In. Out. In. Out.

Liz's breathing slowed as she gathered herself for the coming race.

All her training had led up to this. Today was her day — her chance to prove herself to the entire world. After years of blood, sweat, and tears, she was finally here.

In. Out.

A smidge of hesitation wormed its way into the back of her mind, sending the slightest shiver down her spine. What if she failed? What if she wasn't ready?

The doubt started to build, but before it could get any further, she squashed it beneath an iron will. All she had to do was run like she had a million times before.

In. Out. In...

Steel filled her veins, and she cracked open an emerald-green eye.

Out.

She could do this.

A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders, and she stumbled forwards.

“Liz, you’re just minutes out from setting a new national record!” A tall young man clapped her on the back, holding out a baton like a reporter with a microphone. “How do you feel?”

The corners of her lips twitched upwards, and she snorted. “Hey, you don’t know that yet. For all you know, I could trip halfway through and end up last.”

“Right, like the great Elizabeth Sayler’s going to lose a race by tripping.” Another hand came onto her shoulder, and a short girl with dirty-blonde hair popped up next to her. Sarah.

“By the way, once you’re done wiping the floor with these guys Rich and I —”

“Yeah, yeah. He already told me. We’d better not be going shopping afterwards.”

Sarah pouted. “Oh come on Liz! With all that scholarship money, you can afford to be a little liberal with your spending.”

Liz hit her over the head with an empty water bottle. “Nope. Going to be way too tired for that, and I am not going to wake up tomorrow as stiff as a board.”

“Fine, fine. I was just teasing. Perfect conditions, yeah?”

“That’s one thing we can agree on.” She checked her smartwatch, swiping through its different analytics with a grin. It was 64.7 degrees Fahrenheit, sunny, and without a trace of wind. Her hydration was peaking at 98%, and her heartrate…

Well, 115 beats per minute was a tad high, but being minutes out from potentially the biggest race in your life tended to have that effect.

The whistle for last call blew, and her two friends waved her off, phones out and ready to record her race.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks. Keep those cameras away from me when I collapse after finishing, alright?” Liz threw off her favorite red windbreaker, making her way over to the line. Seven of her competitors were spread across the track, but she had lane four, the mark of the favorite.

“Alright, it looks like everyone is here.” A man in a striped shirt raised his hand, pointing the starting gun in the air. “Attention all runners! Please take two steps away from the line. This will be a two command start. When I say on your marks...”

Rather than listen to the same speech for the umpteenth time, she used her last few seconds to prepare her mind. 1:59.87. That was the time she needed to beat. Her mother’s national junior record, from nearly 30 years ago. She needed to prove that she was her parents' daughter, that despite the Saylers being gone from this world, their legacy still lived on. A quick glance at her watch told her that she was operating at 99% capacity — as close to optimal as she could get.

The starter said the last of his speech, and the field went silent.

"Are there any questions?"

Liz did three light jumps on the balls of her feet, feeling her muscles stretch and flex with the motions. She was ready.

“Alright then. On your marks!”

She stepped up to the line, taking a final breath. Her legs were tensed like springs, ready to explode out at any moment. This was it. This was her final chance at the record. Everything was —

The gun went off, and she blasted from the starting line.

Because of the staggered lanes, she wasn’t expected to catch up with some of the other runners until the hundred-meter mark. Those in the outside lanes started out a fair bit ahead of her, and that distance would gradually be corrected by the curve of the track until they were even.

She didn’t wait for the track to curve. Instead, just seconds after she had started, she accelerated past the competition.

Her arms pumped steadily at her side, and her rapid strides ate up the length of the track, as graceful as the wind compared to the thundering of her competitors. A girl behind her gasped, and she allowed herself a slight smirk.

She was right on pace.

She passed the cones signifying the switch into the first lane, but she was already so far past her competitors that all she could hear was their hurried footsteps as they desperately tried to catch up with her.

Three hundred meters in. Her legs still felt fresh, and she could hear the small crowd’s cheers as she closed the gap towards the finish line.

This was it!

The wind wooshed by as she crossed the 400-meter mark.

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She had finished her first lap in 1:00.18.

Someone yelled something at her, and she thought she knew what they saying despite the thrum of the crowd. A minute flat was an impressive pace to be sure, but at this rate she’d be more than half a second off from the record.

However, her grin just widened. Contrary to traditional strategy, she had always preferred to make a comeback in the second half.

She forced herself to accelerate, her heart pounding as her body was pushed to its very limit. Step by step, breath by breath, she continued, and the crowd reignited with an explosion of roars.

Worries once again flashed in her mind, but she shoved them aside in favor of running. The crowd disappeared, as did her competitors, and she focused intently on the feel of her legs hitting the track. Everything was lining up now, with only two hundred fifty meters to go.

Then two hundred. Then one hundred.

Her muscles burned with lactic acid, but she kept her pace, locking her gaze on the digital clock by the finish line. A stack of weirdly shaped boxes obstructed her vision, but she quickly passed them, pouring every ounce of energy she had into her legs.

1:44.80, with just under eighty meters to go.

Somehow, the crowd seemed to have gotten even louder, and screams of victory guided her forwards in the final stretch.

She was going to make it!

Was it just her, or was there thunder coming from behind her?

She shook herself. That must have been the fatigue talking. Her chest heaved with the effort, but she pushed herself one last time, pumping her arms as fast as she possibly could. This was it. This was how it felt to break a national record!

Then, as she came just bare meters from the finish line, and the earth shook. Her vision flashed white, and the next thing she knew she was tumbling across the track.

What? Why was she falling?

Her ears rung and hot blood spilled freely from her legs, but she picked herself back up, teeth gritted in pain.

