Kaden ran until his legs gave out, stumbling into the clearing of a shallow stream. His chest heaved as he bent over, gasping for breath, his hands clutching his knees. The sound of rushing water filled the air, a stark contrast to the pounding in his head.
He knelt by the stream, the coolness of the water drawing his gaze. For a moment, he stared blankly at his reflection. Then his eyes widened in horror.
Blood.
His face was smeared with it, streaks of crimson running from his lips down his chin. His mouth... the sight made his stomach churn. "Was this their blood?"
"No," he whispered, shaking his head violently. His reflection mimicked his desperation, but it offered no comfort.
Without hesitation, Kaden plunged his head into the icy water, the cold shocking his senses. He scrubbed at his face, his neck, his arms—everywhere the blood clung to him. His fingers dug into his skin, raw and frantic, as if he could wash away not just the blood, but the guilt that clung to him like a shadow.
When he finally emerged, he gasped for air, the droplets of water mingling with the tears still streaking down his face. He looked at his reflection again. This time, the blood was gone, but the fear and hunger in his hollow eyes remained.
He wrapped his arms around himself as the chill of the night seeped into his bones. His stomach rumbled, loud and insistent. He winced and muttered, "I didn't do it. I couldn't have."
The words felt hollow, even to him.
"They were soldiers. They had abilities. I don't. There's no way I killed them."
But the image of the carnage, of the blood on his hands, refused to leave him.
---
For a week, Kaden had been hiding in the woods. The solitude was suffocating, but necessary. He ventured to the outskirts only when hunger became unbearable, scavenging for scraps or stealing what little he could.
Every shadow in the trees felt like a soldier watching him. Every rustle of leaves sent a jolt of panic through his chest.
But today was different. Today, he couldn't stay in hiding.
Today was the opening of the ""Grave Garden"".
Every year, on this day, the gardens allowed all sixteen-year-olds a chance to claim their flower—a chance to gain an ability. It was the only glimmer of hope for many who lived on the outskirts. A powerful ability could change everything.
Kaden sat on a fallen log, staring at the distant lights of the city. His heart thumped in his chest, a mix of anticipation and dread.
"If I can get a strong ability, I can defend myself. Maybe even survive this mess."
But deep down, he didn't believe it.
Those who came from families of wealth or influence always seemed to get the strongest flowers. Those from the outskirts were left with the weakest scraps—which is why they are in the outskirt.
Kaden clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I have no choice. I have to try."
He stood, his legs stiff from a week of running and hiding. His stomach growled again, a painful reminder of his fragile state. He kicked at the dirt beneath his feet, steeling himself.
"This is my only chance," he muttered.
The city loomed in the distance, the lights of the sun rising from it's horizon illuminating the city. Kaden took a deep breath, then began his trek toward it, each step heavy with determination and uncertainty.
__________________________
Kaden trudged along the dusty path leading from the outskirts toward the towering gates of the city. Around him, a small group of other sixteen-year-olds from the outskirts moved with a mix of excitement and trepidation. For most, this was a day of hope—a chance to break free from the shackles of the outskirts, to gain an ability that might elevate them from the dirt to something greater.
One boy, his clothes patched but clean, walked with a hopeful bounce in his step. His parents had been shouting words of encouragement as he left, their faces lit with anticipation. Another girl carried a small bundle of food tied in a cloth, her determined gaze set on the city gates in the distance. Among them, Kaden noticed a frail-looking boy with hollow cheeks whose father had barked harsh words before he left: "Don't come back if you get a weak ability. We've got no use for another useless mouth to feed."
Kaden smirked bitterly at the irony of it. "The father doesn't even have a useful ability himself, which is why they're stuck in the outskirts. Yet he has the nerve to demand greatness from his son." Shaking his head, Kaden quickened his pace, blending into the group.
As they approached the gates, the massive iron structure loomed ahead, flanked by imposing walls that separated the city from the outskirts. The guards stationed there, clad in polished armor and armed with advanced weaponry, barely spared them a glance. Kaden noted how different the atmosphere was from usual. The gates, normally a point of tension for those from the outskirts, were left open wide.
It was no secret why. Humanity's war against the beasts was relentless, and the Grave Gardens were the key to bolstering their forces. Even the weakest abilities could be used as cannon fodder, human shields to protect the strong and powerful. This time of year, when the Grave Garden opened its gates for sixteen-year-olds, the government didn't care who came through, as long as they added numbers to the war effort.
"They won't stop us," Kaden muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the disinterested soldiers. "Not today."
The group passed through the gates, and for some of them who haven't ventured inside illegally to "collect" food, it was their first time inside the city. The transformation was immediate and stark. The outskirts were a wasteland of broken homes, dirt paths, and despair, but the city was alive with towering buildings, bustling streets, and bright holographic signs advertising everything from luxuries to military enlistments. The streets were paved, the air smelled faintly of spices and smoke, and people walked with purpose, dressed in fine clothes that screamed wealth.
But the contrast wasn't welcoming.
The teenagers from the outskirts stuck out like sore thumbs, their patched clothes and gaunt faces betraying their origins. City folk passed them with sneers, their noses wrinkling as if offended by their very presence. Some whispered loudly enough for Kaden to hear.
"More rats from the outskirts," a well-dressed man scoffed, adjusting his coat. "They're wasting resources on them again."
"Look at them," a woman in a shimmering gown sneered. "They can't even afford decent shoes. What abilities could they possibly get that would be of any use?"
Kaden's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. "They think they're better just because they were born here," he thought, anger simmering in his chest.
One of the other teenagers from the outskirts lowered her head, avoiding the judgmental stares, but Kaden kept his gaze forward, unflinching. He refused to let their disdain weigh him down. He wasn't here for their approval.
As they moved deeper into the city, the streets became even more crowded, the buildings more lavish. Posters and holograms announced the Grave Garden opening, and groups of sixteen-year-olds from wealthier districts walked by, their heads held high, dressed in pristine uniforms and shining boots. The difference was glaring.
"Outsiders should have their own time slot," one city teenager muttered as they passed by, loud enough for Kaden's group to hear. "They're dragging down the whole event."
Kaden bit back a retort, his jaw tightening. "Let them talk. Soon, it won't matter. If I can get a strong ability, they'll see."
The group from the outskirts reached the central square where a massive crowd was already gathering, all converging toward the entrance to the Grave Garden. The air buzzed with anticipation, and despite the insults and glares, hope flickered in the eyes of those from the outskirts.
Kaden's heart thudded in his chest as he stared at the gates of the Grave Garden. It was a chance—a slim one, but a chance nonetheless—to change his fate.