Chapter One

“I, Aspen Anderson, pledge my loyalty to Khendryah, and to her leaders who have defended our great country from its birth, even at the cost of their lives. I swear to do the same, no matter the cost, as my life and selfish desires are insignificant compared to the needs of our country. I will do all I can to assist the leaders in moving Khendryah forward, and will not hesitate to turn in anyone who tries to stand in her way. Khendryah is breathing titanium, and no one can stand against her. Long live King Remus Danavon.”

After saying the pledge, the boy in front of me removes his right hand from his chest and lowers his other from the air where the tips of his fingers were level with his eyes. They say it’s a sign of disrespect to have it raised lower or higher. It’s supposed to mean you’ll be hands on with your country and you’ll watch your hands very carefully. We’re to make sure they “don’t do anything in secret, such as give your loyalty to anyone besides Khendryah and the ones who run it.” We’re to betray one another if that’s what it takes to “protect” our country; we can either turn in or kill those who choose to rebel against the leaders. It’s our call.

The sight of the tube with the needle attached is dizzying to me; I’ve never been considered ‘strong’ in the presence of sharp objects. But Aspen makes it look as if it’s no big deal as he brings the needle to his index finger and begins to draw blood. It takes only seconds for the tube to fill up.

“Sign here and then find your group,” says a man behind the desk. There are two Tamers on either side of him to prevent anything from getting out of hand, and if anything does happen to, they’re here to put an end to it in any way they see fit. “Your group is M4,” the man says, “and you’ll find them in the center row to the left of the auditorium.”

Aspen does not reply as he uses the tube like a pen and the blood it’s filled with like ink. He signs his name with his left hand, then hands the sheet of paper to the man after going over the blood with a miniature dryer. The man nods and dismisses Aspen, then motions with his hand for me to come forward. Hesitantly, I move up to the desk, half expecting my legs to get a mind of their own and attempt to take me out of this building. The other half of me admires them for being able to carry me this far after all I’ve experienced over the past two days. I haven’t shed a single tear and I don’t intend to. Not while I’m being watched, at least, and I’m certain that cameras are everywhere and there is no such thing as privacy here.

“Say the pledge,” Declyn instructs, taking a paper off the huge stack and setting it down on the table directly in front of me. His words repeat in my mind as images of a fraction of all the wrong the leaders have done flash in my mind.

A decade ago, King Remus Danavon ordered some of his men to hunt my aunt down and kill her as soon as she was spotted. That was all because she planned to leave the country with her children to escape the drastic changes of the United States, which has since been named Khendryah in honor of the king’s wife, whom he killed after receiving a daughter from her. He had insisted that she give him a son.

My aunt’s children were also found as they tried to board a rebel ship and all six of them (the captain, my aunt and cousins) were killed right on the spot – no questions asked. A similar scenario took place two weeks later, but that time it was a family of eight trying to steal a ship to visit their sick grandmother who either lives or lived in Ireland. We were told that the king thought it was best because “you never know, they could have been traitors.”

My father was murdered just two days ago for keeping our location a secret. He’d done a lot of wrong himself in his lifetime, but the one thing I knew he’d never do is risk the lives of Elissa and my mother, even if it meant risking his own.

I was kidnapped… taken from my two remaining family members, and I have to live with worry, wondering if they made it. If King Remus so desires, the search won’t end until he has their heads for trying to escape. Or worse.

Clearly becoming impatient with me, Declyn repeats in a firmer tone, “Say the pledge.” I turn around and sweep my gaze down the ever growing line of children from elementary school age to late teen years, and hatred fills me. I’m sure none of them came willingly; I bet they were all kidnapped, like I was.

“No.” The word leaves my mouth before I can think of a better response – one that’s less likely to kill me, but I decide that I don’t care what is thought of or what happens to me at this point. “You’ll never get me to pledge my life to evil.” Immediately, the rifles are raised. One is aimed at my head, while the other points to my chest. For a moment I am scared, but then a new feeling takes the place of the fear that has possessed me from the beginning of Khendryah.

I square my shoulders and lift my eyes, then glare into Declyn’s, which show shock. I’m sure he’s never been as brave in his life. Many would argue that my act of defiance is not bravery, but complete and utter senselessness. Maybe it is, but I’m not about to pledge my allegiance to the king and his minions.

Declyn raises his left hand and the guns are lowered, but only by a few inches. “Let this be a lesson to all of you…” The tightness in his voice tells me how upset he is. “All who refuse to say the pledge will be immediately executed.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he says to the Tamers, “I can’t even stand the sight of her anymore. You may shoot at will.”

