Susi was about to fall asleep standing up. She couldn’t meditate properly the night before, and sleep had been hard to come by after she gave up on that.

When her mind wasn’t heavy, she could meditate through the night and required no sleep at all. But with the heat of the crowd, the mixture of so many smells, Susi’s sensory overload made her want to check out.

She listened to the odd hush that came over the crowd as she meditated with her eyes closed.

There was some sort of delay going on behind the scenes at the speaker’s podium. Susi’s consciousness wanted to leave as she leaned upon her stick.

It was when the auctor, Auctor Ralvese, began to speak that she opened her eyes.

“Good morn to all of you!” Ralvese spread his arms.

The volume in the stands crescendoed to a roar as Ralvese waved them down. “I’ve just received word from up top that this year’s Tornetum will be a little different from usual. It looks like, from each faction, a candidate will need to be chosen…and they,” he paused.

He waved his fist like he was having trouble getting through the lines. “And each candidate will be competing in the Tornetum. You have five minutes to choose a candidate within your faction.”

There was a collective hush that fell over the crowd. Auctor Ralvese lowered his arms, turned around, and hurried from the speaker’s podium.

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Everyone in the stands looked at one another, including Susi and Grobeche. Susi glared at her teacher. “What does that mean?”

Grobeche didn’t say anything as he looked out to the crowd. He surveyed the royalty box where the acting king, Chancellor Damius Marks, was grinning and shaking hands with someone behind him.

Guards began dispersing through the seats of the different factions.

“Do we really have to compete?” Susi asked.

Grobeche swallowed hard as the guards drew closer. “I think we will have to choose.” He said. “I’ll do it. It’ll be okay.”

Before Susi could try to give him her two cents on the matter, a guard approached, looked between them, and grabbed Grobeche’s shoulder. He was about to be hauled off when Susi intervened.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a commanding voice.

The guard stopped. All eyes in the nearby vicinity turned to her. “He’s not our candidate: I am.”

Grobeche gaped at her in horror. “Susi—”

The guard shoved Grobeche, then grabbed Susi’s wrist. She was pulled into motion through the aisle of seats for the stairs.

“I’ll be fine!” She called to Grobeche as he tried to keep up with her, but a guard grabbed him and told him to go back to his seat.

Susi followed the guard between hundreds of spectators, meeting with a line of other individuals from different factions being led by a soldier to the lower floors feeding the vorago arena.

Drumming filled the stadium as the crowd went from speechless to ravenous. There was not only fresh blood on the menu, but blood that had not been expected to be spilled.

They were the sheep that were caudled until the moment a knife blade was gently swept across their throat. Here she was: one of the sheep in line for the last time.