I jolted awake, heart racing and body tense, ready to fight. It took me a moment to remember where I was — curled up on the cold marble floor beneath the vanity table, my makeshift "bed" for the night.

The plush mattress they’d provided felt wrong, too soft, too exposed. Old habits die hard, I guess. Back in Ilyan, tight spaces meant safety from sandstorms and prying eyes. Apparently, I still preferred that comfort.

Sunlight streamed through the lacey curtains, and I groaned. Night had always been my domain in the desert. It was cooler, safer for hunting and traveling. Here, I was expected to function on their ridiculous schedule.

Crawling out from under the vanity, my muscles protested after a night on the hard floor. My reflection in the vanity mirror was less than inspiring: short hair a mess, dark circles shadowing my eyes. So much for beauty sleep.

The royal crest on the table caught my gaze. The irony still stung. From killing a Sentry wearing this symbol to becoming a Hero myself, the gods must be laughing their asses off.

I touched the gash on my arm, wincing. It was healing, but slowly. My arm wasn’t immobilized, but using it for fighting would be extremely difficult. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Ellowen’s words echoed in my mind: Survive, no matter what. I stared at my reflection, trying to muster enthusiasm for the day ahead. I didn’t need a clock to know it was almost 9 AM. Breakfast time.

As I fumbled with the buttons on my new Hero outfit, my stomach growled in protest. The idea of sitting in a room full of super-powered strangers, each one of us pretending we weren't sizing each other up for future gladiatorial combat, wasn't exactly appetite-inducing.

Poking my head into the hallway, I half-expected to see Aria or another servant waiting to escort me. But the corridor was empty. Apparently, they trusted us not to get lost in this labyrinth called Summer Palace. How considerate.

As I set off, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and a stub of charcoal I’d managed to snag from my room. The first step was to get a rough map of this place.

I started sketching as I walked: fancy vase, creepy portrait, another fancy vase. Was interior decorating a competitive sport here?

Wandering through the corridors, I jotted down landmarks, piecing together the layout. My growling stomach provided occasional commentary, but I ignored it. Food could wait, I was used to feeling hungry. Information was my real sustenance.

After what felt like hours of wandering (and several dead ends that clearly weren’t my fault, the walls were clearly moving), I stumbled upon a grand hallway lined with towering bookshelves. Jackpot.

The library was enormous, stretching farther than I could see. Books of every size and color filled the shelves, some even floating gently in the air. As I stepped inside, the smell of old paper and leather enveloped me. It was intoxicating. For a moment, I forgot about the deadly competition, the lies, the constant fear.

I made my way deeper into the library, adding details to my crude map as I went. Now, if I were a book about how to fake superpowers and not die horribly, where would I be?

A soft cough behind me nearly made me jump out of my skin. I spun around to find an elderly man peering at me over half-moon spectacles.

"Can I help you find something, young man?" he asked, his voice creaky but kind.

I cleared my throat, trying to deepen my voice. "Ah, yes. I'm looking for books on history."

The librarian raised an eyebrow. "And at what time period do you want to focus? The first Millennium? The birth of Aurion? The history of past Summer Festivals, perhaps?"

"The history of past Summer Festivals, please," I replied, forcing confidence I didn’t feel.

His eyes twinkled, maybe with amusement. "Indeed. Well then, let's start you off with these." With a wave of his hand, several books floated off the shelves, arranging themselves in a neat stack before me.

I stared, momentarily awestruck. Even the librarians had powers here? Was I the only non-Awakened person in this entire palace?

"Thank you," I managed, gathering the books in my arms. They were heavier than I expected, and I staggered slightly under their weight.

The librarian glanced around, then leaned in close. "You know," he muttered, "most of the library is accessible to you Heroes. Just show your royal crest, and you can borrow any of these books. There are even some limited copies available."

He paused, pointing to a small, dark door tucked away in a shadowy corner. "However, that section over there is strictly off-limits. It's reserved for royalty only. Forbidden for anyone else to enter, understand?"

I nodded, curiosity piqued. Nothing says "investigate me" quite like a forbidden door.

"Happy reading, young Hero," he said with a small bow. "And do try to make it to lunch. Can't win the Competition on an empty stomach."

As he shuffled away, I couldn’t shake the feeling he’d seen right through me, or that maybe this was just how they treated all the Heroes here.

Finding a secluded corner, I settled in with my books and my makeshift map spread out beside me. I cracked open the first volume—A Comprehensive History of the Summer Festival—and sighed.

At least I had a map now. Sort of. And books. It was a start.

My stomach growled again, as if to say, "You're an idiot." I couldn't really argue with that.