“No, wait!” Suddenly, a full head of blonde hair appears in front of my eyes, blocking my view of Declyn’s face that is no doubt still a deep shade of red. “Don’t shoot.”

“Oh, and why shouldn’t they?” the man behind the desk asks as he rhythmically taps his fingers on it. “You are aware that this girl could pose as a threat to our country, aren’t you, Aspen?”

“If Khendryah is so strong, there’s no need to be concerned about a threat as small as I am,” I point out. Declyn’s eyes widen.

“Pardon my friend…” Aspen says, laying a hand on my shoulder. It’s supposed to make us seem more like friends, but the fact that I stiffen at his touch should be a dead giveaway. I try not to react in any other way. “She’s mentally challenged.”

“Oh, that explains it… In that case, she’s excused. Please assist your friend to her group: F1-1, where all the mentally challenged people go.”

“Thank you,” Aspen says, firmly taking my hand. I yank it out of his and walk ahead, trying to get away from him. I need to think of a way out. I can plan while I sit with my group.

“You wanna get yourself killed?” he says from behind me. He soon catches up, but keeps an awkward – yet preferred – distance.  “One thing you need to learn if you’re going to survive is when to speak and when not to. That back there was the latter.”

“I’ve held back way too much throughout my life,” I reply, shaking my head. Once I find a sign that says ‘F1-1’, I go into that row, but then look back at Aspen and finish my thought. “All my life I’ve kept quiet when I should have spoken up. All my life I’ve been making that mistake.” As soon as I sit down in an empty space, the girl beside me bursts into tears. My older sister instincts try to overpower my ‘don’t trust anyone’ side, but I manage to control it. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she says between sobs, her voice muffled by not only that, but also by her hands that cover her face. “I’m okay. It’s just the PBA. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding to let her know I understand. My aunt had PBA. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she replies, sniffling. She removes her hands from her face and wipes one on her shirt, then turns in her seat and extends it out to me. As she’s only sitting beside me, she doesn’t have to stretch it out far. In fact, she keeps her elbow at her side a little awkwardly, making the whole position look kind of uncomfortable. “I’m Allison, but you can call me Allie.”

Shaking her hand, I say, “I’m Skylar.” I think to offer her my nickname, but then remember my little sister and decide that only she can use it. It would remind me of her too much, anyway.

Though her ice blue eyes are filled with tears, Allison’s smile brightens them, letting me know it’s genuine. I simply don’t understand how she could even seem happy with the situation that we’re in, but I smile back. I can’t help staring at the dimples at the corners of her mouth when she smiles. Elissa had them, too.

“Something about you reminds me of my older sister,” she says, her brows furrowed. She’s pouting slightly as she rubs her chin as if she’s hard at work, trying to figure out her own question. “But I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is.”

“How many sisters do you have?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. “I have one, so there’s two of us. How old are you?”

“I’m the second youngest, and fourteen years old,” she says. I have to admit, though, that she appears three years younger than her age, so that surprises me a little, but I try not to show it. “I have two sisters – Rainalynn and Aidalee, and one brother – Aspen. I saw you talking to him earlier… What happened?”

Pursing my lips, I discreetly study her face, from her freckles to her cleft chin, and even the way her blonde hair curls just slightly at the ends. I can definitely see the resemblance. “My freedom of speech was robbed and so my mouth nearly got me killed.”

Allie doesn’t react to my statement in the least, and it saddens me that she seems so used to hearing such things. It shows how cruel the world is. “Oh, you definitely remind me of Faira now. Her mouth is just like that.”

Now confused after forgetting what I said before, I touch my lips, then say, “Just like what?”

“Beautiful,” says a boy as he leans around Allison. He waggles his bushy, black eyebrows at me and it’s obvious that his eyes are focused on my mouth as he runs his tongue over his upper lip. Repulsed and somewhat nauseated, I bring my head back and sit straight in my seat, trying to get that image out of my head. I’m also able to successfully hide behind Allison, who now reprimands “Aardin” for his inappropriate behavior.

“Baby, I speak the truth when it needs to be spoken,” Aardin says. I wonder what the exact reason that he’s in this group is. Whatever it is, I know it has something to do with the way he’s acting.

