Nerves sank to the pit of my stomach as I wrung my hands in tight knots.
“Breathe.” Celsa rubbed soothing circles on my back, but I couldn’t afford to lull into a false sense of security. Celsa was the closest thing to a companion that I had. He trusted me completely, but I still couldn’t find it in myself to trust him. We talked often, usually just to accompany our stifled minds. Now, here I was, preparing to watch the others in our sunder die.
Half would live, while the other half would endure a brutal death.
We were all entered into a fickle game spun by the Opressors - a version of what was once known as sports day. This was before our country, Carper, was split into four divides. Sunders. That was when the change came and left us for the worse.
Left us with children dying, no homes to run to, food shortages, power-hungry men running the country. We were left hopeless. We were left powerless. We were left alone.
“This is it.” I sighed, fixing my gaze onto Celsa. There was no trace of emotion hidden in his eyes and his face was unreadable.
“This is it.” He repeated in a mumble. His hand squeezed mine gently; then that was it.
The meadow we were competing on materialised around us. Each of us were bound to the spot whilst the temporal shift adjusted us to our surroundings.
All eyes were in the flickering candle set on a stone in the centre of the battlefield. When the flame stopped burning and all that remained was melted wax, the bloodbath would begin. Then, it would be a survival of the fittest. Those who could outrun the others would, and that’s how they’d live.
This was it. The final quiver of luminosity signalled that it had begun. The end had just begun.
Instinct kicked in and my feet broke off in a run. I was headed towards the thick canopy of trees provided by the forest.
Celsa. I couldn’t leave him. I had to go back. Chances were, he’d already been killed in the initial carnage; but how was I to know without checking? Those who’d survived would be long gone by now, scattered in several parts of the arena. They’d be scavenging for their survival, seeking water supplies and avoiding confrontation. The bloodbath would have taken everything out of them.
The meadow was scattered with the massacred remains of bodies when I returned. Some young, some slightly older, none above the age of twenty. None of these would be returning home. Families had lost children, brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews.
It was in the rules that half of those submitted into the arena were to return. Though the Opressors rarely stepped in when numbers rapidly depleted to what they should be. Usually, they allowed the odd few more deaths to ‘slip under their radar’. Though residents of the sunders knew that it was purely for the entertainment of those in charge.
Out of all the bodies that I’d stepped over, none of them were Celsa. Which meant, that he was quite possibly still alive. Quite hopefully.
In the meadow, I stood alone. It took a moment for the reality that Celsa could be alive to sink in. When it dawned on me, I sprinted into the forest to escape the overexposure of the low-lying flowers. Desperately, I wanted to shout Celsa’s name. If I wanted to be found and killed on the spot, that was the way to go. I kept silence though, a mixture of fear and the fact my life depended on it kept my lips sealed.
A swish and a whistle swooped by my ear. Instinctively I ducked and threw a double edged knife at the source of the noise. My knife landed in the chest of a boy that went to school with us, but was a few years below. He was young with freckles that kissed his cheeks. The guilt that panged in my heart was enough to eat me away if I survived through this.
The weapon that had skimmed by me had made no noise of landing, or lodging. I turned around and my stomach sank. The sword had not landed in the mud, or stuck itself in the bark of a tree. It was buried into the neck of Celsa.
He gave me a faint smile, his face wavering with panic.
“No…” I trailed off. The sick feeling in the back of my throat was threatening to choke me. I shook my head in disbelief. “No.”
He began to sway, and I was instantly by his side, my arms resting on his back and supporting him up.
“Please don’t leave me,” I croaked, tears threatening to spill over my eyes.
“Believe me sweetheart, I don’t want to. But I have to go.” His hand caressed my cheek, and I noticed him biting back droplets of sorrow.
“No, you can’t.” My voice was rising.
“Clara, listen to me. You have to go on. Lie me down and forget about me.” He pleaded with me.
I succumbed to his wishes, and lay him down. No matter what, he would face death. Whether it was a slow, painful one or a quick one with a pull of the sword.
“Goodnight, my beautiful.” He chuckled lightly. All I could do was force a smile, and watch as he closed his eyes forever. Watch on as the only person I could be myself around left my side forever.
In life, we are divided. Yet, in death we are united.
