My dreams always seem to come true. When I wake, I brace myself for the inevitable. I’m not always right, but when I am, it terrifies me. I cry every night because my dreams aren’t about discovering that my dad isn’t a monster, that he’s still alive, and that he didn’t abandon us for power and status—the family he was supposed to love and care for. Instead, we bear the weight of his choices while he lies six feet under, never to return.

After school, Eloise walked me home so I wouldn’t get lost again. She is the kindest soul I know besides Flynn. The route to my house fills me with dread, especially when I’m with someone who doesn’t live in the part of town where we live. The houses on the west side of Dergendale, where we live, huddle together and the streets, which become so muddy, have a reek of ash and a strange metallic odor. Most houses are wooden shacks, built with the cheapest material, while the wealthier people in town reside in stone homes. I know Eloise would never judge us, but I can’t help feeling a deep sense of shame about where I live. She lives in the northern part of Dergendale, the middle-class area, where we used to live before everything fell apart.

As we approach my house, the familiar sound of my mom crying seeps through the walls, a haunting melody that pulls at my heartstrings. I hope Eloise can’t hear her; the last thing I want is for her to feel even worse for us. “Can I come in to say hi to Flynn and see how he’s doing?” Eloise asks, her voice laced with concern and warmth, her smile a fragile beacon of light in the dimness of my thoughts.

“Of course! Flynn will be delighted to see you. He wasn’t doing well when I left,” I reply, reaching for the door with a mix of hope and dread swirling in my stomach.

As the door creaks open, I catch a glimpse of Flynn lounging on the makeshift couch—a few hay bales haphazardly covered with old, faded sheets—his face pale but softened by the comfort of familiarity. My mom, however, is nowhere in sight, the absence of her presence amplifying the tension in the air. Just before stepping inside, I remember the stinging ache of my black eye and the throbbing pain from my broken nose. “Wait, what should I do about my black eye and broken nose?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“It’s okay; it’ll be fine. Let’s just go inside,” Eloise reassures me, her voice steady as she steps over the threshold, her determination urging me to follow.

“Eloise!” Flynn exclaims, his eyes lighting up like the sun breaking through clouds as he bolts towards her. He scoops her into a tight embrace, the kind that radiates warmth and safety.

“Are you okay? I was so worried about you,” she asks, her voice trembling slightly as she clings to him, relief washing over her features.

“I’m okay. I missed you so much,” Flynn replies, his smile infectious, yet I can see the remnants of pain lingering in his eyes.

As they pull apart, Eloise says, “I missed you more.” Her laughter dances in the air, a brief moment of joy that feels fragile against the backdrop of our reality.

“Hi, Flynn! I see you’re feeling better,” I manage to say, trying to mask the unease creeping in.

“I’m feeling a lot better. Mom gave me some drink that helped with the pain,” he says, a flicker of gratitude crossing his face. But then, concern washes over him as he notices my injuries. “Fern, what happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it; everything is okay. I’m going to the creek so you guys can hang out,” I say, attempting to dismiss his concern.

“No, Fern, it’s not okay. You have a black eye now. Tell me who did it,” Flynn insists, his grip on my arm tightening with a mix of protectiveness and frustration.

“Flynn, it’s fine. Just leave me alone,” I reply, my voice sharp as I pull away, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Fern, are you sure you’re okay?” he asks gently, his eyes searching mine, looking for a truth that I’m not ready to share.

“Yeah, it’s just… you know how it is. Everyone hates us. I want to pretend it never happened,” I admit, my voice cracking as I fight back tears that threaten to spill over.

“Okay, Fern. I’ll drop it. You don’t have to leave. Eloise isn’t going to stay very long, and I need to tell you something,” Flynn says, releasing my arm but keeping his gaze steady, as if trying to anchor me in the moment.

“Yeah, we both have to tell you something,” Eloise adds, glancing between us with a hint of nervous excitement.

“Why do both of you have to tell me something?” I ask, curiosity piqued despite my turmoil.

“Well, we’re dating. We have been for almost a year. We haven’t told anyone because our families don’t get along,” Flynn says, holding Eloise’s hand, their fingers intertwined as he gazes into her eyes, a soft glow of love illuminating his face.

“Really? I’m so happy for you guys! You deserve each other; you’re both amazing people,” I say, genuine joy bubbling up in my chest, pushing back the shadows of my own worries.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot to us,” Eloise replies, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. Flynn leans in and kisses her on the cheek, whispering something that makes her cheeks flush pink.

