Page 11

CHAPTER

NINE

Bex

My palms were clammy as I gripped the straps of the pack strapped to my back. A shiver ran down my spine, and I couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude for the thick wool coat Nova had tossed at me earlier that morning when she came to collect us for the first trial.

Now, here I was, sitting on a plane, shoulder to shoulder with the other Challengers, completely blindfolded. My other senses were heightened, and although I couldn’t see anything, I could feel Ezra beside me. His presence was unmistakable, like a quiet anchor. That was a small comfort, at least.

The plane jolted, shifting slightly in the air. I'd never been on one before, and I was already hoping to never ride in another one again. My stomach twisted in knots, and my ears throbbed, desperately trying to pop and adjust.

“You’re okay,” Ezra’s voice broke through my anxious thoughts, soft but reassuring. His words helped steady me, even if just a little, allowing me to focus on what was coming next.

If they were following the typical structure of the Reclamation Run, this one would likely be a physical challenge. Tasks normally designed to test endurance and resilience.

I felt the telltale warmth of lights switching on, heating my face and confirming what I already knew…cameras were rolling. I forced my expression into calm neutrality and tried to steady my breathing. If Jax was watching, I wanted him to think that I was brave.

“Good morning, Challengers, and welcome to the first trial of the Reclamation Run!” The chirpy voice echoed from overhead speakers, too cheerful for the moment. Annalese Wyley. The host of the Run. I used to think her voice was annoying, high-pitched and overly girlish, more irritating than intimidating. But now, it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Your first trial will be for the resource of…” she paused dramatically, milking the tension. “Transportation!”

I let out a slow breath. Transportation. It wasn’t the end of the world to not have it, it just took more time to get around. But, Canyon could benefit from a few working buses back in the Collective. Even one could change things for the better. And maybe, just maybe, Ezra stood a fighting chance in this one.

“Right now, our Challengers are being transported over one hundred miles away from our bustling Praxis. In honor of the value of transportation, and the vital role it plays in survival, our first trial is simple….make your way back home.”

I flinched at her phrasing. Home , she’d called it. Praxis wasn’t home. Not to me. Not to any of us on this plane.

Then the reality of the challenge hit me. One hundred miles. On foot. No maps, no paths, no clues. Just forest, terrain, and time. My stomach dipped, nausea curling tight in my gut. I felt Ezra’s leg press reassuringly against mine, grounding me again. I leaned ever so slightly into it, grateful.

“This is a race to the finish line!” Annalese continued brightly. “The first person to re-enter Praxis city limits will win the trial.”

I felt Ezra’s leg press harder against mine. Almost like a promise.

“And to accommodate the double participants, and to show Praxis’ honor and integrity…” I had to force my scoff to remain silent. “The top thirteen competitors will be awarded rations based on placement.” That meant that the remaining seven would receive absolutely nothing.

Nothing.

Just days of pain and surviving the elements, and the possibility of returning with nothing to show for it. My heart pounded like a drumbeat in my chest.

And that was if they returned at all.

Who knew what waited out there?

The land surrounding Praxis was a stretch of dense, unforgiving forest known only as the Wilds . When resources dwindled and the wars erupted, that territory devolved into lawless chaos. And when Praxis rose to power, they didn’t bother reclaiming it. They didn’t try to tame it. They just… let it fester. Let it grow wild and ruthless.

Now, miles upon miles of that overgrown wasteland stood between Praxis and the nearest Collective, like a natural shield, or a deliberate wall.

And I knew almost nothing about what lived within it.

Only that it was unwelcoming.

Uninhabitable.

And dangerous as hell.

I could only hope the pack they strapped to my back held some sort of tools or equipment I might be able to use .

“Now, to explain the rules, here’s General Sharpe,” Annalese’s voice rang out.

A heavy pair of boots echoed down the center aisle of the plane. Each step closer sent a spike of tension through me.

“You each have a body camera strapped to your chest,” the General’s voice was deep, sharp-edged, and unyielding. “It’s been charged to last one week of continuous recording.”

