The air crackled with anticipation as the groups shuffled toward the compound, the wait stretching on at the checkpoints like a drawn bowstring. The first stop demanded their identification cards, each participant relinquishing their identification to a faceless guard. The murmur of uncertainty buzzed through the lines as they were directed to the second checkpoint, where they were split into groups by gender, a clear delineation that hinted at the ritual's secrets yet to unfold.
Once they reached the registration station, a sense of urgency filled the air. Participants scribbled furiously on forms that felt deceptively mundane, with fields that seemed innocuous at first glance: Name, age, address, next of kin, hobbies, interests, skills, educational background, work experience. Yet, beneath the surface lay a palpable tension. Eyes darted as they filled in the blanks, cheeks flushing at the probing questions of the questionnaire. Whispers floated through the air, unvoiced doubts simmering just beneath their curiosity.
When their turn finally came, they were ushered to a stark white booth. A camera clicked, freezing each face in time, and their pictures were affixed to the forms like a seal of fate. The guide, a stern figure with a hawk-like gaze, rattled off the rules for their brief stay: tomorrow marked the culmination of the ritual, and for those unselected, their fate led them back to their districts.
"The last batch of eligible participants will arrive today to commemorate the final day of the ritual," the guide announced, his voice echoing ominously. "Meals will be served at seven, and details of the ritual will be provided tomorrow morning." With that, he gestured toward their cabins, leading them through the compound's winding pathways.
As they entered the cramped quarters, the reality of their situation hit them like a wave. Bunk beds were crammed against the walls, and a trio of washrooms loomed at the end of a narrow aisle, their peeling paint and flickering lights adding to the dreariness.
"My Gosh, why is everything so cramped?" an irate girl exclaimed, tossing her suitcase onto her bed with enough force to rattle the frame.
"How do they expect us to share this tiny space with all these people?" she continued; her voice laced with frustration.
Aysha rolled her eyes, the internal sigh barely contained. How do you expect us to know? she thought, watching the girl's theatrics unfold.
"Do you have something to say?" the girl shot back, her eyes narrowing as she advanced on Aysha, hands on her hips.
"Well, if you're so eager to hear my thoughts, I suppose I'll share them," Aysha replied, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "First, if you can't figure out the answer to your own question, you can't expect anyone else to." She waved a dismissive hand, her confidence rising. "And second, we're only here for a day. Thousands will come and go for this ritual. Did you really think they'd provide five-star accommodations for everyone?"
The girl bristled; her face flushed with indignation. "How dare you mock me, commoner! I could crush you like a bug!"
Aysha met her glare with a smirk. "Lucky for me, today we're all on the same level. If I'm a commoner, so are you."
Leyna leaned in, whispering urgently, "Quit it, Aysha. You know you're always the first to stir trouble."
The girl—Makenzi Novak, the youngest heir of the wealthy Novak Industries—fumed silently, her privilege and beauty clashing starkly with her surroundings. The cabin's cramped conditions were an affront to her sensibilities, and she vowed to take her frustrations out on Aysha. The mere thought of her plush king-sized bed replaced by a stiff mattress made her skin crawl.
"Settle down, ladies," a voice boomed, cutting through the tension. A man entered, clipboard in hand, his presence commanding instant silence. His eyes glinted with an authority that brooked no dissent.
"Listen closely," he continued, his baritone voice reverberating in the small space. "Tomorrow marks the final day of the Blood Moon. For those who are lucky, tomorrow is the last day you will see a familiar face, unless you initiate into the same community." His gaze swept across the room, ensuring his words sank in. "Tonight, you will enjoy your last meal before the ritual begins. I recommend you eat and sleep well."
Murmurs of apprehension rippled through the group. "What are the success rates?" Chaya's voice trembled with a mixture of hope and dread.
"Less than twenty percent," he replied, a smile playing on his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Chaya's face paled.
"Let's not dwell on what we can't control," Leyna urged, settling into her chosen bed, trying to mask the anxiety threading through the room.
"If that's all the questions for today, you are free to explore the compound until 10pm, announcements will be made in the morning"
As the man left, a heavy silence fell, punctuated only by the distant echoes of various people walking around. Shadows loomed large, and the air thickened with uncertainty. Tomorrow would unveil their destinies, but for now, all they could do was wait.