Zusia, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

"Steph. Wake up."

Stephanie cracked her eyes open at the sound of Marcie's gentle voice. Marcie stood above her bed, her long hair in tangles around her face and a bloody scratch above her left eye that hadn't been there before. Stephanie sat up, instantly awake.

"Where were you last night?" she blurted out as relief churned through her.

Marcie sat down heavily. Stephanie could see how tired she was, and not just by the dark half-moons under her eyes. "The Tests went a while." The weariness was clear in her voice, but Stephanie could see something else there. A sort of grief lingered in the lines of Marcie's face.

"I was worried," Stephanie whispered.

"I know. I'm sorry. Noe's was closed by the time I got there."

Stephanie let out a long breath, sliding out from under the covers and perching on the bed beside Marcie. She slipped her hand in Marcie's. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Marcie wouldn't look at her. "The ceremony starts in an hour. Come on. I need you to do my hair." She rose to her feet, and Stephanie realized that she was already dressed in her maroon graduation uniform.

Stephanie knew something bad had happened; Marcie was aloof as they got ready for the ceremony, quiet while Stephanie braided her hair. Stephanie tried to initiate conversation, but Marcie didn't seem talkative. Stephanie found herself breathing easier when she locked herself in the closet to dress in her uniform. The uniforms had been specially fitted just weeks before, sleeveless maroon jumpsuits with matching jackets bearing their trainee number on its back. She'd only ever wear it once. Looking at herself in the mirror, she knew it was designed for looks only. It'd provide no protection for the unfortunate soul who was picked for the Purge. She hated that.

Marcie offered to re-braid Stephanie's hair, but Stephanie decided that her braid from the day before was still presentable enough; a few strands had fallen out to frame her face, and she kind of liked it. In fact, she decided that she looked rather nice, as a graduate should — only the mark on her cheek ruined the image.

Stephanie stared at it in the mirror for a long moment. Every trainee had it. The dragonmark, a representation of Motch's control over them — but also intended for identification purposes. The symbol was a snake-like dragon, the head seeming to rest above the wearer's left eye while its body, tail, and wings curled around across the temple and down like a scar along the left cheek. Stephanie had tried many times to scrub it off, but it was there to stay. She didn't even know what she looked like without it, though she could imagine, if she covered the left side of her face with her hand. She tried it now, wishing it would disappear.

"Steph." Marcie stood by the door, looking more solemn than Stephanie had ever seen her.

Finally, Stephanie couldn't stand the tension. "What happened in your Test?" she asked, dropping her hand and turning away from the mirror to look at her best friend.

Marcie's eyes hardened. "I don't want to talk about it."

Stephanie wanted to. "Something weird happened in mine. A woman talked to me," she said, feeling rooted to the floor despite the way Marcie's hand found the doorknob. "She asked if I liked being a murderer."

Marcie swallowed hard. "What'd you say?"

"No. But I killed them all anyway."

Her best friend looked away, her hand tightening on the doorknob. She opened the door. "Let's go, Stephanie."

Stephanie obeyed without another word. They didn't talk the whole way down to the courtyard, where they had been ordered to gather and wait to be escorted to the arena. The fountain gushed clear-as-crystal water, bubbling in a happy sort of way Stephanie couldn't relate with. Although she and Marcie were a bit early, a lot of the other graduates were there. Taise, who still looked pale, sat on the edge of the fountain, staring straight ahead while two boys beside her chatted and the swished water around with their hands. On the other side of the fountain, a girl with long blonde hair stood on its edge, talking loudly to two boys standing below her.

"Astrid's probably describing her Test in very deep detail," Stephanie found herself muttering to Marcie. She rolled her eyes as Astrid did a rather impressive back-flip off the edge of the fountain, landing cleanly to the applause of the two boys with her. Stephanie and Astrid had never been friends and everything the other girl did just grated on Stephanie. Stephanie had always been excellent in combat, but Astrid was incredible. If anyone was going to be picked for the Army, it was going to be Astrid. She was cold, ruthless, and an impressively talented fighter. The only thing Stephanie could do better than Astrid was shoot.

Marcie merely grunted, finding a bench to sit on far away from Astrid and her companions. Stephanie joined her, a cold feeling growing in her chest. Marcie was being uncharacteristically quiet. She always had a comment about Astrid — except today, it seemed. Marcie barely gave the other girl a glance.

Tense silence overcame them as they sat, waiting. As the minutes passed, more Trainees showed up, some sporting minor injuries from their Tests. Stephanie was growing restless, just wanting this day to be over so that they could move on with their new lives. It dawned on her that today was the last day she would be known as a Trainee. Whatever happened today, she'd never carry that label again. It was a scary prospect.

Finally, they were joined by their group of trainers. Yasmin was among them, looking striking in his militaristic uniform. The sight of him calmed Stephanie's heart just a bit as they were ordered to line up. She found herself behind Taise and in front of Kallum, a place she had been in all her life.

Today would be the last time.