My stomach dropped. A week? They expected this might take a week ?

“You are permitted to turn it off for up to four hours a day,” he continued. “But the other twenty must be recorded. Is that understood?”

A few scattered grumbles answered him.

“I said, is that understood?”

This time, we all responded in unison. “Yes, sir.”

“You will begin the trial alone, but you are allowed to work in teams if you choose.”

A harsh exhale left me. Alone. I’d be starting this alone. Maybe Ezra would find me, but even if he did, I’d only slow him down. And I couldn’t ask him to do that. Not if it meant costing Canyon a chance at rations. At survival.

“Any survival tactics you deem necessary,” the General added, his tone turning even colder, “are considered legal and acceptable.”

The air around us seemed to drop ten degrees.

Any tactics.

We didn’t need him to spell it out. He meant violence. He meant bloodshed.

It wasn’t unheard of, some of the most desperate trials in past years had ended with Challengers dead by one another’s hands. Especially when the prize was something critical.

I could only hope that, since this trial was simple transportation, no one would be willing to go that far .

At least… not yet.

“When I call your name, stand. Your trial will begin.”

General Sharpe’s voice sliced through the cabin, followed by the heavy thud of his boots as he made his way down the aisle.

Begin? We were still in the air…what did he mean?

“Devrin Marx.”

A shuffle of movement came from farther down the row as someone stood. Devrin. The elected from Saltspire, the one gunning for the electricity trials this year, as Briar mentioned.

More rustling. He was being guided away. Then the temperature shifted, an icy draft swept through the cabin. Something was opening. My breath caught in my throat as I heard it, the roar of wind, growing louder by the second.

I tightened my grip on the straps of my pack, fingers trembling. Panic curled deep in my gut.

“I’ve got you,” Ezra whispered, his voice nearly drowned by the howling air. His hand found my thigh, grounding me for a second. But even his touch wasn’t enough to quiet the rising fear.

A moment passed, thick and tense, then?—

The General shouted something, but I couldn’t catch the words. Then came the scream. A raw, startled yelp ripped through the noise, disappearing into the distance.

Devrin had been pushed out of the plane.

“Avrin Schone,” the General cried out. With each new name, and each new scream, I felt my whole body tense and shake. I’d only known fear like this once before. On a night Jax had lost control of his limbs and stopped breathing. I don’t know how, but I managed to keep him with me that night, but even as I held him in my arms, feeling his chest rise and fall, I knew I couldn’t do that alone forever.

I’d take this fear over that ever again .

I’d take this fear if it meant getting my brother the help he needs.

“Briar Grey,” the General called out, and I didn’t miss the way my heart fluttered remembering her kindness. I hoped she’d be okay. And when her twin was called after her, I sent a prayer after them. I didn’t do it often, but I felt they deserved it.

I wanted them to be safe.

After the Grey siblings were sent on their way, they called the Challengers from Ironclad Collective. Then it was our turn.

“Ezra Wynstone,” the General called.

Ezra stood beside me, close enough that I felt the brush of his arm. He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll find you, Bex.”

I shook my head instinctively, but of course, he couldn’t see me. My mouth opened to protest, to tell him not to, but before I could say a word, he was gone.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want him wasting time looking for me or trying to protect me. But still... the thought of someone having my back out there, it wasn’t the worst thing.

I strained my ears, waiting for a cry, a shout, something that would betray his fear. But it never came. Ezra wouldn’t give the cameras the satisfaction. And at that moment, I decided I wouldn’t either.

“Brexlyn Hollis.”

The sound of my name made my stomach lurch. My legs felt like stone, but I forced myself to stand. Numb. Unsteady.

Hands gripped my upper arms and guided me forward, closer to the roaring wind that now sounded like the mouth of a beast waiting to swallow me whole. The blindfold made everything worse, my balance skewed, my perception warped. I kept waiting to step off into open air by mistake.

I was grateful for the grip on my arm, even if it was rough and cruel.