Pushing aside thoughts of food and forbidden doors, I focused on the book before me.

In the illustrious history of the Summer Festival Competition, it is worth noting that while there have been numerous casualties over the years, there has never been a single instance of a competitor voluntarily withdrawing from the contest. This speaks to the indomitable spirit of those chosen to participate. Once selected, Heroes would rather face death than the shame of quitting.

-Alexandriem Avalor, Priest in Mariella Church. 2nd Millennium, 1st Solstice.

I blinked, rereading it. No losses, only deaths? And no rule against quitting? Interesting and terrifying.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. So, technically, I could just walk away from all this. But would they let me? I didn't give two flying fucks about who wins this Competition, and I don't think I ever will.

If what was written in this book was true, I could just hand a note to someone before the next competition: "I Quit. You can all kill yourselves without me, thank you." But who? Madame Celeste would skin me alive, and Sir Quajar wasn’t so far off from giving me the same end.

As if on cue, my stomach growled again, louder this time. Right. I needed something to calm down my thoughts. Food first, existential crisis later.

Gathering my books and makeshift map quickly, I made my way out of the library, mind racing. No rule against quitting, but no one ever had. Was it pride? Fear? Or something else, something not mentioned in the history books?

I lugged the heavy books back to my room, dumping them carefully on the bed. Pulling out my makeshift map, I decided to explore the left wing and fill in some blanks.

The corridors of the left wing were just as opulent as the rest, filled with priceless art and unnecessary luxuries. I added details to my crude sketch as I wandered, my stomach growling louder with each step. I was used to hunger, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.

The scent of freshly baked bread led me to the kitchen. It’s scary how instincts immediately lead me to food. I hesitated at the entrance, watching the flurry of activity inside. Staff bustled about, preparing what looked like a feast for an army.

Swallowing my pride, I slipped inside. A few maids looked up, surprise evident in their eyes at seeing a Hero in their domain.

"Hello," I said, attempting a casual wave. "Could I trouble you for a piece of bread? I missed breakfast."

They exchanged uncertain glances. One maid with kind eyes stepped forward, hesitantly explaining that the dining hall was elsewhere. I softened my tone, admitting that the competition and the whole situation were overwhelming. Sometimes, I just wanted a quiet moment and a simple piece of bread. The maid’s expression changed, understanding flickering in her eyes. She handed me a warm roll without further question. I thanked her sincerely and made my exit, a new section added to my map and bread in hand. Now, if only I could turn a pity roll and a half-finished map into a strategy for survival.

I traced my finger along the rough lines I’d sketched, deciding to explore what remained of the left wing first. The corridors stretched out before me, and what had seemed like a maze yesterday now felt like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Each step echoed off the marble floors, and every turn revealed another priceless artwork or absurdly lavish decoration, all of which could double as excellent distractions in a pinch.

The sweet scent of roses led me to a set of glass doors, and I found myself stepping into a garden that felt like a secret world. Carefully manicured hedges formed a maze, dotted with topiaries shaped like mythical beasts—just the sort of whimsical nonsense I could appreciate. The perfume of jasmine and roses enveloped me, making my senses tingle as I wandered through, marking benches and fountains on my map. Then I stumbled upon a hidden alcove.

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A statue stood there, weathered and proud: a Hero, immortalized in stone. I couldn't help but wonder if they had found a way to survive, or if they’d met their end in some grand, pointless gesture. I added the alcove to my map, sketching a little stick figure and labeling it “Dead Guy.”

As I turned to leave, something caught my eye, a gap in the garden wall, almost hidden by a cascade of ivy. Curiosity ignited, I approached cautiously, feeling a breeze that shouldn’t have been there. A potential escape route? Or a trap? I marked the space with a bold X.

Quickly, I made my way back inside, following the sound of clashing metal. The east wing opened up into a vast training area, complete with practice dummies that had seen better days and an arena that looked like it could host its own gladiatorial games. I sketched it quickly, noting entrances and exits.

My wanderings led me to a door I nearly missed, nondescript and tucked away in a shadowy corner. It creaked open to reveal a narrow passage that smelled of dust and humidity. I assumed it could only belong to the old Servant corridors.. I looked around, making sure no one was near, and slipped inside, covering my mouth with my sleeve to muffle any coughs or sneezes. Each twist and turn added to my map led me past the kitchens and down to the familiar cellars. And most intriguingly, to a tunnel that seemed to lead beyond the complex walls.

Retracing my steps, I accidentally took a wrong turn and found myself in a room that literally took my breath away. An indoor pool stretched before me, fed by a waterfall that defied the laws of physics—or common sense, really. The air was warm, humid, filled with the soothing sound of rushing water. I marked it on my map, adding a little note: Surprisingly not freezing.

