check. With Gwyneth closely behind, Aaric trekked to the other side of the room and opened the door and what it revealed rendered a justified facepalm. The bedroom, and a very big one at that, far bigger than Aaric and Gwyneth’s previous combined and with far higher quality – in consistency with the rest of the Dwelling. Tremendously large and open space with the finest shade of blue carpets with walls to match, a lovely doorway leading to the en suite bathroom and a large window overlooking the shores but from a different angle to the bay window. It was also tinted in the same shade of blue as the carpets, creating the most captivating of themes. But the most splendid, and immediately most problematic, was the bed as it stood in the room’s centre. A double bed, united and wholesome. The amazed look displayed among them was steady to leave and what replaced

it were reddish cheeks, their eyes wandered to each other discreetly and in peripheral view, so slight to turn their heads. “It’s just customary, that’s all. Now, I’ll be back come morning so be up bright and early,” said Wren as she exits their Dwelling, leaving the two to stand awkwardly.

Chapter Eighteen

The tinting of the window in Aaric and Gwyneth’s bedroom proved captivating enough in the daylight as well as every darkening shade in the sky as nightfall came, but it was certainly in its peak when the thick of night had firmly arrived. The shade created resembled perfectly that of the open sea at night, so pure without a hint of corruption. Such effects were soothing to the eye and the atmospheric feel would grant many to drift into an effortless sleep but Aaric was not fortunate to share in such effects and, despite the comfiest of beds and the most fatigued of bodies, he remained just as awake as he had done upon settling for the night hours ago. He was too tense to sleep, too occupied to relax, and despite all that had happened on this day it was solely the matter in which he found himself in that keeps him awake. Knowing Gwyneth laid just opposite ensured this night had been a tough one, with more than halfway through and a wink of sleep yet to be had, no amount of shuffling the covers to create the perfect comfort could save him. He laid on the left side of the bed and thus looked out unto that side of the bedroom, he tried to listen out for her breathing and hoped that her being asleep could serve as a catalyst for relaxation. But, just like much of the night, there was no sound coming from her side and that tormenting thought in his head persisted – how it told him she was awake. A considerable amount of time was to before his fatigued state got the better of him and he was close to finally dosing off but as he did so, a thoughtless action naturally came and he found himself turning around onto his left shoulder. It was only after he had turned that he ed where he was and his eyes were steady at first to open, but a sight before him ensured they opened as if in great surprise. Gwyneth, she was staring straight at him and had been for who knows how long. Her eyes were locked on him in identical fashion to when their dance had ended, Aaric saw an expressionless face though could clearly see a series of thoughts

going through her head. Whatever was being processed in her mind had appeared have been there for some time, possibly all night. He felt a great sense of awkwardness and immediately considered turning back around, but that gaze of hers ensured he was trapped. With nowhere to go and nowhere else to look, he could do nothing other than stare into her eyes and surrender. Before he could grasp it, Gwyneth suddenly began to animate and move her head towards him at the slightest of paces. His initial instinct was to retreat, face the other way or even exit the room. But that captivating gaze of hers sparked an intrigue but, even with that being said, he couldn’t believe what she was doing. She was steadily getting closer and with it a mindset began to emerge dominant within Aaric, and he considered it possible that she too was thinking this way. The gaze displayed to one another at the dance’s end, the way they reluctantly released each other as if they didn’t mind doing it a hundred times over. A prolonged time to be together as one, caressing in each other’s touch. All those hours with that intimacy along with all the shared hardships, Aaric feared something was coming to surface and had made its presence known once the dance was finished but he couldn’t be certain. Was this the way to prove it? She leaned in so close and stopped only a couple of inches from him, with that expressionless gaze she looked to Aaric’s lips and then his eyes. She wasn’t to be the only one to put this on trial and Aaric knew this, thus he would have to show willing. He closed the final couple of inches and the two were now nose-to-nose and their lips were to lock shortly afterwards. There were no tongues nor closing of the eyes, just a constant motion to prove whether such a thing had surfaced. Just as it was when Aaric lowered Gwyneth from the final lift, time appeared to have paused and no longer had meaning. Neither knew how long they had been kissing by the time they finally stopped, the parting of their lips was swift and possessed no such element of romance. It only ended when both were satisfied, where each knew its nature. Gwyneth was soon to turn around after that and appeared to make a genuine effort to sleep, leaving Aaric to face the back of her. A cold brush off to any unknowing eye, one where a moment of ion fell flat and ends with awkwardness and sadness. But to them they knew that was not the case, far from it. Both were happy for such a fear of romance was quashed with a kiss that meant absolutely nothing to either of them, thus that hazardous conflict that would’ve

arose in the future dances is now non-existent. Now, they can continue as they were and Aaric was to peacefully drift shortly after Gwyneth. And just as she dosed, a smile of relief was to make itself known. The night had been long and late for them both but at least now it was over, though for the unfortunate Silas this wasn’t the case. Like Aaric and Gwyneth, his mind had a dagger poking at it but whilst they appeared to have made conscious efforts to at least try and sleep, Silas did no such thing. This dagger was sharp and even attempting to lay down was pointless and so he was sitting up at the bottom of the bed. His head was in his hands and he had been there for a quite a while, perhaps a couple of hours, but had been awake all night. He looked behind him once again and over to Skarlet, who slept so peacefully, how did she do it he wondered. His mind liked to tease itself thinking of such reasons but in truth he knew from the moment he questioned it, a certain acceptance within her mind. Whereas he remained in a demanding state of denial. It had been eating at him for quite some time and was only made stronger after a certain altercation and now it is strong enough to keep him awake at this hour, even now after surviving the first dance. He and Skarlet had survived comfortably, as told by Peacock, and had wowed the audience with their ionate and unrivalled performance. The heaviest of weights taken off from his shoulders, one would think, to know that not only he survived but did so with the best performance of his group and yet now he stresses – perhaps more so than ever. Him surviving made the dagger in his mind ten times sharper and he soon finds himself exiting the bedroom to cool off his frustrations. Silas storms over to the couch at the side of the open room, just outside of the bedroom door, and breathes in and out with his head in his hands venting his frustration. He was struggling to contain it all and just wanted to scream as loudly as he could and smash everything in the room but such actions would render his hidden shame known. Breathing heavily and slightly rocking back and forth on the couch was the best he could do and it was making slow work of defusing him. He soon evolved his method and began tugging at his hair as his head knelt firmly bent over against his knees, pulling and then stopping just short of tearing the hairs from their roots. Then the rarest of emotions were to strike him and he deemed the mindset desperate enough to release a tear or two, watching as they parted from him and elegantly splashed on the ground below

him. Oh, what his father would think of him. His brothers, family and the patriarch himself, he feared. All those emotions, like a soaring and bubbling cauldron, was proving too much and he sharply rose his head from his knees ready to scream but found the expression no longer wanting once a particular sight awaited him. Silas was to be immediately made known that he was no longer alone for someone stood before him and yet Skarlet was still asleep, his eyes wandered all around this circular physique whilst inevitably squinting as the moon reflected blue from its metallic covering. To see it there, closer than earlier, and so suddenly was surprising as well as shocking but Silas felt no such urge to so much as run nor shout. No instinct to defend himself nor attack. He felt strangely calm and entirely unalerted by its presence. Soon recognising it as it had watched he and Skarlet dance, one of them he was. “Your mind changes,” it suddenly said. “For many it would serve as a weakness, especially with a demanding dance to perform, but not for you. Instead, it strengthened you, emboldened you. But whilst this would be welcomed by others, it is dreaded by you. Knowing it is by this that you survived, by turning from what you were conditioned to know. By ignoring the words of your counterpart and ignoring the truth, which now takes more of a chunk out of you than anything else.” Silas instantly began to cry with each word that was sounded and he bit into his top grinding it greatly. His face growing as red as his hair with veins of anguish pulsating across his forehead. The truth, it stung as much for him now as it did then from the words of his counterpart. It brought it all back, that conversation he so desperately tried to forget, where his new ways were confronted and his shame became known. ing he who spoke to him and the lies he told himself made those tears fall more uncontrollably than ever. “He was right.” Silas wept as quietly as he could. “And I was ashamed, ashamed that he could see what I couldn’t. But I wasn’t entirely blind, I knew that I was slipping from my ways but that wasn’t solely what he was referring to. He spoke of … the look in Skarlet’s eyes, it was only in that moment when I looked back at her that I could see it. As clear as the sky above me at the time. Something hazardous, something vulgar, a wedge between our ways.”

Silas then stood and ionately continued. “Once I saw it, I knew how blind I had been but to remove it then would’ve spelt the end for us both and so I struck him. If she thought I knew what she was hiding then that poisonous awkwardness would’ve returned and I couldn’t risk that, not that close to the dance and so …I silenced the truth.” “That’s not all of it,” the figure said. “If it was then your mind would hold no equal bearing, no, there was something within you that day also. Something identical to hers.” “I told you, my ways had slipped!” Silas argued. “No, not that, there’s something else!” the figure protested. At once, Silas turned around and viciously struck the wall behind him, now unconcerned with his sounds. “It was clear in her eyes … clearer than mine, but they were in mine too nonetheless,” he defeatedly whispered. His back then clashed against the wall and he hopelessly slid down it and now sitting on the floor, he continued in his weeping as his head rested on his knees. “You weep as if ashamed, as if you’ve done something wrong,” Silas was then to hear. The Griever stood motionless over him and said nothing further, knowing progress was being made though painfully as always. There were no words for a moment and Silas’s anguish, caused by what he perceived as a shameful ission, was all that could be heard. But the Griever did not leave for the ordeal was not yet done and as he saw coming, Silas was to naturally question. “If what I have done is not shameful, then why do you come here and force me to it such things to you?” Silas sternly asked, the Griever approached closer and was to answer. “You don’t it them to me but to yourself, it is you that finds this shameful. No one but you.” “How else am I supposed to feel?” Silas sarcastically asked. “Happy? Proud that I’ve insulted my family’s sacred beliefs? To feel such a way about the other kind and allow it to fester within?”

“But what if you hadn’t?” the Griever tested. “It wouldn’t have created the chain of events, the very ones that now have you sat here now – alive and breathing. Perhaps your mind sees it as natural and necessary to adapt so that you may survive.” Silas head lifted from his knees and with it he slowly arose back to his feet, with a face as stern as ever and ready for the final question. “Is it really ‘natural and necessary’ to quash my beliefs so that I may survive?” he asked. The Griever rose its arm and rested its heavy limb against Silas’s shoulder, as if the next words were to be said with the grandest care. “It is harder for those who engage in the bonding rather than the trials, some thought it be the other way around as at least those from the families know that a manner of the bonding exists, but no. It is harder, for you arrive with already-moulded minds that have been forcibly shaped by the ones who raised you. In a way that gives no sense of adapting and so, in extraordinary circumstances, people will find that their minds will do it for them – unconsciously. And when that happens, people get scared and some even resent themselves. But know this Silas, above anything else, a mind that doesn’t adapt will die and their beliefs will be irrelevant.” The face of Illu came to mind after the Griever gave the most eye-opening of lessons, ing his lifeless body twitching amongst a pool of blood. Proud in his old ways, didn’t adapt and so perished. And now it seemed clear to Silas, it was what he was ashamed of that saved his life. With only a blink of an eye, that Griever was gone. Silas was left alone once more though with the clearest of minds and, at peace with a lighter head, he returned to his bedroom. Opening the door calmly, expecting to see an awoken Skarlet awaiting a steep explanation. But she was asleep, snoring away just as she had before he left. The way it appeared and just left. Was it in his head, he wondered? Was it real? Did it matter either or? It certainly didn’t to the most freed of men as Silas gladly got back into bed.

Chapter Nineteen

That sun was firmly in the sky by the time Sophie came to for its rays could not penetrate through the blue tint, instead she was to awake naturally after the most relaxing of nights. Not only by far the best since she arrived, but perhaps the best ever. To sleep after achieving such a hight enabled her mind to truly relax for the first time and thus she had slept soundly through the night without the slightest disruption. She lifted her head from her pillow and sat upright, stretching and yawning without a care to it. She then discreetly leaned over the bed and past its side, seeing Nathan sleeping so peacefully on his makeshift bed on the floor. She smiled, happy in seeing he too was relaxed, and got out of bed. Allowing her feet to drown in the luxurious carpets, she stretched once more before gladly approaching the window. There it all was, that splendid view, as beautiful as ever though with a calmer mind she was able to appreciate it fully for the first time and actually smiled as she saw it. Such calm, such peace, but a courteous knocking at the bedroom door followed by the cautious emergence of Lance’s face ensured she ed that only the battle was won and not the war. “You’re awake, good, wake him up and come out as quickly as you can. A busy day ahead,” he said before closing the door. Sophie could tell by his demeaner and along with the high sun that the pair were late in starting the day, she called Nathan and readied herself for the day to come. The pair had overslept and massively but far were they from being the only ones, another would be Aaric and Gwyneth who stood and swayed with slouched arms as an unimpressed Wren preached to them. They were up and clothed but far from looking presentable as they yawned constantly with droopy eyelids, for not long had they been awake. Wren was unimpressed with them as it was but given, she had to physically drag each of them out of bed only made her temperament less inviting than it already was, but they gave her no choice as they slept too deeply to hear her voice. She ranted profusely of her disappointment and the pair were left to wonder

what the major deal was, given it was only a few hours later than usual and as a one off it was hardly catastrophic. They yawned and stretched as Wren continued in her rants, appearing to not really care that much but such attitudes were to change with Wren’s most recent sentence. “You have days to make this work, days!” Their eyes widened and they were no longer so drowsy. “What do you mean by ‘days’?” Gwyneth questioned, fearing yet another demanding timescale ahead. Wren stopped her venting once the question was asked, cautioning herself for allowing her stress to take over. Wren lifted her arms and lowered them gently, in correspondence with her now paced breathing, she was to regroup herself and start again. “I’m sorry, this is just … stressful,” Wren explained. “But yes, you have days to do this … half the amount you had for the first dance.” Aaric rose his arms in frustration, hardly being able to catch a break from these demanding trials and barely having time to comprehend the events of the past dance before now being required to focus on the next, but Gwyneth remained somewhat composed as her mind quickly began to adapt. But her composure allowed her to clearly see that something else was on Wren’s mind. Holding something back, perhaps there’s more yet to be said, she thought. “This dance is going to be different, very different and so we must utilize every minute we have in ensuring this routine is done and to the highest standard. There will be no safety net this time, no fifty percent chance of surviving. I’ve seen it before, just as other Preceptors have, where not a single pair survives.” Aaric was to end his tantrum, his outrage being shunned by the sinister tone of Wren’s voice, the way she spoke of it was far different to the first round and it struck them both coldly. Gwyneth looked into her eyes once more, seeing the unchanged look of holding something back. Despite explaining to them the nature of this dance, it seemed that she was yet to explain the full picture. It certainly rose an eyebrow for Gwyneth as she wondered what it could be and was tempted to question but found such a notion being subdued as Wren sharply turned and pulled out a device from her pocket – suddenly turning on the music. The sound, a stark contrast to the dark undertones of Wren’s words. It was happy

and vibrant with a cascade of high and low notes, culminating together in an effortless harmony. It was beautiful and described a flourishing routine. Consistent in beat though with the exception of a slight pause within its centre, the briefest though. No time for even his least fatigued muscles to heal, Aaric now knew, and so he approached Wren ready and willing. She turned around and saw him there with his hands offered outwards, ready to be taken and demonstrated upon, not even so much as smiling when she took them. The afternoon to follow had been immediately perceived to be a long one, one filled with numerous and mutual hardships as they rush to grasp a new routine and in half as many days to before. But how wrong they were both to assume. With only the ing of a couple of hours since Wren took Aaric’s hands, he and Gwyneth were enacting the routine in perfect step to the music and had followed all instructions brilliantly. They spun with tremendous sharpness, like blades through the wind, and Gwyneth was lifted with simple and natural elegance in a move that could hardly be seen as complex. Time and time again they enacting this sequence to Wren’s request, but they found it simple and dared to be certain that they got it right. The technicality was spot on and with it so were all other elements, but Wren insisted the pair continued over and over claiming ‘more emotion’ was needed. Eventually, after more than a dozen faultless attempts, Gwyneth was to refute a further and questioned her. “I don’t think we need to do this bit again,” she argued. “Yeah, can’t we move on to the next bit?” Aaric questioned in . Wren shook her head slowly as if she could clearly see something they couldn’t. “There is no other sequence, this is the whole routine,” she said. The only modestly sweaty pair looked to one another in blatant confusion with Aaric even wondering if Wren was messing around, but that sincere look in those eyes suggest the upmost seriousness. Neither could understand it, the routine was so simple. Far less complex than their first dance as well as any routine displayed by the other pairs only the night before. How was it Wren could be so stressed with teaching a routine that took half an afternoon to learn for a dance that was a week away, Gwyneth wondered. “But … it can’t be.” Aaric sighed. “The other couples, they’d do far more than this.”