Led and flanked by their trainers, they began the Graduation March. It led them down the path toward the gate; the pathways were lined with the Trainees below them: the ninth years all the way down to the first years. They were there to see them off — the other Trainees would remain there, watching the ceremony on screens. Thousands of eyes followed them as they left the Trainee Campus and marched toward the monorail. The streets getting there were crowded, hundreds of people too unfortunate to get seats in the arena vying for a glimpse of the Graduating Class of Ten-Oh-Four-Sixteen. Some cheered, and there were even some whistles. Stephanie kept her eyes on the golden numbers on the back of Taise's jacket, wondering for a moment if her parents were in this crowd of onlookers. Would they know who she was? Were they even still alive? She'd never know.

They marched up the stairs to the monorail, which sat empty, waiting for them. They filed into the cars silently, and Stephanie was relieved that Yasmin was in her car. As the monorail got up to speed, carrying them across the city in record time, she looked at him. He was already watching her, and when their eyes met, he gave her a nod. She returned it, letting out a breath.

Once they reached the stadium, they were led up into the specialized seating for the graduates: rows of chairs in front of the giant throne facing the arena. The stands around them were filled already, spectators eager to see the ceremony — eager to see the bloodshed that followed. Stephanie swallowed hard, sitting down between Taise and Kallum, unable to stop herself from looking over her shoulder at the throne. It was empty. She shivered.

As soon as all the Trainees were seated, a hush fell over the crowd. Stephanie looked down into the arena to find a figure walking to its centre. The person was veiled, draped in blue from head to toe like a bride.

"The Veiled Lady," Kallum whispered beside her, his voice hushed in awe.

Stephanie stared at the woman in the centre of the arena. The Veiled Lady was something of a ghost in the scary bedtime stories the Trainees were told as children. It was said she was always watching, ready to punish them if they were bad. No one had ever seen her face, they were told, and it was merely a guess as to whether the face beneath was one of incredible beauty or one better left hidden. Stephanie had never truly cared for the horror stories, which painted the Veiled Lady as a bloodthirsty murderer who carried naughty kids off in the middle of the night, killed them, and bathed in their blood. Since none of the Trainees had ever gone mysteriously missing, Stephanie called it all a hoax. Yet, even then, the sight of the diamond blue figure made her heart speed up. The Veiled Lady was coupled with death — she was the king's executioner. Where she was, death followed. That was no hoax.

The Veiled Lady did not speak. She rarely ever did. She only lifted her arms, blue sleeves falling back to reveal white skin. The crowd rose to their feet, and the trainees followed suit. The hair on the back of Stephanie's neck prickled when a voice echoed through the loudspeakers:

"People of Desmond, bow in honour and reverence to the almighty, the powerful, the true king of Desmond: the Great Dragon, Motch!"

The Veiled Lady lowered to one knee, head bent toward the throne, and everyone copied her pose. Stephanie heard the powerful flapping of wings, felt the wind pull at her hair, and she couldn't help but look up to see the beast enter the stadium, circling from high above and swooping down. Called the Great Dragon, Motch was exactly that: a dragon. He was the largest beast in all of Desmond, well over twenty-five feet in height and surpassing fifty feet from crown to the tip of his tail. His scales were like plates of armour, impenetrable, ranging in colour from reds to golds to deep purples. Two long horns curved out from the crown of his head, several more shorter ones from his cheeks and chin, all terribly sharp and deadly; his eyes were like crimson fire, seeing all. His wings were huge, carrying his humongous body effortlessly and sending coats and hats flying in every direction as he pumped them. His tail was like a tree trunk, his claws long and sharp enough to slice a Human in two. Razor-sharp teeth, bone-crushing jaws, nostrils flaring smoke; the beast, flying over the bowing, wildly cheering crowd, radiated pure evil.

"Desmond!" he bellowed, his deep bass of a voice echoing through the stadium over the noise of the crowd. "Welcome to the ceremony! Welcome to the Purge! Today is one of retribution!" He landed on all fours in the sand behind the Veiled Lady. She remained still and motionless, even as he roared and blasted fire into the sky above them, lighting several banners on fire. The crowd screamed even louder, encouraging his antics. Like an overgrown puppy, the dragon bounded around the Veiled Lady, spitting fire in show-like fashion. Stephanie wasn't sure if she was supposed to be impressed or disgusted. Marcie, a row ahead of her, caught her eye. She looked a lot paler than before. Stephanie knew she was losing colour herself.

Motch leapt into the air, propelling himself over the graduates with his wings and landing hard on the platform above and behind them. The whole stadium seemed to shake. Stephanie looked behind her again as he gave another roar, silencing the crowd.

"Today, we have our graduation," Motch declared for all to hear. "Graduates, I commend you on your hard work, on your loyalty and devotion to your king. You have worked hard and gotten far, and you will reap those benefits today." He blasted fire above them again, sending the crowd in a frenzy once more. "Let the ceremony begin!"

Stephanie looked back into the arena. The Veiled Lady was gone. The loudspeakers around the stadium buzzed, and then boomed with "Trainee Six-Nine-Nine-Three."