“You can remove your blindfold when you hit the air,” the General yelled into my ear. I nodded, unsure if he could see it.

He took my hand, rough fingers guiding it up to a strap near my shoulder and curled it around something solid.

“That’s your parachute,” he said. “Don’t pull it too late.”

I opened my mouth, the question already forming ‘What counts as too late?’ but the answer never came. Instead, a sharp shove to my back sent me careening into the void.

The world vanished, but I didn’t scream.

There was no up, no down. No wind or sound, just a gut-wrenching sense of falling, like the universe had yanked me out of itself.

I scrambled, fumbling with the blindfold. My fingers trembled and slipped against the knot, panic rising in my throat. What if I’m already close to the ground? What if I pull too late? What if I’m dead before I even begin?

Finally, the fabric tore away, and I forced myself to keep it clenched in one hand. Out here, even a scrap could be useful.

The world exploded into color and movement.

Below me there was endless green. A vast sea of trees, dense and wild, broken only by twisting rivers and the occasional clearing. It was breathtaking, and terrifying.

I wasn’t in immediate danger of crashing into anything, but I could feel the pull of gravity intensifying, my descent speeding up.

I scanned the sky, heart pounding, searching for other parachutes. Ezra’s maybe. No…focus. I’d never have this vantage point again.

I turned my eyes toward the horizon.

There. A glint. Praxis.

A tiny shimmer in the distance, like a jewel tucked between the trees. I burned it into my memory, then traced the curves of rivers, the gaps in the trees, the layout of hills and valleys. If I didn’t have a map, I’d become one.

And then, I pulled.

The force of the parachute deploying yanked me upward with a brutal jolt, snapping my body back and slamming pressure into my shoulders where the pack's straps dug in deep. Pain radiated through the joints and I cursed instinctively, then immediately clamped my mouth shut.

The camera. Strapped tight against my chest. I could practically feel its lens blinking, watching, recording. Jax was watching. Everyone was.

I’d never used a parachute before. When would I have? I didn’t know how to steer or slow or aim. All I could do was clutch the straps and try to make educated guesses based on nothing but gut instinct and fear.

The trees were coming up fast.

Really fast.

The fear surged again, hot and sharp in my throat. If I landed in the river, I’d be drenched and chilled to the bone. One night in soaked clothes and I could be dealing with hypothermia. But if I hit the rocks... Well, that was a shorter kind of problem. A final kind. My mind raced through every worst-case scenario like a skipping stone.

I adjusted the straps, trying to shift my weight….maybe if I leaned a little left? Slowed the spin?

No time to overthink it. The treeline was right there.

Branches slapped at me as if nature herself took offense to my intrusion, scratching my arms, ripping at my clothes. I cried out as something sharp nicked my cheek, then yelped again as my chute snagged suddenly on a branch above, tearing slightly with an awful rrriiippp .

And then…nothing .

I fell. Tumbled through the branches like a ragdoll, slamming through leaves and limbs, reaching out in vain for something, anything, to grab. My fingers scraped bark as I slipped.

The world was a blur of green and motion and pain.

And then my chute caught on something solid.

I jerked violently, the momentum wrenched to a halt, and I swung midair like a pendulum. Everything went still. My breathing, the leaves, the drop. All of it. Still. I hung there. Alive. Twenty feet off the forest floor, tangled in a parachute that had for some reason decided to spare me.

My heart thundered in my chest. I couldn’t help the hysterical laugh that bubbled up in my throat, half relief, half terror.

Now came the hard part.

Getting down.

I writhed and twisted for a moment, tangled in the web of chute strings that clung to my limbs like spider silk. Branches that had snapped in my fall jabbed at me from all angles, some dug into my side with sharp, splintered insistence. Pain radiated along my ribs. They were definitely bruised, maybe worse. My cheek throbbed with a fresh sting, and when I pressed trembling fingers to the skin and pulled them back, they came away smeared with blood.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath. As if dangling twenty feet in the air wasn’t enough.

