How long will I hide?

I weave through the dense forest, the hum of civilization fading behind me. Here in the wilds, where towering trees shield us from the world's gaze, my mother and I have lived like ghosts for a decade-hidden, silent, presumed dead.

The scent of damp earth clings to me as I step onto the narrow path that leads to the small shack we call home. The structure, a patchwork of weathered wood and hope, tilts slightly to the left, like it, too, is tired of hiding. It isn't much, but it has kept us safe from the Veilborne's relentless grasp. Safety has come at a price-years of isolation, whispers of who we once were reduced to ashes, and a life of quiet despair.

Ten years has passed and the memory of that night still burns fresh in my mind like an open wound that refuses to close. I was seven when Veilborne soldiers stormed our home in Ironclad. My father stood tall, defiant in the face of their demands, and they cut him down for it. I can still hear the clash of steel and the crackle of flames as they torched our home. My mother and I barely escaped, slipping into the shadows as the soldiers declared us dead.

I push open the creaking door, the familiar scent of wood smoke and herbs greeting me. My mother stands by the hearth, her back to me as she stirs a pot over the fire. Her silver-streaked hair is pulled into a loose bun, and her shoulders slump slightly.

"I'm heading out to Uncle Sirius," I announce, setting my bag on the table.

She turns, her face lined with worry. Her sharp eyes, so much like my own, search my expression. "You and your uncle have been restless all week." She sets the spoon down on the table. "What are yourl up to?"

"Uncle Sirius is going hunting," I reply, avoiding her gaze. "He said its important I'm there for this one, he wants to teach me some stuff."

She gives me a weary look but she doesn't press for details. Uncle Sirius is a skilled hunter, and our family's hunting business has been a long-standing tradition. I've often accompanied him on trips, learning the trade and helping out. Mom knows this, and her concern is tempered by her trust in Uncle Sirius's expertise.

As I prepare to leave, I wrap a scarf around my nose and mouth, and pull up the hood of my jacket. Mom's eyes flicker to my covered face. "Okay, be safe," she says, picking up the spoon again. "And don't let uncle Sirius influence you too much. He can be a bit of a trouble causer sometimes."

I hurry out the door, feeling guilt course through my veins for lying to my mother.

---

The forest gives way to the crumbling edges of Ironclad's district. The air here is thick with soot, the stench of damp stone and decay clinging to everything. Narrow cobblestone streets wind through clusters of leaning apartments, their cracked windows staring blankly like hollow eyes.

The fractured city is a constant reminder of our history. On one side, Veilborne-glimmering, untouchable, a symbol of wealth and power. On the other, Ironclad-weathered, broken, but unyielding. Decades of blood and betrayal have carved a deep divide between the two.

As I step into the bustling market, the press of bodies engulfs me. The voices of traders and townsfolk rise in a chaotic symphony, blending with the clatter of carts and the occasional bark of dogs.

A boy, small and wiry, crashes into me, nearly knocking me off balance. Before I can react, a man barrels past, his boot slamming down on my foot. I bite back a curse, clutching my bag tighter.

Nearby, an elderly woman stands by a rickety stall piled with cakes. Her back is bent almost double, and her gnarled hands tremble as she adjusts a frayed cloth over her wares. Her face is a map of creases, her eyes sharp despite their cloudiness. The cakes are misshapen, their once-bright glazes dulled by dust.

Before I can move on, a commotion erupts.

"There's the boy! I got him!" a man yells, dragging the same wiry boy by the collar. The boy thrashes, his dirt-streaked face twisted in panic.

"I didn't take anything!" he cries, but the half-eaten cake in his hand tells another story.

The elderly woman hobbles over, her cane thudding against the cobblestones. "Thief," she hisses. "Stealing from me, of all people."

The boy's shoulders sag. "I'm sorry," he whispers, too quiet for most to hear. "My sister and I are starving."

The words hit me like a punch. I dig into my pocket, pulling out the few coins I have left.

"I'll pay for it," I say, stepping forward.

The old woman snatches the coins, muttering under her breath. The man shoves the boy away with a scowl, and he vanishes into the crowd without a word.

For a moment, I stand there, the weight of the encounter lingering. But I can't dwell on it-I'm late.

---

I sprint toward the train platform, my heart pounding as I slip inside just as it begins to move. The air is thick with the smell of grease and sweat, and the workers around me wear the same weary expression-shoulders hunched, faces pale from long hours of labor.

I adjust the scarf covering my face, the fabric snug against my skin. It's a precaution, one I can't afford to skip. If anyone recognizes me, the lie my mother and I have lived for a decade will crumble.

Through the grimy window, the crumbling streets of Ironclad fade into the distance. The train rumbles forward, crossing the bridge that separates us from Veilborne. The world shifts as the skyline transforms-Veilborne's grandeur rising like a taunt against the decay we leave behind.

My grip tightens on the pole as my uncle's words echo in my mind.

"Focus, Aria!" he'd barked during our last sparring session, his blade clashing against mine. "You can't afford distractions. Tomorrow isn't just a test-it's survival."

He was right. The test isn't just about skill; it's a gateway to the Chamber competition, Ironclad's only chance to shatter Veileborne's 20-year grip on our city. The stakes are higher than ever now. This time, the Chamber competition won't just decide who rules for the next 20 years, but who will reign supreme forever.

As the train jolts to a stop, I take a steadying breath. This is it. The first step toward reclaiming our city's future.

Today decides everything.