I'm only missing two factions, and I'll be done with this predicament. And for the first time, I see it as impossible to achieve.

It's hard to be in the simulation and see Eric dead. The rage overtakes me, I can't forgive Four. Not when it's not just pretending to do so, I really have to manage to forgive him.

And I still have the Truth test left.

I let my mind wander through those questions and decided to eat cooked vegetables, chicken broth, and oatmeal for dinner. I took another shower, as the connectors from the simulation dug into my skin, and when I got out, they left a trace of blood.

I've only seen Allison and Jessica, both without fully seeing me, while Eric hasn't appeared in my view again. I spent most of the day on the mattress, resting my head on the pillow and covering myself up to my neck. I slept intermittently and at times, I submerged myself in an ocean of questions, fear, and uncertainty.

I need to be smarter to overcome Amity. How is it possible that passing Erudite and Dauntless was easier than the faction where I grew up?

Even Abnegation wasn't difficult.

I have to breathe deeply, focus, and put into practice what I learned from Molly. The noise on the other side of the wall could be heard, and I noticed dawn approaching. In my small cubicle, where I could lie down, the black wall began to turn transparent, letting me see the view on the other side—what looked like another cell. The person inside made me stand up.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I growled.

Tris slumped a bit, looked at me, and came closer.

"The suicides haven't stopped."
A small blow hit my chest, I pressed my lips, realizing that Jeanine wouldn't rest until she had both of us.

"This time, she was only saying my name." Tris continued.

"She wants both of us." she finished.

I let myself fall onto the mattress, staring at the gray ceiling, and with my gaze lost, I came to the unmistakable conclusion that Jeanine is not satisfied with just me. So, was my plan really stupid? Or maybe too clever? If Tris didn't have that selfless part of her, my plan would have worked.

"Who died this time?" I murmured bitterly, praying it wasn't someone I knew.
"Raphael," she whispered with sorrow, knowing how much that man meant to me.

I turned my head to look at the short-haired brunette, her large, shining eyes holding that dim look she's carried since she arrived in Dauntless. I tried to ignore the pressure in my chest, but it was inevitable—so much so that I had to return my gaze to the ceiling, ashamed that she saw the first tear slipping from the corner of my eye.

I began to press my lips harder, holding back an unexpected sob, covering my eyes with my forearm to hide my loss. I lost my tattoo artist, that guy who insisted there was humanity in me, and I ignored him. The guy who expected kindness and empathy from me for the Abnegation, and I gave him scraps.

The first man who discovered I was Divergent and protected me from the cruel claws of the faction system.

"This can't be," I growled, trying to conceal a pain that was impossible to hide.

The knot in my throat grew tighter as the sense of loss intensified. Raphael died. Marlene died. Two deaths that meant a lot to me.

Covering my eyes helped me wipe away those treacherous tears, as if I could somehow remain unnoticed by Tris.
"I'm sorry," Tris whispered. "We couldn't do anything—he shot himself."

She killed the people who mattered to me just for fun. She only wants to hurt me. Tris would surrender without caring about who gets hurt. She sees the deaths and feels guilty.

"He trusted you, he always did. He was one of the few who refused to join the factionless..."

"I'm going to kill Jeanine." I interrupted her. "I'm really going to enjoy ripping her eyes out."

Tris avoided speaking, remaining silent as she waited for me to regain my composure, and sat down in the same spot where her mattress was.

"When did you get here?" I whispered after almost three minutes of silence, finally lowering my arm.

"About two hours ago. We started the simulation right when I arrived."

"Did you open the box?" I looked at her with interest.

"No, she stopped me. I still need Amity."

"Same here, and Truth," I added. "I need two, and you just one. Lucky me," I whispered.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"That I'm here to die, and you're here to open the box," I answered simply.

"You're not going to die. I just saw Eric—he won't let you die," she insisted.

The door to my cell opened, and two guards entered, wearing Dauntless jackets but with an Erudite logo on the arm. I turned back to Tris.

"He can't do everything. And that's why I didn't want you to come—because Jeanine has personal business with me."

The guards grabbed me by the arms and violently yanked me up. Still barefoot, they dragged me toward the door.

"No!" Tris shouted, pounding on the glass.
"Let her go!"