“I’m truly happy for you both, but I still need to go to the creek. I need some time to myself, if that’s okay,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Yeah, of course, you can go. You’ve been through a lot today,” Eloise says, her understanding gaze giving me the permission I crave.

“Yeah, you can go, but Eloise and I are going to tell Mom about us,” Flynn adds, a note of determination in his voice.

“Okay, good luck. I’m sure she’ll be happy—she loves Eloise,” I say, forcing a smile as I step out the door, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air.

As I walk away, I head toward the one place that makes me feel truly safe. About a mile from my house is a little creek, hidden away from prying eyes. It’s a beautiful spot where you can see the castle perched on the distant hill, its spires piercing the sky like ancient guardians. The water sparkles in the sunlight, reflecting the blue above, and nobody ever goes there, making it the perfect refuge for my restless mind.

Three more days until Selection Day—and until my life changes forever. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. I know it’s going to be awful. If I get placed in the Sorcerer’s region, I might die. Your body could reject the magic, causing you to explode—literally. And if that doesn’t get you, the cutthroat competition will. If I end up in the Rider’s Region, I’m doomed as well. I can’t fight to save my life, and that’s all they do there. Healers’ Region? Forget it. All my professors say I don’t have what it takes, and they’re usually right about these things. The last option is the Worker’s Region, but I don’t want that. Workers are outcasts, defying the elders’ choices, and people look down on them as a sign of disrespect. So, no matter what happens, it seems I’m in for a rough ride.1

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Flynn is going back to school today. I’m nervous and hope those boys don’t beat him up again. We have two more days left of school. Flynn is worried about me, and he’s trying to teach me how to fight so that if I become a rider, I won’t be unprepared. He said I was doing well, but I didn’t believe him; I could barely hit the target. He’s teaching me how to sword fight and shoot a bow and arrow. I think I’m better with a sword than with a bow and arrow, but he says I’m good with both. He has also instilled in me the fundamentals of hand-to-hand combat, and I excel at it. I can almost take down Flynn, which is saying a lot. Flynn is an amazing fighter; he is one of the best in our school.

“Remember what I taught you: target the legs if they’re taller than you,” Flynn instructs, settling into his fighting stance.

“Got it. I’m ready. Let’s go,” I reply, steeling myself. With a swift movement, I throw the first punch, landing it squarely in Flynn’s stomach. I channel all my frustration and determination into that blow.

“Whoa, sis! You’ve got some serious power,” Flynn gasps, clutching his stomach and wincing. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Guess I underestimated your strength—and the quality of your instructor,” I say, a smirk creeping onto my face. Flynn chuckles through the pain, shaking his head.

“Alright, let’s reset and try again. But next time, make sure you use those leg-targeting skills,” he grins.

His dirty blonde hair falls into his eyes as he tries to throw a hasty punch. I step out of his line of sight, instinctively knowing what to do next. I feel the grass beneath my feet and the wind in my hair, and I move toward his legs just as he instructed. He lunges down with incredible speed, and I feel a rush of exhilaration.

“Outstanding job, Fern. That was impressive. I knew you had it in you,” he says.

“Thanks, I learn from the best. Plus, I had the advantage—your hair blocked your vision,” I tease.

“True, but it was still impressive. I’m proud of you,” he says. Hearing that word sends a wave of warmth through me. “I need to get a haircut before Selection Day.”

“Proud? I haven’t heard that in a long time.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I reply, trying not to let him see how much it means to me.

“What are you kids doing out here? You’re going to be late for school, and it’s chilly, so you better grab a coat,” Mom calls from the porch.

“I know, we’re almost done. I’m trying to prepare Fern for Selection Day. It’s not even that chilly out,” Flynn replies.

“Okay, that’s so kind of you, Flynn,” Mom says.

“Yeah, it is. He’s an outstanding trainer. I think I have a shot at surviving,” I express with delight.

“Thanks, Fern. It’s easy to train someone as good as you. You just need to believe in yourself, and I think you’ll do great,” Flynn encourages. “She also doesn’t have anyone else to help.”

“You’re right. If your father were here, he could help. He was a terrific soldier,” Mom says, her voice thickening with emotion.

“Mom, he was an awful man. He slaughtered millions of innocent people to gain power. I’m glad he’s not here so we don’t have to suffer anymore because of him,” Flynn rants.

“Don’t talk about your father like that. He was a great man before everything happened. He didn’t mean to do those awful things,” she blurts out.