Wren shook her head with her eyes facing the floor. “They won’t, the routine is the same for you all.” Again, Aaric sighed and threaded his fingers through his hair in an unimpressed manner. “Has this always been the routine for the second round?” he then said. She lightly nodded. “Then … how can there be times where not a single pair has made it?” he inevitably questioned. Her eyes remained fixed to the floor, unrelenting and showing no hints. With that look in her eyes, Gwyneth finally thought it time to ask. “What is it Wren, there’s more to this?” she asked. Tears were ready to arise as the proverbial boiling pot within her was soon to tip, but she couldn’t allow it. Despite all the times of doing this, it never got easier for her and she so desperately wanted to tell a certain something but she didn’t want to be handed the same fate as her foolish counterparts whose tongues were unwise and loose. It seemed that after all this time she was yet to conduct herself in a better way when such a time came. It proves too much for her every time and it comes out in the manner of stress. But it did appear that her composure, as light as it was, was broader this time around as those tears within were supressed and never made their way to the ducts. Instead, a stern demeaner was to surface and she insisted on her earlier instruction. “Listen to me!” she said strictly. “Do it again, and then again and again. Each time with more emotion, lock onto each other’s’ eyes as you sway from one side of the room to the next. Focus on nothing else, so much so that you’ll notice the smallest of dust and the parting of a single strand of hair should they fall between your gazes. Unity is everything in this round, unity that is so strong that nothing can deter it. You must dance as if you’re souls are open to one another, and we will keep doing this until I am certain you understand that.” Neither knew what to say after hearing such a speech, foolish to think anything could be said. It didn’t matter that Wren didn’t tell them exactly what awaited them, Gwyneth now knew, for Wren had now told them more than enough. To simply learn the routine and show commitment to it, like the first round, would

simply not be enough on its own and it was clear they were far from what Wren considered ready. And so, that certainty they both had possessed was now gone. Crushed and torn to shreds. Without a word to follow, Aaric and Gwyneth got into position once again and began enacting the routine as requested. Though this time with the effort to enact a sincerity they were yet to fully understand. Across the hall of these tremendous Dwellings, Silas and Skarlet also practiced this deceitfully simplistic routine. Like many of the other couples they too awoke late but were amongst the first to properly grasp what was required, they swayed timelessly across the vast space in perfect sync with the sounds. Given this was only their fourth full attempt at the routine, Peacock eagerly tried to find an element to critique but found there was no need to do so. Like the others, they didn’t take long to master the simplistic moves but unlike the rest they just as quickly grasped the emotional connectivity that was required. Peacock was stressed about what was to come but took great comfort in the pair’s resounding progress, he couldn’t explain it but these two had evolved in a way like none others. It was clear that a strong and mutual emotion had taken them over, he knew, but the nature of it couldn’t be said. At least, not by Peacock himself. Peacock’s critiquing eye had been completely blocked by the pair as the music and each other’s company consumed their entirety. Focussing on absolutely nothing else other than the glimmer in the other’s eyes, the world could be set aflame around them and they wouldn’t so much a see a hint of amber nor smell the slightest of smoke. Together, with unrivalled decorum, they turned left to right and enacted on the only lift of the dance – perfection as expected. Then that strange pause came and they halted in their positions. Face-to-face, cradling in each other’s arms. They were the only pair not to be fazed by it, not to question or believe it to be an error in the tape, instead they deem it to be the time where the purest display of emotion is made. Neither of them so much as blinking as their minds focused on every millimetre of flesh that either hands laid upon. Their emotions both fully in sync and openly accepted for the first time, though their utter fixation on the other prevented a nervous Peacock from being noticed. Quietly nervous throughout the routine but Peacock could hardly contain his stress come that sudden pause in the music, him tensing his hands greatly as it came. That sun was to lower as a foolishly perceived simple day for many of the couples and a rightfully stressful one for the Preceptors was coming to a close. Lance watched as Sophie and Nathan performed the routine for what had to be

the fiftieth time, with just as much emotion as the first, the lift was performed and the moment of silence was imminent. Then it came and they halted, faces firmly on each other and arms in sync, Sophie looked to Lance in her peripheral view and saw how he lowered his head and shook it subtly. Not a moment later, Nathan halted in his efforts and broke away from formation. “Where are you going?” Lance uncharitably shouted. “Need to use it, I’ve been holding it for ages,” Nathan sharply responded unfazed by Lance’s demeaner. He ran into the bedroom and then the bathroom, leaving Sophie and Lance in the practice area. She looked over to him and saw how he began to steadily pace couple of steps to the left then right, demonstrating and eager wait for Nathan to return. The stress was certainly high within and knowing that such little progress had been made ensured the stress he currently experienced was the highest of the day. It was always so difficult and he never really adjusts to it, despite his tremendous efforts, but how can he without losing what makes him human? What only added to the toughness of the situation is the fact that he, and presumably many Preceptors with theirs, have had sufficient time to grow attached to their couples. Even the sternest of Preceptors have this issue as it is natural to develop bonds with those you work and spend so much time with, even if it’s only for a number of weeks. Perhaps what also adds to its severity is the fact that these couples have made it ed the first dance and thus have great potential but their entire futures from here rest on the slightest of margins, not the couple of minutes it takes to dance, but rather a different moment and one were a mere second decides it all. “Come on, Nathan, hurry up dammit!” Lance said sternly in his mind, growing even more stressed at the torture he self-induces rages on. But he found his ravenous ways to be abruptly stopped with an innocent question, asked by the purest of them all. “What’s with that pause?” Sophie asked, Lance slowly rose his head and tilted his eyes towards her. The liberator from his tormenting mind. “It’s not part of the music, it’s too out of place. I mean, I thought it was just and error in the tape but it can’t be as you told us to halt in each other’s arms when we hear it. It’s odd, it doesn’t smoothly flow with the rest of the sounds.” A liberator she may be, but he was soon to return to that prison of his. He looked at

her and approached, not breaking for a blink as he did, he soon stood just inches from her and she feared that an innocent question was to be met with the harshest of responses. “Do you care for Nathan?” he asked her with the sincerest of expressions. “Yes … of course I do. Without him I wouldn’t be here,” she answered somewhat confused. “Yes, but not out of necessity, do you really like him. Do you want him to leave this place alive and well?” Lance then asked. She was taken back by Lance’s pushy and invasive demeaner as he had placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, surfacing a side to him that Sophie hadn’t seen before. She could see it in his eyes, so eager and desperate. “Yes, I do,” she quietly replied with the highest degree of truth. A tear was to descend her cheek as she answered, knowing what Nathan had come to mean to her. “You that,” he said as he shook her lightly. “The words, the emotion, never forget it. You think it’d be bad for him; it would be far worse for you.” “I … I don’t understand,” Sophie replied as that one tear was to be accompanied by many more. Lance shook his head in sorrow, wishing he could say more, as his eyes began to moisten themselves, he kissed her on the forehead and headed for the exit. “I’m sorry, tell Nathan our lessons are done for the day,” he said as he leaves, hardly able to contain the anguish. That unexpected encounter left Sophie in a fragile state which was surprising enough to herself but even more so to the bewildered Nathan, who left a fine girl for the bathroom and returned to find a lost child. Far from how she was upon waking, accomplished and vibrant. She was never the same for the rest of that evening, remaining dazed and secluded far into the sky’s evolvement from dim to dark. Many times, he had tried and dared to ask what the matter was but was met with nothing though he was near certain that Lance had involvement. He had to; the timing was impeccable. But with no answers to be fed to him, poor Nathan was left to only guess what the heck happened.

He was left to his own and spent the majority of the evening loitering from one part of the Dwelling to the next, eating left-overs from the morning and even practising the routine on his own, all whilst a heavy-minded Sophie sat motionlessly on the side of the bed. It was only as the evening further progressed, and Nathan emerged fresh from the shower and was moments from getting into his makeshift bed, that Sophie finally prompted herself to say something. “Something’s coming, Nathan,” she said. “What?” he asked as he halts in his actions, she doesn’t reply at first and Nathan walks around the bed and over to her – sitting at her side and seeing the most reserved of looks. “There’s something coming?” he asked, realising what she said though no less confused, it was then that tears began to descend her once more – the very ones she had spent all evening trying to subdue. “Sophie, what’s wrong?” he then asked as he wraps his arm over her, she rested her head against him and the tears became waves as it all became too much. It confused him greatly but also brought him distress to see her like this, clearly this stems from earlier, he thought to himself. “Did Lance say something?” Nathan then asked, confident he was at the centre of this. “Is that why he left early?” But her response was not to be in reverence of his question but rather a continuation of her sudden statement. “That dance … that pause, something dreadful is going to happen,” she said panicking. “I know … we will perish if we fail, it’s no different to before,” Nathan replied. “No, not that, there’s something else. I could see it in his eyes, Nathan, he knows something we don’t. Something terrible.” She insists. He tightened his soothing hold around her shoulder. “Sophie, what did he say

when I left the room?” he asked desperate to know. She thought back to it, ing the words and Lance’s sincerity so clearly. But as she thought of that most distressful of conversations, she believed it best to not quote it but rather use it as a building-block for what came next. Knowing that the words spoken earlier would not hold the same weight to Nathan as it did to her. “Do you care for me, Nathan?” she asked. Again, just as many times before in the evening, he was struck confused but perceived the question simple enough to answer. “Of course,” he said. “Out of necessity or because you want us both to get out of here? To be alive and well, to see our dreams come true?” she then asked. A powerful question, one that would’ve been answered with the first option should it have been asked a matter of weeks ago. But he knew, after witnessing what they saw on those sands and coupled with the moment the Succession became known to them both, that it was the latter option that rendered true. “I want us both to get out of here,” he said strongly. “To know a better place, to be happy, to attain something this cruel world couldn’t give us.” She gently rose her head from him and wiped the tears away as she stared. “Promise me, that no matter what happens at this next dance, that you’ll that. this moment,” she said before finishing with nothing other than a near direct quote – knowing there was no other way to put it. “The words, the emotion, never forget it. You think it’d be bad for me; it would be far worse for you.” Nathan was to feel his eyes moisten in such a way for the very first time and they hugged for they were consumed with emotion. As they embraced, one of the last to be up, they were not the only ones to consider what was to come. Despite the late hour and another demanding day, Aaric found himself struggling to sleep yet again. But not out of awkwardness like the night before, but rather a certain spout of worrying thoughts that were ravaging his mind. He tried desperately to shut off his mind but found it to be a futile effort at best, a shame he knew for sleep was once again greatly needed.

The second night in the most splendid of rooms and most comfortable of beds, yet awake and restless once again. Eventually, Aaric was to turn around and face Gwyneth but was shocked to find her gazing just like the night before. She stared intensely but not on her shoulder facing Aaric, instead on her back looking at the ceiling. His turnover was hardly discreet and thus Gwyneth knew he was staring but found the fixations in her mind too strong to be distracted. He was to ask her what she was thinking about but found such a question to be the hight of a fool, it be clear on her face and into her eyes. She worried the same as he did; that expression and sincerity in Wren’s eyes. Something clearly awaited them, something that can’t be known in advance, but the fact they didn’t know was what bred the most distress. Neither could waste time guessing what it could be as, on this island, it could be just about anything – whether within comprehension or well beyond. “What do you think awaits?” Gwyneth suddenly asked as Aaric was in the process of turning away, he halted momentarily and continued turning to try and get comfortable before answering. “Anything.” He exhaled defeatedly. “Absolutely anything … and that’s what terrifies me the most.” “We must be strong,” she said with as much confidence she could muster. “Whatever it is, our minds must be clear,” she said as began to get teary. Upon hearing the breaking of her voice, Aaric was soon to turn back around and saw her still looking up towards the ceiling but wiping some tears as she did. “Gwyneth, it will be all right. We’ll make it, I promise,” said Aaric as he rested his hand against her shoulder. “I have to get there, Aaric, I must see Murielabel.” She wept. “You will,” he speedily insisted. “You’ll get there, you’ve made it this far.” She continued to sob as Aaric tried his best to comfort her with reassuring words, though he could only say them with so much confidence, and for the first time in a welcomed while she was to grow fearful of not reaching the island – a harrowing thought that only gets harder to digest with every spout of contemplation. She was close to getting there, closer than ever before, but she knew one monstrous task laid ahead of

her. Though what it was could not be said, better or for worse she couldn’t say. “ your love for that island, Gwyneth. it … and it will see you through this,” Aaric said just as she was to drift, soothing words it proved as she was to subtly snore soon after. Leaving him alone. He stared at her and felt great sorrow over the thought of her not making it to where she so desperately desired and it was then his motives where to be clear, to see her through this no matter what. She must make it through to the Succession, he told himself, and what awaits him will only be a bonus and nothing more. He was to doze himself soon afterwards and with it, all but one of those Dwellings fell silent. But a single one was to possess that of flourishing water as the latest of showers occurred. It was all that filled Skarlet’s ears as she walked across the darkened bedroom and over to the sole source of light as it escaped from the gaps of the bathroom door – through its sides and keyhole. The walk was slow and meaningful as her mind raced with a world of firsts. She was to open that door, unlocked for the first time, and he was to hear its expecting and subtle creak over the sounds of water descending his face. He looked over and her head arose from its gap, that gaze was stronger than an iron bar. Fuelled by a mutual acceptance, he made no effort to cover himself as her first footsteps were taken.

Chapter Twenty

Two opposing doors, not to be shut, nor to be locked. Eternally open for one occupant to see through to the next, where all its contents are open and in full view. Left open for the other to protect, to cherish and to hold dear. Watching over them, knowing their value, knowing what would happen should one turn away and be careless. The contents would be stolen, ravaged, never to be seen again and thus the trust built between would be nevermore and the doors be locked. Never to be open again, no matter how much they knocked. This was how Aaric and Gwyneth danced, in the centre of their Dwelling and to that most simplistic of tunes as that amber sky grew ever dimmer. A troublesome week and a slow one at that, one where every inch of eye entailed the highest scrutiny. But that week was gone, buried along with the others before it. Only the final evening standing now, with this to be their final endeavour in pursuit of this not fully known hardship. The week’s training, culminating to now. They danced with hands locked, backs straight and noses high and hit every step to perfection – just as they had on the first day of this practice. But, infinitely more crucial, those eyes were cuffed together with mindsets well aware. ing why they were there and who this was for. Not themselves, but each other. That lift came and she was lifted, like a candle that could withstand any wind it was magnificent. But then that pause, a mere second or two of unrelenting eyes that scorched through those opposite. This was where nothing else mattered. Nothing happened, of course, but clearly in just a days’ time it would. Something defining, something to be dealt with in the moment. Whatever it was to be. Then the finishing cascade, the notions that would come immediately after that defining pause – equally as defining if one thought about it. Conducted with determination and fierceness, as Wren said it would require. Finished, only this time with more sweat than any practice before. Modestly demanding, the physical side of the routine was, but requirement on the mind was what slaved the most energy. Breathless, sweaty and emotional they looked to Wren for approval or the opposite. Eagerly awaiting, knowing this was the hardest they’d tried.

“Brilliant,” she simply said with a blank expression and tone before slowly turning around and leaving the Dwelling. She wasn’t able to give away any more than that, the routine was superb and the mental connection irable but many times has this been and yet the very same couple would fall the next day. Best not to give away too much, she knew, assuming too much could be in the first place. Aaric and Gwyneth looked to each other knowing they had done they could for now. The sky grew further dim, ever dimmer and then dark with all fifty couples resting in the beds of their Dwellings – though only by name and not nature. Foolish if any of them were actually asleep, relaxed enough to not have the ominous arrival of the next sun on their minds. Any would be forgiven for thinking they had experienced such a night before, on the eve of the first, but this was to prove different. At least back then they knew all that was to come, they could prepare and be vulnerable to zero surprises, but not with this. No, this dance possessed an element out of their control and it would be down to them in the moment as to what their fates will be. This played on the minds of them all, even the strongest. Even that of Lexy who had slept so peacefully on the eve of the first, believing solely in her capability. Nathan and Sophie stood, or laid more like, in unison with the others. Awake and dreading, counting each second and abandoning the sheep. Sophie stared at the ceiling, preparing all she could for what was to come. Considering the harsh life in her years, it was by a bold statement when she considered this night to be the worst so far. For once actually being close to achieve a degree of happiness, only to potentially have it ripped away by an element she wasn’t even aware of. The harshest of harshness, she believed. Below her, Nathan thought no differently and too stared up to the ceiling. A harsh life he too had been handed. But even in this darkest of moments a candle was lit, weak but alight nonetheless, amongst an endless night with the strongest of winds. It prevails even now as the prospect as well as the hope of surviving is enough to grant him the strength to say one last sentence for the night. “Together, the likes of us can do anything,” he said, believing in his lit candle as it still lights despite all he’s been through. Sophie lowered her hand down the side of her bed, Nathan extends his and they lock. She spoke no words nor did she need to for the action alone was enough, one that told of her own dimmed but lit candle.

The most fearful of sunrises was to come, the sort where tales would be told to the onward generations of how its presence would either signify the most tremendous of triumphs or the bloodiest of failures. None had slept well but all were alert, pumped with adrenaline alone, they could hardly stomach the food they were given. An appetite at this stage was only for fools. The reckoning would not be till the afternoon and thus half the day was free to them, half a day to finish their paintings with final strokes of their brushes. But such routines had already been performed to the best of their abilities and could not be brushed upon any further, as a result many of them moped around their Dwellings fully aware of every second that ed. Dressed and ready in their pristine outfits, Aaric nervously paced the open space. From back and forth with subtle effect, his gently paced footsteps were all that sounded and bounced from the interior walls. Walking in circles without even realising. Wren too awaited nervously only she stood still with her back up against the exit with her head lowered, many times she had been in this precise moment and it would render a permanent scar regardless of how the day ends for them. Aaric watched her from the other side of the room, calmly and with no temptations, he saw the whirlwind within her mind and actually felt pity for her. A strange emotion given how people would normally feel towards someone who kept something from them, something that was clearly of the highest importance. Usually, it would be met with a degree of resentment but Aaric felt no such thing. He felt pity instead for he could see in her eyes that it consumed her from within, keeping such a secret was clearly not a choice to her. Meanwhile, Gwyneth had shut herself away in the bedroom to share her final awaiting moments with her beloved rose. It was a mixed moment as she thought of the dear Island of Tears, not knowing whether she was closer than ever or far further than initially thought. An impossible situation to know with certainty given the ominous secret that lays ahead. But the moment was tender nonetheless as it always had been before. A moment to never forget, one both soothing and stressful. As she stood in the bedroom, with her rose cradled in the vase and with the sea in full view, she took bliss in the final instance of peace knowing it was to be over shortly. Though, made evident by Aaric knocking on the door, it was to be over even quicker than that. Her head slowly turned with her eyes looking down, he didn’t need to say

anything for her to gently place her vase back on the bedside table and follow him out. Those steps were the stiffest to take with those knees reluctant to bend, knowing this was to set the wheels in motion. But she had to fight her mind, fight the fear and instinct. There was no other option, no other way. She and Aaric stood shoulder-to-shoulder as Wren stood before the door facing them, no longer leaning against it. It was time. “You two ready?” Wren asked, hardly able to say it loud enough, the two stared at each other and gave a final look of courage and comfort. One that would stay in the other’s mind regardless of what was to come. With the most interpretable of grins, they looked away from the other and nodded in unison at Wren. She too nodded, not in agreement but acknowledgement. It was as if she accepted this, accepting yet another scar. With her eyes ready to wince, Wren suddenly approached them and pulled them in close for a hug. It took them by surprise, just as the hug of relief she gave them after the first dance had, only this one had far more meaning. They didn’t hesitate in folding their arms around her, sharing in the emotional embrace. It was lengthy but did not linger, there was no rushing this moment. Eventually, and reluctantly, Wren released them as she wiped that most crafty of escapees from her cheek. She turned around and slowly turned the door handle in front of them. “Right then, let’s do this,” she said. That door was opened and the safety of the Dwelling was no more, onwards now to whatever fate awaits them.

