It was a travesty. It was a bloodbath. It was unique. It was the 47th Battle Royale.
The subcontinent of Edjpril; the only civilization in the world now, as all the others failed to control its government and its people. Rising waters, global warming, major earthquakes, and other disasters have made this planet of Earth slowly crawl into its own habitable madness. This landmass formerly known as North America looks different than it would’ve around 1,000 years ago, in the 2000s. The 2000s had different coastlines, mountain ranges, cities; now all has been “renewed” by this young subcontinent of Edjpril.
47 years ago, a war happened; between the eight districts of Edjpril and its capital, the City of Tasmathi. The people in the districts just call it “the Capital”. The districts were badly defeated and then the two sides agreed to make a peace treaty. A treaty that stated that as punishment for rebellion, every district shall sacrifice four tributes to compete in the annual Battle Royale, a brutal competition between 13-year-olds where they must fight to the death until one remains.
A depressing tradition, I must say, but this year, I turned 13, so I’m now eligible to compete in this competition. The picking ceremony is tomorrow, and it completely defeats the confidence in almost every 13-year-old, except for the insane and bloodthirsty ones. I count my blessings that my name is not picked to compete, but anything could happen tomorrow; anything.
The eight districts of Edjpril all favor and practice a certain elemental magic. District 1 favors and practices the magic of Hydromancy, or the magic of water. District 2 practices Pyromancy, fire magic. District 3 practices Biomancy, nature magic; District 4 practices Necromancy, dark magic; District 5 practices Aeromancy, wind magic; District 6 practices Cryomancy, ice magic; District 7, the district I hail from, practices Electromancy, electricity magic, and the last, District 8, practices Geomancy, earth magic.
I have friends scattered throughout all of Edjpril, but if I’m picked and so are they, I don’t know if I will have the nerve to kill them if the time came for it, or the courage to say goodbye to them if they are picked. I don’t know if I have the nerve to kill anybody. All the luck in the world couldn’t help me; let alone any other 13-year-old.
Before I knew it, it was morning the next day. I was scared for my life. My mom had woken me up, and gave me breakfast. I heard rain tapping at my window, as it always does, accompanied by a clap of thunder, and a streak of forked lightning striking the lightning rod nearby. It gets pretty stormy here in 7, especially in fall. As I was calmly eating my breakfast, my friends were already messaging me. Immediately we were talking about the picking ceremony at noon. It turned into a huge group chat nearing the end of the conversation, as time was passing by. For a minute, I had forgotten about the ceremony today. But then, our conversation ended at around 11:30 am, and it was time to leave for Liberty Hall, in the center of town.
My family lives in the suburbs in one of the four major cities of District 7. Every district has 4 major cities where they choose the boy or girl to compete.
My city chooses a boy tribute this year, as the cities switch roles annually. Everyone in the district comes to the nearest major city, and the crowd sometimes is so large, they have to wire speakers and screens throughout a 10-block radius. All the boys that were 13 by the time of the ceremony were asked to come up to the large stage. I went up, and looked over this large crowd of people, just staring at us with sympathy and grief for their kids that had the possibility of being selected. The orator walked up to the microphone and finally spoke.
“Welcome! Welcome; to the 47th annual picking ceremony,” she said cheerfully. “Now, as usual, we pick only one tribute out of this crowd of handsome young men. Last year, we had to pick a young lady, but sadly, she is not with us anymore. So, now I shall see which young man I pick from this bowl of names.” She reached in and picked a name. She opened the paper up, walked back up to the microphone, and cleared her throat. “One of the male tributes competing in the 47th annual Battle Royale is… Kole Verano,” she said with poise. The boys were looking to me, both with relief and sympathy. The orator looked to me, and noticed that I was Kole Verano. “Come on, dear,” she said caringly. I slowly walked up beside her, and everyone felt for me. I saw my family horribly shaken by my name being called. All of them were completely distraught. I felt sorry for them, having to put them through this.
The orator was introducing me to the crowd, and as we were nearing the end, my family saluted me. Everyone saw them salute me, and everyone in the crowd started to salute me as well. The orator paused, and waited for the crowd to finish. Everyone had finished, and the orator concluded her speech.
I was in a waiting room waiting for my family to come by to say goodbye. I was shaken up, scared for my life, and scared of what would become of my family. Finally I heard the door open, and saw my family walk in. My sister, brother, mom, and dad all hugged me tightly, sorry to see me go. We talked for about 10 minutes, and when the escort came to pick me up, my family was sent back home.
I slowly followed the escort to the train that would take me to the Capital, and my head was spinning from all these thoughts in my head. The orator came by to talk to me, but not professionally; to give me advice and other personal things. Her name was Belle Kingston, and she was a darling of the Capital, but she did not let that get in her way with the district people. We talked the whole way to the Capital, and we became friends.
She showed me the tribute list, and I saw some of my friends on it. Ryan Sambrano and Tyler Bautista from District 3, Alice Rodriguez from District 1, Annabelle Navarro from District 4, Roxanne Vera from District 8, and Erika Reyes from District 2 were all picked. I was already grieving for them, and dreading the possible moment that I found out they were all dead, or the moment I would die…