But it was useless. A simple Divergent won't stop them from taking me. They pulled me out of the cell, and standing in front was Jessica, the blonde with a grim expression and a look of concern in her eyes. She turned, and we walked behind her, following her lead.

"The box is on the other side," I growled, trying to free myself, but it was useless.

Tris's protests, calling for my release, became annoying. Even though I appreciated her attempt to save me, I guess she was realizing now that coming here wasn't the best option. All she's doing is leaving me even more rattled.

We entered the elevator, with Jessica in front, avoiding looking at me. "Am I going to die?" I asked.

"No, Eric will think of something. Just wait," Jessica whispered. "In the meantime, we have to play our parts."

"Tris is here, Jess," I reminded her.

"Don't underestimate him."

"I'm not, it's just that, in the past month alone, he's saved me at least five times. I'd like to do something on my own."

"Grace, we're not in a position to show empowerment. The only one with direct access to Jeanine is him. Let him handle it," she urged. "Now, act like you don't know me."

But I can't help feeling like that useless woman who thought she had everything under control, only to end up being the one needing to be rescued. I'm supposed to be a leader; I don't want to be a martyr, yet here I am, playing the part.

If I had known Tris was coming, I would've let her go. The box would be open by now, and Four would have rescued her. The factionless would have gained the upper hand, and Dauntless would have had to bow to them. So, did I do the right thing? I don't know, I really don't. Not long ago, I saw the warrior faction as a threat, and now they're allies.

I have a vision, principles strongly reinforced by my convictions, and those who want to follow me are free to do so. But I have to take control of the city at the end of the day.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a floor entirely covered in black tile, with a blue line in the corners as decoration, marking the faction's identity. We entered through the white door, noticing no real difference—the black tile starkly contrasted the presence of Jeanine, along with two heavily armed Erudite guards. Jeanine's pale skin stood out against the room's decor. The guards holding me forced me to kneel in front of the Erudite leader, who, despite the early hour, had her hair perfectly in place and wore elegant blue clothing.

"How poetic," I remarked, breaking the silence. "You let your emotions influence you, personally dealing with the woman who broke your trust. And you have to be the one to pull the trigger to free yourself from the tension that surely keeps you up at night." I smiled.

"No, I'm simply eliminating an obsolete Divergent. I'm about to reap the fruits of a life full of research, hard work, and sacrifice. And since you are no longer the means to that end, I have no reason to keep you alive."

"You used to idolize me. Remember how you welcomed me? How we laughed at Jina together? If you weren't such a genocidal psychopath, maybe I would've liked you," I muttered.

"Do you want to talk? You're too proud to beg for your life and too much of a coward to accept your death," she smiled as she accepted the gun from the guard.

"No, Jeanine. It doesn't matter if I die because, at the end of the day, if I'm not the one who gives freedom to the Divergents, someone else will. I just want to make you angry, remind you of how much you hate me, so that when you pull the trigger, you can release all the hate you have for me. All that rage will kill you."

"I won't fall for your game. You're just prolonging your inevitable death," Jeanine sighed. "I won't give you the satisfaction." She pointed the gun at my forehead, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Naturally, I was desperate to delay my death. I was counting on Eric's arrival—he would burst through the door, kill the blonde swiftly, and save me. I didn't want to die like this, not by her hand. She didn't deserve to be the one responsible for my death. If it had to happen, I would have preferred it to be Eric, somewhere alone by that fence, with no curious eyes. But Jeanine was right. I was too proud to beg for my life.

Eric, you need to get here, I thought.

At this point, if Eric arrived, I'd apologize for everything. I'd cater to his every whim, even let him kill Four if that's what it took. I felt like a coward.

Behind Jeanine stood Jessica, nervously biting her lip, glancing from side to side at the Erudite guards. She raised her gun just as Jeanine's finger hovered over the trigger.
She was going to shoot her, and it all happened in seconds, though it felt like an eternity. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't react in time, and as much as I wanted her to do it, I didn't want her to risk her life.

But then the door flew open, crashing violently against the wall, despite being heavy. Everything stopped. Both blondes lowered their guns, turning to see who had entered. I hadn't expected it to be Zeke, but I was grateful.