She had to keep going. This was her only chance. She had to —

"Liz, watch out!"

She looked up just in time to see a man-sized piece of steel slam straight into her torso.

* * *

Liz wheeled herself over to the cabin window, taking a deep breath as the memories flooded over her.

Eleven dead and one hundred thirteen injured. Total damages in the millions of dollars. Attackers never caught.

It had been three years since the bombing of Reaver Stadium, and three years since she had last used her legs. They had said that it was a miracle that she could move at all, that her body was extraordinarily resilient to still be alive.

She resisted the urge to spit at the thought. She knew it would just get on her legs, and she didn't fancy pulling herself over to the bathtub any more than she had to.

Her prospective college had paid for the majority of the fees, but the moment the doctors had deemed her unable to run, the school had left her for the wolves.

They could have kept their word and let her enroll no matter what — that would have been the honorable thing to do.

She laughed. As if those top schools knew anything but money and pain.

Instead of the world-class education she had been promised, she was stuck cobbling together physical therapy knowledge from the internet and community college courses. And while she knew that she was capable, nobody would pay for the help of a PT without a degree.

But without money, she couldn't get a degree. And without a degree, she couldn't get enough money. She was only coasting by as it was because of her friends, but she knew better than anyone that you couldn't live like that forever.

As if triggered by her thoughts, her phone vibrated from across the room, lighting up with a goofy image of Sarah's face.

"Ugh." She groaned. The phone was so far away, and she would have to climb over the bed to get it.

"Hello? Liz, I know you're there!"

"Coming!" She yelled at the buzzing device. "Need to... get over... bed."

She finally heaved herself onto the fluffy mattress, flopping over and grabbing the phone with the tips of her fingers. "Alright, here. What's up?"

"Just wanted to check in with you! Are you doing okay?"

"Yep. I'm all good here. How are you?"

"Everything's good! I just have one more day on this damn internship, and then I can come back to the cabin and keep you guys company. Oh hey, I know Rich left this morning to go to some athletics event. Did you go with him?"

"Nah. Too much hassle."

There was a pause, and she could have sworn that she could hear Sarah shaking her head over the line. "Really Liz? You know, a couple years ago you would have loved something like that."

"Yeah, well... a couple years ago I wasn't stuck in this stupid chair."

Rich had explicitly told her that there would be a PT panel, but she expected as much out of it as a farmer expected milk out of a bull. They all said roughly the same stuff, and all they ever gave her were condolences and looks of pity. She gave an angry huff. She knew that it wasn't their fault, but surely she deserved some respect, right? She had literally been moments away from claiming a national record.

"Liz? Something happen?" Sarah's voice finally broke through to her, and she rubbed her eyes.

"Sorry, I just ended up getting caught up in my thoughts again."

"Dude, you know that isn't healthy. The cabin was supposed to be a way for you to relax and heal, not to torture yourself in your own mind!"

Liz sighed, pushing herself up to a sitting position. "Yeah, I'm... I'll try to stop. It's just hard, you know? Once I was at the top of the world, and now I'm so far down that I don't even know how to get back up."

"Yeah, I know," Sarah murmured. "You don't deserve any of this. It's all so horrible —"

The ground rumbled, and Liz gripped onto the side of the bed, desperately trying to keep herself upright. Sarah let out a shriek, and a thump rang out from over the phone.

"Sarah! You okay?"

Some shuffling, followed by a groan. "I'm fine, just fell. Did you feel that too?"

"Yeah. Do you think it's an earthquake?"

Silence.

"Sarah?"

Liz frowned. "Sarah!"

"Uh... Liz? Look outside."

"Huh? Why do you want me to..."

She gasped.

A rushing wave of black consumed the sky, casting the world in shadow. Dark, billowing matter spread out towards her, sticking to everything it touched like tar. Then, she realized that even that was moving, crawling up trees and into streams, enveloping everything with a coat of empty darkness.

"Sarah?"

She glanced at her phone, catching it just in time to see the screen wink out. It was dead. How? She had charged it just this morning. She slammed the power button, but the device stayed useless.

"Sarah..."

This had to be a nightmare. That was the only explanation. It wouldn't be the first time she woke up in the middle of the night in a pool of sweat, though usually her dreams had to do with the bombing. She just had to wait and let it pass —

"Attention all inhabitants of this world!"

A man's voice came from everywhere at once, and she frantically pivoted her head in search for the speaker.

"You have been chosen to be integrated into the Void. This is a great honor, and will provide many of you the opportunity to grow beyond measure! Now, please stand by as you are provided with the System."

Nobody was there. She clenched her fists, heart pounding as she waited for herself to wake up. This couldn't be real. It just couldn't!

Something caught her eye, and she noticed that the blackness was flowing into her room. It rushed over her like flowing water, blocking her vision and restricting her lungs. She had to escape!

Instinct told her to run, but her legs wouldn't respond. She desperately thrashed, trying to get out of her bed and into the wheelchair.

Her hands found a handful of sheets, and she hurled herself over, crying out as she slammed against the hard wooden floor. Her vision cleared, and she saw the darkness still permeating her room, infecting every nook and cranny with its inky black hue.

It slowly built, and she crawled against the wall, her legs scraping as they dragged uselessly behind. Was this it? Was she dead now?

Something inside her still clung onto the hope that this was a dream, but the reality of the situation had started to dawn on her. The pain was too vivid, too real, and the sensations too heavy.

Panic welled in her throat. She could feel every thump of her heart, every shallow breath in her lungs. The darkness inched towards her, and she closed her eyes.

It wouldn't make a difference in the end, but at least she could say that the shroud of black encompassing her vision was her own doing...