Flynn starts to laugh. “Are you serious? He almost killed Fern all because of a prophecy that she would be his downfall. Don’t you remember that? He made sure I would always remember.” He lifts his shirt to reveal a five-inch scar running from his stomach to his chest.

“He didn’t do that! Stop lying!” she yells.

“He did! Of course, you don’t remember—you choose to forget and ignore what happened. You don’t want to believe Dad was a bad guy, but he was, Mom!” Flynn insists.

As they argue over whether he was a bad guy, I close my eyes, trying to steady my heart rate so they won’t know how upset I am. Memories flood my mind—everything my dad did, everything I want to remember and forget all at once.

I could hear the floors creaking, as if the house was trying to warn me. I was upstairs, in my room—the one place that had always brought me comfort and safety. But now, safety felt like a distant memory. What if he comes back, and this time Flynn isn’t there to save me? Maybe I deserve this.

“Fren, run! He’s gone mad!” Flynn yelled from downstairs, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Quiet, boy,” Dad snapped. I heard the sickening sound of a blow land on Flynn.

Panic surged through me, drowning out the creaking of the house. I pressed my back against the wall, heart racing as heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. My sanctuary had turned into a cage. “Flynn!” I whispered, desperation seeping into my voice.

“Get out of here, please!” he yelled again, voice trembling. I could picture him, defiant but scared, standing his ground. I wanted to help, but my legs felt heavy, as if glued to the floor.

“Stay in your room!” Dad barked, the floorboards protesting under his weight as he approached Flynn. My breath hitched; I couldn’t let him hurt my brother. The thud of Dad’s footsteps grew louder, each step a reminder of my entrapment. My eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that could help. My gaze landed on the small window. If I could just—

“Flynn!” I called, urgency creeping into my voice. “I’m coming!”

“No! Just go!” His shout was filled with desperation, but the fire in my chest wouldn’t let me abandon him. Not now.

Taking a deep breath, I crept toward the door, heart pounding in rhythm with my thoughts. I had to find a way out—for both of us. I rushed down the hall and found Flynn on the floor, bleeding, and I feared he was unconscious. “Flynn!” I cried out, hoping for a response. Instead, someone else answered.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. He’s fine,” Dad said, grabbing my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

“No, he’s not! You cut him open! You’re crazy! Get away from me!” I screamed.

“Trust me, he’s fine. I know how to kill a man. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he got in my way,” Dad said, his voice unnervingly calm.

“From what?” I cried out. Dad began to stutter. “I... uhh... have to do something I don’t want to do, but just know I have to.”

“Get away from me!” I said, my voice trembling with fear.

I stood there, feeling the tension crackle in the air. Flynn’s voice rose and fell in a chaotic rhythm I tried to escape. Memories swirled in my mind: Dad’s twisted face in rage, the night he came after Flynn and me, the suffocating fear that still clung to my thoughts. “Flynn, stop!” I finally interjected, my voice shaking. “This isn’t helping.”

He turned to me, eyes softening. “I just—”

“I know,” I said, cutting him off. “But can we not do this right now? We have enough to worry about with Selection Day coming up.”

Mom sniffled, her anger melting into something more vulnerable. “I just want what’s best for you both,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“Then let’s focus on that,” I replied, my heart still racing. I wanted to comfort her, to make her see that our past didn’t have to define us. Flynn ran a hand through his hair, frustration lingering on his face. “We’ll talk later, Mom. But you can’t ignore what happened. It’s not just going to go away.”

I took a deep breath, forcing calm into my voice. “I know it’s hard, but we need to stick together. We can’t let him win. Not now.”

“Right,” Flynn said, his expression softening as he glanced at me. “We’ve got each other, and we’ll get through this. Just a couple more days, right?”

Mom nodded, wiping her eyes. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, both of you.”

“I promise,” I said, though the fear of the unknown gnawed at me. “Let’s just focus on today.”

As I headed for the door, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe with Flynn by my side, we could navigate whatever was coming. The creek awaited—a place to breathe, gather my thoughts, and prepare for whatever lay ahead.

“Be back before dinner!” Mom called after me, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

“Always,” I replied, stepping outside into the crisp air. The weight of my thoughts was still heavy, but it felt slightly lighter. The path to the creek wound ahead, an escape route from the tension—a chance to find solace away from our reality. With each step, I steeled myself for Selection Day. Whatever happened, I wouldn’t face it alone.