𝒐𝒏𝒆       𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑦

━━━ SOME WOULD SAY THAT FIRST FRIDAY WAS ONE OF THE WORST DAYS OF THE MONTH—AND BY SOME I MEAN MARE BARROW. I, however, would argue the complete opposite. First Friday makes the village crowded, and while the body heat added to the intense blaze of the sun makes it nearly impossible to stay hydrated, the number of extra people makes it easier to steal without being seen.

   I maneuver through the crowded dirt path easily, passing young children that attempt to take whatever I've rightfully stolen for themselves. I snatch their hands before they have the chance to touch me though, their wrists secured in my iron grip before I eventually let them go (not before giving a stern look as a warning).

   Sweat drips down my face. I ignore it. I have no time for worrying about how frizzy my hair is or how rotted the flower crown atop my head is. It rained yesterday, and humidity fills the air in a that way that's almost suffocating. Smell it, taste it, feel it; added heat. I wouldn't say I'm enjoying myself, but I will be later on when I pawn everything and am able to buy food for my mom tonight.

   A familiar head of hair catches my attention. Her brown locks and white tips are hard to miss from here as she shuffled through the crowd and dances along the stores, grabbing anything she can. Her pockets must be heavy with objects by now, but I can tell from here that my haul is greater than hers. Her shoulders are hunched. Everyone in the Stilts has hunched shoulders.

   I'm been so busy staring at Mare's form as she comes closer that I nearly knock over an older woman. She scowls at me, an ugly look that makes me shudder. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and force myself remember that my mother taught me to respect my elders. Instead, I nudge myself past her with as much care as I can muster. There's a cart behind her and I snag two apples from it before the shopkeeper even notices that I'm there.

   The Stilts are bustling at this time of day as adults scramble to reach the shops before they close. They've been with their families all day-celebrating, I guess-and they more than likely forgot that they have responsibilities. School and work get out early on First Friday, a rule that I deeply despise. While most kids my age hate learning and would rather be studying at an apprenticeship, I enjoy reading and would love to get a job at the school.

   It won't happen. Not before I get conscripted, anyway. I'm seventeen and school is almost over. I'm as good as dead at this point.

   Conscription (in the dumbest terms) is the government policy that forces eighteen year olds to join the army involuntarily. If you don't have a job, or if you aren't an apprentice, you get sent off to the war. There aren't any jobs left these days. Everyone is frantically scrambling for any position they can get just to avoid imminent death.

   The lucky ones work in Summerton. If you're lucky enough to get a job there, then you will most likely be able to talk your superiors into giving your relatives jobs as well. At least then your siblings will be safe.

   I don't have siblings. Mare does, though.

   All three of her brothers are off fighting the Lakelanders. They all left a while ago, one after the other until all three were gone and her only artifacts to remember them by were three earrings. She'll leave soon enough. I'll follow shortly after.

     "Mare!" I holler at her to get her attention. Her eyes land on me, a small smirk creeping up her lips as she speed walks towards me. "Hungry?" I say once she reaches me, tossing an apple into the air for her. She catches it easily.

   Just as she opens her mouth to respond, people begin shouting further down the street. Kids are at the crossing of Mill and Marcher roads, sprinting away from Security as they get caught trying to pickpocket people.

   Sticky fingers, I roll my eyes, amateurs.

   A rustling sound catches my attention and I spin back around, only to come face to face with Kilorn Warren, Mare's hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. I crack a smile at him, receiving an even wider grin back.

   Kilorn is the old fisherman's apprentice. He, Mare, and I have known each other since we were children, and the two of them used to absolutely hate each other. They used to get in fights, actual fights with punching and kicking-in Mare's case, hair pulling. However, a friendship sparked between them when Mare began giving him food at school. She claims it's because she wanted him to be healthy so she could beat him up, but I have other suspicions.

   Kilorn's dad died in the war, and his mother abandoned him a little while later and left him to fend for himself. Somewhere along the way, he stumbled upon my mother and I's house, and now he comes over for dinner most nights. Not that he needs it, but my mother enjoys his company even more than my own.

   "You're getting faster." Kilorn chuckles lightheartedly as he shakes his hand from Mare's grip.

   Mare cocks an eyebrow with an amused look on her face. "Or you're getting slower." Kilorn just rolls his eyes, snatching the apple from her hand and taking a bite out of it.

   "Are we waiting for Gisa?" My quiet voice asks.

   "She has a pass for the day. Working."

   Gisa is Mare's little sister; she's has an apprenticeship in fashion. From what I gather-because Mare refuses to talk about it—Gisa is the Barrow family's only hope for getting the boys back from the Lakelands and saving Mare from conscription. Once Gisa finishes her apprenticeship, she's eligible for a real job, one that she can use to get her siblings smaller jobs as well.

   "Then let's get moving. Don't want to miss the show."

   "And what a tragedy that would be." Mare snaps sarcastically at Kilorn. She's never had a tolerance for these events, can't say I blame her if I'm being honest.