Chapter Twenty-One

A faint disruption was to make her conscious though her eyes were still closed, the sound of banging albeit far away. But her mind was to come to and with it, the sound ever louder. A sensation was then to be felt, splashing harshly against her entirety along with a blatant sogginess coming from the opposite direction. A loud bang, the loudest yet, was to ensure her eyes opened and with it the sight could be seen and sounds known. Thunder dancing across a dark and dense sky where no inch of the sun escaped, with the unruly rains being guided by the most vengeful of gales. As if supressed and now finally released. Her eyes were to become flooded though not by the rain and she frantically stood up, unsteadily around the mud and grass, and was compelled to scream but a single name. “Aaric!” she screams across the endless muddy green where nothing but rain descended upon, she weeps and shakes uncontrollably as she continues to scream his name – each time more desperate. “Aaric!” she continues, though despite the throat-rupturing efforts, the calls would not carry and only be distorted by the screeching winds. She knew the efforts were futile at best, given what she witnessed, but still she continued until her throat gave up. With a colossal scream, one loud enough to instil terror and trauma to any who heard it, she fell to her knees in despair. Splashing against the heavily saturated ground, she did not care for the deteriorating condition of her dress and it only added to the heap of dirt rampant on her back. With her head poised down and mud seething through her hair, she desperately wept as her mind tried to make sense of it all. The imagery was torturous as she ed the precursor. She and Aaric had stood between two opposing doors after being led down a hallway neither had been through before, they obviously led in different directions and they were reluctant to move. “This round is different in more than one way,” explained Wren as she stood between them and ushered them into the opposite doors. White and brazen

amongst the blackness. Gwyneth went for the one on the right and Aaric for the left, both nervously opening the doors before but not entering before a final look back. Both had thought the same, an instinct as it were, as the two granted the other a final glimpse of courage before venturing beyond one another’s view. Gwyneth screamed as every inch of memory was raw and infinitely more jarring than the storm around her could ever be – even if its winds grew tenfold and rains lowered heavy enough to wash her away. She wept greatly, even more so than before the memory – if it was possible. ing his face just as they parted through those doors, innocently unaware of the horror to come, made that pain unbearable. The image alone was enough to conjure an almighty scream that not even those deafening winds could silence, piecing through it effortlessly like a knife through paper. She fell to her side as if she were dead, in the moment she had wished for such a fate – kinder it would’ve been. She just wanted to sleep, to let the pain fade away as if it never happened, but that blood on her dress ensured it was as real as the rain itself. She was able drift but not sleep, unconscious but aware and able to feel everything around her. She wasn’t relaxed by any stretch to turn off peacefully, no, this was induced by grief. A coping mechanism of some sort, never before known to her. Time ed no doubt but it made little difference to her, the pain no less raw than before. Like a brain that doesn’t acknowledge a cut, it can never heal. It has to be known and accepted, but how could she? It was beyond anything she had seen, anything she could’ve foretold to come, it was alien to her. Gwyneth could hear the endless rain as it dropped all around her and feel the cold breeze as it battered against her drenched body, the consistent sensations serving as the only distraction from what she witnessed. But that occurring dripping in the many puddles around her was eventually to be overshined by a far dominant sound, the thudding sort that steadily became more obvious. Something was splashing in the puddles to her left, it couldn’t be the rain as it was too concentrated. Nor could it be falling debris like branches or logs for there were no trees nearby. It soon grew too brazen to be mistaken for anything else, they were footsteps. At once, Gwyneth opened her eyes and rose to her feet. Disturbed and mentally unstable, she faced the approaching sound with daggered brows and gritting teeth only to see that the approaching sound deserved anything but. Standing before her was a weary-kneed, defeated and equally distraught Sophie.

Wet through and covered in mud as she was, Sophie stared at Gwyneth fearfully. Though Gwyneth could never tell, Sophie was relieved to find not only another soul but a familiar one at that. But Gwyneth’s sharp movement and aggressive look ensured Sophie’s already over-boiling pot of emotions spill uncontrollably. Her face grew tight and eyelids clench as she cried aloud. Seeing Sophie, a young girl, so upset rendered a raw effect and Gwyneth slowly approached her – hardly able to contain further tears herself. Without the presence of a single word, they embraced in one another’s arms as the unrelenting weather raged around them – the rain and wind battering against them from all directions. To weep in such a moment was different to how both of them had before now, to share in the other’s grief enabled the display of sorrow slightly less raw. They had clearly both been through the same ordeal despite both believing they were the last to survive. A surprise, one of a positive nature though it could hardly be said in the moment as other emotions consumed them whole. Sophie had her arms wrapped around Gwyneth tightly, never wanting to be alone like that again, as Gwyneth hushes her and rests her head above Sophie’s. The warmest possible moment amongst the bitterness around them, both in weather and recent events. Those already darkened skies were to become even more so in what was likely no more than an hour’s ing, it was soon black and hardly any scenery around them was in view. But at least the rain had finally ceased, though the heavily saturated soil it left behind was in no rush to leave. Gwyneth and Sophie were sitting beneath a tree, the only nearby for a great distance, as the rain stopped. A blessing it may seem, but cold and wet they still were. Gwyneth laid with her back up against the stem of the tree as Sophie laid on her side with her head resting in Gwyneth’s lap, they had been like this since making rest beneath the tree. Sophie’s eyes would finally close and with it a breathing pattern that reflected sleeping, it seemed her mind was at last kind enough to let her soul rest though Gwyneth’s what yet to show the same. She was left awake and tortured as her eyes wandered the scenery around her, though dark as it was, she didn’t need the light to know the what surrounded them. More of the same; an endless amount of soggy green. With the winds now too absent it was the dripping of water from the leaves above, impacting on the

muddy puddles below that filled her ears now. It was so empty out there, she thought to herself, a state of emptiness where not a soul walks. She was doubtful that anyone else walked this green, though it was soon to come to her mind that it hadn’t taken long to have Sophie stumbling across her. Gwyneth looked down at her, seeing her rest as peacefully as she could, sniffling with closed eyes. She was surprised to think that amongst all that happened, the youngest and smallest of them all would still be here – alive and breathing. How did she do it, Gwyneth asked herself. It was as she tried to make sense of the fact that another torturous memory was to arise, taking her hostage and with great force. She desperately tried to resist, physically shaking her head, but that instance to follow could not be avoided. ing how he was butchered from behind and right before her very eyes, those sounds to follow culminated to create an ominous harmony. Him chocking on his blood and twitching on the floor as well as screams from those who had witnessed the same happen to their partners, all so clear with the sudden absence of music. That pause then finally known. Her face was not to wince this time as she cried, instead a stern face of disbelief as those tears descended her cheeks and lowered onto Sophie. Her stomach was jolting as she struggled to breathe normally, but she had to control it to prevent awaking her. But how could she when she has lost everything? Like an endless line of dominos, one dim reality after the other came to fruition. He was gone, she was lost and Murielabel was never to be known. So much grief, never-ending hardship, she could never have guessed that so much could change in only the space of an afternoon. Oh, how the day had begun with tremendous nerves but also with hope. But now, there’s nothing to remain. Somehow her mind had dimmed long enough to grant her sleep, to allow her to truly escape the pain since its happening, how something so instinctive can be revered as such a blessing. She ed that blissful feeling as her mind began to cease and with it the sensations of her body, those eyelids were to grow too heavy to carry and her sight was to be darker than it already was. Her head was tilted up and eyes looking towards the now clear sky beyond the branches, both ends of the eyelids meeting just as a glimmer of light dashed across that sky. Then, a banging sensation; one easily bruising enough to send her eyelids in

retreat. Gwyneth was to find herself laying on her side in the dirt, clearly sliding from the stem of the tree. She instinctively soothes her neck as it was harsh impact though likely made worse by how she had slept beforehand, her eyes were to widen and she soon found the blackness to be scarce. Though far from the magnificent sunrise and cloudless sky of the coast, it was clearly night no more and it appeared to have ed in the blink of an eye. She lifted herself from the saturated mud and repositioned against the stem of the tree, her back and neck as stiff as ever. A sharp exhale of air came to sound as she did, the pain and tightness all too apparent, and she sat there looking out unto the sight before her. It was only in that moment she noticed Sophie was no longer resting in her lap, looking outwards she was to see the back of Sophie as she stared at a sight beyond Gwyneth’s eyes. Sophie was standing no more than a hundred metres from her, though just beyond Sophie’s stance was a slope that descended unto a field of green beyond view from the tree. Poor girl, Gwyneth thought as she watched her stand so motionlessly. Clearly as raw in her head still as it was in Gwyneth’s, as if the shocking incidents happened only seconds ago. Like an elderly woman without her stick, Gwyneth reluctantly rose to her feet in a bid to reach Sophie. Every inch of her ached as if she’d aged fifty years overnight, every muscle in mind. She was so stiff that the tree’s stem had to be used for leverage and even then the task was far harder than a young woman should expect, that tree not being kind to her overnight. But eventually she was up though not with the absence of a few clicks, another exhale before parting from the tree. Multiple spasms in her legs prevented a smooth approach and could grant nothing more than a drunkard pose in the beginning, but they were to cease and by the half way point they functioned as they should. But far was the second half of her approach any faster than the first, perhaps even slower as she came to a halt after hearing something crunch beneath her foot. She looked down and lifted her left foot, what emerged surprised her and sparked much confusion. Squashed edibles, the very sort she and Aaric awoke to every morning back in their Hollow and later Dwelling. How random, she initially thought, to think such a rogue piece be out in the wilderness like this and she so happened to trample on it. Though, as she lowered her foot and looked around, she was to notice a landscape that had escaped her eye since awakening – likely out of sleep deprivation. She was quick to realise that what she trampled upon was not the only edible, far from it. As far as she could see, in all directions, the same edibles peppered the scene. She picked up a large piece

that was untrampled and laid beside her, a touch and smell confirmed what her eyes teased. But why, she questioned, why so much and how did it get out here? Perhaps in the scheme of things, and by the nature of the island, this was not to be a major question though it sparked confusion and intrigue nonetheless. Gwyneth kept the piece and took subtle bites from it as she walked up to Sophie, whose head hadn’t so much as turned though likely knew Gwyneth was behind her. Even as Gwyneth stood right beside Sophie, there was no sign of acknowledgement with either words or actions. Dazed in despair Gwyneth thought at first, though it wasn’t long until she changed her thinking. Amongst the wide green beneath the slight slope, scattered with even more edibles, was an object of a strange nature. Though comprised of the materials around it, its shape was unique and separate to the scenery. It was clear this had caught Sophie’s eye for it had caught Gwyneth’s almost instantly. Sophie then suddenly animated and carefully descended the slope before her, clearly wanting to head closer. “Wait,” said Gwyneth in surprise as she descended the slope herself in a bid to catch up with her. “Sophie, isn’t it?” said Gwyneth as she ed Hilder’s calling of her. “We shouldn’t approach it; we don’t know what it is.” But Sophie didn’t respond or even acknowledge as she continued in her pursuit. Gwyneth was cautious but only out of previous experience, after dealing with Iolanthe and the other Sapphires in the forest. Beyond the shores of the building, she knew first hand there were dangers out here – that’s assuming they’re even still on the island. The strange shape grew ever clearer as the two got closer, Sophie was more determined as she could see the grand size of it. “Sophie, stop!” Gwyneth insisted as she tried to grab her arm, but Sophie dodged her grab and adapted her speed from a paced walk to a light sprint. Truth is, she didn’t know what to expect but something so distinct allowed her desperate mind to entertain the chance that it was an exit of some kind. Ridiculous, her logical side would say but her desperate and grieving adversary would have dominance here. That shape was now to be so clear and its size true to scale; a large and multirectangular structure easily around twenty feet with an opening hole on its top.

Entirely made of grass with mud being used as an effective binder, the material had been imminently sourced as the terrain around it dipped. This gave Gwyneth a clear indication that it hadn’t been standing long and was certainly not there by chance, but it was also in that moment that a subtle part of her mind considered the possibility that it was placed there by particular means. By one, or a few, of a certain family. Sophie eagerly approached but found her feet to stop as if they were frozen after the sudden emergence of an axe-like object. Gwyneth screamed, surprised by the view, whilst Sophie remained ever silent. The sharp object had emerged and embedded itself into the side of the structure directly outside the opening at its top, with a grasped hand soon to follow – gripping on to the exterior. A person, clearly, but who? Sophie had an idea as she saw the white, though muddy, cuffs at the end of the sleeves and Gwyneth too had a suspicion of a certain face to appear. Grunting was then to sound as a large male came to emerge from his pride, even muddier than they were. It was as both suspected and it especially brought Sophie comfort, knowing he was the only one to remain standing with her at that fateful moment. Gwyneth too had suspected correctly, though she had never been acquainted with him before – but she knew of him nonetheless. She stared at him at the top of his masterpiece and with that weapon in his hand, even that was crafted, made of grass that had been bonded and somehow sharpened to create this ‘Axe’. But whilst they stared at him, Gwyneth in somewhat oar and Sophie in pleasant surprise, he was far from demonstrating any such emotion. His face told of a distinct unpleasing, one where he had just viewed the worst sight possible. “You’re here,” said Sophie relieved, Silas sighs as he pulls the remainder of himself out from the hole and goes to descend the structure. But in doing so he slips and went to wedge his axe into the structure to save his fall, though it proved too late and he hit the ground heavily. Though landing on his feet, the mud below splashed all over him creating a look even messier than before. Silas rose his arms and looked at how dirty they were, the skin and the pristine clothes. He then looked across to Sophie and Gwyneth, seeing how they too were so dirty. He laughs to himself in a distasteful fashion. “Look at us, not so glamorous, anymore, are we?” A fragile Gwyneth was quick to take offence and even quicker to voice the fact.

“You think this is funny?” she asked unimpressed. That grin of his was immediate to turn and evolve into a hideous look of despair as images came to his mind. “Do I look like I’m laughing?” he replied. Gwyneth said nothing and Silas soon returns to his work on the structure, working on it aggressively and with no regard for the two’s presence – getting mud all over them as he axed away. Undeterred, Gwyneth went to continue in conversation with him. “Are there any others here?” she asked, he tells her to repeat herself but makes no effort to quieten his work. “Are there any others here?” she asked again but more determined. “Haven’t got a clue,” he replied as he strikes the structure with more aggression each time. “I thought if anything it would just be me and her but you’re also here so, heck knows.” His words were aggressive and so was his demeaner as he continued to carelessly shape his structure, clearly something was getting to him. Possibly their presence, Gwyneth wondered, as he only seems to get angrier. “How do you two know each other?” Gwyneth asked Sophie as she stood next to her and for the first time she was to respond. “From the dance,” Sophie said. “Me and he were the only ones left come the end.” Silas had heard Sophie’s response to Gwyneth and stopped striking away at the structure. “So much blood …so much death. A massacre,” he said emotionally as a haunting image comes to his mind. Seeing her like that, in a pool of red, surfaced those raw feelings and with it the sense of punishment that he felt was being bestowed upon him. Consequently, Silas resumed in striking the structure only this time with no finesse nor care as the anger consumed him. He hit it

mercilessly, causing great damage to his efforts, his anger then turned to those behind him as Gwyneth shouted for him to stop. “Stop!” Gwyneth shouted. “Go, go on … get out of here!” Silas roared back. “I deserve to be alone!” His sudden outburst had shocked Gwyneth and Sophie and they both looked at one another, unsure of what to do. Silas noticed they hadn’t heeded and so he pulled his axe from the structure and aggressively approached them. “I said go!” he shouted. Sophie was terrified and ran to her right and off into the distance, as fast as she could and slipping many times over the mud. Gwyneth too was shocked but only ran to retrieve the fleeing Sophie but not before displaying a look of unease to Silas. “Sophie, wait!” she shouted as she ran in pursuit. Silas wiped a reluctant but natural tear as he watched them go and was soon to return to angrily striking his structure, along with adding huge amounts of dirt to it. To be alone in the dirt, building this structure with a heart that felt a sensation like never before. Not only of death and loss, but something pure that died with it. Died with her. Not only was the pain of losing that insufferable, but indescribable too. It was unknown to him and he had no words, but he did know that whatever it was, led him to divert from his traditions. And despite what that Griever told him; he believed his new reality to be the consequence of that divergence. Thus, a loner he must be – especially when it came to the other kind. Short and small those strides made with Sophie’s legs were and yet she was able to gain a significant distance between her and Silas in only moments, despite the numerous slips as well. Weeping fearfully in the process, Gwyneth hear Sophie’s dismay as she tried to catch up with her. “Sophie, it’s all right!” she shouted but those calls of assurance fell on frantic ears and like a bolting horse Sophie saw no sense. She ran aimlessly against the wind until her lungs disallowed a single step further, she stopped but continued in her weeping as Gwyneth was able to swiftly catch up with her. “It’s all right, come here,” she said caringly as Sophie lunged for Gwyneth,

wrapping her arms around Gwyneth tightly and soaking her tears into her dress. Gwyneth hushed her as she gently swayed her hand in an up and down motion against Sophie’s shoulder, a bittersweet soothing it proved to be as Sophie ed the moment Nathan did such a thing only weeks ago – caring for her in such a way. How she missed him dearly, how such the slightest shock can cause those tears to flow. They embraced for some time and it would be longer before Sophie composed herself once more, but with time she was to recover and the two would find themselves walking further from Silas and that tree they had spent the night under. The sky was to weep yet again only this time far lighter than before and the winds were to be moderate at best, Sophie and Gwyneth walked aimlessly through it with no sense of direction whatsoever. There was no destination in mind but how could there be, but there was a hope that something distinct would catch their eye during their travel – something other than Silas and his structure in the short distance behind them. Even at this distance his striking of the structure could be carried in the eerie winds. Gwyneth looked back and could see him, noticing the structure’s size had increased already, she could never understand it but knew he was dedicating his actions to his patron. “Those are pretty, were they for the performance or did you already have them?” Sophie suddenly asked. Gwyneth turned her head back around and saw Sophie looking at her, it soon became clear that she was referencing the tattooed rose heads that descended her back. “I had them before, they’re family markings,” Gwyneth explained. Sophie demonstrates a confused look, expecting Gwyneth to elaborate, but Gwyneth has no desire to. “It doesn’t matter,” Gwyneth then said, believing it to be pointless. Sophie then looks back to Silas in the distance, after seeing Gwyneth doing so, noticing that structure’s new size. “What is that thing he’s building … and why?” Sophie asked intrigued, not expecting Gwyneth to actually have knowledge on the matter.