“This is his usual self…” Allison says, scrunching her nose in disgust. “His mind has nothing to do with his disorder, but he just talks freely because of it. Sorry about that, Sky.” Her face suddenly changes when she realizes what she just called me. “I mean Skylar! I’m sorry, I forgot…”

I smile at the girl who reminds me so much of my sister that it hurts. I try to assure her that it’s all right, and she doesn’t have to be fearful of me. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You can call me anything you want.” I know I don’t have to worry when I say that; Allison just glows with innocence. It’s Aardin I’ve already forgotten about.

“Don’t mind if I do!” he says, leaning his head back to see me as he rubs his hands together. He resembles one of those irritating horseflies that have made a home in the stable behind my house. “I’ll list a few and allow you to pick whichever you like best. I have a few in mind now, though. They are…”

As Aardin lists the names, I have to resist the urge to get up and deck him. I couldn’t possibly do that while being so closely watched, and he’s twice my size. I’m not sure I’d be able to take him. And so I choose to ignore, which is the opposite of what my heart is telling me to do. All my life I’ve heard the age old saying, “follow your heart,” but now that I’m older and wiser, I know that a heart can lead their owner to dangerous places. But so can a mind that insists I keep quiet, I suppose. This time, I choose to listen to my brain, which is clearly the wiser one at the moment.

I swallow hard, trying to push both the nausea that he created and the feelings he dug up back down.

“Are you okay, Skylar?” I hear a gentle voice say beside me.

Without looking at her, I answer, “Yeah, I’m fine,” though I’m most certainly not. I had no clue that I had tears in my eyes until I blinked and one came out. As I wipe it away quickly with my sleeve, I realize that Allie must have seen them.

“Attention, everyone,” says a lady who stands on the stage in the front of this building. Her voice is gentle and sweet, and it matches her appearance. “May I have the attention of the audience at once, please?” she says more firmly, but still, the gentle air she had before remains.

The majority of the eyes in the room turn to her and suddenly, everything is so silent that I can almost hear the heartbeats of the frightened children as I look around. I’m thankful to be sitting next to Allie, or else I’d probably be sitting alone, though I’d be surrounded by other kids. Our conversation has distracted me; it’s gotten my mind off of the troubles at hand.

The lady looks around, appearing pleased with the response she got, or the lack thereof. Her mouth is moving so I know that she’s speaking, but no sound can be heard from this distance. I look at her hands and face, but don’t see a microphone anywhere. How were we able to hear her before? But then she puts something into her mouth, and immediately I can hear her again.

“Thank you in advance for your time. I’m sorry about the technical difficulties. The Speaker Pill wore off. I was testing them out backstage and forgot to take more.” She sighs, then says in a sarcastic tone, “Don’t you just love technology? Phil, pass me a microphone, please. These things are nasty.”

My eyes are wide as I take in everything I’ve just heard her say. I don’t even remember the last time I touched an electronic. The government never confiscated ours, but took away the very thing that it takes to turn them on – electricity. Now no one except those who live in The Center have access to the Internet and other electronics such as televisions, air conditioning, refrigerators and more.

As the young woman paces slowly across the stage, her high, high heels click loudly against the floor. The way she walks alone tells me she’s very powerful, and she knows it. But without the air of importance she possesses when she walks, the confidence in her voice would say everything. “Well, hello everyone!” she says in an annoyingly chipper tone, as if we weren’t just kidnapped, but rather, came to celebrate a birthday. Several seconds pass and no one responds. She repeats, “Hello everyone.” Still, no one offers a greeting in return. “Full participation is necessary to survive here. But of course, as you all know, there’s the option of not participating… which ultimately leads to death.”

“I heard that people here in The Center don’t waste a thing,” whispers the boy to the left of me who just sat down. He leans in so there’s a lesser chance of anyone hearing. “I don’t know if this is true or not, but I’ve been told that every single deceased human is used for dog food. It’s probably a hoax, though, right? It’s ridiculous... I don’t even know why I brought it up.” I just stare at him, not really knowing what to say. I believe it, but I wouldn’t tell him that. Not with the way his Adam’s apple bounces repeatedly as a sign that he’s gulping, and the fact that his eyes keep darting back and forth as he scans them over this massive room.

“My name is Saphira Pruden, and I’m the Head Director of Programs,” the lady says as she looks from one side of the room to the other. I notice that her intense gaze lingers on certain areas in this room, and I’m almost certain that for a full minute, her eyes rest on me as I squirm under the invisible spotlight.

