Zusia, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

"No!"

The word burst out of Stephanie before she had time to stop it. She was on her feet in an instant, panic bursting through her like an electric shock. Marcie was frozen in her seat, looking up at Stephanie with an open mouth, the shock pooling into her eyes as everyone looked at her. Stephanie leapt over a row of chairs, almost kicking another girl in the head as she did. She reached Marcie as those around her started to wake from their stupor.

"Stephanie," Marcie started, her voice faint.

Spinning to the platform above them, Stephanie yelled, "Take me, not her!"

"Steph, no." Marcie's hand found hers.

Stephanie couldn't see the Veiled Lady's face, but she knew the woman's eyes were on her. Stephanie glared at her, at Motch, a burst of fury welling up within her. "Take me!"

"Stephanie, stand down." She turned. Yasmin stood at the end of the row of chairs, his hand out, a firm look on his face.

Never. She pulled Marcie up, standing in front of her protectively. "You won't take her."

She heard a commotion at the other end of the row of chairs. She spun around, pulling Marcie behind her when she saw the Veiled Lady standing there, the ghost of death, waiting. The other Trainees were pushing their chairs back as far as they could, watching the Veiled Lady with bated breath and waiting to see what she would do. Stephanie stayed still, breathing heavily, clutching Marcie's hand in hers firmly.

The Veiled Lady started forward.

"Steph, stop," Marcie whispered tearfully in her ear. "Please."

Stephanie set her jaw, keeping herself calm as she watched the figure in blue walk right up to her. She wouldn't stand down. Not this time. Not when her best friend was about to be snatched away from her forever.

She hadn't done anything about Kallum, and already she regretted it. She was making her stand now. She gazed firmly at the veil; for a moment, she thought she made out crystal blue eyes behind it.

"Take me. Not her." It was calm, but Stephanie could hear the desperation in her own voice. Don't touch Marcie.

Silence reigned. The Veiled Lady seemed to be studying her face, considering the offer. Or maybe she wasn't.

The woman whispered from behind the veil, and the voice was eerily familiar. "Love makes you weak." Then she lifted her hand and touched the side of Stephanie's face.

Stephanie dropped like a rock, ice-cold pain paralyzing her as a scream ripped from her chest. Marcie screamed as well, shrieking Stephanie's name as her hand was jerked away. Everything was a haze; Stephanie couldn't think clearly. She teetered on her hands and knees, trying to get a grip, to get to her feet. Somewhere, Marcie was screaming, but it felt muted. Stephanie had to get up, to fight back, but she was trapped in a daze. Everything was fogged over. She couldn't think!

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"No!" The word scraped itself out of her chest, her voice nearly unrecognizable. She clawed at the chairs, at those seated in them, frantically trying to get to her feet. Marcie was gone, gone!

"Stephanie!" She whirled, nearly throwing herself off balance, spotting two soldiers escorting Marcie away toward the stairs. The stairs that led down into the arena.

"Marcie!" Stephanie staggered, trying to stay on her feet as she clambered her way down the row, each step becoming stronger as the fog began to clear and she found her footing. She reached the end of the row, hurtling herself down the stairs. "No! Marcie!"

A strong hand grabbed her wrist, whipping her around and dragging her backwards. She tripped on a stair, falling hard. She was dragged back to her feet immediately, and an arm wrapped around her waist. "Stop it!" Yasmin yelled in her ear. "It's too late!"

"No!" Stephanie struggled against him, trying to kick his knee. He knew it was coming, and her effort was useless. She was small and wiry, no match for his tall, solid strength. He held her firmly, dragging her down the stairs with him to the Great Hall beneath the stands. Marcie and the soldiers were long gone. The crowd was going wild above them, blaring in her ears like an echoing siren.

"No, no!" Stephanie choked out, fighting hard against Yasmin's grip. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily in her ear as she struggled. "Let me go, let me go, I need to help Marcie!" she gasped. She only realized then that she was crying, sobbing, barely able to breathe.

Yasmin was still, his grip unwavering. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cold and emotionless. "Sometimes, Stephanie, some must die in order for the rest of us to survive."

"Not Marcie! Not her!"

Yasmin's sigh was heavy. "I'm sorry, Stephanie."

She went limp in his arms, struggling to breathe as the sobs tore out of her. Beyond the walls, she heard the cheering, the clashing of steel, the screams of the dying. After a long, horrible moment, she couldn't bear it any longer. Taking Yasmin by surprise, she tore out of his grip, running for the stairs and ignoring his yell. She took the stairs two at a time, nearly blinded by her tears and the harsh sunlight as she looked out into the arena, searching for Marcie amidst the fighting. She was readying herself to jump down into the arena to help her best friend, but her world suddenly stopped.

Marcie, beautiful Marcie, lay in the sand, a spear in her chest, blood pooling around her. She hadn't even had a fighting chance.

Stephanie stared, open-mouthed, disbelief coursing through her. She couldn't hear the monstrous noise around her. She barely felt her own heartbeat cracking in her chest.

Marcie was gone. Stephanie's best friend, her only friend, her sister. Gone.

"Stephanie!" Yasmin sprinted up the stairs, slowing to a stop beside her as he looked out into the arena. She heard his deep sigh.

She had no words to say. Every emotion felt iced-over within her — she couldn't feel. She couldn't come up with a proper reaction to what she was seeing. Turning away from the arena, from the death, she looked to the platform where the king and his executioner stood. Motch had his eyes on the action, but the Veiled Lady seemed to be staring right at Stephanie.

Perhaps she felt Stephanie's hatred.

Stephanie walked away. She thumped down the stairs, each step heavy as she ignored Yasmin's voice. There was an incredible weight on her shoulders, a terrible image in her mind, an image of blood and a beautiful girl, a beautiful life stolen away. Each step cracked at frozen emotions. Stephanie made it to the base of the stairs before she crumpled to her knees, gasping for air, every emotion beginning to burst at the seams. Grief. Hatred. Guilt. Shaking, trembling, she put her hands to her head, as if she could somehow hold in every single thing she felt, as if she could stop the explosion from ripping her apart. She couldn't.

There, beneath the stands, drowned out by the roar of the crowd above, Stephanie screamed until she had no voice left.