13th District

Twist

The air in the square had become thicker, the cheers of the crowd still ringing in Kael’s ears, but now they were drowned by a deep, seething anger that burned in his chest. He stood at the center of the platform, eyes unfocused, staring at the crowds around him, but not really seeing them. His heart was pounding in his chest, the truth of his own selection sinking in, but it wasn’t until he heard the next name that everything inside him seemed to crack wide open.

“Arya Ryden!” the announcer’s voice echoed.

His body stiffened, and his breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to freeze. Arya. His little sister. She was only fifteen, barely old enough to understand the full weight of the trial, let alone survive it. She had never asked for this. None of them had.

“No…” Kael muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. His legs felt like they were made of stone, but the anger inside him surged like a tide. How could they? How could they possibly choose her?

The crowd buzzed in a frenzy, some cheering for the young girl, others whispering amongst themselves in hushed tones. But all Kael could hear was the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins. He pushed his way through the throngs of people, his fists clenching at his sides. The guards stood by the platform, their faces expressionless, but Kael didn’t care about them.

“Wait!” he shouted, his voice breaking through the noise. “She’s too young! She’s not supposed to—”

One of the officials, the Head of the Ascension Trials, stepped forward. His face was grim, his eyes cold. He looked Kael up and down, unbothered by his outburst. “You’re mistaken, Ryden,” the man said, his voice echoing across the square. “You’ve already been chosen. As for your sister…” He glanced at Arya, who stood frozen, her face pale and wide-eyed. “She’s a Ryden. Her bloodline calls for it.”

“But… I’m already a participant!” Kael’s voice broke, frustration and desperation rising in him. “You can’t take both of us! It’s against the rules! The law is clear—one participant per family!”

The Head tilted his head, an emotion Kael couldn’t read flickering in his cold eyes. “You’ve been living separately for a year now, Kael Ryden. That makes you independent.” He gave a sharp, almost disinterested glance toward Arya. “Therefore, Arya is the sole representative of the Ryden family in this year’s Trials. The rule has been upheld.”

Kael felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. His world spun, but his eyes never left Arya. She was staring at him, her eyes wide and frightened. She didn’t understand yet. She didn’t realize what the Trials truly meant—the blood, the violence, the games that would break her, shatter her.

“No…” Kael whispered, his voice trembling as the protective instincts he’d buried deep inside him flared to life. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—let this happen.

He shoved past the guards, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he moved toward Arya. His hand reached out to grab her, to pull her away from the platform, but they were too quick. One of the guards caught his arm, holding him back.

“Let go of me!” Kael roared, struggling against the firm grip, but the soldier didn’t budge. He was outnumbered, outmatched. His muscles screamed in protest, but it didn’t matter. They were already sealing his fate, sealing Arya’s as well.

“Arya,” Kael said, his voice low and fierce, his eyes burning with a protective rage. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to fight. I’ll get us out of here. I swear to you, I’ll make them let you go.”

But Arya didn’t speak. She just stood there, her eyes wide and lost, her face pale with shock. She looked so small and fragile in that moment. Kael couldn’t bear it. The thought of her, his baby sister, being forced into this bloody fight for survival—it tore him apart.

“You can’t go through with this,” Kael whispered, almost to himself, though Arya was still too stunned to reply.

The Head of the Ascension Trials stepped closer to them, his eyes sharp. “The decision has been made. Both of you are now bound to the Trials. There is no way out.”

Kael felt a cold chill wash over him, his hands trembling. He couldn’t allow this. Not for Arya.

As the guards began to usher her toward the other participants, Kael reached forward one last time, his voice harsh and filled with quiet promise. “I’ll keep you safe, Arya. No matter what happens, I’ll keep you alive.”

But Arya’s eyes remained distant, her body moving in mechanical motions, as if the shock had completely overwhelmed her.

Kael’s heart broke. His sister was being taken away from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His entire body burned with rage and helplessness.

But one thing was certain in his mind: He would survive this. And he would protect Arya, even if it meant destroying everything in his path to do so.

The guards led them away, two siblings, now bound together in the merciless grip of the Ascension Trials. The square, once so full of energy, now felt colder, emptier. The crowd’s excitement shifted into uneasy murmurs as the harsh reality of the Trials loomed over them all. But Kael barely noticed any of it. All he could feel was the gnawing fear for his sister, the promise he made, and the heavy weight of what was to come.

The journey to the Capital felt like an eternity. The landscape of Eridyon blurred past them—endless stretches of dry plains, crumbling villages, and dark forests—but none of it mattered. Kael couldn’t see anything but the fire in his gut, a smoldering rage that gnawed at him every minute they spent in the cramped carriage.

His fists clenched so tightly, his nails dug into his palms, but it did nothing to ease the storm brewing inside him. He couldn’t understand why he was so powerless in all of this. Why Arya was being dragged into it.

