The public ceremony takes place in the City's town square today, crowded with citizens from both factions, each distinguished by their clothes. Ironclad wear dirty brown; Veilborne, dark green. Everyone is here for the twentieth and final cycle announcement-and no one dares miss it. Amid the sea of people, posters and banners wave in the air.

"We Will Reign This Time!" one sign reads. "Ironclad Forever!" another proclaims. A group chants, "Veilborne will bow down to Ironclad!" Their voices echo through the square.

I linger in the crowd, my mother by my side. In the center, a tall flagpole stands, bearing the Veilborne banner-green and silver, fluttering in the breeze. A constant reminder of Veilborne's reign over our city.

I glance down at my attire, my hood pulled low, but my mask absent. I didn't wear it today. It's not the face I need to hide; the mask is just an extra precaution. It's the name I need to hide the most.

Aria Thorne.

The name of the girl who died ten years ago, before she ever had a chance to live.

Here, in this competition, they only know us by numbers. They can't know the dead girl is alive. And that's the way I want it.

The town square, once a cacophony of murmurs and shuffling feet, falls silent as the voice of the Pacifier booms through the speakers, echoing off the surrounding buildings. "Citizens of our great city, esteemed guests, and honored representatives of the Ironclad and Veilborne, I am Elijah Vex, your Pacifier. I welcome you to this momentous occasion, the culmination of our city's rigorous selection process. Today, we gather to witness the final stage of the Chamber's competition, where the most exceptional individuals from both factions will vie for the ultimate prize: the right to lead our city for a lifetime. Let us begin."

The Pacifier, Elijah Vex, speaks in a calm and measured tone. "Our city's history is marked by a complex and tumultuous past. It begins with two individuals: Arin, the founder of the Ironclad, and Argon, the leader of the Veilborne."

"Arin and Argon were visionaries, but their ideologies clashed. They had fundamentally different ideas about how to govern and progress our city. Despite their best efforts, they couldn't find common ground, and their disagreements eventually became insurmountable."

"The two leaders came to a realization: they couldn't coexist under the same system. So, they made a bold decision: they would create their own separate entities, each with its own distinct culture and values. And so, the Ironclad and Veilborne were born."

"For a time, this arrangement worked. Both factions thrived, and our city prospered. However, as the years passed, tensions began to rise once more. The rivalry between the Ironclad and Veilborne grew increasingly bitter, and it became clear that a new solution was needed."

"Arin and Argon, in a surprising display of cooperation, devised a new system. They created the Chamber, a neutral arena where representatives from both factions would engage in a yearly competition. The winning team would earn the right to lead our city for the next year."

Elijah Vex pauses, his expression grave. "But today marks a turning point in our city's history. This will be the last competition, the final fight. Whichever faction emerges victorious will reign supreme for a lifetime. The era of yearly competitions will come to an end, and a new era of singular leadership will begin. Let us proceed with the announcement of the final eight candidates, who will determine the fate of our city."

As the Pacifier's voice booms through the speakers, I feel my mother's gaze on me. I glance over, trying to read her expression, but her eyes are inscrutable. Is it concern, or something else? I can't quite tell.

I turn to scan the Ironclad crowd. I know why they want to win this badly. I see fear written all over their faces. They're scared about what Veilborne would do to us if we lose because this time it's different. They could even execute us one by one. Wipe the Ironclad out of existence.

Elijah's voice booms through the speaker jolting me back to the present. "Number 6!" The crowd erupts in cheers and applause as the Ironclad boy makes his way to the stage. I watch as he takes his place on the stage.

Elijah continues, his voice steady and clear. "Number 157!" A smattering of applause greets the Veilborne boy as he strides onto the stage. My eyes narrow as I take in his arrogant smirk. He's the one who tried to get me eliminated during the test.

"Number 82."

I feel a spark of excitement as Tonya makes her way onto the stage, her feet dancing across the cobblestone ground in quick, bouncy steps. As I watch Tonya take her place alongside the other candidates, a wide grin spreads across my face.

Then my number cuts through the noise.

"Number 156!"

For a moment, everything else fades-the chants, the banners, the roaring crowd. I turn to my mother. Her eyes glisten, a quiet strength behind them that I've clung to for years. I take her hand, rough from years of labor, and squeeze it tightly, grounding myself in her strength.

She nods; I swallow the lump in my throat, and step forward. The crowd erupts into cheers and applause as the Ironclad recognize one of their own stepping up, their voices a wave of thunder that carries me to the stage.

My boots scuff against the weathered boards, next to the others from my faction. The Veilborne group stands farther off, separated by a strip of empty space. Their uniforms crisp and unblemished.

I can feel the weight of the Ironclad crowd's gaze pressing hard against me. They're not just staring out of curiosity; they're dissecting me, trying to decide if I can be trusted alongside the other candidates to win this competition. They're wondering whose child I am, wondering if they've seen me before in the tight-knit Ironclad district. Each glance feels like a question I can't answer, a silent demand to prove I belong here. But I can also tell how worn down they are by years of oppression, and they desperate for change. Their hope, like invisible strings, are tied to us like a lifeline.

Elijah's voice rises again, naming the next participant.