“A structure,” Gwyneth explained. “To the patron deity of his family. Masters of the architectural craft, they build so that their hands can grow skilful enough for what their interpretation of the Succession brings.” “And what is that?” Sophie then asked. Gwyneth looks at her, knowing she shouldn’t have bothered and said no more on the matter. If she sees telling Sophie the practices and beliefs of her own family as pointless, then she should’ve viewed the Farlaiph family in the same light. They were both families of secrets and telling Sophie all of this now holds absolutely no reverence, Gwyneth knew and so she was to say nothing more. Sophie was left quite confused and she wondered if it had been better not to have asked any questions at all, it was clear Gwyneth knew far more but was reluctant to speak further for reasons unknown. But with the bleak answer, Sophie was able to grasp that she was in a different proverbial ship to Gwyneth and the chap behind them. Twice Gwyneth had used the word ‘Family’ once to describe her markings and the other in answering why Silas built that structure, but whether she means literal families or cultural ones couldn’t be said. Either way, Sophie knew they were of larger groups, ones with traditions and beliefs of some sort, whilst she was not. She was alone, not a part of anything, just as she had been before she was brought to the trials. The two didn’t walk much further before noticing a noise that had been carrying in the wind, coming from ahead of them. It was subtle at first, too slight to know what it was, but now it seemed almost too brazen to mistake. Water splashing, a waterfall perhaps. Just ahead of them was a slope and its contents beyond were out of sight from where they stood, it was in the moment they knew the sound laid beyond it. Both were thirsty and the hint of clean and drinkable water was a welcomed sound to the ears, without a word being said they approached this slope eagerly and was to see what was harboured beneath it. A moment of euphoria for them both and Sophie wasted no time in descending the short slope but Gwyneth was slow on the uptake, her mind being caught by a different sight. There was a waterfall as suspected, the top of it in perfect view as water spouted endlessly from what appeared to be the end of an underground water system of some sort. The water descended down yet another slope not in view from where

they were standing, but it was what surrounded it that caught Gwyneth’s gaze. It was somewhat sandwiched between empty green that spread as far as the eye could see, especially beyond it with many hills and slopes in sight. Truly endless, Gwyneth thought as she was taken by the sheer overwhelming size of it all. It caught her in a gormless faze which was soon to be broken with the sounding of Sophie’s voice. “Come on!” Sophie shouted just as she went to the edge of this waterfall, cupping her hand ready to drink. Gwyneth broke from fixation and quickly followed in Sophie’s footsteps, soon to her in drinking. It was divine, that urge to drink not coming until presented with clean and ingestible water. A soothing relief in this most harsh of landscapes. Sophie had been drinking before Gwyneth got there and was first to have her thirst quenched, she parted away and it was only then she fully grasped the sight ahead of her. “Are we even on the island anymore?” Sophie shouted to Gwyneth over the dominant sound of the water, Gwyneth broke from her gulping. “If we are … we’re very deep in,” she said before resuming. Sophie then ventures away, following along the edge of the steep slope to her side that leads to a pool of water. The sight below clearly had potential to be adorned but the grim weather wouldn’t permit it, what lied below was a large body of water circled by only more muddy green. Even at this height, which she guessed could be about ninety or a hundred feet, she could see the grass down there was saturated. Perhaps even more so than the grass beneath her feet as the relentless splashing of water below ensured it would never be dry. Her eyes wandered across out of intrigue and quickly found it as damp and characterless as the scenery topside, she went to turn away but found a soreness in her view. Something of a certain colour, one that held no place amongst this view. Sophie knelt down in a bid to get a closer look, though her small height ensured not much progress was gained. She could see it, sticking out slightly from a section of shapeless mud, but heck knows what it was. She squinted her eyes to have a more focused sight and it gave a better result than kneeling down did, she could just make out a shape amongst the mud though it was hardly decipherable. Sophie carefully followed the body of this shape in the mud, hardly big or brazen, and found this colour positioned at its top. The slightest strands of pink. It hit her and hard, she screamed uncontrollably and fell back onto her side –

completely unfazed by the mud she had landed in. Gwyneth choked on the water she had just gulped and spat the rest of it out, hearing Sophie’s screams and seeing her fall back in her peripheral view. “What’s wrong?” shouted Gwyneth as she dashed over, that frantic Sophie could hardly mutter a word and was reduced to pointing with a single-raised finger along with the miming of words. Her lips moved in a way which told there was something down there and her expression clearly told it was bad, Gwyneth looked to the slope in front of her and cautiously pointed her head over its edge. She was shaking and breathed in uneasy paces, fuelled by Sophie’s fear. Knowing something ominous awaited, Gwyneth made comparatively quick work of finding the source of Sophie’s anguish. A vague shape of a body, utterly covered in mud and those pink strands made for an unrivalled identity. Gwyneth saw it and breathed almost as frantically as Sophie had, she finally able to conduct a sentence. “Fuchsia,” Sophie simply said. Seeing Fuchsia in such a way made Gwyneth want to hurl, the way that body was twisted and consumed in saturated dirt. One could be forgiven for seeing such a reaction as odd for no such feelings were demonstrated when those other couples perished in the first round – having their throats slit and blood pour beside them. But this was different, this wasn’t foreseeable. Where was the shadowy figures, the crowd, the dance? If Fuchsia was here, then she must’ve survived the second round. What could have caused this, Gwyneth wondered. Suicide perhaps, believing this to be the end? It was possible and it seemed plausible but such a discovery struck them harshly, especially knowing they casually drank as her lifeless body laid below. “Why … why would she do that?” asked a thickened Sophie, guessing Fuchsia’s actions as Gwyneth had. “Why would she jump?” Gwyneth looked at Sophie and then back down to the corpse of Fuchsia, once so glamourous. A solemn thought came to ravage her mind, believing Sophie had asked the wrong question. Not why did she jump, but why didn’t they.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The deflated pair sat shoulder-to-shoulder against the thick stem of the tree, the night had made a humbler approach than the one before and the weather was still. No rain and with only the slightest of winds, the scene was to be a calm one though still soggy and not exactly warm. Neither were asleep and instead stared outwards onto the featureless black, Sophie’s head cradled against Gwyneth’s shoulder. That question continued to lay siege in Gwyneth’s mind, consuming her every thought, thinking about Fuchsia’s pain being quashed. The flame of despair no longer alight. Her mind teased as she imagined slipping on the unsteady mud, falling from the edge and down to Fuchsia’s fate. How simple it would’ve been, she knew, how quickly it could’ve been done. But such thoughts brought distress and not out of contemplation for a meaningless end, rather distress from an insurgent feeling that arose by the side of a tempting end to life. An insurgent feeling of resistance, rebellion against ending it all, but why. Why would this feeling fight against her, fight against the dominant emotion? Why would it want her to stay alive, even when there’s clearly no point in doing so? It was the same feeling now as it was then when she stood at the edge, something telling her not to do it – telling her to fight on. But fight for what? It all seems over, there was no way anything was to follow from this she told herself. Her mind raged on and she did marvellously to hide it from Sophie as she casually laid against her, not suspecting a thing. She prevented that virus from spreading to her exterior and allowed the two forces to battle within her subconscious mind. No such battle raged in Sophie’s mind, instead just a blank state of nothingness. A static screen. There would be no thoughts of suicide for her but there was no audacious hope either, just nothing. That one dream believed to be achievable, now gone forever. Now, she retreats to the shell she was before all this. She stared out unto that open darkness, thinking of nothing and waiting for those eyelids to grow heavy. Soon they would do and a break could be taken from the harsh reality, but as those eyes grew weak the steadyemergence of a soul came into view. An approaching figure, foretold by the sound of feet treading amongst the mud.

Sophie’s eyes had widened though not out of shock, neither she or Gwyneth were to so much as flinch as the figure became known. “I’m sorry … for earlier,” said Silas as he stood some thirty metres from them, he was emotional and had clearly been reflecting for some time. Gwyneth nor Sophie said a word nor displayed any expression, instead Gwyneth gently parted from Sophie and shuffled to the side – creating a gap between them both. Silas sighs subtly and lowers his head for a moment, wrestling with those neverending traditions. He was to move after a few seconds by approaching them and the tree. He sat in the small gap between them and was soon met by Gwyneth and Sophie on either end, closing the distance and resting against his shoulders. Whether it was for the warmth, comfort or both. The three knew they were in this sunken ship together.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Hurry up!” shouted one. “What’s taking so long?” adds another as faint imagery and sounds came to be. Gwyneth stood there amongst nine others, comprised of both sexes, encased in a blacked-out cube of some sort. Confusion only adding to the stress they already possessed, confusion stemming from their confinement within this strange container where no sounds or sights could be granted beyond. It all gets blurry; someone comes and releases them – telling them all to follow. Only more confusion to follow, seeming all ten of them were to dance at the same time. That stage, different to the one before, wider and with the audience further away though gazes never less known. She and the nine standing in designated parts of the stage, their partners soon to them from the opposite entrance. She smiles at Aaric as he comes over, his face remaining stern though clearly out of nerves. All ten couples then dance, in sync with both each other and the music; turns and spins eloquently done as expected. The lift, the pause, that silence. Those dark and murky apparitions came and slayed one from each couple, half falling dead and choking in a pools of their own blood. That shock, that fear within her. So strong, but those words of Wren even stronger. The very apparitions that slain their other halves act on the parts of those murdered, taking their places and expecting the surviving to carry on with them instead. Those who couldn’t, those simply too distraught, were then to be vanquished also. Those screams around her proving so haunting. Somehow, by a strength Gwyneth didn’t know she had, she was able to part from frozen feet and carry out the rest of the routine. Feet and arms turning in tune with the music as ever, though its loud sounds did nothing to drown out that of trampling flesh. That music was to end and with it also the ordeal, that apparition vanished and she was to stand alone amongst those corpses. So many faces but only one stood out. She wanted to scream, scream so loud that her throat would burst, but it was compensated by the one within. Only her tongue was silent, her mind screamed till the end – continuing long after it went dark.

She awoke and in a breathless state, her eyes widened and she soon ed where she was as half her face laid embedded into Silas’s shoulder. “You all right?” he asked, somewhat shocked by her sudden awakening. To his eyes she had slept peacefully, entirely unaware of the torturous imagery within her. “I … I’m fine,” she eventually replied falsely, taking a moment to gather herself. The two lay there, Silas against the tree and Gwyneth into his arm, whilst Sophie blissfully sleeps on the other side of him. There was silence for a moment until Silas spoke. “You’re not the only one, I get them too,” he said. “Those … images, they come back no matter how much you don’t want them to. It’s a fight within where one half of you wants to forget it all and the other needs to recall it, so that it can try and make sense of it all.” He grew teary as he spoke though he did his best to supress it, a rogue tear was to escape and descend his cheek – eventually landing on Gwyneth. She gently rose her head and could see his eyes, glimmering from saturation. “It’s all right,” she said as she wipes the remaining tears from his cheek. Their eyes were to lock for a moment though not out of love but rather sincerity, both from different families and expected different fates yet here they were – wasting away together in this mud. She looked at him, seeing the most tormented of souls, whereas he looked at her and could only see one face – one that wasn’t hers. It then all came back to him and he sternly reminded himself his reasoning for the fate he’s been handed. “I’m sorry,” he said as he abruptly stands up and walks away. “This was a mistake!” The way Sophie was positioned prior ensured the disruption was subtle enough to maintain her slumber, barely moving in the process as she slumps to the ground gently. Silas was quick in his exit and so was Gwyneth in following him. “What was a mistake?” she asked with moderate tone, cautious of awaking Sophie. He said nothing and only shook his head as his pace grew in intensity, those large footsteps of his ensured he was soon ahead of her by a fair distance but she continued following him – confidently guessing where he was going. She could see it in that moment, just before he abruptly arose, something wreaked havoc in his mind and was spurred on by her gaze. She could guess that

his partner’s slaughter plagued his mind, but that look was of a different kind. One that makes his loss potentially harsher than anyone else’s. Gwyneth had her assumptions as to what it was, knowing the Farlaiph’s traditions, and she was equally assumptive that this reaction was fuelled by a certain resurging mindset. As suspected, Silas headed straight for his structure which stood marvellously, even amongst the open darkness of the night. He pulled out the axe from the ground beside it and started working once more on the structure, shaping it vigorously and adding more of the surrounding dirt to it. He huffed and displayed wilful exertion as he worked on it, gladly releasing his frustrations. Gwyneth was standing close to him but found herself needing to take a step or two backwards to prevent an unrelenting Silas from knocking into her. She stood there and watched as the relentless Silas struck his structure with more aggression each time and whilst trying his best to discreetly wipe away the tears. The dark skies alone would’ve prevented Gwyneth from noticing his sobs, but the associated sound of sniffling couldn’t be avoided. He was clearly in a state and most would’ve thought it best to retreat without any effort but Gwyneth considered such an option to be a bad one, to leave him like this would allow that mindset to fester, and so she persisted. Silas hit the structure time and time again, only stopping moments later reluctantly to catch much needed breaths. It was by which in this moment that those tears were wiped less discreetly, clearly too great to supress. Gwyneth was to take advantage of the silence and reiterate to the now less-aggressive Silas. “What was a mistake?” she asked once more. Hearing those words led Silas to raise his axe with the intent to strike once again but was just as quick to drop it defeatedly, now weeping aloud. “A mistake … to leave tradition.” He wept silently. “To be fond of your company … it’s that fondness that got Skarlet killed. As a punishment to me.” “Is that what it was?” questioned an unconvinced Gwyneth. “You was fond of my company, equally as hers?” Gwyneth may have possessed some insight into the family traditions from which Silas adheres, but even an outside mind could see there was more to this, a notion which was left beyond any doubt as Silas then placed his head in his hands and shook gently – clearly not believing his own mistruth. It was clear that

he couldn’t sway Gwyneth just as he had done to himself, blaming his diversion from tradition for Skarlet’s death despite many others being dealt the same fate. He couldn’t do it anymore, hopelessly trying to blanket that feeling he felt before Skarlet’s death but finds it now stronger than ever – too forceful to hide any longer. “Hers was unique, different. It was like nothing my father had ever described. He always said that cohesion in the other kind’s company would lead one away from Father Farlaiph, like a mould slowly corrupting your bread of belief. But she was never mould, but a light to my bestowed darkness who came to fill my every thought,” he was to it. Saying those words aloud made it real for the first time which proved to be a tremendous weight off his shoulders in one respect, though imagining his family’s reactions and reliving Illu’s words granted heightened anguish. He wept uncontrollably with Skarlet’s lifeless body all that consumes him. As he weeps upon the top of his structure; Gwyneth reaches up to him and gently holds his ankle. “You were in love … there’s no mistake in that,” she said. He hears her but only weeps louder after her words, finally knowing what that feeling was called. Seeing him that way had proved infectious and grew teary herself as she walked back to the tree, leaving the distraught Silas to contemplate his thoughts with a now clearer mind. The tree is soon in sight and she goes down to lay back against it, exhaling from tiredness, her eyes were quick to close. “Where is he?” asked Sophie suddenly as she faces the other way, clearly no asleep as Gwyneth had initially thought. Her eyes were to reluctantly open though her entire body remained still as she simply answered. “Where he needs to be.” Her eyes were to drift once more but only to be disturbed yet again. “Gwyneth?” said Sophie, calling her by name for the first time. “What?” said Gwyneth in a prolonged fashion, clearly awaiting slumber. There was a pause before Sophie continued, caused by hesitation over how to word a

particular question, though Gwyneth thought she was just being slow. “What, Sophie?” Gwyneth asked. “What … what are we waiting for?” Sophie eventually asked gently and uncertain, an unprompted question that appeared to has surfaced from nowhere though had obviously been playing on her mind. A delayed response as Sophie expected, Gwyneth’s brain was suddenly thrusted into action but was to only go as far to voice a light-hearted answer. “For the sun to come back up,” Gwyneth falsely laughed which was only met with the most moderate of sighs from Sophie. Those ill-volume laughs weren’t to last long and that silence was soon to return, though sandwiched in between with an obvious response from Sophie to come. “That wasn’t what I meant,” she said. “I know … I know,” responds Gwyneth. She hears for the second time that night, that distinct sound of discreet weeping – by which now Gwyneth had become accustomed to. She looked over to Sophie and placed her hand against her shoulder, trying to hush her. “There’s nothing left now, is there?” Sophie cried. “There is … there has to be,” Gwyneth answers with gentle tone and the highest of sincerity. Sophie turns over and faces her, her saturated eyes in full view. “Why?” she wonders. Holding back tears herself at this point, Gwyneth wrestles with herself as she tries to find an adequate answer. Whether she was searching for an answer to satisfy Sophie or herself couldn’t be said, but the struggle of finding one could be. In the end there was nothing more to be said than stating the simple obvious and is the only state in which both of them share. “Because we survived,” she whispers to Sophie, hardly able to supress her own anguish. Far from a wholesome answer, furthest as could be, but it was the best she could muster. It was met with a simple response, though with a tone that said far more.

“Goodnight,” Sophie said as she wipes her tears and turns away, marking the end to that embracement and leaving Gwyneth alone with that seething question. “What are we waiting for?” her mind echoed, multiple times and each more brazen and menacing than the last, a question that ensured her eyelids remained parted regardless of how tired she was. It was a question she’d asked herself countless times since awaking in that mud, of which intensified upon seeing Fuchsia at the bottom of that waterfall and made ever stronger by Sophie asking her the exact same question. What was keeping her here, how loose was that false string of hope keeping her from falling off that edge? She was to find out. Hours had ed since Sophie’s last words and that sky laid open and cloudy as ever with hints of stars glimmering between the breaks. Gwyneth discreetly arose, making a conscious effort to avoid puddles and broken branches. But in the dark, this could only prove so well with a sudden slip to follow, she quickly regained her composure and looked back to Sophie. Not so much as a twitch. She continued and soon found herself beyond the puddles of saturated mud and onto thicker grass, where the rain had not been so concentrated. With a thoughtless mind, she wasted no time in descending the slope before her and ushering ed Silas, who slept awkwardly atop his structure. Amongst that open green, her heart was darker than the skies above and her mind even plainer than the scenery around her. With only a sole destination ahead, her feet grew lighter with every step – blocking all alternative voices and focusing on that faint sound of water. There was no more delaying it, she thought, no more shunning the action. It was hard enough to contain on its own but Sophie’s questioning made it unbearable, the instinctive tears came as the further slope became known but her pace ever increased. She grunted and began to breathe louder and louder, but not from exhaustion, and took little care when descending that slope – hardly landing upright. The sound of gushing water now ever louder, she took the widest steps in approaching. Ignoring her tears, the heavy breathing and the pulsating heart. Five paces, then four, three, two, one. She grunts like a ferocious animal, a sound which echoed greatly, as that final step was prevented. That hesitation, in the strongest resurgence. That tremendous grunt of hers echoed far down into the lower realm of the waterfall and through the corpse of Fuchsia, who Gwyneth now stared at intensively. Rampant tears leaving her cheeks and ing the water below, she felt at war with oneself as the urge was still there and so strong. But something

else was present, holding her back, though the fact she didn’t know what made it all the more frustrating. That urge holding her back possessed no motivation nor argument and yet it’s hold was strong. Fear perhaps, she initially thought, but this was far beyond the familiarities of such an emotion. A type of hope, the most dangerous kind, where no real justification was present. Her mind raged on as one foot laid solidly against the ground and the other hovering over the edge, either side changing from firm to loose as her mind swayed. She cried into her hands as she could not see favour in one over the other; she couldn’t jump so thoughtlessly and yet she could face turning back where nothing awaited. Oh, how she wept into her hands, flows so strong they broke through the gaps of her digits and pattered against the ground. “You should jump,” said a voice of the most heinous tone. At once, Gwyneth turned around from shock and saw something standing behind her. The complete absence of light prevented any sort of view other than a grainy outline; she didn’t even bother calling out the names of her counterparts – knowing it wasn’t either of them. She knew it was dark and that seeing anyone would be a challenge but the way this person before her blended in the shade so well told her it was of the darkest complexion, unnaturally so. Was it one of those shadowy apparitions, she thought, though this would be the first time she heard one speak. Being so close to the descending waves allowed only the shell of the voice to be heard and not its contents. “W … what?” she asked. Then silence and stillness in the immediate aftermath of the question, though that was eventually to change. It began to approach her and she was horrified, not by the action but by the way it moved. Instantly recognisable for only one thing she encountered moved that way, every bone as if its own. A laugh too, which sounded as it got nearer but with no smile, that harsh memory came to fruition. How she ed that trauma of being pushed from that cliff edge. It didn’t stop until it stood no more than half a metre away, even at this distance his appearance was impossible to know. “You should jump, I wonder why you haven’t already,” it then said. She slowly turned back towards the edge, staring down at it intensively once more and with Fuchsia in mind. Hesitant as ever, she struggled to move. “Fuchsia was smart, she knew there was no way out of this, Aaric is dead and you can’t get to the Succession without him. It’s over,” it said in sadistic encouragement.