My exploration continued, each new discovery a drawing in my piece of paper. A glass-domed conservatory filled with exotic plants beckoned with vibrant colors. A clock tower I accessed through a (now unlocked) door in the main hall. An aviary where crows carried messages on their legs made me chuckle.

As I made my way back to my room, my map transformed into a complex web of lines and notations, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of satisfaction. Yes, I was trapped in a deadly competition. Yes, the odds were stacked against me. But now I had knowledge. I had options. The secret passages, the library accessible only to royalty, the possible escape routes—they were all weapons in my arsenal now.

—--------—------------------●∘◦❀◦∘●---------------------------------

If you’ve ever spent a morning stuck in a chair, you know the horrid joint pain that follows. After three hours of trying my best to put my map into a 1:50 scale, I was sure my ass had gone flat. I’d burned through two pieces of paper just for the base floor, which only reinforced my theory: Royalty had way too much money and time on their hands.

Around midday, Ellowen popped in to clean my room. As I filled her in about the servant corridors, I could see her eyes light up like stars. She leaned closer, excitement practically bubbling over. “You could just take them out in their sleep, you know. Drag their bodies down there, and no one would ever know!”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Right, because that’s totally a normal thing to do in a royal palace.”

Her grin only widened. “Come on, Blithe. Think about it! They’d never see it coming. Just one swift move, and we’d have the upper hand!”

In return for my intel, she slipped me a set of dragon bone daggers she’d blatantly stolen from the arena. I turned the blades over in my hands, admiring the intricate carvings along the handles. “These are amazing,” I said, my voice low with awe. “But seriously, where did you get them?”

She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Does it matter? A girl’s gotta be resourceful. Just don’t ask too many questions, alright?”

I nodded, not prying further. Who knew what else she might have snagged? I tucked the daggers into my belt.

Ellowen left only after scolding me and forcing me to head to lunch.

As I made my way toward the dining hall, I remembered something: Madame Celeste had mentioned a schedule. If I wanted to stay on her good side, or at least not end up as an afterthought, I’d better find her.

Turning a corner, I spotted her gliding down the corridor, her presence as striking as ever. “Madame Celeste!” I called out, lowering my voice and quickening my pace to catch up.

She turned, her sharp gaze landing on me. “Elijah, how lovely to see you,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “What brings you to me?”

“Uh, I was hoping you could give me the schedule? I realized I haven’t seen it yet.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “I thought you’d never ask.” She produced a neatly folded parchment from her sleeve, handing it over with an air of satisfaction. “But remember, my dear, trust is not freely given. You must prove yourself a true hero in the eyes of those who matter.”

Her words wrapped around me like a decorative ribbon, beautiful but suffocating. “Of course,” I replied, trying to keep my tone steady. “I’ll do what I can.”

“See that you do,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “There’s much at stake here, and I have no patience for mediocrity.”

With that, she glided away, leaving me with a feeling of trepidation. Only Madame Celeste could make a smile seem menacing and polite words feel like a threat.

I continued toward the dining hall, where the towering columns and vibrant tapestries welcomed me into the lively atmosphere. The long, polished table gleamed under the golden chandeliers, and the air buzzed with conversation and laughter.

As I entered, Roran waved me over. “Hey, Elijah! Come sit with us!”

Relief washed over me as I made my way to their table, settling beside Roran. “What’s the gossip?” I asked, eager for some lighthearted banter.

“This is Cas,” Roran said, introducing a burly guy with a contagious laugh. “He’s the mastermind behind half our trouble. And don’t let him fool you; he’s not as charming as he looks.”

Cas grinned, the dimples on his face showing. “Just trying to keep things interesting. Boredom kills more heroes than battles do.”

I chuckled, feeling the tension of the morning begin to lift. Just then, Roran leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of playful intrigue. “Sure you do”

At that moment, a girl with auburn hair approached, her demeanor warm and inviting. “Hi, everyone!” she said, her voice like honey. “Mind if I join?”

“Not at all Mel!” Roran smiled, making room for her beside him. “Mel, this is Elijah, Elijah this is Amelie.”

“Welcome, Elijah!” Amelie beamed, her kindness radiating like sunshine. “You were the last of us to hop on the platform, were you not? Everyone here has been gossiping about you.”

A flash of discomfort shot through me. I hadn’t realized I’d made such a stir. “Great,” I muttered, trying to keep my tone light. “Love being the topic of everyone’s lunch conversation.”

Amelie giggled, completely oblivious to my sarcasm. “Oh, don’t worry! It’s all been positive… mostly.”