Allison elbows my arm to get my attention, and I’m quick to give it to her. It’s an excuse to not have to look at Saphira. I feel as if she can see through to my soul and the rebelliousness that stirs within me. It sits just below the surface, waiting for the perfect opportunity to show itself. I force it down for now, though, as I have plans of escaping in a way that doesn’t involve decapitation.

“I think she’s staring at you,” Allie says quietly. I nod.

“I’m here to ensure the success of this program,” Saphira continues. “And whether or not this program is successful all depends on the majority of people in this very room; both your mental and physical skills will determine the fate of so many things, including your country. Yes, Khendryah. The responsibility that belongs to you as a Khendrian is huge and should not be taken lightly. Especially not after the pledge most of you made just a moment ago. But before I dive in to explaining the reason all of you are here, let’s play a little game.”

                Suddenly, an older male’s booming voice sounds as if it’s coming from all around. From the floor, from the ceiling, from the walls… I can literally feel the bass of his voice in my chest. “The game works like this: Every chair in this room has a number. That number will be yours for the rest of your life, and each one of you is nothing but that random number chosen for you permanently. This game will prove the fact that you are indeed replaceable. Numbers will appear on the screen above the stage, and the only rule on our side of the playing field is that we cannot discriminate. The numbers will not be chosen based on anything; they will randomly be chosen by our computer.”

“Oh, how nice of them,” Allie mumbles sarcastically.

“There will be three rounds, and everyone whose number is chosen will be asked a trivia question,” says the man. Saphira continues to stare up as if the voice can be seen. I turn in my chair, searching everywhere for the source, but don’t see him anywhere. “If they fail to answer that trivia question correctly… well, you’ll see. Let’s begin, shall we? Round one!”

A giant, flat television screen lowers from the ceiling, hiding a lot of this building’s back wall, and three big numbers in a fancy, bold font appear on it. Then the whole screen is covered in numbers. The first vertical row to the very left begins to scroll at a very fast pace, ticking with every number that touches the center, but then zooms past. I can’t read the numbers as they fly by on the screen, going up, but then the movement of the first row begins to slow. It settles on the red number ‘4’, placing it in the center to the left. Then it’s the second row’s turn to scroll, and then the next. Each row chooses one number, and when the three are put together, it says, ‘4-3-6’.

“Number four-hundred-and-thirty-six,” Saphira announces, then goes on to say, “You will be asked one question and given one chance to answer it correctly. After Dasnick asks the question, you are to enter in your answer on the screen that has just risen in front of you. You will have thirty seconds to come up with your answer, but think carefully. You may not ask anyone at all for help, and if you do, both of you will suffer the consequence for your disobedience. I wish you success.”

I look around the room, fearing for the life of the person in that seat. Hopefully no one is sitting there, but it seems as if every single chair is occupied. There has to be at least five hundred minors here.

“Alright, Xzenna,” says the booming, unforgettable voice of Dasnick. Still, I can’t tell where it’s coming from. “Your question was chosen randomly, so its level of difficulty may be either below… or more likely above you, seeing as you’re only five years old. Try your best. Okay, your question is: How do you spell Khendryah?"

Spelling has always been one of my weak points, just as reading has. In school, I was always picked on for it, but since homeschooling started in my house, my mom devoted most of her time to trying to get me on par. I did improve, but still struggle sometimes. Khendryah is an easy one for me though of course because it’s the name of the country I live in and I’ve seen it a million times. But this a five year old… This is sick! It’s pure insanity!

“K...” she begins in the sweet voice of the little girl that she is as she taps the letter on the screen. I see her now. She’s only a few rows down, and has chosen to stand as she enters in her answer. I find myself squirming again as nervousness for her floods my heart. “H… E-N-D-R…” She hesitates for a long while, and I find myself counting the seconds down. I then notice the numbers on the screen, and see that she has only four seconds left. The want to shout out the rest to her threatens to gain control of my mouth, but then I remember what the rules are. I would get us both killed.

“Three, two…” Saphira says, counting down along with the screen.

“I,” Xzenna continues, and immediately after the letter leaves her mouth, she screams. My heart races, threatening to thump right out of my chest. I allow myself to look and see that the chair she was once sitting in has flipped forward, and she has disappeared. I stare in horror until the screen behind Saphira begins to play what looks like a movie. But then I see the face of a five year old girl, and I figure out instantly that she is Xzenna.

Suddenly, I hear the deep, rumbling noise in the back of the throat of an animal. Xzenna’s eyes widen and her face pales. Nothing at all – none of my experiences, nor things I’ve heard of – could have prepared me for what happens next.

I lean forward in my seat and am violently sick.