Her right foot was then to hover over the edge once more, only further reaching than before – her knee mostly extended. It spoke aloud what echoed in her mind; Aaric was gone and her hopes of seeing Murielabel went with him. Now here she was, wasting away in the mud. But for how much longer? She grew teary as her weight began to shift forward; over she was going until a resurgence of that voice yet again. Her arms swayed heavily like a bird as she desperately tried to rebalance herself, gasping greatly in the event. Gwyneth was only just successful and managed to pull her wavering leg back to the ground, an inch further and the outcome would’ve been different. She breathed hysterically as she realised the closeness. “Why hesitate?” the figure then shouted. “What’s holding you back?” “I don’t know!” replied Gwyneth angrily and in tears, frustrated by the very question she asked herself. “Do you think Aaric would want to see you like this? To have you waste away in this dirt, with no salvation or progression? Of course not, he would want you to end your anguish. Finally extinguish that dampened fire,” the figure further encouraged. Again, its words spoke true only this time from a perspective Gwyneth hadn’t considered until now. Aaric’s. Thinking of his face only increased her sadness and imagining how he would feel if he could see her now made it unbearable, to see her in such a way. Could it be him, she wondered, could he be preventing her other foot from following the first from the edge? It was certainly possible, though the question as to why could never yield an adequate answer. He was dead, she saw it with her own eyes. Was it his memory preventing her or was it the imagining of his reaction if he could see her now? She was then to shake her head and snigger in disbelief, considering herself foolish for entertaining feelings from a person no longer alive. Would it matter what he thought, she asked herself, would it change the reality she finds herself in? That was a question she could answer. Whatever stood behind her could see that rebellion within dwindle and with it prompted the catalysing words, “Seeing you like this would cause him pain; end your suffering to end his.” Again, she turned towards that edge and made her toes hover over it. The tears present no more and a dwindling rebellion now too sick to win, her mind now

clearer than ever. Nay was she going to put one foot ahead of the other this time, she told herself, for those damn instincts would kick in. This time her head would lead. She felt the breeze soothe through her hair and could smell the water below, embracing the final senses, she was at somewhat peace with her defeated mind. She stared all the way down and contemplated nothing as her eyes were to shut soon afterwards. Her knees locked and arms straight, that final intake of life was to be known. With darkness being all that surrounded her, her ears focused on that splashing water – the last thing she was to know. She focused on its dominance, readying to hear it ever louder as every inch in her descent was gained. She focused on her feet, feeling them grow lighter, but in the process couldn’t help but notice the sound of someone else’s. Pattering against that mud, she assumed it to be that of the heinous thing behind her. That was, until a voice sounded. “He chose you over me,” said the voice of a woman, a voice familiar. Gwyneth opened her eyes and turned her heads leftwards and the sight beside her struck nothing other than shock as well as confusion. How was it possible, she thought as a particular face came into view. Somehow it was Wren but entirely naked, yet without a single grain of dirt on her. Her skin, immaculate and almost unnaturally bright against the night. “Wren? Wh … what are you doing here?” Gwyneth inevitably asked, awaiting an explanation and unsure of where to look. “He chose you over me because he wanted you to live,” Wren said quietly. Gwyneth had heard her words and realised the reiterated sentence from a moment ago, not making sense of it at the time. “What do you mean?” she asked. Wren’s head didn’t turn and yet the words to follow felt no less intense than if she had been standing just a couple of inches from her eyes. “The temptation was there but he didn’t succumb, where you chose the island; he chose you. You must be the one to make it, for him to as well was nothing more than a ‘bonus’. I am only of his lust, not his heart. That title goes to you, though not from romance but bond. He went on for you, even as you laid bloodied. As you did the same. The strongest of bonds will bend whereas others break, where you continue for them and not for yourself, why you

went on,” Wren explained. Gwyneth stared at her with the greatest state of confusion, not understanding a single word that was stated. “Wren, I don’t understand,” she said in frustration all of this coupled with Wren’s appearance being too much to make sense of it all. Again, Wren’s head wasn’t to turn as her next words were known. She hovered her feet over the edge before looking to the cloud-filled sky above. “Continue in this darkness until the light is seen, for its only when in darkness that the light can be known. Follow it, till the end,” she said. Gwyneth grunts aloud as the words persist in the mental rampage. “Wren, please … I don’t understand!” she exclaims. She looks to Wren, teary eyed and hopeless, desperately awaiting some kind of elaboration. But Wren’s eyes remained firm on the featureless sky above, fixated almost, as a subtle whisper came to be. “Follow, till the end.” With no hint nor warning, Wren dropped as lifeless down the edge and descended weightlessly to the sludgy soil below. “Wren, no!” Gwyneth desperately screamed, in disbelief over the sight before her very eyes. A very steep fall and yet over in mere seconds, with that fud being heard all the way from the top. She wept as she dropped to her knees and stared down to the corpse that laid beside Fuchsia, the one that should’ve been hers. “Why, Wren, why?” she begged to know but feared the answer would never be told. She laid on her front and her head hanged beyond the steady ground of the edge, with those teary eyes staring down to her ceased Preceptor. She wipes her tears for the hundredth time but finds her return gaze of the lifeless Wren to be different than before, she wipes them again to be certain but finds the difference maintaining. She rose to her knees at this point, knowing tiredness nor the darkness of the sky could be blamed, and she leaned as close as she was able to

see the changed view beneath her. Wren, if it even was, laid blackened and murky – in the exact fashion to the ones who had slain so many of her counterparts. Too identical with those who transported them to the island. “What?” she said aloud to herself, utterly bewildered. Was it even Wren, she then wondered. Then, a voice of a presence that Gwyneth had forgotten, that thing was to speak. “The Caliginous Ones,” it said. “Dark in appearance, seemingly corrupt in their actions, and yet the purest of intentions,” it said. Gwyneth turns around in surprise, somehow able to forget that such an ominous sight remained behind her. “What will it be?” it then asked. She stared intensively at it before turning to look once more at the now murky body beside Fuchsia, a question she was to repeat to herself. Wren’s words, or whosevers it was, hardly made sense in the raw moment but it was clear there was more to this – far more than she initially believed. Gwyneth rose all the way up and released a deathlike gaze to the thing standing behind her. A decision to be made, an action to take. She walked back amongst that open green in what was a journey she never saw coming, heading back to that tree to rest with the unconscious Sophie. Heading back to see another sunrise. It was ridiculous, she knew, for she still didn’t know why she persists in this choice to live. But at least now there was something different within her, her shell not so empty anymore and that campfire no longer so damp. She knew there was more to this place, knew that they simply weren’t left to die. But not knowing the contents of Wren’s final words ensured she knew equally what to do next than before she heard them. Frustrating for certain, but a lease to live for nonetheless. As she walked and drew near to the slumbering Silas atop his structure, a dramatic light shinned and ed Gwyneth ferociously from the peak of the sky. She looks up to it and she was to find the most irable sights of them all; a shooting star breaking through that compost of clouds. Her eyes followed it, fixated like a bug, as it flew far into the distance and creating a mobile sphere of light upon the ground. A star, the brightest of them all and easily the lowest.

Gwyneth continued her walk back but could still see that orb of white despite it laying an insane distance away, even from here it was no less beautiful nor obvious – a symbol of light it seemed. A symbol of Gwyneth’s resurgence of hope as she contemplates what comes next.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The sun was up at full-mast and had been for some time with only an hour or so before it was due to lower, a sweaty Silas was doing what had done since the break of dawn and what would’ve surprised none. He chopped, melded, barraged and braced the structure to what was now of its peak capacity. It now stood so brazen against the elements that a populous suitable to a small village could comfortably rest within its grassy walls. He continued relentlessly in his work and cared not for the groaning aches of his body, blissfully shunning them away from conscious thought. To stop now would allow his brain to be besieged again by images and thoughts of the late Skarlet, a pain clearly far greater than the kind his muscles gave him. Gwyneth’s words from the night before had enabled him to cherish what he and Skarlet had, with an ever-lessening motion of shame, but the tremendous pain of losing her was still present and he had to keep his mind busy. Thus, the building of this structure now served two purposes. That sharp pain of a lost love within him was worse than the shame he had felt before, he didn’t know whether Gwyneth’s words before have helped or made a bad situation worse. The striking of the structure echoed up the nearby slope and across to where Sophie was sitting, motionless amongst the open green, she could see his heightened structure from here as she fiddled with a piece of white edible in what was her sole action for the day. Sitting there, consumed by negative notions as a calibre of envy towards Fuchsia steadily strengthened. She was finally to witness Gwyneth animate from beneath the tree after a day filled with endless slumber, strange Sophie thought, to think she could sleep so well. Gwyneth awoke to the echoed sounds of Silas and despite a slumber of numerous hours, she was quick to feel rough. Twitching muscles and clicking bones, no matter how long one slept, sleeping against a tree was never kind. The positioning of the sun was quick to tell her how advanced the day was and she embraced in the clearness of the sky, that sun uninterrupted. The ground, also improved, steady with a degree of dryness at last. Enlightened weather, suitable to her new state of mind. She stretched and closed her eyes, lifting her arms as

she gladly inhaled the drier air. A blissful moment, one to cherish in such times, but a subtle yet obvious cough from her left was soon to divert her embrace. Looking over to her left, Gwyneth saw the gloomy Sophie as she sat with no motive. That look on her face, even gloomier than the day before, and Gwyneth was to remind herself that she stood alone in this enlightened state of mind. No doubt her day-long slumber had been met with somewhat resentment from Sophie, likely out of jealousy or envy for the weightless sleep, and Silas would’ve likely thought the same way had he broke away from his structure. With a more courteous demeaner, twinned with an equal degree of caution, Gwyneth approached Sophie and went to go and sit opposite her. Grabbing an edible along the way, she was no stranger to the dark thoughts that inhabited Sophie’s mind and wanted to try and relieve it if possible. However, her very first words were to prove just how difficult a notion would be. “Good afternoon,” Gwyneth innocently said, not entirely aware of Sophie’s state but was soon to be. “Is it?” Sophie sarcastically replied, visibly frustrated by the words. Gwyneth firmly sat opposite and sighed at the reaction, though not from irritation but sympathy. She could see it in her eyes, her demeaner hadn’t changed but evolved. Gone was the mindset of sheer and incomprehensible shock that had struck her so harshly, replacing it being that of stoic and depressive darkness – where emotional outbursts are commonplace. Gwyneth could see the war that raged within her, the very one that had done so with herself, and chose to say nothing as the best option was to allow the trumpet of depression to sound in its own time. A couple of minutes would where Gwyneth and Sophie would sit opposite in silence where nothing but the gentle wind separated them, but soon enough she was to speak and it was as one could relate and expect. “I think about her more and more, now, she’s all that fills my mind,” said Sophie, no name given nor needed as she too filled Gwyneth’s thoughts only the night before. Sophie was reluctant to say what plagued and found the first sentence just slipping out, an instinctive compulsion to release the lava from this volcano no doubt. She wanted to stop but found that once those wheels started turning, the descent couldn’t be stopped. Sophie could feel her blood boil and that sweat

began to show, the very one that had been steadily building all day as her thoughts battered her whole. Her jaw was clenched, desperately trying to prevent further words, but how futile that proved to be. “Her face … her corpse,” she spoke as those eyes saturated. “She was the strongest among us, if she couldn’t do it what chance do any of us have?” Literal pulses of veins began to show as that faint wall of her sanity endured its last against an unrelenting army, Gwyneth could see the state she was getting into and was about to reach her arm out to comfort her only to find herself retracting as Sophie suddenly animated. She arose sharply, grunting like a rabid dog in the process. “Hey, Gwyneth, what chance do we have? I might as well go over there now and her!” she then wailed. “Sophie, stop!” Gwyneth pleaded as she rose herself and was quick to block the path of a steaming Sophie, heading for a fate that should await no one. The two struggled greatly as Sophie refused to yield and persisted in her attempted ing of Gwyneth, trying to shove her to the side or simply knocking her over, but Gwyneth was to prove stubborn and refused to cease in her blockade. Sophie continued in her grunts, harshly pushing against Gwyneth, though in time she was to run out of steam and that demonstrative anger turned into tears. Hearing her tone change led Gwyneth to no longer push away but instead pull her in, Sophie resisted with great reluctance but soon found the longing emotion too strong to resist. She no longer thought and allowed Gwyneth to pull her in, Gwyneth hushing her as Sophie wrapped her arms around tightly. “There’s nothing here for us!” She desperately wept, as if begging Gwyneth to let her . A shattered soul, Gwyneth knew, one who was as broke as she was only hours ago. Able to feel nothing but pure sympathy, Sophie’s anguish was infectious and Gwyneth herself grew teary. Sophie possessed no hope, no reason nor incentive to continue, but she had not been dealt an experience as Gwyneth had the most recent night. If only she could tell her, she thought, but Sophie wouldn’t understand. How could she if she wasn’t there? She couldn’t give her the experience she had but she could give her something else; but this would be

nothing more than an extending hand as she dangled over the edge. Whether she would take it or not, was up to her. “There’s more to this place than you or I know, we wouldn’t be alive otherwise,” Gwyneth emotionally stressed into Sophie’s ear, she looks up to the teary Gwyneth. “How could you possibly know?” she asked. This was it, the simple branching out, if this doesn’t work then she can’t see how anything else could. A simple question for Gwyneth to ask and a far more indepth one for Sophie to answer, one that will require her to search deep for a motive. “Could you trust me?” Gwyneth asked, a simple question with the most complex of meaning. Sophie stared straight into Gwyneth’s gaze, observing a sincerity within it that was unrivalled by anything she had ever witnessed. Never had someone looked at her in this way, a way which asked of tremendous entrustment where nothing but pure belief in another’s intent was required. That question with a word utterly alien to her; trust. A funny word, one where so many have abused it, using it as if it means nothing. To Sophie there wasn’t a word with heavier meaning, a word where she had longed to embrace one day. A day to long for but also one to dread, dread for she could never foretell the situation in which her trust would be asked. She had longed for it to be asked by a loving mother in the safest of environments, in a new home with a bright future, but what awaits her now corresponds with the side of her in which the day was dreaded. The question was asked in the most uncertain of times by a soul she hardly knew, by a person who seemingly possesses more wisdom than her and thus all the power. To entrust anyone like this and in such a situation was the very sort she had feared most, but there was an element that was different to how she feared it. Those eyes, meaningful and transparent. The eyes tell it all, the environment around them is irrelevant she now knew. One could be in the warmest of houses with the kindest of families, but if those eyes weren’t sincere then it would all be a lie and that trust would be ruined. She found herself in the harshest of environments, in the hardest time of her life, but those eyes were sincere and with it – the answer was to be said.

“Yes,” Sophie said gently, not allowing her gaze to break from Gwyneth’s. Gwyneth could see straight into her and knew the right force had won the fight. “Then trust me,” she said. And so, it was to be done, Sophie’s mind swept away the images of Fuchsia and replaced them with the sight of Gwyneth – entrusting her with this prolonged and uncertain fate. Whichever dark hall would await, Gwyneth would be her light. Convinced, Sophie broke from the gaze and tightened her grip around Gwyneth once more. Gwyneth kissed her head in what was a moment of triumph. She nurtured this mended soul, allowing her to hold on for as long as she needed, though an observance in the peripheral sight was to send her eyes wandering. Initially believed to be nothing more than a leaf in the wind catching her eye in a particular fashion, Gwyneth turned her head only casually but found her eyes widening as it was certainly not as first thought. A marching soul with blonde hair brazen enough to shine through the mud that engulfed her. “Lexy?” said Gwyneth as she gently breaks from Sophie and goes to approach. She couldn’t believe it; she had no idea that Lexy was still alive but she considered herself to be foolish over the concept – doubting such a strong adversary. It was only then that Sophie too noticed the figure, the sun quickly revealing the identity. Lexy approached with the sternest of faces and the most solid of stances – like a soldier marching for war. About four paces separated Gwyneth and Sophie now as Gwyneth had approached to meet the silent Lexy. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she notices that cold expression but Lexy responds with blankness. Sophie watched nervously, not liking the way Lexy approached and the look she expressed, whilst Gwyneth grew concerned with the unrelenting pace – if anything getting more aggressive as the gap thinned. That expression becoming only less and less inviting, Gwyneth instinctively found herself taking a couple of steps back and, in turn Sophie, who stood behind her, did the same. But such futile action wasn’t anywhere near enough and Gwyneth suddenly found her neck being sieged by the iron grip of Lexy’s hands, she was thrown violently to the ground where Lexy mounted and squeezed for all it was worth.

