The street leading to the Chamber Headquarters is deserted, the buzz of the ceremony in the town square muted as though the whole world had paused to watch us take our first steps toward the unknown. I walked with the others, each of us carrying the weight of our factions' hope.

Every step felt heavier, not from the distance to the Chamber Headquarters but from the unsettling feeling I have in my stomach. I glance up at the tall building and an eerie chill creeps over me.

A female Pacifier leading us flashes her ID card at the massive door and it n
yawns open. The sound of the door shutting behind us when we all are inside sends a shiver down my spine.

My feet move mechanically, but my thoughts drift back to the last moments I’d shared with my mother. Her grip on my hands had been firm, steady, as though she could anchor me to the life I was leaving behind. “Don't trust anyone in there, Aria,” she’d said, her voice soft yet unyielding. "If your gut tells you something is wrong, believe it."

My gut is telling me something is wrong now or it could be just the nerves kicking in.

We pass the test rooms where we’d all been evaluated just days ago, the memory of sterile white walls and judging eyes flashing briefly in my mind. The hum of machinery and faint buzz of fluorescent lights brought me back to the present as we continue down the hallway, its stark walls narrowing the farther we went.

At the end of the corridor, a heavy steel door awaits, partially open, revealing a staircase spiraling downward. My stomach churns as we descended, the air growing colder and the light dimmer with every step. The faint hum of the world above fades, replaced by an eerie silence that settled over us like a shroud.

The others around me walk in tense silence, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. This isn’t just a building—it felt like we were descending into something alive, something watching us.

We approach an automatic door which slides open, and we are ushered inside. The sterile interior was suffocating, its cold, clinical design, not something I'm used to.

The dormitories are the first stop. Rows of bunk beds lined the room, each identical with thin, gray sheets and steel lockers.

“This is where the girls will sleep this week before the competition starts,” the Pacifier states. All the girls are in one dormitory, the boys were lead to the dormitory opposite ours.

From there, we were led to the cafeteria. The sharp smell of synthetic food hit me as we enter, and my stomach churns. Rows of narrow tables fills the room, and dispensers along the walls hum quietly.

“You will eat here,"she says coldly as if she dreads being the one to have to show us around. "Breakfast is at 7am, lunch is at 1pm and dinner is at 7pm. The last time you'd get a good warm meal. Enjoy the week while it lasts."

Something about the way she said that doesn't sit right with me. Her tone is too sharp, her words too weighted. We have a week until we enter the Chamber and we'll be staying here so long, and yet it already feels suffocating.

Next, we are taken to the training facility. The air is heavy with the metallic tang of weaponry and sweat. Obstacle courses stretch out before us, while racks of weapons gleam under fluorescent lights. Simulated terrains flicker in the corner, the holograms glitching slightly as they adjust to display various challenges.

“This room is quite self-explanatory,” the Pacifier says with flat voice. “Training is not optional. You will be expected to utilize these skills in the Chamber.”

The Pacifier's gaze sweeps across the room, her eyes lingering on the Ironclad. "Some of you could use a shower," she says, her tone detached. "Head to your dormitory to clean up. Meet you at the Cafe at 7pm for dinner."

As we scan the room, one of the Veilborne girls—the blonde girl that deliberately bashed into Tonya and I during the test—smirks and tosses herself onto a lower bunk.

“Veileborne take the bunks and Ironclad take the floor,” she says, her tone dripping with mockery.

The others laugh. Tonya, who’s already tense, squares her shoulders and takes a step forward. “Let me rephrase that for you. Veileborne take the toilets because you are all full of crap," she spits.

The blonde raises an eyebrow. “Funny because all make up the crap.”

“You Veilborne think you’re so superior,” An Ironclad girl mutters, her voice dripping with disdain.

The room crackles with tension, the kind that only leads to one thing.

The blonde stands up, her eyes flashing with anger and gets confrontational. The other Veilborne girls follow her lead, their faces set in identical masks of defiance. “Maybe because we are," she spits back, her voice dripping with venom.

Tonya's fists clench, her entire body taut like a spring about to snap. It’s clear she’s ready to throw the first punch, and the blonde with the rest of her minions looks just as ready to take her on.

As the girls continue arguing, something catches my eyes at the corner of the first bunk. Number 82. I remember Tonya's assigned number being 82.

I scan the next bed.

Number 14.

A thought crosses my mind---what if these are our assigned numbers? I walk around the room, scanning the beds to confirm my suspicions.

I quicken my pace, scanning the room for my assigned number. And then I spot it---the fourth bottom bunk with the number 156 imprinted on the corner of the metal bar. Like all the other bunks, a pair of crisp, navy blue fabric lie folded on the mattress. I unfold it, revealing a long sleeved shirt and matching pants, both adorned with the Chamber’s emblem. The fabric feels soft and durable, like it's meant for both comfort and practicality. My guess is that we're supposed to wear these after showering.

I turn my attention to the girls who are still arguing, and say loud enough for them to hear me, "We don't get to choose which bed we want." I gesture to the bunk beds. "Our numbers are assigned to specific beds. Look."

The girls follow my gaze, and their eyes widen as they see the numbers on each bunk.

The room falls silent as they scan the room for their assigned numbers. The tension dissipates slightly, replaced by a sense of curiosity.

I notice that the side the Veilborne girls claimed is assigned to some of the Ironclad. I suppress a giggle watching their faces twist in a scowl as they stalk off to their assigned bunk.