"Tris is dead," he said, breathless. "You can't kill her. She's the only one who can open the box." He let out a final sigh of relief.

It hit hard. Even though I had no emotional connection to Tris, I felt strange. I didn't want to accept her death.

Why? First Raphael, now Tris.

Jeanine lowered her weapon, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. "What happened?" she asked.

"We reconnected her to the box, as you ordered. She didn't pass the Amity test and died in it," Zeke explained.

Jeanine's shoulders slumped in disappointment, her eyes revealing a desperate sense of pain—not for Tris's death, but because she hadn't lived up to her expectations. She handed the gun to one of her guards and cleared her throat. "Alright, change of plans. Reconnect Grace and start monitoring in case she dies. I don't want any more delays." She hardened her expression again, raising her chin.

The Dauntless members were the ones who grabbed my arms, lifting me until my feet touched the ground, and we walked out with Jeanine leading the way. Zeke and I locked eyes, and he nodded, as if trying to reassure me. His gaze seemed to say, "everything is under control," and I nodded back.

We went up in the elevator and passed by the cells again. I couldn't help myself—I turned to see where Tris had been and grimaced. Why do I feel guilty? I didn't kill her.

As we walked past my cell and reached a third one, I realized the true reason I was sad about Tris's death. Four was in that cell. When he saw me, he began pounding on the glass in fury, shouting my name.

We continued walking, all of us ignoring the enraged man, and entered the room where I had been connected yesterday. The simulation door was open, and Peter and Caleb were carrying Tris's body, with the latter shedding tears.

I narrowed my eyes—Caleb was here, wearing Erudite clothes, showing his sudden change of allegiance, and yet he had the nerve to cry over her death. But I didn't dwell on it for long, as Eric was also there, his brow furrowed, waiting patiently for Tris to be placed on the stretcher. He shot me a glance—blank and devoid of any emotion—and then looked at Jeanine, making it clear he wouldn't show any shared feelings in her presence.

"Eric, get rid of the body. Caleb, stay and monitor her vital signs," Jeanine ordered.

The guards led me to the room where I was to be connected once again. "Grace, open that box," she commanded.

The door closed, and the last thing I saw were Eric's blue eyes. The needles were connected to my body, and everything happening around me made it hard to focus.

Not having breakfast and now being connected to a mysterious box that could likely kill me put me in a foul mood, and the pressure of getting through this churned my stomach—or maybe it was the nausea from everything I had been through, and it wasn't even 10 a.m. yet.

But none of that mattered when my vision started to blur.

                          ——————-

                     Omniscient's POV

It wasn't easy for Grace to suddenly leap from one reality to another, a fictitious one. Despite being Divergent, the simulated environment was designed to manipulate emotions, making anyone believe that what was happening around them was real. At least, until the Divergent realizes it isn't, that it's all a subjective construction of the subconscious, and even the unconscious mind.

So, for Grace, she genuinely believed she was walking through the Pit, back in the Dauntless headquarters, feeling once again the power that only her title as a leader could give her. As she walked, everyone averted their gaze.

It was strange, even to Jeanine. Grace should have been facing a different trial, but somehow, she'd switched to a new one, leaving the Amity test unfinished. Still, Jeanine wasn't about to argue, time was running out.

Grace's feet moved as if they had a mind of their own, guiding her deeper into the familiar halls of the compound, a place she had visited many times before. The simulation used this familiarity to convince her that everything was real. She entered the tattoo parlor, and though she had only once taken a full tour of the place, she headed straight for the cubicle she always went to. Today would be no exception.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, she paused. She furrowed her brow, taking a moment to glance around, suddenly realizing the truth.

It was clearly a simulation. She no longer held the power she once did. She was no longer that respected leader, and the cubicle she sought was empty. But her chest tightened at the thought of opening the door and seeing him again. She smiled at the idea, a flicker of hope kindling within her that she might get to say goodbye to her tattooed friend. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she opened the door.

She let out a soft gasp of joy, and Raphael turned around, wearing a black tank top and dark jeans. He saw her and smiled.
"Grace, among the mortals? How interesting," the dark-haired man murmured.