“No!” shouted Sophie, immediately going to aid Gwyneth but finding herself shunned by the sheer death-gaze of a bloodlust Lexy. She panicked as she watched Gwyneth raise grip her hands against the wrists of Lexy, trying her best to relieve pressure but with little success. Sophie looked to the slope in the short distance behind her; running for it desperately. She needed help and there was only one soul who could. Gwyneth was alone and could stare in no other direction than into the gaze of the murderous blonde, feeling every vein pulsating in her head. Her resistance did nothing more than slightly lighten an already deathly grip, with her best efforts only prolonging the inevitable. The deranged Lexy stared into her soul, unapologetic in her actions as she was to voice for the first time. “My life is all I have left now, Gwyneth, hell if you have as much as me. Hell, if anyone does!” she said with grinding teeth. Gwyneth could voice no words and only sounds of gurling as well as choking, the throat muscles pressing against one another in unnatural ways, but her eyes ensured no words were needed. A look that told of bewilderment and confusion at first, then evolving into that of sadistic understanding. Why was she to think this way, Gwyneth wondered, to think that she must possess more than anyone else? That self-entitled fury within her, sealed by the slaughtering of her counterparts by the shadowy ones, no longer a fate that awaits the survived, she believes. And so, she’s took it upon herself to slay those that remain. A dark mind she must have, and an even darker soul to carry out such action. A frantic Sophie ran to the tip of the slope, panicking and staggering along the way, and the unknowing Silas came into view. “Silas!” she screams as loud as she could, her throat tremoring in the moment, at once his head turned and saw the signalling Sophie – whose arms waved fanatically. “Please, she needs help!” she cried. He found it surprising to say the least as his mind wondered what sort of situation could birth such a desperate cry. But he wasn’t to dwell on it, seeing and hearing Sophie’s desperation led him quick into action. Instead of using the side steps of his now very tall structure, the apparent urgency of the situation led him to jumping all the way down and embedding his axe into the side for a

controlled landing – knowing the damage it would cause. In no more than a second, he was back on the ground and paused for a moment as he looked to the axe in his hand – freshly pulled from the structure’s side. “Would it be needed?” he asked himself, out of hope, he doubted it and went to embed it back into the wall until the voice of an ever more frantic Sophie begged him to hurry. His grip was then to tighten on it before strapping it to his side buckle, now certain of its need, and he headed straight for the slope. Gwyneth greatly resisted but was eventually to find her grip around Lexy’s wrists loosening as her vision started to go blurry, she couldn’t see herself but knew her face was starting to darken. Her eyes looking to Lexy one final time, hoping an ounce of humanity would prevail, but that look within her only got colder. As hopeless as she knew it to be, Gwyneth tried to voice but found an unnerving gurgle to replace any hopes of words. Lexy knew what she was doing and was quick to terminate it. “No use begging Gwyneth, words mean nothing anymore!” she said. How far she had fallen to think such a way, in the darkest times, words are all that have value and she couldn’t see that, then she was too far gone. Gwyneth knew this and knew no reasoning could be done, her eyelids beginning to cease in the final moments. That pressure was relentlessly upon her and then, in a split second, it was gone. Every last ounce of it, vanished, and her eyes returned to fruition. Silas, seeing the horrendous sight, ran over to the pair and lunged into Lexy – sending he and her rolling into the short distance. Blessed with a second wind, Gwyneth chocked and heaved heavily as she was helped to her side by Sophie. “That’s it breathe,” she said as she moved Gwyneth onto her lap, trying her best to get the airflow going, she glances over to Silas and worryingly sees how he and Lexy are up and facing one another – knowing nothing good could come of it. The two bastions of physiques stood menacingly opposite from the other. Silas’s face made his intentions clear; that all she had to do was turn away. But hers told of a different calibre, one Silas was to harshly learn as Gwyneth had, there was to be no other survivors than her. Without warning nor hesitation, Lexy lunged for Silas and struck him in the

right-side of his jaw. He was taken back and pressed against his jaw in surprise but then he was to the family from which she hailed. Silas was to return a blow and struck her head on, but like lighting a second strike was to seed in his side. The gloves were off and they engaged in one-for-one punches, hitting the other in all corners of the upper body, which soon evolved into all kinds of shoddy descents. All techniques were gone as the two’s encounter had evolved into kicks, knees, headbutts and bites. No inch of the bodies was exempt as legs, feet and Silas’s sensitive parts were bombarded. To both of them it felt as if a great length of time had ed when only mere minutes had, both bleeding from the eyebrows and mouth as the fighting ensued. Big in size Silas was but Lexy was clearly a more accustomed fighter, being raised by her family traditions, and had used Silas’s weight against him numerous times. The latest, he charged for her and was sent on his knees after she struck his shin and kneed his chest before kicking him to a distance. Too big to save himself. It was then, as the two stood apart once more, that Lexy was to notice an object on the ground – one that would change the nature of the encounter. It stood far closer to her than he and Silas was filled with dread as he rose to his feet, realising something of his was missing. That axe. It must’ve gotten loose when the fight broke out, he thought, likely when he lunged into her to save Gwyneth. “Don’t,” he would say shakingly as he spat blood from his mouth. “Don’t do it.” But as he should’ve known, any call along the lines of mercy were to fall death on her ears, believing words to be worthless. She rushed for it and picked it from the ground before Silas even had chance to close three paces between them, she ran for him once more and this time swung the weapon in a reflection of her deranged mind. She grunted greatly with sheer hatred in her eyes as her gripped arm swung in all directions. Right, then left, over and left again as Silas desperately avoided the harrowing fate. He had dodged them so far, with only inches in it, but it was his feet that were to fail him. He grew tangled and tripped upon himself as he fell to the ground, missing an unforeseen strike by the narrowest of margins. In tremendous pain and distress, the battered Silas pleaded for a different fate. “Stop, don’t do this!” he pleads, but falling on deaf ears as ever. The ominous raising of the axe acting as symbolism to his heart, pacing faster than ever and

then stopping as the blade lowers. He tenses for the worst and closes his eyes, bracing for the end, but finding his eyes to shockingly open as an unexpected sound arose. Before he had any time to accept the end, his eyes were to open to no one standing ahead of him. A heated animation to his left led him to turn accordingly and the sight was to behold, telling him it was not yet over. “Stop! Please!” begged an utterly distraught Sophie from a short and safe distance as Gwyneth and Lexy struggled on the ground. The aggressive grunts of the two girls being all that responded to Sophie’s plea for peace. Gwyneth was beneath Lexy with her arms and legs wrapped around her from behind, the arms trying their best to subdue her. Choking Lexy out was the only option in Gwyneth’s mind as she desperately tried. Just stop, Gwyneth said to herself in words meant for Lexy, not saying them out of pointlessness. It didn’t matter what Lexy had done it wasn’t too late for her to stop, a mindset that was clearly reflected in the eyes of all but one. Lexy wasn’t to yield, not now, not ever. Gwyneth knew her size and weight put her at a great disadvantage, physically dwarfed by the genetics of a Lujan adherent, and tried her absolute best to keep her body locked against the ground but she was soon to find how useless it was. With her hands free from a departed axe, Lexy gripped tightly around Gwyneth’s latched arms and steadily rose to her feet, she shoved Gwyneth off from her back as if she was nothing more than a bug and struck her in the face so heavily that the heels of her feet faced the sky before landing. An overwhelming ringing sensation took hold of Gwyneth after that, as if she had been exposed to a seismic explosion, her vision grew useless too as nothing but blurs consumed her gaze. She was defenceless as she tried to regain her senses, but that familiar iron grip was to return to her neck before she even had a chance. Sensorially apprehended, there was no resistance this time around as Lexy squeezed the life from her – Gwyneth’s hands not able to so much as grip her adversary’s wrists. She could see the outline of Lexy, faceless but the expression could be guessed. That of hate. That of anger. Gwyneth believed this to be the last sight she’d know, until Lexy’s outline suddenly left her clouded view and with it so did the tightness. Gwyneth coughed, choked, heaved and wheezed as the life came back to her. Her vision returning and with it the rest of her senses, blessed she knew she was

but by what means? What had happened? As she began to feel sensations again, she was to notice water scattered across her face in droplets. She wiped them and looked to the sky, believing it to be raining, she was surprised to see it clearer than ever. It was only as her eyes fully adjusted that she could see the liquid’s colouring, not of water at all. Red, the distinct shade that told her it could only be one thing. She looked to her side and saw a kneeling Silas, distraught and breathing heavily, beside Lexy – who bathed in the same colour. She was immediate in realising what had happened. That face he possessed, one that would send nightmares into the sternest of minds, a look that told of the highest disbelief. Never would he thought of such an action, not even as Lexy tried to enact the same onto him, but he could see there was no other way and it tore him to shreds. Sophie emerged from behind Gwyneth, crouching down and pulling her up onto her knees. “It’s all right Gwyneth … it’s over,” she said gently as she patted her back. Soothing it was to have the comforting Sophie by her side, though she wasn’t to show it in any outward display as her eyes remained fixed on Silas. Mustering what little strength she had, the battered Gwyneth eventually broke from Sophie’s caring arms and dragged herself across to Silas. As she approached it was as if she could feel the tension emitting from him, building up and ready to explode, she wrapped her arms around him and awaited the inevitable. Those tears dropped first, singularly and down an expressionless face, as a precursor to the full force. Soon after he was shriek, scream, weave and wince using parts of his vocals never before used. The anguish was pure, unrivalled and irrefutable. Unlike anything either girls had heard. For his entire outward display of pain, his eyes never left the lifeless Lexy – refusing to look away from the consequences of his actions. The screams, wailing far and wide, were infectious to all within its scope as Gwyneth and Sophie released tears in that most heartfelt of moments. Silas shrieked as his soul oozed innocence, just as Lexy’s head oozed life, and two would die in that moment. The body before him and something within, something pure. He didn’t know which was more painful. Those wails would be carried far in the light winds and continued far beyond the ears as the sun retreated, marching on forever. The sound of descending water

being all that consumed them now as the two girls stood before that most fateful of places. A sobbing Sophie and bruised Gwyneth stood shoulder-to-shoulder before the waterfall, minds raw with a terrifying ordeal, Gwyneth gently rubbed her neck with its tenderness apparent whilst looking at Fuchsia below. With that traumatic experience still ever present in her mind, leaving barely any room for anything else, she was able to find enough space within to reassess the initially interpreted fate of the talented counterpart. She ed the first words of Lexy – “Hell if you have as much as me. Hell, if anyone does” – and didn’t consider herself foolish to entertain a notion that Fuchsia fled the edge by potentially different means as initially believed. “What if I, Sophie and Silas weren’t the first she met here? Could she have ran into Fuchsia first, or even others that we aren’t aware of?” she spoke to herself. She looked to Sophie on her right, sobbing greatly. “Would her knowing that Fuchsia could’ve been killed instead of suicide improve her mindset, knowing that the ‘strongest among us’ didn’t lose hope, or was it better not to voice an unproveable theory and have her maintain her newfound belief in me?” Gwyneth wondered. It didn’t take long to decide that the latter was indeed the better option and so Gwyneth looked away, not saying anything. The pair stood there in silence as they had done for some moments and parted once the anticipated sound of Silas’s feet grew closer from behind. Neither could look and maintained stern gazes upon the waterfall’s surface as Silas stood between them, cradling a corpse in his arms. She was covered headto-toe in a thin green sheet comprised of refined grass, made only by the sole craftsman, a kindness she frankly didn’t deserve. There was no lingering nor ing words before the body was abruptly tossed below, the sound of thudding transporting upwards as she landed potentially symbolically at Fuchsia’s side. “Oel Solipt doesn’t await you, Lexy, and it’s your own fault!” said Silas sternly, filled with conflicting emotions of regret and anger. Such words led both girls’ eyes from the two corpses below and towards Silas, surprised by his words, though for different reasons. Sophie was surprised to learn that the name of a strange place, one she had never heard before, had been attributed to Lexy. It was an unpleasant feeling as Silas’s simple words were enough to indicate to Sophie that Lexy too was from one of these cult families – making her feel even

more different than she already did. Gwyneth was surprised by his words as he revealed his knowledge concerning the Lujan family to be superior to hers, knowing of this place but not its name. “And what’s that?” asked an eager Sophie somewhat predictably, determined to know of these families. In a similar scenario to before, Gwyneth refused to answer and maintained the belief that explaining such traditions was pointless. But Silas wasn’t to think such a way, a notion Gwyneth was to find out. “A city on the surface of the sun, filled with fearsome warriors and generals ready to fight for Sire Inferno. Many will be warriors, others generals, and a rare few women will be what they refer to as ‘Mothers’. To bear the purest children, demi deities essentially, who will be the fiercest in battle,” he explained. “But, to fight who?” Gwyneth suddenly asked, learning nearly as much as Sophie. “Any who aren’t them,” he simply said looking down to Lexy’s corpse, knowing that such a fate was inevitable for all who thought that way. His knowledge on the Lujan family proved extensive, helping Gwyneth understand more about the hostile mindset of Lexy. “It must’ve been hard for her to adapt,” Silas continued. “After all, her family’s impression of the bonding was to fight to the death in some sort of flamed arena.” “Bonding?” asked Sophie, unfamiliar with the term. “Yes, bonding. It’s how we believed we’d enter the Succession,” Silas answers. Sophie was to fall silent as her mind connected dots, quickly culminating to an inward expression of shock and revelation. ing Hilder’s words from the beginning, Sophie was to ask a particular question before her mind could be certain. “On our arrival, Hilder spoke of those in the bonding rekindling with something. Something ‘you once had’?” she asked with a braced demeaner. “Yes, our deities,” Silas innocently said.

After Silas’s words of his, Gwyneth’s and Lexy’s families having traditions in the bonding and coupled with Hilder’s later words – “To others, this will be a bonding to rekindle with what you once had but do not think this will be any easier!” – she was left with a reality that could not be mistaken. A reality where all around her knew of this concept in advance whereas she didn’t, a defeating realisation that spawned a strong essence of doubt and triggered a negative display. Her frustration was apparent as she suddenly turned around and walked a few paces away, grunting somewhat in the process. “Sophie, what’s the matter?” asked a concerned Gwyneth as she soon turned around. “So, you both knew of this in advance … Lexy too?” Sophie asked. Gwyneth’s head momentarily lowered as she could sense the pain Sophie was feeling; a tremendous sense of disadvantage. “Only of the concept,” Silas intervened. “We had no idea it was going to be this.” Sophie put her head in her hands and shook gently as that familiar feeling of doubt made a justly return, a feeling which was soon to voice. “You know … I dared, for the slightest moment, to believe I was special. To be alive after all this. But now, I feel like nothing more than a duded seed beside flourishing flowers. You have mindsets and beliefs that have shaped you for this. You may’ve not known of this precise outcome, but you must’ve been catered for it nonetheless. You have traditions, ways of life in accordance for what comes next. The Succession. I have none of that … so what right do I have to be here?” said Sophie before she started to tear up. “I don’t deserve to be alive; I’ve taken a space from someone more worthy! Someone like you guys!” Her sudden deterioration of wellbeing quickly descended even further as those steady tears evolved into full watershed, Gwyneth rushed for her and ran ahead. Blocking her path, Gwyneth was to speak a ionate truth. “You are special and you deserve to be here!” she said in near tears herself. “You’re standing here when so many others aren’t, where others of my kind lay with their throats cut. But you have not stolen anything, taken anyone’s place, you are here because you … are … special. I will not have you demonise yourself like this, belittle and deface your own achievement!”

Sophie was to stare Gwyneth dead in the eye as an instinctive response came to fruition, where she entertained her idea but still found a dim reality. “Even if I am special, say we all are, what has it gotten us? What has it left us with? Nothing, Gwyneth, we have nothing!” she shouted as she tries to barge ed Gwyneth only to have her action resiliently denied. “We have each other!” Gwyneth shouted as she gripped Sophie’s shoulders. “The three of us, we are all in this together, and there is far more to this place than we know. There’s something for us to do, we just need to find it. But we don’t have nothing!” Gwyneth looked across to Silas, seeing him nod in agreement though along with an element of clear confusion. He agreed with her unreservedly in the notion of togetherness but found her talk of this place holding a deeper meaning baffled him. There it was again, Sophie thought to herself, the hint of Gwyneth’s insight into a hidden revelation of this place and still no proof to back it. She found her trust in Gwyneth to be obsolete in the moment, dwarfed by heightened emotions, and she was having none of it. Gwyneth had suspected that Sophie’s newfound trust in her was already wavering, a hunch which was soon confirmed as Sophie attempted to barge ed her for a second time. Gwyneth’s hands were already firm against Sophie’s shoulders and they were only to tightened as the emotional girl tried to move away. “Don’t you trust me?” said Gwyneth rather aggressively, frustrated by what she knew and couldn’t say. “Get off,” Sophie said resisting. “Hey! Hey!” said Silas as he rushed over to separate the altercation, an action which wasn’t easy as tempers were rife. But eventually he managed to wedge himself between them and Sophie was soon to shout in a manner she had never done before. “Trust you? With what?” The lot of them grow inanimate after the most weighted of questions, both

Sophie and Silas looking at Gwyneth awaiting any response that could be mustered. It was clear to Silas in the moment that the two girls had clearly spoken when he was not in attendance and had formed somewhat of a bond, sealed with a thin line of trust in something Gwyneth had said. Something she knew that Sophie didn’t and he was equally curious as Sophie to find out what that was. The stares bestowed upon her by the two instilled a notion of nervousness even greater than that of the Grievers and all those that accompanied them, truly consuming as she knew a credible answer had to be given. That trust in Sophie had wavered and was hardly paper thin and Silas stared with intrigue to see what answer she could deliver to suffice such a simple question. Something tangible had to be offered which was something she couldn’t do; the words of Wren and that hideous thing would hold no reverence to them. She could give them nothing and released no words, Sophie began walking past her and Silas followed in what appeared to be a defeated stroll back to the tree, where no tangible hope remained. Deflated, Gwyneth was to follow suit in a mindset that reflected the darkness of the sky above. But an emerging light from behind the lot of them led those heads to turn dramatically. Stunned by the abrupt light, each of them squinted to varying degrees as it ed over them. Her eyes following intensively, Gwyneth walked forward a number of paces whilst the others remained still with fixation – never seeing it until now. Standing ahead of them, Gwyneth’s mind raced as her eyes watched that star calve through the night sky like a dagger through the thinnest sheet. It’s sphere of influence being seen far into distance, no less visible as it soon stood miles away. That was the second time she had seen it so clearly and in only as many nights, the way it intensely darted across the landscape in such a precise direction was too specific to be a coincidence. Her eyes weren’t to move as this time she saw it stop, last time she only gazed long enough to believe it was still moving though at a distance too far to be rendered obvious. But now, as she focussed intensively and armed with the remembrance of a certain conversation, she was to see it had stopped above somewhere – somewhere far. Then it clicked; a light suddenly shinning within her mind on par with the star’s intensity, and the first tear of happiness since that fateful dance was to fall. Irrational and overly desperate those unexposed to this would think, clutching onto something that’s simply too loose to be certain, but she believed within she was right. More right about this

than anything. “Continue in this darkness until the light is seen, for its only when in darkness that the light can be known. Follow it, till the end.” The words echoed in her head, said so loud she may as well be beside her. She could hear them behind her, Sophie and Silas starting to walk again, and she knew this was it. Before they got chance to , she turned and halted them in their tracks. “Are you all right?” asked Silas concerningly, quick to notice her eyes and expression, she wasn’t to reply and instead pulled them both in close – taking a particular focus on Sophie. “I can’t tell you … but I can show you,” she said with the highest sincerity, focussing on Sophie though including Silas, Sophie stares and is taken away by the sudden intensity in Gwyneth’s eyes. She found it captivating and was drawn in, she didn’t know what had happened to Gwyneth so suddenly but knew those eyes possessed the ion to draw the most faithless in. “Do you trust me?” Gwyneth asked, a catalyst to the most vital of answers. “Yes,” she said with more certainty than ever. “Then … follow me,” Gwyneth whispers. Her eyes glance to the pair of them before she turns and heads away, Sophie and Silas look to each other and are taken by Gwyneth’s demeaner. Without an ounce of hesitation, they follow her in pursuit. The ion in those eyes and the sincerity in her voice, strong enough to convince a thousand to follow if they were present.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Like sheep to a Shepard they followed that brazen light, soon ing the only familiarities they knew of this open green. The waterfall, the tree, Silas’s dear structure, all ed with the knowledge that they would never be known again. Silas bidding a final glance behind as they ed, leaving his structure to the elements, before looking to the axe he had taken from it – hopefully never needed. Dumbed and drowsy, Gwyneth followed that light and the others closely behind far into the night. Covering vast terrain and never ceasing until the night did just that, that star no longer being seen. It was only with the rising sun they slept, uncaring for where they were, and would remain in such a way until the night returned. They acted this way, like nocturnal creatures, for many days as they continued in their pursuit – that star appearing ever clearer with each ing night. But such a journey was to prove long and tiresome as only so much progress could be made in this hazardous terrain; battered with reoccurring winds and rain. Those night walks were horrendous for much of the time as the winds pushed against them along with the rains above and many puddles below. The visibility was on par with the conditions, poor and pitiful, relying on the scarce breaks of lunar rays from those dark clouds. Some nights being so bad that they hardly made any distance, culminating in an even longer journey to come. The days were hardly more glamorous, with rarely any form of shelter in sight, they were often left to sleep out in the open. Fully exposed to those harsh winds, it wouldn’t be uncommon for them to abandon sleep and huddle together whilst burrowing their heads inwards as they try and dome themselves from the elements. Winds like this were bad, but winds along with rain in such scenarios were even worse. Utterly defenceless, they knew how lucky they had been to possess such a tree before this pursuit – more precious to them than the finest gems. It would be in those moments, huddled and braced against the storms, that those insurgent doubts would rear their unwanted heads. This was to be especially said