Stephanie looked over her shoulder to the oldest in their year. Zaman was one of Astrid's companions. Across the stadium, a large screen showed his number, and beside it, a video feed captured his face for the crowd. He gave a cocky thumbs up, always one to please a crowd. Below the live feed, his Test score appeared: eighty-seven. The crowd cheered. Well above average, which wasn't much of a surprise. Beneath his score, the results of his sorting appeared: Army. The crowd buzzed — what a dramatic way to start off the ceremony. Zaman stood, giving a dramatic bow. Stephanie caught Marcie's eye, and they shook their heads in unison.

The ceremony dragged on and on. There were mostly Commoners, some Army, even one or two Nobility. When the first Dreg appeared onscreen, the crowd hummed with disapproval and the graduate was whisked away so fast Stephanie hardly had any time to realize who it might have been. The ceremony continued on normally. Few got a score as high as Zaman's. That is until Astrid's number was called.

"Trainee Seven-Oh-One-Eight," the speaker bellowed. Astrid's number and face appeared. Below her face, her score: a ninety-five. The crowd cheered louder than ever, most impressed. Few ever managed a ninety, not to mention a ninety-five. They all knew it before it appeared: she was sorted into the Army.

"Show-off," Stephanie heard Kallum mutter under his breath. She hummed in agreement, but inside, her stomach was churning. The higher the number, the deadlier one was — even the Dreg had been an eighty-four. The higher one was, the more likely they were to be sorted into the Army. The more likely they were to be cold-blooded murderers. She had known Astrid was in that category, but the reality of it was enough to send shivers through her.

She just wanted this day to be over.

There were many more numbers called, many more people sorted into the different areas of society. Stephanie heard Taise exhale deeply when she was sorted into Commoners. Stephanie wanted to be happy for her, but she couldn't breathe. She was next.

"Trainee Seven-Oh-Three-Five." Her number appeared, and the camera captured her face. She looked rather pale, she realized, and she set her jaw. She didn't want anyone thinking she was scared, no matter how true it might have been.

Below her name, her score appeared, and her world went silent.

A ninety-eight.

"Tell me, child. Do you like being a murderer?"

No, no, there must be some mistake, she thought frantically, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She could see the crowd's explosion, their cheering, but she couldn't hear it. Heat rushed into her face, her body flushed with ice-cold terror. She had scored a ninety-eight — no one had ever scored a ninety-eight!

The screams of the crowd exploded in her ears, awakening her from her stupor with a merciless jolt. The air felt like it had been slammed from her chest as she read her sorting result: Army.

She should've seen it coming. Deep down, she had always known she was going to end up in the Army, she just had refused to acknowledge it. But with a score of ninety-eight? She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes searching for Astrid. Sure enough, the other girl was staring at her, her eyes spitting daggers of hatred. Astrid had wanted to be top of their year — she had boasted about it ever since they had been fourth years. She had always been the best. So how had Stephanie performed better than her in their Tests?

She hadn't. There had to be some mistake.

Stephanie was so lost in her confusion and thoughts she was nearly elbowed in the face by a stagehand. Gasping, she fell back against Taise, watching in frozen horror as the two stagehands wrestled Kallum to his feet and dragged him off. Kallum was a Dreg? How? He was the nicest boy she had ever known! He was no rebel! She stayed locked in place, staring as Kallum was pulled out of sight. The ceremony continued without hesitation. Stephanie remained in her confusion and horror, the empty seat beside her filling her with the terrible reality of what was ahead.

Before she knew it, Marcie's number was being called. Shaking off any and all emotion, she focused on the screen. Marcie looked calm, but Stephanie saw what the screen did not: Marcie's hands were clenched in her lap anxiously. Stephanie's heart began to ache.

They had had so many plans together. They were going to start a business together, be seamstresses, putting their store right beside Noe's. Those dreams were dashed now. Stephanie was in the Army. And Marcie...

... wasn't. With a score of fifty-nine, Marcie was a Commoner.

Stephanie sat back, closed her eyes, and tried to stifle the disappointment and grief welling up inside of her.

Soon enough, the sorting ended. A silence took over the crowd. It stretched for several moments before Motch's gravelly voice echoed through the stadium: "And now, for the Purge."

Below, the gates opened, and nine people were herded into the arena. Some were young, others were older, but every one of them was armed. On the giant screen, faces, names, and offences flashed, condemning these people for various reasons. Stephanie guessed that some of these people had been imprisoned for years, waiting for their time to be in the Purge. It was their only chance at freedom. Today was the day they would be free... or the day they would die.

"Our tenth contender will now be picked from the graduating trainees, as a reminder that no one is above the wrath of the Great Dragon," the loudspeaker declared. The screen showed the Veiled Lady on the platform behind them, holding a paper tied with a string. She pulled a knife out of the many folds of her dress and cut the string, letting the paper unravel on its own.

The moment of silence was agony for every person present. Then, for the first time, the Veiled Lady spoke, her voice soft and deadly and yet somehow heard by all:

"Trainee Seven-Oh-Four-Five."

Everything went utterly silent at that moment, or perhaps Stephanie had lost the ability to hear again. Her heart wasn't beating. It was as if it had stopped. Then she inhaled, and it pounded on as if entirely oblivious to what had just happened.

The Veiled Lady had called Marcie's number.