And though she knew this Raphael wasn't real, Grace wanted to pretend that he was. She ran to him and hugged him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist as he welcomed her with a surprised laugh. She held him so close her arms went numb from the pressure. She closed her eyes, and a few tears spilled, soaking his shoulder.
"Little one," Raphael whispered into her ear. "Everything's going to be okay." He gently stroked her back, his soothing words only making her feel even more wretched.

Grace pulled away, and Raphael gently set her back on the ground, watching her with a tender smile. Her eyes had welled up so much that her vision blurred completely, and as the tears began to roll down her cheeks, the dark-haired man wiped them away.

"Forgive me," Grace sobbed, her voice shaking. "I should have believed you, I should have chosen you and stopped all of this. I should have grown up and stopped letting myself be influenced. I shouldn't have stayed quiet and endured everything. I'm a complete fraud, Raphael. I'm scared. I'm not a leader, I just pretend to be one. I'm just a Divergent who fell in love with a stupid villain." She sniffed, her words heavy with emotion. "I don't want to be Divergent anymore. I don't want to have a weapon pointed at me every second. I just want to be a normal girl in a normal faction." She bit her lip, struggling with the pain of guilt that weighed down on her.

"You're strong, Grace," Raphael murmured softly. "Don't let this defeat you. It's just one more step toward freedom. Don't give up—you have it in your blood."

"I don't want anyone else to die," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want to save everyone, but I can't. And because of me, you're dead. I should have taken you with me, we should've planned an attack from the beginning."

"What are you talking about? Don't you think I'd know if I were dead?" Raphael scoffed lightly, amused.

Grace shook her head, trying to hold back the flood of tears, but they streamed uncontrollably.

"I love you, Raphael. I'm sorry for being such a horrible person to you. Thank you for saving me, for helping me, and for never letting me fall, no matter what," Grace murmured, her voice breaking.

——————

"Candor test passed."

Jeanine was satisfied. She was one test away from opening the box, and for Grace's sake, she hoped she would pass them all, as she would show no mercy otherwise.
The blonde was oblivious to the impact that test had had on the other Erudites, all of whom were moved by Grace's tears. She was not the monster Jeanine had portrayed her to be; she was merely a scared lamb defending herself against attacks, and for a fleeting moment, they felt like the scum they had been taught to despise.

But where was Eric?

He had lost track of the simulation because he had something far more important to attend to, and he hated it. But he had to, and the reason was that green-eyed girl who risked her life. With a furrowed brow, he stopped in front of Four's cell, ordering it to be opened while he kept his distance, a few meters back, allowing Peter to do as instructed.

Four walked towards the gurney, grief-stricken, approaching a body covered by a sheet, uncertain of what to expect and fearing what his mind conjured. Peter uncovered the sheet, revealing Tris's body, and the brown-haired man released a breath full of pain. He raised his gaze to Eric, who held his chin high, exuding power despite the circumstances.

"Take it as a gift, say your goodbyes," Eric shrugged, relishing the look of devastation on Four's face.

The real problem was that Four couldn't fathom that this was his moment to say goodbye to the woman he loved. All he could think was that Tris was dead, and before guilt could consume him, he shoved an Erudite aside and lunged at Eric, aiming to kill him with his own hands, to unleash his hatred upon him and finally finish what Grace had prevented him from doing. But he didn't get far, the guards stopped him, slamming him against the wall.

Eric smiled, savoring every second, taking pleasure in the contorted features that reflected Four's pain. He could see Four's heart breaking, and he enjoyed being the cause of the boy's suffering. For a moment, he thought they might be even for having tried to kill him. But it wouldn't last long, for Tris had not died, and the reason for this miracle was the last-minute plan Eric had orchestrated.

Even he didn't know why he had done it; perhaps seeing Four desperate enough to surrender to the Erudite faction had stirred something in his icy heart. And though he would never dare to admit it, he saw a reflection of himself in Four—both had a Divergent who had no sense of sanity and a suicidal tendency whom they loved to death.

Tris began to breathe again; the tranquilizer that induced a heartbeat per hour lost its effect, and she opened her eyes, gasping for air, leaving Four completely bewildered.

Peter kept his distance from the scene; he wasn't an idiot. He feared Four and was terrified of Eric. Both men stood before him, and if he had to choose, he would side with Grace. So, obeying Eric and administering the tranquilizer to Tris was an act he carried out without hesitation. His odd reasoning kept his remorse at bay, as it was his way of thanking Tris for sparing his life in the simulation.