The Capital—the heart of Eridyon, a place that Kael had always despised, even as a child—loomed ahead as they neared the gates. The towers, tall and intimidating, pierced the sky, their shadow falling over the smaller, helpless districts below. They had been moving for hours, but now, the weight of the city’s oppressive presence seemed to hang in the air. Kael’s thoughts turned dark as the heavy gates slowly creaked open to let them in.

The Capital was a place of steel and stone—everything sharp, hard, and unforgiving. The streets were lined with towering structures, each more imposing than the last. Soldiers patrolled the roads, their faces expressionless, their eyes cold.

It was as if the very air here sucked the life out of you, leaving only the elite, the powerful, and the ones willing to sell their soul for power. Kael could already feel the eyes of the Capital on him, a city that had long ago crushed any shred of hope in the lower districts.

Inside the carriage, Arya remained silent beside him, her face pale as she looked out at the city. She didn’t speak, not since they’d been told they were heading here. The silence between them was suffocating. Kael’s anger only grew as they neared the center of the Capital. He couldn’t stand it—the glimmering wealth of the high towers, the wealth that wasn’t just built on gold and riches, but on the blood, sweat, and misery of people like him.

“It’s all a game to them, Arya,” Kael muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. “A twisted, deadly game.”

Arya didn’t respond. Kael wasn’t sure if she even heard him. She had been in shock ever since her name was drawn. He wanted to shake her, scream at her to wake up, but he couldn’t. She was just a kid. He wanted to protect her, to tell her it would be okay, but deep down, he knew the truth. This city had no place for people like them.

As they approached the heart of the Capital, the carriage slowed to a halt. The bustling noise of the streets faded as they entered a walled courtyard, guarded by soldiers on all sides. The marble walls of the building before them glistened in the sunlight, almost blinding in their sheer majesty. The contrast between the towering structures of wealth and the grim reality of the districts could not have been clearer.

“Out of the carriage,” a sharp voice commanded. Kael’s blood boiled as one of the soldiers stepped forward, his eyes scanning the siblings with a look of indifference. The words they had spoken back at the square echoed in Kael’s mind—You’ve been chosen. The Ryden family has been broken, your bloodlines separated. He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to lash out. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The soldier grabbed Arya’s arm with a touch that was much too rough for someone so young. Kael immediately stood up, ready to intervene, but the soldier didn’t flinch, didn’t even acknowledge him. Instead, they were pushed toward the entrance of the marble building, a grand edifice that seemed as cold and unfeeling as the Capital itself.

Kael’s fists were still clenched, his mind spinning with thoughts of vengeance, thoughts of tearing the city apart. But there was something else—something deeper—that gnawed at him. Fear. Fear of what was to come. Of the unknown horrors of the Ascension Trials. He had heard stories. None of them were good. None of them promised any hope.

Inside the building, everything was bright and meticulously clean—sterile, even. The floors were polished to a blinding shine, the air cold and unnatural, filled with the smell of metal and harsh chemicals. Everything about it screamed control, order, and power—power that was always held in the hands of the few.

A tall, narrow man in a dark uniform approached them as the doors closed behind them. His expression was stern, calculating. He didn’t greet them, didn’t even acknowledge them as humans. To him, they were nothing more than cattle, sheep for the slaughter.

“You are the last of the participants to arrive,” the man said, his voice smooth and impersonal. “Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking down a long corridor, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Kael exchanged a glance with Arya. She looked small, fragile, almost invisible against the grandeur of their surroundings. Her eyes, wide with uncertainty, met his, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rise within him once more.

The corridor was lined with portraits—portraits of people Kael didn’t know, but who all seemed to have one thing in common: they were well-dressed, well-fed, and unmistakably rich. Their smug expressions only made Kael’s stomach turn. This city, this system—they were built on lies and cruelty.

They were finally ushered into a room that could only be described as a hall of judgment. It was massive, with a high ceiling that stretched far above them. The walls were lined with high windows, but they only let in slivers of cold, pale light. At the far end, there was a raised platform, and sitting on it were men and women dressed in fine clothes, their faces cold and unyielding. These were the true faces of power—the ones who pulled the strings of the nation, the ones who controlled the fate of the districts.

Kael’s blood boiled again, but he held it in check. He had to. For Arya.

“Sit,” one of the men on the platform commanded. His voice was low and commanding, and Kael could tell that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Kael didn’t want to, but Arya was already moving, her small form dwarfed by the grandness of the room.

The two of them sat, side by side, facing the cold eyes of the people who would decide their futures.

“I hope you’re ready,” the man said, his gaze cutting through Kael. “The trials are soon. You will either make it, or you will die. That’s the way of things here.”

Kael’s hands clenched into fists under the table, his voice low but filled with barely controlled fury. “I’m not afraid of you,” he spat.

The man didn’t react to the challenge. Instead, his lips curled into a thin smile.

“You should be.”