My head pounds-as if somebody is methodically beating a drum inside of my head. It hurts. Everything hurts. My arms...my legs...everything up unto the tips of my fingertips throbs painfully. But I think I'm alive. After all, isn't heaven supposed to be pain free?

I don't really want to open my eyes. But they flicker open of their own accord, revealing to me a metallic silver room. It's a large space with a low ceiling. As I sit up, a blanket falls from my chest. A thin paper gown is wrapped around me, and I can't help but feel exposed. This situation makes me uncomfortable. I need to get out of here, and back to my real room. When I stand up, I realize that I'm not alone. My bed isn't the only bed in this room. There is a row of beds-some with people, other completely empty. I recognize some of the occupants of the other beds to be other contestants. Some are much more battered then others. Doing a quick check of my body, I seem to be alright. No serious injuries in any case. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones.

Clutching my paper gown to my body tightly, I walk away from my bed and towards a stainless steel door near the end of the room. It's too creepy to stay down here. As if reading my mind, the door slides open with a loud squeak, and the bored-looking government official who explained the trial to us walks in. He is plump, with a long moustache and stick brown hair. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else then here at the moment.

Taking a small step back, I put on my best glare, and stare at him menacingly.

"What are you doing?" I growl, tracking the mans movements with my eyes. The man sighs, rolling his eyes, and walks over to me. He grabs my arm with his claw-like fingers, and plucks a needle out of my arm. I barely feel the sting-I'm too wound up.

"You're free to go back to your room. Dinner will be at 1600 hours. Don't be late." He says in a flat voice, throwing his arm across my back and 'ushering' me towards the door. I stumble forwards-out of his grip and through the door, and turn to glare at him once more before the door slams shut once more. Finally I am alone again.

Now what?

I turn away from the door, seeing a set of metal stairs in my path. Clutching my gown tightly to my body, I start towards the stairs-my legs wobbling dangerously. I can only imagine what a sight I must be...crazy haired lady stumbling around the palace. I look like one of those women from the streets back home-women who grab at you with one hand, and clutch a flask in the other.

Oh the irony of my situation....

Struggling up the stairs, I collapse in a heap at the top. Although I don't think there is anything physically wrong with me, I am weak-like a child first learning to walk.

I dislike this feeling.

I can't show anymore weakness. I need to be strong, and show not only Empress Alura, but myself that I am stronger then I appear. That I truly am cut out for this competition.

Grabbing a hold of the metal railing, I hoist myself to my feet. Throwing my shoulders back and puffing out my chest, I march away from the basement. I feel ridiculous. I probably look ridiculous. But that's ok. At least I'm still here.

And that's when it hits me. I'm still here. I'm not rotting in a room somewhere...I'm alive. I made it past the first round. I made it-at least until the next Trial.

But I'm still here, and right now-that's all that matters.

A mixture of adrenaline and excitement pumps through my veins as I bask in my success thus far. I feel very accomplished-proud of my victory.

Sort of.

Because while I made it past this round, three of my competitors did not. And my being alive and free, means that three others are now awaiting death-or whatever happens once you 'lose' a trial.

That puts a damper on things.

But I can't think about that right now. I have to keep facing forward-to look to my own future; not the past of those behind me.

At long last, I make it to my room. I feel a enormous sense of relief as I collapse onto the familiar bed-the pillows enveloping around me. Although I miss my home desperately, this is not such a bad alternative. I mean-luxury is never really a bad thing in these circumstances.

I don't have time to enjoy this luxury however, before Quintus barges into my quarters.

"Get up and get dressed girl-" he says, throwing a dress in my general direction. "you're not done yet."

Back home, when I was growing up, I was always seen as the 'nice' girl. Friendly with everyone, kind and meek. Never in my life have I felt hatred for an individual.

Until I met my stupid Kindred.

"What more do you want from me!" I groan-angrily throwing the dress back at him.

"It's not a matter what I want from you, it's what the country-the government wants from you. Now get up and get moving!" He raises his voice-striding over, and shoving the dress into my unwilling hands.

"Maids!" He roars, and my maids quickly scurry in, their heads down.

"Make sure she's ready in 15 minutes." Quintus demands before marching out of my room.

Shooting a nasty look to the closing door, I reluctantly leave my beautiful bed and let the maids work. I'm too cranky, and too tired to care about modesty as the maids yank my paper gown off of me, and replace it with a different dress. Velvet maybe? I don't really care. In any case, it's soft and warm, and that's all that really matters to me. I do protest the heels however, but when Quintus returns, a glowering look upon his brow, I put the devil-shoes on without a fight.

Wobbling down to the hall where the first grand dinner was held, I lean heavily against the wall as I survey the people before me. Only the remaining contestants are here, along with a few officials. Everybody looks as just bad as I feel, and there is not much chatter among us. I look around-trying to figure who's missing. The boy who sat in front of me this morning at the first Trial-he's gone. Naria too. I can't place the third face missing this night.

My heart drops to my stomach as when I realize Naria is gone. It could have easily been me. It almost was me.

As much as I hate being here, I'm so grateful to be here.

Somebody taps my shoulder and clears their throat behind me. For a moment, I consider not turning around. I'm not in the mood to talk right now. But with a sigh, I do anyways.

It's the boy. The one I fought (and lost to) earlier. I don't remember his name. Blade? Scrade? If I'm completely honest, I don't really care.

"Elixir, right?" He says my name as if it were a question. He seems to be friendly enough, all through he may just be manipulating me. I shake that thought quickly out of my head however. I've always prided myself in my ability to see the best in people. This is no time to lose that gift.

"Yes," I smile slightly. The boy takes my hand and shakes it amicably.

"Bayde," he says. I make a mental note of his name. It would be embarrassing to forget it yet again.

"You put up a fair fight today. To be honest, I was a little bit worried when you came at me!" Bayde laughs, his dark eyes sparkling with humour.

This boy has obviously not had much trouble with his life. The way he talks to the way he carries himself makes it so clear to me that Bayde is one of the few, fortunate citizens in life. And as someone who is not an Elite, I already find myself distant from him.

"Thank you." I nod politely, extracting my hand from his grip, and bidding my goodbyes. He looks slightly confused, as if he expected to have a nice long conversation about how 'wonderful' our 5 second fight was.

Well, tough luck my friend.

Excusing myself from dinner, claiming that 'I didn't feel well', I make my way back up to my room.

One Trial down, two more to go.