for Silas and Sophie for they were the ones who followed in this voyage, not leading it with special insight. “How much longer are we to endure this torture?” Silas would ask himself. “To pursue something we have no idea beholds, if anything at all?” Of the three of them, Silas was the one to hold the least enticement for this journey, given no special reveal nor any prior conversation, he went out on this on a whim. His doubt was perhaps the strongest of them all as a result and contemplated a number of times to retreat back to the structure and the tree. But such moments were to birth a simple question, the same one every time, and as long as he couldn’t answer it, he would remain on this desperate voyage. “Go back to what?” For Sophie, though the doubts weren’t so numerous, they were more severe. Severe for her first bestowing of trust relied on this journey, relied on its outcome. The idea that such a hardship could bear nothing come the end of this was a sickening thought to say the least and would certainly render her placing of trust to be the last of its kind. Yes, she had entrusted Gwyneth to lead but, at the same time, Sophie had also placed trust in a hopeful outcome. Foolish, she knew, for any disappointment would be mostly of her own doing but when one is as desperate as she, such things cannot be avoided. But her hope for a fruitful outcome was not solely from her own mind but had attached itself to Gwyneth and her optimism, her certainty that the star would lead to something great. However, as with the hope, her doubts were not solely from her own as she would look at Gwyneth and see into those eyes of hers; seeing how they would change every now and then. At times, nowhere near as certain. Though she was leading this and possessed a special insight, she was still human and couldn’t avoid the mindful traits that come with it. Most notably, in this scenario, the doubt. She was not immune it and to expect herself to be, or have that expectation from others, was unrealistic. Gwyneth was certain in her actions and tried her best to maintain such a thinking, but tiredness and over-exposure to the harsh elements can take its toll on even the most controlled of mentalities – especially after a prolonged period of time. But such moments of doubt and disbelief never sured the arrival of that star, burrowing back deep within her, and that fierce optimism was to make abrupt returns. It was because of this that the night would serve them the greatest frames of minds, restored hope in the cause, but those dragging days were always to follow and thus opposite mindsets were inevitable. The fact there were negative emotions meant nothing for it was

only natural, what really mattered was which state of mind would prevail. It was true many of those days were harsh and painful, both to the mind and body, but not all of them. A sporadic handful would bear blessing weather and grant them enough time to slumber peacefully, but such rarities could sometimes prove too cherishing to simply sleep and have it away. Tired each of them would be on such an occasion, where their eyelids could not fully part, but they would remain open nonetheless as their heads tilted up towards the sky. Cloudless and blue, not a word would be said in such bliss as they laid against each other’s backs. Fully embracing such moments; knowing hardship was to continue. As had been the case since their arrival on the island, keeping track of days proved difficult with none knowing how long they had endured in pursuit of this star. They only had the cycles of the sun and moon to rely on but even then, they couldn’t keep count – hardly helped by the severe lack of sleep. One would guess a week and another would claim two, but either were equally possible. Gwyneth was as uncertain as the rest of them, though was able to assume it had been significant for her bruised neck had almost completely healed by the time the newest night came and likely the last in pursuit. That star, almost directly above them. Dirty, hungry and tired, they eagerly approached the much-anticipated view. Running across a vast and open field under a crystal-clear sky, the star was stationary above a section of soil beyond their view – sight being prohibited by what had to be the steepest slope in the entire landscape. Easily dwarfing all around it, with an intimidating height in the region of fifty metres. Silas nor Sophie could believe it; the trust in following Gwyneth had paid off. This hadn’t been a wasted journey and it seemed there really was something worthy beyond this slope, if only they could it. They could see it from a mile off and knew the dreaded moment would come where that ominous thing would have to be scaled, if at all possible. Silas had foolishly hoped that the angle and shape of the slope was either exacerbated or at best ill-perceived as they approached from a distance, only to have such hopes being dashed away as that thing’s true horror came into view. That star was so close and all were excited, especially Gwyneth who this all weighed upon, but that ever-closing slope was too big an obstacle to have its trouble outshined by the glistening star just beyond. Before they had even reached its towering bottom; Sophie had voiced concern and tallied a motion to go a different route.

“We could go around?” she suggests, as bleak as her words were, both Silas and Gwyneth knew what she was referring to. Looking over to their left, an alternative path came into view but was one that diverted massively down a neighbouring landscape – a journey that could easily add an extra day or two to this ordeal. That’s potentially two more days out in this damp weather, with dirty clothes, eating edibles from the floor and drinking water from puddles. It was an easy and resounding “No”, made even easier by Sophie herself in agreement – not wanting to divert to begin with, just voicing the option. Utterly breathless, they reach the rear of this slope and look up to its top in a defeated manner. “How are we going to get up there!” Silas exclaims after attempting to climb it. “I haven’t … got a clue,” said Gwyneth as she then tried to do the same. She then quickly tried again and makes it even less far than last time, barely scaling three feet, before slipping and landing on her back. Silas aids her up. “Dammit! We’re so close!” she shouted. Gwyneth quickly enacts further attempts in scaling it, making no further progress, whilst Silas looks up to the star just beyond the slope’s peak. “What do you think is over there?” Silas asked aloud, not directed at anyone in particular. “Hell knows, hell if it matters if we can’t this blasted slab of crap!” answered a very frustrated Gwyneth as she clawed away like a cat. “Guys, it’s no use, we’re going to have to go around,” said Sophie, clearly seeing they weren’t getting anywhere. “But it’s right there!” Gwyneth objects. “I know and believe me, I want to get there as much as you but this isn’t working!” Sophie quickly responds. After a couple more fruitless attempts at climbing, Gwyneth reluctantly its defeat and turns away from the slope in agreement with Sophie’s words. Sophie was equally disheartened and frustrated, but happy that such a horrendous journey had actually birthed a reward, despite not actually knowing what laid beyond the slope. Just knowing it was there was reward enough for now and the

three turned away with the intention of heading to the alternative path, but were soon to find themselves halting before the first step could even be taken. The halting came from something, or more like someone; blocking their path. A figure that meant nothing to all but one of them, a figure that instilled the greatest dread to the poor soul that knew it. Gwyneth felt sick to her stomach and uncontrollably gasped upon laying eyes on him; that most ominous and ugly of creatures who she had ran into twice before. “What the … who’s that?” asked Silas, completely bewildered and taken by the sickening sight. “Hell knows,” whispers Sophie as she instinctively takes a couple of paces backwards out of caution. Gwyneth, standing just behind the others, shook as she saw him and knew only damaging words would emanate. “Don’t talk to him,” she said, hoping that ugly thing wouldn’t speak in return. Silas and Sophie looked to Gwyneth behind them, realising she was somewhat familiar with this thing to a certain extent, but that thing was to speak before they could question and Gwyneth’s hope for its silence was quickly thrown away. “Still alive … still hopeful, even now as you stand just beyond the false sanctuary,” that thing was to say in a voice one could never grow accustomed to, a voice that rained havoc on the unexposed ears of the others. Neither Silas or Sophie could believe it as the voice was equally hideous as the person it came from. Shocked by the sight and sound, it would be a couple of moments before an utterly bewildered Sophie grasped the words by which it voiced and soon questioned with a self-doubting mind. “False Sanctuary?” asked Sophie, fixed on the view before her. “Don’t listen, Sophie, his words are poisonous. Every word is deceit!” Gwyneth quickly protests. “Oh, but Gwyneth, all I do is try to help. To end your pain. It can still be done,” it responded.

Again, Sophie and Silas look back to Gwyneth and this time display looks of concern as to what he’s referencing. “What does it mean?” questions Silas. “Nothing, ignore him, he wants us to end our lives. He wanted me to jump into the waterfall, but my Preceptor saved me!” Gwyneth replied. The thing laughs in a condescending way before responding. “What was perceived as your Preceptor did no such thing, it only wants you to prolong your own suffering – following any strand of hope blindly!” “But … the star,” Sophie pressed tearfully, growing doubtful as the foul thing intended. “It will show us a way through this.” “Will it? And how will it do such a thing? What could it possibly lead you to?” it relentlessly teased. “Step aside you foul liar!” Gwyneth shouted ionately as she stepped closer. “You will not poison us anymore!” “Oh, Gwyneth, as long as you are here … I’m not going anywhere,” it said. Silas struggled to comprehend the situation as it unfolded around him; wedged between Gwyneth behind him and this thing in front. “What the hell was it?” he asked himself, it was so hideous and unnatural to the eye. One of the only things he was certain of in the moment was that this thing and Gwyneth must’ve had a prior encounter, undoubtably at the waterfall. It must’ve also been there that she saw what she claims was her Preceptor, he thought to himself, though how the hell she got there was anyone’s guess. Confusing, to say the very least. Silas had suspected Gwyneth harboured a degree of wisdom that he and Sophie didn’t and it seems clear to him now that the incentive to pursue the star came from her Preceptor, but why? It was now apparent to Silas why Gwyneth didn’t explain; doubting she even fully understood herself, meaning she didn’t stand a chance in relaying such knowledge to the others. But him understanding what happened that fateful night was not of importance, he knew, and what was instead was tangible proof that

this journey was not a waste. He looked up to that star, hovering above something just beyond view, and he looked to the slope that stood in their way. He was convinced in that moment that something worthy laid beyond and that this thing blocking their path was deserving of Gwyneth’s hostility. It seemed it longed for our downfall, by killing ourselves, whilst masquerading behind the idea that such a heinous act was in their interests. That thing clearly didn’t want them to reach this star but why, he wondered. He then ed of how Peacock warned of dark presences beyond a certain point of the island, how deceiving such things can be, and if they were on the island still then it was possible; they could be in that part that was warned of. His mind was made up as he looked to his axe, latched against his side, and grabbed it tightly. Gwyneth saw his action in her peripheral view and was quick to assume his intentions, she was doubtful that this entity before them could be slain and trying to do so may trigger a lethal response. But she was soon to be proven wrong as Silas opened his mouth. “Then you stay here … we will go up,” he said as he turns around and heads for the slope. The figure said nothing in response and Gwyneth and Sophie watch with intrigue as he approaches that slope. Both of them wondered what he was to do but were not left guessing for long as one swift action made it obvious, making them feel foolish for not considering it before. He strikes the slope with his axe and it is firmly placed, he tests it to be sure by tilting it up and down, it’s solid and secure. A wholesome relief as a second fatal clash of wits could be avoided, he had no desire to take another life. A wise move, especially when not knowing if such a thing could be killed in the first place. It was humanoid in shape, but clearly resembled elements far beyond the realm of humanity. “Come on,” he said. Gwyneth and Sophie approach the slope but are uncertain as to what Silas’s plan was, there was only one axe and three of them. He walks up to Gwyneth, turning his back to her before squatting slightly. “Go on then, jump on,” he tells her, she does so without hesitation and he heads for Sophie. “Wrap your arms around my neck, then your legs around the pelvis, as tightly as

you can all right?” he instructs Sophie, she was uncertain and it took a couple of attempts to successfully latch on but eventually it was done. The three of them faced that hideous thing and gave it a defying glare before Silas made his first lunge up the slope, the figure remaining fixed in place. It didn’t so much as move an inch, nor mutter a single word. Silas had initially thought that such a defying action against this thing would create some degree of response but there was nothing, it did nothing. Frozen in defeat? It was possible. Barely three metres up and Silas’s foundation was unsteady, shaking and breathing uncontrollably. With the entire weight relying on this one axe, getting one person up the slope like this was hard enough but three proved ridiculous. As he quickly pulled the axe from the slope and hoisted it up as far as he could, he was soon to doubt his capability. This was a tremendous task of strength, even by his family’s standards, and his muscles began to shake with the stress. Gwyneth was trying her best to lighten herself but his shaking made it difficult and Sophie tried her best to assist him in the ascent, by extending a loose arm upwards and digging it into the soil to aid in the hoisting of weight, holding onto whatever dirt she could and using it as leverage. But it could only help so much. He felt as if he had to cease in his movements for a moment, resting against the axe as the weight of Sophie and Gwyneth was dragging him down. Hardly a rest. “I’m sorry girls, I don’t think I can do this!” Silas exclaims in defeat, they expected such an announcement and ired his effort. Gwyneth patted his shoulder in appreciation and told him it was all right, he was to lower himself down the slope and poised his head downwards in preparation but found an ominous sight awaiting. He was to halt immediately from descending, tensing his muscles once more. “What’s wrong?” asked Sophie just before a terrible voice was to sound. “Come down … let me take you back. Take you to where this can be ended.” That thing said from the base of the slope, with his hands open and arms cradled as if awaiting to catch them. Gwyneth looked down and the demeaner she witnessed led her to severely tighten her grip around Silas’s shoulders. “We can’t go back down there,” she whispers to him – confirming the notion he already knew. Going back down was no longer an option. At once, he began to breathe aggressively as he hoisted the three of them up and

embedded the axe. With only marginal distance being made and his capability fading fast, a different approach was certainly needed. “Come on, we have to help him,” said Sophie as she continued to hoist her hand against the slope, assisting with leverage in the pull up. Gwyneth leaned around Silas’s head and attempted to do the same from her angle, the help achieved from it was slight but he would take all the help he could get. This wave of assistance, coupled with the sudden surge of desperation, ensured the ascent was well underway. The distance gained between each striking of the axe steadily increased and the top gradually grew larger. The journey up was far from glamorous to begin with and was even less so since the desperation of their situation was revealed; that awful thing awaiting their downfall below. Ready to take them back to the start. Sophie, facing Silas’s chest, had her back scraping harshly against the dirt as they scaled at pace and Gwyneth was holding on for dear life as the lunging upwards commenced. But both knew Silas had the foulest of it all. The effort required, leaving every inch of him in pain. Pain in areas never before experienced, areas never thought possible. And the dirt his nose and mouth ingested was irable, taking in chunks with every embedment of the axe. All were united in struggle and strength, all agreeing that this was a far favourable scenario than what awaited them should they fall. Amongst all that hardship, Gwyneth took a split second to instinctively gaze downwards. Seeing that horror looking up at her and the others, those arms ever ready to catch them. Even with all that was occurring around her, her mind still found time and energy to torture her with the contemplation of failure. What if they fell, she wondered, what would he do? If its last words were anything to go by, then one could guess he would forcibly take them back to the waterfall and maybe even force the lot of them from its edge. Such a thing can’t be known unless they fall, but a tremendous risk it would be should that happen. A risk they were united in preventing. “Come down to me Gwyneth, there’s nothing up there for you. For any of you,” it then voiced. “No, you’re wrong, there’s nothing down there!” Gwyneth sharply screams in defiance, not so much as turning her head from the group effort to answer. They were so close, the light from beyond the peak in view, no more than four

lunges would do it. But Silas was slowing and the distance gained between lunges were shrinking, with the most recent attempt being the most pitiful yet. “Almost there, Silas, keep going!” pleaded Sophie. “I’m … trying,” he exclaims. Silas then attempts another lunge and his fatigued arms make such hard work of it that he almost fails to embed the axe deep enough into the slope to sustain the weight load. He grunts desperately as he almost falls, grunting further afterwards from knowing that further attempts were too risky. He could do nothing other than desperately hold onto the axe and await his arms to rest, but that grip of his was loosening and time was clearly of the essence. Gwyneth’s mind thinks drastically and a reckless idea comes to mind as she looks up to the nearby peak. Without hesitation she climbs ed Silas’s shoulders and stands on them, gripping on tightly to the slope to stabilise herself. “Gwyneth, what are you doing?” Silas demanded to know, his body growing weaker even faster as the weight is disbalanced. She doesn’t answer and instead embraces in the riskiest part of her plan, she bends her knees and jumps from Silas. Using him to jump from proved almost fatal as he loses balance in one arm completely and is left to hold on for dear life solely on the one that barely remained. Sophie screams frantically as the jolting movement causes her grip to almost slip entirely. “Hold on!” Silas tells her. She does so with all the strength she could muster and Silas looks up to Gwyneth, quickly realising what she was attempting to do. Far from a comfortable grip, Gwyneth dangled from the tip of the slope with the light from beyond touching her fingers. It was a warming feeling but hardly one that could be embraced in the moment, she wasted no time and hoisted herself up onto the peak. She had made it, but hell if she would go without them. Without even looking behind to see the bright sight beyond, she extended her arm down as far as she could and Silas knew what was to be done. “Sophie! Climb onto my back!” he instructs her. The poor girl is crippled with fear and only tightens her grip around him, yelling in refusal. It was a scary ordeal on its own, but that near fall she had only

moments ago likely increased it further. “Come on, you can do it!” shouted Silas. “Sophie, now!” adds Gwyneth from above. She screams louder than ever before and tells her fear to stick it as she thoughtlessly moves around Silas’s front and onto his back, a terrifying motion on its own but made worse by what was to come. She looked up to Gwyneth, her arm reaching as far down as possible. “Come on!” she said. Teary and frantic, Sophie nervously rises to Silas’s shoulders and dares to bend those trembling knees. But her compose would need to be controlled, she knew, for one false move and it would spell the end for them both. “Calm down, calm down,” she whispers to herself as she controls her breathing, Silas hears her and quietly tells her she can do it. All went silent around her as she took that most fateful of breaths and jumped upwards towards Gwyneth’s grip. She caught her, as tightly as one could wish, and she was hoisted up to the edge. She was relieved and still teary, though like Gwyneth, she didn’t waste time and went to assist her friend. They both reached downwards and awaited the besieged Silas. “Come on, now you!” Gwyneth shouted. They would think that the absence of additional weight would’ve helped in the moment and made the final ascent easier, but his arms were fried and minimal lunges were all he could expect as he closed the gap between he and them. The strides being made went from pitiful to pathetic, barely gaining inches and hardly embedding the axe. Going any further this way was a request too big for his battered body to grant and thus he knew only one option remained as he stared up to the outreaching Gwyneth. Sophie reached out to do the same but it was clear to all that Gwyneth’s arms were longer and would certainly take the brunt of the force, with Sophie only able to assist after initial . Silas placed his life in their hands, specifically

Gwyneth’s, and feared her capability. He was so heavy compared to her, even with her positioned as best as possible, he seriously doubted her chances of sustaining him. It was after a shocking image of what was likely to happen in this current state, he grabbing her and them both falling, that a plan came to his mind. Certainly nothing concrete and as far from fool-proof as one could imagine, but it would render their chances stronger. “Sophie, go behind Gwyneth and hold her legs tightly. ing her weight!” he desperately shouted, knowing time was of the essence. “Yes, all right!” she quickly shouted in response before doing as requested. Though his last-ditch plan hadn’t been explained, both girls could see what his intentions were and it terrified Gwyneth. Instead of having Sophie by her side, quickly ready to assist, this would solely depend on her. With Sophie holding firmly onto the lower portion of Gwyneth’s legs, Gwyneth was able to lower part of her upper body so that Silas’s leap wasn’t so dramatic. “Ready?” he shouted. “Y … yes!” Gwyneth replied in as confident a voice as possible. He wastes little time in contemplating the foulest outcome, knowing he only had seconds worth of grip left, he parts from his axe and jumps as high as he could with an outreaching hand. It was as if time slowed in those most fateful of moments and what took less than a second felt a lifetime, but that grip was made and Gwyneth certainly knew of it. The sheer force was as feared and she immediately found herself being pulled downwards. “Sophie!” she cried as she implies for her to do something. Panicking in the moment, Sophie could do nothing other than act instinctively. Seeing no other option than to place her entire body onto Gwyneth’s calves, digging the knees in tightly. It caused her tremendous pain but did seem to be working, she was no longer descending and an element of control was present for the first time. As quickly and steadily as possible, Gwyneth began to pull him upwards and he helped by scaling the slope with his feet. But no amount of assistance could help her enough when in such a position, made evident by the swaying and shaking. “Come on … almost … there,” she said, said as if meant for a louder tone but the air in her lungs was just too thin. He did his absolute best to assist but knew

this primarily fell to her. The end drew near and Silas dared to don a smile of hope as his eyes began to see the protruding light from the peak. Sophie began to pull Gwyneth inwards, pulling her away from the edge and it all seemed the end was near. Even Sophie, the most cautious of them all, was to don a hopeful smile by this point. Gwyneth finally got Silas up and over the edge but it was far from a clean finish with half his body still hanging over, he squirmed to finish his way up and the fatigued Gwyneth tried her best to help. Seeing them both struggling, Sophie tried her best to assist but the moment was confused with swaying limbs everywhere. In all the commotion, a rogue elbow struck Sophie in the neck area causing her to stumble backwards and trip over a foot. She grabs onto whoever she can, Gwyneth’s arm, and ends up dragging her too. Gwyneth’s body too weak to so much as twitch, it was like dragging a ragged doll. An exhausted Silas was quick to see the issue and even quicker to see how it was to end, the two heading for the edge of the other side. “Watch out!” he implores as she lunges for them, too late as they both tip over the edge and sharply descend. His lunging, proving too clumsy and miscalculated, he went too far over and found himself also falling down the other side. Just like that, hardly a second clear from preventing a fall, they end up doing just that but down the other side. Frantic screams consumed them as they fell. Into a void so bright the ground couldn’t be seen.