Eric shot a deadly glare at Four, raising his eyebrows slightly and inclining his head toward one of the guards, to which the brown-haired man nodded. And for the first time, Four and Eric fought on the same team, taking down the pair of Erudites. Even with a cast on his arm, the blonde easily defeated the guard, just as the brown-haired man did. They finished their fight and locked eyes for a moment, as if it marked the beginning of a truce, though neither was ready to secure anything; at least for today, there would be no mutual war.

Four rushed to Tris's side, embracing her tightly, feeling a deep sense of relief wash over him as he kissed her with desperate need. The tremor in his hands was from finally having her in his arms again, yet the terrible sensation that he could have lost her lingered. In a flash, guilt crept in, and he imagined how Grace must have felt when she almost lost Eric.

He lifted his gaze and met Eric's eyes, and as he gently lowered Tris from the gurney, he nodded. "Did you do this?" Four asked.

The blonde man nodded. "Thank you," Four said, his sincerity palpable, his transparency unguarded.

"Yeah, whatever. I had to save her before you went back to eating Grace alive," Eric shrugged. "Now get out of here; Peter will take you." His tone dripped with bitterness.

"Me? How am I supposed to do that?" Peter protested, offended.

"It's your problem," Eric grumbled.

Four turned to head back to Grace, hoping the tests would wrap up soon. "Wait, why so easy? What happened?" Four interjected, confused.

Eric rolled his eyes, annoyed at having to explain himself, especially to Four. He turned and regarded him for a few moments.

"I don't like you, uptight. I hate you and always will. Letting you go won't change anything. I have more important things to do."

"What's going to happen? Do you really think I buy this charade that you've changed?" Four scoffed.

"I don't care what you believe." Eric took the first steps forward, and Four followed, both locking eyes once more, each challenging the other.

"Hey, hold on. You can't just go back to wanting to kill each other. Grace is in the simulation, and Jeanine is still alive; this isn't the time to fight," Tris interjected, grabbing Four's arm, hoping he would back down.

"I've got everything under control, I don't need you two, you'll only get in the way," Eric snarled.

"I won't let you take control of the city," Four refused, not just to Tris's grip but to the very idea of letting Eric run things.

"And who's going to stop me? You?" Eric taunted with a smirk.

"You're only alive because of Grace, and—"

"Enough," Peter interjected, his stomach knotted at the audacity of walking towards two men on the verge of killing each other. "We're starting a war, and you can't stop to fight just because you both wanted the same girl. Make peace and let's get out of here."

The pair's eyes burned with unquenched thirst, filled with hatred, resentment, and violence. Peter was right; Eric wanted Four dead for leaving marks on Grace's body, wanting to feel like her owner. Meanwhile, Four was determined to prove that the blonde was unfit to lead, because the rule was simple: whoever defeated Jeanine would control Chicago.

For the first time, Eric listened to Peter; today wasn't worth it. Grace was in danger, and she was his priority.

"What's the plan, Eric?" Tris asked.

Still frowning, he looked at both men who had destroyed his faction and its stability. "Grace organized the attack before surrendering; she's just waiting for the rest of the soldiers. They'll take the lower level and move up," he said, his voice low and tinged with bitterness.

"We'll help," Four declared, determination in his eyes.

"No, get lost," Eric rejected him.

But just then, the doors at the other end of the hallway swung open with a bang, causing Eric to raise his weapon and aim it at the newcomers. He lowered it upon recognizing his people entering.

And it wasn't just his people; the leader who had helped them seize Erudite was the first to stride down the corridor, where Eric and Four regarded him with questioning looks.
"What are you doing? Playing picnic?" Norman huffed as he lowered his shotgun.

Grace's father was tired of waiting, of slowly dying in a cabin while pretending he didn't care about the fight. After Mónica's many urgings, he donned his old, worn Dauntless uniform and set off on a mission for the warrior faction, where France, Hill's former partner, welcomed him with open arms.

Few knew the legend that was Norman, and only a handful were surprised to learn he was Grace's father, coming to one clear conclusion: leadership ran in his blood. In no time, he proved himself more than capable of leading the attack, fine-tuning details Grace had overlooked and disabling the security system of Dauntless.