   "Tsk tsk, Mare. This is supposed to be fun." He's not phased by her attitude; it's something that the two of us have been around for way too long to be annoyed by. He wags a finger at her for emphasis and I stifle my laughter, not wanting to face her wrath.

   "It's supposed to be a warning, you dumb fool."

   Kilorn doesn't listen to her. He's already stalking off in long strides, his giraffe legs taking him farther in two steps than Mare and I can get in five. He walks like he's been drinking all afternoon, wobbling on the sides of his feet and struggling to find his center of gravity. He doesn't drink, he just works long hours on the water.

   We reach the bottom of the hill, the crowd becoming more compact as people shove at each other, trying to get into the arena first. The seats that are covered with shade are limited, and the majority of the village is scrambling to get there like dogs for a bone. First Friday attendance is mandatory unless you're considered an "essential worker". Usually, those workers are fashion/makeup employees—hardly "essential", but the silvers love of their clothes and flare.

   Even Security can be swayed into giving you extra electricity rations if you provide them with nice lines of embroidered silk. But I don't know anything about that.

   Silvers are so superficial, and I thank god everyday that I grew up around people that I can actually stand. Of course, the Stilts are a horrible place to live considering the number of public executions that take place here, but I'd rather be around reds than silvers.

   I despise them, despite technically being one.

   Mare and Kilorn hated me for it when they first found out. All three of us have always had a vendetta against the silvers. Kilorn's dad died saving them, Mare's dad lost his youth, and my dad left before he could be conscripted for them years ago. The two of them eventually learned to get over it when they realized that both of my parents are reds, and the only way I'm different from them is my blood. I grew up the same, faced the same trials, have been through the same things. We aren't different.

   Thinking all silvers are bad is the same as thinking all reds are inferior.

   I'd never say that to them, they'd think I lost my marbles. But it's true. They think I'm the only exception. It's bullshit.

   We climb the steps that lead to the crest of the hill, Kilorn takes them two at a time. He leaves Mare and I hustling to catch up. He stops for us, snickering at the way we rush up to him.

   "Sometimes I forget you have the legs of a child." He says.

   "Better than the brain of one." Mare snaps, and I would laugh if I wasn't concerned with her annoyed attitude. She lightly smacks Kilorn's cheek before moving past. I follow behind her as he laughs at her, the sound getting lost in the chatter of the crowd.

   "Hey," I reach her, "you're grouchier than usual. What's up?"

   She sighs and rolls her eyes, I can tell it's directed at the world and not me. "I just hate these things."

   I place a hand around her shoulder and drag her along with me. "I know, but it's only for half an hour or so."

   We're in the arena now, the sun beaming down on us, the air shimmering with heat. This is the largest building in the Stilts, but it's still nothing compared to the ones that are built all over the larger cities. Compared to the rest of the structures in the village, this is easily the most breathtaking. Arches of steel, hundreds of feet of concrete.

   Security officers are crawling all over the place in their ugly uniforms that practically scream: we are superior to you. They're all silvers, and they know they have nothing to be scared of in a village of reds. Everyone here is nothing to them, seen as inferior and deserving of a life of servitude. Still, they carry pistols and rifles in their hands. Their posture is perfect, a thing that has always annoyed me for no particular reason.

   The arena has an open top, and it's no surprise that most of the shade has been taken up by other reds. Kilorn manages to find us a spot in a small patch of it—so small that half of by body is still burning in the sunlight. The silvers are sitting in air conditioned boxes with plates upon plates of food at their disposal if they so much as snap their fingers. They get cushioned chairs and ice, we get stone benches and sunburn.

   "Bet you a day's wages it's another strongarm today," Kilorn says. He loves betting on these things, it's one of his only sources of entertainment.

   "No bet." Mare replies. She's never been one for gambling. Most reds aren't, they all need the money. I don't bet most of the time either, but every now and then I give Kilorn a chance to win for fun. Today is not one of those days. "You shouldn't waste your money like that."

   "It's not a waste if I'm right. It's always a strongarm beating up on someone." He turns his attention to me. "Wen, how about it?"

   I shake my head immediately, "not this time."

   Obviously, it's going to be a strongarm and one of the others—maybe a telkie. Those two are the most common in the arena, they're some of the least interesting abilities. Every silver has one—except for me, I guess.

   "What about the other one?" Mare asks.

   "Not sure. Hopefully something cool. I could use some fun."

   Kilorn has always loved First Friday, mainly because we get the privilege of watching two champions tear each other apart. Mare and I see it differently. It's not a show that they put on to entertain us or remind us that they're human too. It's a warning that they have abilities that could rip our hearts from our chests in a matter of seconds. Reds aren't allowed to compete because they couldn't possibly survive, unless they were fighting other reds. The message is clear, but Kilorn and the others don't see it.

   "Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice rings out around us, bored and monotone. "Silvers and reds, welcome to First Friday, the Feat of August." God, I hate August. I hate summer in general.