Chapter Twenty-Six

She opened her eyes and a blurry sight was to await, not a single distinction in view. A disorientating motion and a strong one at that, strong enough to render her inanimate for the first few moments since awakening. Her vision like swaying waves at a coastline, intense as a storm to start with and eventually replaced by gentle flows before nothing. That view now upon her; a dark and decrepit square made of wood. Gwyneth cautiously rose with that delicate head, holding onto it from behind as she sat upright, and the view she had awoken to be acknowledged. She had been staring at a roof, the roof of what she now saw to be a tight and filthy room. Filled with nothing other than a bed, by which she laid upon, there was no clutter but a serious lack of hygiene with the thickest of dust in view despite poor lighting. The room was small and thin, the bed stretching horizontally from one wall to the other, with only a single door on the other side. It was squashed and of narrow capacity, fitting with the tightness of the room. It was small enough from the view of the bed, but appeared even smaller as she rose to her feet. Where the hell was she, she wondered, as her eyes scoped the room. Turning left to right, she found the room to be very box shaped and possessed no desire to stay. She heads for that door, the shape of a vertical rectangle, and went to reach for the handle. She extends her hand and latches onto it, only to pull it back in sharp retreat as a major change came to be known. Gwyneth gasped as she saw it and found herself evading her own body. It was in that moment, as arms and legs swayed the room in panic, that the extent of this change was seen – her hand looking no different to the rest of her. Her entire body covered in a white colouring, unnatural to her usual complexion. Not a single inch was exempt, a notion she came to know as she felt the parts of her beyond eyesight. Her back, face and scalp were dealt the same fate as the rest of her. White as snow. And her scalp was all she could feel, not a strand of her defining hair present. This ‘skin’ of hers felt strange, as she discovered upon touching it, silky and cool. She felt her facial features, such as the eyes and mouth, and found them to be entirely covered with this odd pale material. She

couldn’t actually feel her eyes, nor the opening of her mouth and ear lobes, yet they functioned just fine. Her ears able to hear and mouth able to breathe. How strange, she thought, but given what she had seen in recent times it was hardly the oddest thing nor the most ominous that required attention. No, that would fall to the room. She was to refocus her efforts on the scene she found herself in and looked to the door before her, in turn sparking questions of how this came to be. “What happened?” She sighed in her head as she rubbed her head trying to the immediate past. She ed that horrendous climb and the frantic fall afterwards, all culminating to landing in a bright light. Then it goes dark and she awakes here. Very odd. She then thought of Silas and Sophie, unable to even assume what their fates were, she needed answers and knew no such thing could be as long as she remained in this cramped space. Gwyneth approached the door for the second time and opened it cautiously, entirely unaware of the view beyond, she had squinted somewhat and braced for a sight but found no such caution was needed. A narrow and singular hallway, corresponding to the door, awaited her with a dimmed light at its end. The slightness of the light indicated the length of this hallway, to which it was significant. She was perplexed by it and corrected her earlier assumption of leaving the room for answers, now knowing she’d have to cross this as well. She wasted no time in doing so but immediately found the journey to be far less simple than initially believed, the narrowness of the hallway ensuring she couldn’t walk in an ordinary fashion but rather do so at an angle – one shoulder leading. It was dusty and the slightest scrape against either side of the wall released firm particles which led to casual coughing and sneezing. Gwyneth focused on that light and steadily found it appearing ever larger. The exit was soon so close that features beyond the cramped walls could be known for the first time, causing her to halt in her tracks. She grew hesitant as she swore, she could’ve seen a figure brushing across the light for a second, it did render her nervous as she feared what it could’ve been. That figure. Gwyneth shook her head, telling herself it was just her imagination, and went to advance but the shape of a figure ing the light yet again left her in no doubt. She wasn’t alone here, wherever here was. She was cautious about approaching any further and even contemplated

retreating, but it didn’t wrestle with her long given the only other place for her to go was the size of a box – a very dusty one at that. She continued and was eventually close enough to gently stick her head out of the gap, keeping her body tense and ready should a fallback be needed. The sight before her though had taken her in a way far from predicted, staggering in a way. Though the physicality of the place was mundane, it was what occupied it that captivated her attention the most. Amongst this large and open space of what could only be described as a glorified shed with laminate flooring surrounded by candlelight, stood a host of humanoid figures covered completely in the same strange material as she. There weren’t all that many of them, perhaps fifteen, as they scattered this open space. Their footsteps being all that echoed with not a single word of usher between them, it made for unusual view. As her eyes scoured the scene, she was to notice something staring at her from her imminent right. It was another one of those figures, covered in white, its head was protruding from a different opening in the wall, just as she was. It eventually stopped looking and cautiously stepped out from the crack, Gwyneth then looked to the sides of this ‘shed’ and found many cracks in the walls with thin exits just like hers. Other hallways from more box rooms, she wondered. It was then she entertained the idea that they weren’t simply humanoid figures but humans, humans covered in the same weird stuff as her. No other idea was considered for it was highly likely her initial idea was correct, consequently, she felt no need to seclude herself any longer and parted the rest of her body from the gap in the wall. She walked the open scenery and ed a number of what she now believed to be people, impossible to know with absolute certainty given not a single distinctive feature was in sight. But say they were people, was it possible these were her counterparts? The ones that were left? Could Silas and Sophie be amongst them, she wondered. To consider this notion, by which was certainly possible, filled her with eagerness and she went to shout the pair’s names but found a reality that was very hard hitting. It was only now in this moment, as she went to shout, that she found an unexplained issue – one that was likely present since she awoke. She couldn’t speak. The words could be thought of and the appropriate muscles could be felt moving, but no words were emerging. Not even any kind of vibration. It was as

if she was mute, utterly silent. It was like being a baby unable to voice only worse, given babies can at least emanate sound. This was shocking, sickening in fact, though she could hardly express it with her face. She looked around and now understood why it was so silent, clearly not alone in the ordeal, and she wondered who among them were actually aware of their inability to speak. For all anyone knew, half or even the majority of them may not be aware of this and simply haven’t attempted to speak yet as the silence from others around them came them no reason to. She refused to accept her inability to speak and hopelessly tried to voice, trying to call for Silas and Sophie. No use, as she already knew. Gwyneth gazed all around her, looking to all the people, they could be any of them. She tried to us their heights to distinguish them, knowing Sophie was small and Silas so large, but all were of the same length. Like their appearances, their physicality was equal also. Not an inch of difference between any of them. Gwyneth put her head in her hands, frustrated by this ordeal, and fell to her knees. Those footsteps being all she could hear around her, she questioned what the point of this was. “Why are we here?” she asked within. “Why have us all together like this if we can’t communicate and why have us in this prison?” It was that last word that stuck with her the most, ‘prison’, for this was certainly a fitting description. The space was dark, lit only by candlelight, with narrow rooms and universal appearances. Certainly, a prison it would seem, more depressing than the fields before all this. That thing shamefully came to her mind, contemplating his offer, and she dared to consider the outcome if she’d taken the other route. If she went with him instead. A dark mind to even consider, she knew; but she couldn’t help but wonder of the path she didn’t take. This wasn’t how she imagined it, not how she interpreted Wren’s words, believing something could come of following that light. But then again, what was she to expect? Nothing specific was ever told of following the light, only that she should follow it to the end. Implying that it could get her out of the tormenting fields, though what that actually meant could’ve been anything. But it was in that moment, as she thought back to that night, that earlier words of Wren were ed. Words that had been shunned by the focus of following the light. She ed how Wren spoke of the strongest bonds bending whereas others broke, how one continues for their partner and not themselves and reminding oneself of why that was. She knew those words were spoken in reverence to the second dance, the catalyst to all this, but Gwyneth considered it

possible that those words held a meaning far beyond that moment – holding meaning even now. The slaughtering at the dance, the temptation at the waterfall and again at the slope, she continued for him. She fought on and struggled, for him. Is that why she followed the star, she wondered. A hidden meaning within, keeping her alive and going. An unconscious thought of a particular soul preventing her from ceasing hope, the very kind that stopped her from jumping to Fuchsia. Gwyneth standing as the strongest bonds bend, Fuchsia falling as others break. As Gwyneth’s mind stormed, a slight sound came to emanate and steadily evolved in volume. A sound of the most elegant harmonies; violins surfing the waves with the violas, harps and horns, gently taking turns for dominance. The enclosed walls enabled the sounds to bounce and soothe, lingering like echoes. Her head slowly rose as she came to know this most bewitching of melodies. None would know it, but her eyes closed as she allowed that noise to fill her mind. Cleanse it, blowing all the struggles away. The negative thoughts, the anguish and pity, all gone. Her body even gently swayed left to right as she surrendered to it. Allowing herself to be taken. It was blissful as she embraced, though it was to be politely disturbed by a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes slowly opened and her head gently turned to see a white figure standing behind her, she arose and stared at him. At first, she wondered what it could want but soon was able to guess as she looked at the others around her. A number of them, a number that was growing, were pairing and appeared to be swaying together with the music. Dancing. She looked to this figure before her and saw how it suddenly rose its hands in a suggestive manner – one which invited her to pair and dance. She thought of it for a moment and shared in a mindset that many of them felt; the infectious feeling of this sound being too gracious to not embrace in. Gwyneth went to and pair hands with this figure but found herself halting just inches before their hands touched. Catching something in the corner of her eye led her to stop, she turned and saw it. A different figure but visibly the same as the rest of them, she noticed how it stared at her in a captivating way despite no eyes in view. As it was to her, Gwyneth was taken by it. Amongst all these figures, of exactly identical appearance, she found this one unique. Found it special. It was strange. She retracted her hands from the figure before her and went leftwards to where this gazing figure was standing. As she got closer, it animated and approached her; the two meeting halfway.

They faced opposite one another, unable to speak nor express and yet there was a warmth between them. A warmth that couldn’t be explained. Like the figure before, it rose its hands in the suggestive manner, inviting her to dance. There was no hesitation as she pulled in close, resting her head against the figure’s chest and wrapping her arms around its back. In turn it too wrapped its arms and rested its head above hers as the two strolled to this most delicate of sounds. Mere seconds had ed before she would grow emotional, only seconds more before the urge for tears. It was strange; crying and yet unable to feel the tears descend your cheeks. But what was stranger was why she felt such a way. These tears were not like those who had come upon her for the last couple of weeks, but of the opposite kind. Where they had stemmed from anguish before, these stemmed from a thawing sensation. Striking her in a way like never before, it was as if she felt found for the first time in many days. Calm and comfortable, with no desire to be anywhere else. This very moment, cradled in the arms of a perceived stranger, was why she followed that star. That music progressed and yet the sensation felt timeless, as if it could last forever. Gwyneth’s eyes had been closed for much of the time, embracing in the bliss, but were to open briefly as she gazed upon the others. By this point all of them were gently swaying and strolling to the sound, though only few did so with the finesse as she and this figure did. It was clear some danced with genuine ion whereas others did so in the reflection of those around them. Gwyneth’s eyes were to close once more, gladly returning to the loss of senses, and that music was to sway onwards though only for so long. She could hear it, coming to an end, and eagerly embraced for as long as she could. She didn’t want it to stop, the feeling of warmth and comfort, and so she gripped on to the figure tightly. It too must’ve felt the same, made evident by its grip tightening also, but no amount of defiance could stop that music from ceasing and it did just that. Silence filled the space once more, even more eerily than before as this time there would be no footsteps. From the moment it ceased, they all stopped moving. Strange, given there was no instruction to do so and yet they all did, in perfect unison. The finishing of the music signified the end to something, something only a few of them desperately didn’t want to cease. But no amount of reluctance could prolong an experience that was already gone and so Gwyneth opened her eyes. She intended to open them blissfully; in accordance with a

relaxed and peaceful mind, but found them opening far faster thanks to a view that was nothing other than surprising. With her head still laid against the figure’s chest, Gwyneth saw how the figures around her had changed. She was surprised to see that they were no longer encased in that strange white shell and now were distinct, they were clean and in their pristine clothes. They looked fabulous, as if their outfits were brand new. With their faces in view it was as she had guessed; they were her counterparts. At first glance she believed them to be the survivors from the second dance but was struck oddly as she saw a soul, she personally witnessed rot. Fuchsia, fabulous and beautiful, in the arms of her partner Kaiser. She never looked better and Gwyneth was left questioning as to how this was possible, but only more questions were to arise as her eyes wandered further. Another couple in view though not one she expected, Lucas with a girl who wasn’t Shannen. She then saw her in the distance, in the arms of someone different also. Gwyneth stared at these couples and noticed the looks on their faces as their partners came to be known. Lucas and Shannen looked bewildered as they each looked into the eyes of someone who had been partnered with someone else, and Kaiser stared at Fuchsia though not in a matter that resembled pleasantries. He appeared confused, as if he didn’t recognise her despite them being together since the start. Gwyneth’s mind raged as she tried to connect dots without a pen, but her gathering of the pieces were to be shattered as she heard a particular voice say only a single word. “Gwyneth?” it said, the figure cradling her, and in a voice that rendered tears from the outset. She lifted her head from the figure’s chest and was soon to notice how the pair of them were no longer encased in white themselves. She in her pristine clothing, good as new, and he in the same. She only saw his chest and recognised the corresponding blue, knowing it matched with the voice, and she slowly rose her head so that her eyes could meet with his. There the gaze was and she couldn’t believe it, those tears turning from steady to utterly uncontrollable. “A … Aaric?” she said. He gently nods with tears in his eyes and the two embrace in the purest of sensations, hugging so tightly that weaker souls would’ve been crushed. She couldn’t believe it. “How was this possible?” she asked herself. One would be forgiven for

assuming such a question could not be answered, even after a relentless search of the mind, but she was able to connect the dots for that one almost immediately. A certain image coming to her head within seconds. ing how Wren’s body suddenly changed into a corpse resembling one of those black and murky figures. It was as they gazed into each other’s eyes that a universal conclusion came to be. They saw the second dance in a different light, doubting they were dancing with who the other appeared to be. Now, equally certain they were dancing at separate times. Those dots came to her mind and she was able to find that pen as she looked to the other couples around them yet again. What was soon to follow was the slaughter of most of those around them, the survivors slaughtered by their counterparts as they reveal their true selves. During this time, the voice of newly found wisdom was to speak within her. “We were never together that night, we danced in pairs but alone. Each set a task for the other’s future,” she said as she stares to the fresh corpse of Kaiser as Fuchsia had revealed herself to be a shadowy one and stabbed him. “There were those who both lived for the other and made it through to the green, only to have one of their lives ended there instead – leaving their partner with no hope of progressing.” She then turns to Lucas and Shannen as they were slain along with the wrong partners. “Then there are those who both make it to the green and survive long enough to arrive here, only to choose the wrong partners. To go in such a way is insulting. Progress as a pair or not at all,” she continues. Gwyneth then looks around at the only other pairs to remain standing, two other pairs besides them who had chosen correctly as them. A warming sight to see them before looking back to Aaric. Then she said aloud. “We are encased in white with no features so that our bonds can lead us to the other despite crowds of exact identity. Only the strongest can do this and choose the right one, others will choose wrongly and perish.” “Very good … well done,” said a voice. Those who remain turn to the sound of this voice and see seven figures standing

to the side of the space, The Grievers. Expressing looks of proudness and complacency, they each smile into the eyes of the final survivors before clicking their fingers and it all going dark. In what seemed to be a blink of an eye; they opened them to see themselves standing before a grand and open space. A stage as it were, far superior to all those before. Encased in a dome shape, comprised of the darkest of marble, Aaric could guess where they were. The very interior of that structure he saw from Knavery Point, he ed the feeling he felt in that moment and he feels it now. The strange and strictest sense of respect and fear, he could in that moment it wasn’t directed to the building itself but rather something within it. That something, revealing to be what stands before them. Occupying a single and large seat, the one believed to be none other than the World Watcher awaiting the final dance. None could comprehend the sight as it was beyond the realm of imaginary conjuration, but such a large and menacing view did not strike them in the way many would think. There was no debilitating fear, only that of a respectful kind. Strange, given no such feeling was given to The Grievers. Each knew why they were there and they parted from one another in pairs, heading for different parts of the open marble. Awaiting the music; awaiting the final barrier to the Succession. On the left, Silas and Skarlet waited. Looking into each other’s eyes one last time before the music’s arrival. No traditions had been tested as vigorously as theirs, it was torturous at times and rendered them much pain. But they perceived and adapted to what was required, suring those who were too stubborn to do the same. A deserving fate for the compromising couple. To the right, Sophie and Nathan. Looking into each other’s eyes one last time before the music’s arrival. Few were as disadvantaged as them, a lad with a fierce temper and a girl who was scared of all things. The unlikeliest companions who strived for a mutual wanting, a safety and peace they had never known. Their hunger for such a thing proving stronger than nearly all around them. A deserving fate for the craving couple. To the centre, Aaric and Gwyneth. Looking into each other’s eyes one last time before the music’s arrival. A struggle it would be to find a pair more opposite than them. Nothing was shared by them; they were of different backgrounds with

entirely separate world views and traditions. But they were unified in knowing what awaited should they live, they parted from their differences and embraced in a journey that birthed genuine care for the other. It was this care that triumphed for them where so many failed; a deserving fate for the caring couple. The music was to sound and their fates would be sealed, what awaited them could never be known as echoes never escape the dome. Only he knows their fate, all they can do is try their best to be great.

The End