"Norman?" Four couldn't help but express his surprise, a faint smile creeping onto his face at the sight of Grace's father.

"What are you doing here?" Eric asked, his brow furrowed with suspicion.

Eric had only seen Norman twice before: the first time when he had been about to attack Grace and Norman fought to save her, leaving him with a negative impression. The second time was during Freya's death, witnessing the strength Norman displayed as he pulled Grace away from her mother's lifeless body. He had never voiced his opinions on him, knowing Grace might react defensively, and he didn't need to be particularly clever to connect the scars on Norman's back to his behavior.

Eric hated him; he hated knowing that Norman had hurt his girl. He was the reason she was broken. If it weren't for Norman, Grace wouldn't have been drawn to Eric or developed the same troubling patterns of behavior. The brown-haired girl deserved better than two men who had only caused her tears.

Thus, seeing Norman filled him with distrust; he didn't want him by his side and wanted control for himself. Norman was aware of this; he understood the similar behaviors they both shared and took delight in provoking Eric, as it was like looking in a mirror from his younger days.
"Saving my daughter, isn't it obvious?" Norman walked toward the blonde. "You're too stupid to do it alone; let me show you how it's done."

"Like you saved Freya?" Eric murmured, challenging him, unwilling to trust him.

"A mistake I won't make again," Norman replied in a low tone, just audible enough for Eric to hear, a slight growl escaping him.

"Let's save the fighting for later, okay?" Rosa interjected, stepping between the two men. "Eric, he's helped us a lot. Erudite was expecting us, but we pulled it off."

Today, Eric felt he was making too many exceptions, and his patience was wearing thin. He had spared Four and freed Tris; it was too much, even for Eric Coulter, the most sadistic leader of Dauntless. All of it, for those green eyes. And now, he had Norman challenging him in the same way, taunting him, and it seemed to Eric that Norman was silently begging for a blow. But this time, he had to make another exception, because those green eyes would judge him harshly if he dared to do anything.

He sighed, "Whatever," he murmured. "On my signal."

Time stretched uncomfortably, he had no way of knowing Grace's condition. As he awaited a signal from Jessica, who was inside, he positioned himself against the wall by the door, gripping the weapon with the only healthy hand he had left. To his displeasure, Norman stood in front of him, waiting for Eric's command.

————

                                Grace

My chest ached. It wasn't raining, and the breeze wasn't cold, but I was still trembling, my body reacted to the events unfolding around me, and the effort it took to contain my rage caused my breathing to become irregular.

I stopped looking them in the eyes and focused on the ground, stained with the blood of the two corpses to which I felt a profound emotional connection.

This wasn't real, but the simulation wouldn't stop. The two people I wanted dead were alive, watching me with concern, waiting for me to recover, to forgive them, but the anger consumed me little by little.

I had a problem; that much was clear. My level of sadism worried me, and the urge to leap toward them and make them suffer wasn't normal. They had killed Eric, and Hill had fallen to the ground when she tried to save him.

I knew nothing was real when I saw Hill. But nothing seemed to change; I had to forgive Four and Tris.

Eric wasn't good; he had never been the sweet boy who cared for the collective well-being. The fact that he was still alive was because I had chosen to let it be so. There was no way to justify his actions; no life was worth more than another, and he didn't understand that. Hill wasn't a good person either; she hadn't understood the concept of respecting people and had killed many. In a way, they deserved to die. But both had a terrible upbringing; if only she had had more time, Hill might have changed.

And while their deaths might not mean anything to some, for me, they meant everything. I had to forgive; I had to break that cycle of evil and violence. I closed my eyes, tried to take a deep breath, but a sob escaped instead.

Hating them hurt me more than they could ever hurt me by knowing that I hated them.

"Grace, I know you cared about them," Four began.

I shook my head; I didn't want him to keep talking. I hated his voice. But the more I resisted, the more my surroundings consumed me, and my reality died. I forced myself to open my eyes and meet Four's gaze, which bore a grimace of concern.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, apologizing for defending himself; he only wanted to clear his name.