Roran leaned in with a grin. “Yeah, they’re just dying to know who this mysterious rogue is. You’ve got a reputation, my friend.”

I grimaced, trying not to shrink under their gazes. I hated being the center of attention, especially when it came with expectations I had no intention of meeting. “Well, I’m happy to disappoint everyone then.”

Amelie’s eyes lit up at my dry response. “Oh, I like him,” she said, turning to Roran with a teasing smirk. “Finally, someone who isn’t falling all over themselves trying to impress.”

Roran chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Careful, Elijah. She’s a girl's boy lover. If you catch her attention, there’s no escaping.”

“Girl’s boy?” I raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-dreading the label.

Amelie leaned closer, a playful glint in her eye. “You know, the type who’s comfortable around girls because he’s got a little too much sense to be a typical guy. Smart, sassy, and not afraid to speak his mind.”

I snorted, trying to mask the small flicker of warmth her compliment sparked. “Smart and sassy? Don’t let it fool you. I’m just trying to survive.”

“That’s why you fit right in,” Amelie quipped, her smile broadening. “It’s about time we had someone with a bit of wit.”

Roran laughed, throwing a teasing glance in her direction. “See? You’ve already smitten her.”

Amelie shoved him lightly. “Please, you wish I were that easy to impress.”

Their banter flowed easily, like they’d been doing this for years. It was strange, being around people who talked to each other so freely. I watched them with a mix of interest and wariness, still unsure of my footing in this new dynamic.

Across the table, Cas sat quietly, his gaze steady as he observed the conversation unfold. His calm, almost enigmatic demeanor piqued my interest. Unlike the others, he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words. He just watched, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“You’ve been quiet,” I said, addressing him directly. “What’s your take on all this gossip?”

Cas raised an eyebrow, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. “Gossip doesn’t matter. It’s what you do that counts.”

The simplicity of his answer caught me off guard. There was no pretense, no bravado—just a calm certainty that felt oddly reassuring.

“Fair enough,” I replied, intrigued by how different he was from Roran and Amelie. There was a steadiness to him that I hadn’t expected, something that pulled me in even if I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“I’d watch out for him,” Roran said, interrupting my thoughts with a smirk. “Cas is a lot sharper than he looks. He’ll size you up without saying a word, then hit you where it hurts before you even know what’s happening.”

Cas shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Only when necessary.”

“Well, let’s hope we stay on the same side,” I said, a half-smile playing on my lips. His calmness intrigued me, but I knew better than to trust anyone here completely. Still, there was something about his quiet strength that made me wonder just how much he was hiding beneath the surface.

“You’ll fit in just fine,” Cas said, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he looked away, as if making some quiet assessment.

Amelie leaned over again, her voice soft but teasing. “See? Even Cas likes you. That’s saying something. He doesn’t warm up to just anyone.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, though a part of me was flattered. “Guess I’m just that charming.”

Roran snorted, amused. “Oh yeah, you’re a real charmer alright. Just don’t start getting any ideas about taking my place as group favorite.”

I smirked, giving him a mock-serious nod. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re way too... popular.”

Amelie burst into laughter, the sound bright and genuine. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I’m glad you’re with us, Elijah. We could use someone who keeps Roran on his toes.”

Roran shot her a mock-offended look. “What do you mean ‘keeps me on my toes’? I’m perfectly balanced.”

“Sure,” Amelie said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “So balanced that you trip over your own feet at least twice a day.”

I bit back a laugh. As much as I hated the attention, being around people who weren’t trying to tear each other down was a nice change. Still, I knew better than to get too comfortable. Friendships here were fragile, and trust was a dangerous thing to give away.

I glanced over at Cas once more, feeling that same pull of curiosity. Something told me that out of everyone here, he was the one to keep an eye on. He was quiet, yes, but there was a depth to him that I couldn’t quite read.

When I turned my head, I realized he was already watching me. His sparkling blue eyes locked onto mine, steady and unreadable. It was as if he’d been studying me, quietly observing in that way of his, with no need for words. There was something unsettling about being the subject of his attention.

Cas had that effortless kind of allure. His dirty blond hair framed a strong, sharp jawline that could probably cut glass, and those eyes—now fixed on me—seemed to catch every flicker of light in the room. They were the kind of eyes that made you wonder what secrets were locked behind them. His long lashes, unfairly perfect for someone his size, softened the intensity of his gaze, but there was still something about it that hinted at danger.

He wasn’t all sharp edges, though. A dimple flashed when he finally let a faint smile slip, disarming me in seconds. It was like staring at a balance of strength and charm wrapped in a quiet mystery, and somehow, that only intrigued me more.