I took a moment to scan my surroundings, well, as much as one could while hanging from a half-shredded parachute. The tree I was tangled in wasn’t giving me many options. But the tree next to it? That one had a thick branch jutting out not far from where I hung, complete with plenty of rugged bark and smaller limbs I could maybe use for the climb down.

If I could push off hard enough, I might be able to grab hold of that branch, swing over before the chute snapped completely. The cords might give me just enough time to make the leap, but there was no guarantee I could free myself fast enough.

My pack weighed heavy against my spine, but there was no way I was ditching it. Not unless I absolutely had to. Whatever they gave us, food, supplies, maybe tools, if there’s anything in there at all, I’d need it all. And if I could salvage the parachute too? It could serve as a makeshift blanket, shelter, or even rope. Out here, everything had a use. And something I learned in Canyon was you didn’t dare waste a single resource.

“One step at a time,” I breathed. My voice was small, steady, and broadcast to every watching eye on the live feed.

I braced my feet against the tree trunk, heart hammering in my chest, and launched myself toward the other branch. Pain tore through my side as I twisted midair, arms outstretched?—

I missed.

My fingers scraped bark and air as I swung back, slamming into the original tree with a thud that rattled my bones. The chute groaned overhead, then tore a little more, and suddenly I dropped another few feet, jerking to a stop like a marionette yanked by a spiteful puppeteer.

No more chances. If I didn’t get out of this now, I’d be ripped down with it.

“Come on, Bex,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

Again, I pushed off, gritting past the pain, flinging my body toward the branch like my life depended on it, because it did. My fingers connected this time. Clenched. Held.

Just as my grip locked tight, the chute gave out behind me with a vicious rip and fell, now dangling from my body like dead weight. It pulled at me, but I hugged the branch with everything I had, muscles trembling.

Carefully I tested each branch before shifting my weight. Downward, one move at a time. The wind stirred the leaves around me, and every crack of wood or rustle made my heart leap into my throat. But I didn’t let go. Didn’t falter.

Eventually, my feet met solid ground. I dropped the last foot or two with a grunt and let myself collapse onto the wreckage of my parachute, splaying out on the fabric. For one breath, I just lay there, staring up through the canopy at the sliver of sky above me. Clouds drifted lazily past like they had no idea the world was watching. I exhaled.

“Let the first trial begin,” I whispered.

I allowed myself only a few more precious minutes to catch my breath, lying flat on the shredded parachute and feeling the ache in every inch of my body. Then, I sat up and forced my hands to get moving, digging through the pack they’d strapped to me before the drop.

The contents were underwhelming at best, infuriating at worst. A metal canteen, empty, of course, a single stick of dried jerky, and a small, battered book of matches. Seven, I counted. Seven matches. Seven chances at warmth, light, or survival before I had to rely on sticks and desperation.

No knife. No compass. No medkit. Not even a thread of kindness.

I muttered a curse under my breath, then turned my attention to my injuries. My side throbbed, but after a careful inspection and some tentative prodding, I was relieved to find nothing seemed broken. Just bruised. Badly. It would slow me down, but it wouldn’t stop me. The cut on my cheek still burned, the blood having dried into a sticky smear. I’d need to clean that soon in order to avoid infection. Water first. That had to be the priority.

Once I cataloged everything in the pack, mentally noting weight, usefulness, and what I might need to ration, I stood and closed my eyes, forcing myself to visualize the map I’d built in my mind while falling. The winding river, the ridgeline, the jagged cliffside to the east. I’d gotten a little turned around crashing through the canopy, but if I was right, and I had to be right, then a river should lie about a mile to the northeast. Toward Praxis.

A mile. Battered, bruised, blind without a true landmark. But it was the only option.

I packed up the torn chute, folding it down tight and securing it under the pack’s flap. It made the bag bulkier, but I wasn’t leaving it behind. Not yet. Slipping the straps over my shoulders, I adjusted the weight and took one last look up at the treetops I’d tumbled through.

Then I picked a direction, set my jaw, and started walking.

One step at a time.