I had to move forward; forgiving them didn't mean I had to see them every day. Forgiveness meant forgetting, overcoming, and distancing myself from those who hurt me.

"It's okay," I nodded in a whisper, my voice barely a thread.

"There's a war to win, Grace."

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not going to fight; I don't want to anymore."

I didn't want to know anything; I just wanted to rest.

I was so tired. I wanted to go back to Abnegation, embrace Molly, jog toward the stream, and lie on the grass, close my eyes, and sleep. I wanted to ride horses, harvest crops, sit by the campfire, and sing songs even if Hall told me I sang horribly.

I want to be the person I was in Abnegation.

And Four, with the same look of pity, raised his hand, approached my shoulder, and instead of feeling his touch, it faded away, his body dissolving into millions of particles. The same happened with Tris. The fictional corpses disappeared, and the box appeared to my right. With glowing features that formed the silhouette of a woman, as if she were a hologram, she smiled at me, and I smiled back.

I did it.

"Hello, I come from outside the fence, where we almost destroyed each other. We designed your city as an experiment; we thought it was the only way to regain the humanity we have lost. We created factions to ensure peace, but we are sure there will be those who transcend these factions; they will be the Divergent. They are the purpose of this experiment, and they are vital to the survival of humanity. If you are seeing this now, one of you is proof that our experiment has been successful. The time has come for you to emerge from your isolation and join us. We have allowed you to believe that you are the last, but you are not. Humanity awaits you, with hope beyond the fence."

And everything faded to darkness.

I opened my eyes; the cables disconnected from my body, and thanks to the grip of someone, I managed not to fall. I blinked, dazed, noticing the concrete floor, the door to the simulation wide open, and curious eyes watching me.

I furrowed my brow and looked at the person holding me, smiling.

Norman was there, holding me firmly to keep me from falling. It was then that I looked around, taking in the surprise that greeted me. My smile couldn't have been bigger. I shook my head, and my gaze went directly to Jeanine, who had the barrel of a gun pointed at her forehead, thanks to Jessica, who was aiming at her.

The Dauntless had arrived, and they had the Erudite with their hands up. And Eric—oh God, I wanted to frame his face and hang it on my wall. That blonde had a lost look in his eyes, frozen on the image displayed on the screen, where the woman from the message appeared.

We are not a mistake; we are the solution.

I stepped out of the cubicle, sidestepping the concrete pieces that formed the door. I walked towards a defeated Jeanine; her face reflected defeat, and I relished the message.

"I feel like a guinea pig, but you were wrong," I finally said, positioning myself in front of Jeanine.

Even so, she raised her chin, preserving the little pride she had left, and I shook my head. "We are the damn solution. We were never the problem, and you insisted on destroying us. For so many years, they have been waiting for us outside. Jeanine, do you have any idea what that means? You're overthrown; your puppet show is collapsing, and from today, a new government begins."

"You don't know what's out there; you have no idea of the possible dangers that may exist," Jeanine murmured.

"I know, but soon we will find out, and you, unfortunately, will miss it." I shrugged. "Take her away; you know where." I glanced at Jessica, who nodded.

"I just transmitted the message," Four's voice echoed from the back. I turned to find the brown-haired man, who nodded at me with a peaceful expression. "It's broadcasting throughout the city."

I nodded in confusion, seeing him here without any injuries, and to my surprise, Tris joined him.

"You were dead," I said, pointing at her in confusion.

But before she could respond, an arm wrapped around my waist, spinning me and pulling me closer to him.

"It's a long story; I'll tell you later," he said with a half-smile.

"Did you save them?" I asked, surprised.

"Shh, I have a reputation to uphold." He pulled me even closer to him, a poorly concealed grin on his face.

I returned his smile, feeling that pride and excitement of triumph once more. "It's a good time for you to apologize and admit that you were wrong," I murmured.

He laughed. "I let you overthrow Erudite, Grace. Don't take advantage of it." He shook his head, taking hold of my neck and crashing our lips together.

Despite the eyes of the crowd and the tension of that message, we kissed, hoping that after this moment everything would come to an end, just like in fairy tales. In the distance, the voice of that message transmitted throughout Chicago, opening the door for a new beginning, a new chapter. No matter what awaited us, Eric was by my side with a different way of thinking; after all, he was right.