   At one point, the Feats were public executions that the silvers got to watch in the capital, Archeon. Enemies of the state would be transported there and killed, I guess the silvers decided that it was an interesting form of entertainment, and they made it into something of a game. Over time, the Feats left the capital and spread to other cities and arenas were built nearly everywhere. They used to be for silvers only, but reds were allowed admittance. Mom says it's because they want to scare us. I don't know if silvers realize it also helps us profit off of them, maybe they just don't care.

   The first champion to enter the arena is very obviously a strongarm, his muscles are practically bulging out of his shirt and his teeth look like they've all been punched out. I stare at the video screen rather than gazing upon the actual scene below. Kilorn and the others cheer loudly for the champion, who's been announced as Cantos Carros from Harbor Bay. Security officers start throwing around extra ration papers to a few people. Only the ones that scream loud enough to get noticed. 'Lec papers here, bread there.

   The other warrior is scrawny and pale, his blue armor catches the light and blinds me for a moment when I look down to see him in comparison to Carros. He looks calm, like he knows something Carros couldn't even begin to predict. The announcer introduces him as Samson Merandus, from the capital. The name itches at the back of my head, a distant memory that I can't place. Maybe I read it somewhere in school.

   The houses are all really well known-the famous silvers that are born into lives of unmatchable wealth and riches. Lucky them. Reds are born into poverty and labor, their backs always hunched from long days at their jobs. Most of them are in governing positions-the House of Welle is ours. They never visit the Stilts, hardly anybody does. It's not a place that silvers enjoy looking at, let alone being in. I'm usually the only one in this general vicinity.

   "It'll be the strongarm for sure." I hear Mare mutter to herself, but Kilorn hears it.

   "How do you know? What's Samson's power?"

   "Who cares? He's still going to lose."

   I ignore their conversation, intending to find out what Samson will do without any distractions to make me miss something. A familiar call echoes in the arena, multiple people in the crowd stand up to watch, nearly blocking my view. The announcer tells them to take their marks, the two of them dig their heels into the ground as Cantos reveals a sword. Samson has no weapon.

   The speakers chime. And so it begins.

   Cantos immediately rushes forward, quickly grabbing Samson's leg as the smaller warrior tries to dodge the forceful attack. He's slammed into the wall as Cantos throws him across the arena, a shout of pain escapes the man. Kilorn is laughing beside me and Mare is glaring at the silvers, but I wince every time Samson hits the dirt. I see the metallic liquid dripping from his mouth-he's bleeding. Brutal.

   Cantos barrels towards him, sword at the ready and eyes ablaze with victory set in his sights. But he stops. Samson stares at him in amusement, his stare unflinching as he wiggles his fingers. Cantos steps in time with his movements and I see Mare's jaw drop in the corner of my eye. Whisper.

   The word slips from my mouth before I can stop it, my voice breathy and weak with surprise and amazement. Whispers are rare, I've only ever heard of them and there's never been one in this arena. They read thoughts, they enter minds, they control your whole body and have access to every single thing in your brain.

   Cantos has lost every defense mechanism he had, and as much as he tries to fight Samson's hold on him, he's unsuccessful. His muscles tremble as he raises his sword and Samson's hand twists the the right. My eyes flicker to the huge screen across from me just as Cantos stabs his own sword into his stomach. Blood seeps through the cracks of his armor and drops form a puddle on the floor.

   Blue lights signal the end of the match, healers rush into the arena and gather around the incapacitated warrior. No silver has ever died in the arena before, they don't let that happen.

   It's no surprise that they begin to rush us out of the stadium at a pace faster than anything I've seen before. Swifts push and shove reds towards the exits, people scream and shout as they get separated from their children and friends. Someone rams into my back unexpectedly, sending me to the ground as people run for the stairs around me. Someone steps on my hand and Kilorn manages to pick me up from the ground as he catches up.

   When we stop to meet up with Mare at the end of the stairs, I hold my palms up, feeling the burn after catching myself from the fall. Small rocks are stuck in my skin, silverblood can be seen in a few places. I pull the rocks away, flicking them to the side. This is nothing compared to what I just witnessed in the Feat. God, all that blood.

   I know not to worry for the silvers, at the end of the day they'll be fine when a healer tends to their wounds, but I can't help but feel bad for Cantos. Mare would scold me if she knew that, though.

   The silvers will be fine. They can go back to living like gods in their polished houses and we'll still be here, wasting away as we hope to escape conscription. I can't be conscripted, I'd get discovered too easily; then I'd be in real trouble. My parents would surely get killed, if they could find my dad, that is.

   Silvers don't care whose red blood gets spilled. As long as they're safe, and no one is questioning their leadership, they're happy and content.

It's time someone questioned them.

𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑠       𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧

thank you guys so much for reading the first chapter! i'll try to update regularly!
let me know what you think, i'd love any feedback you have and please comment whatever you want!

- gray