Chapter 1 #2
Teivel extended his arm toward the doorway, and the lord stepped out. His hooded black robe billowed behind him, flowing like wind through the darkness.
Lord Mordred walked across the stage, threw his hood back, and smiled broadly, showing noticeable gaps in his teeth. His scarred, lifeless skin couldn’t distract from his tall stature as his long legs carried him to the podium.
The entire crowd knelt in a gesture of respect. Soft murmurs of love and gratitude spread among the majority. Seda and Cahir joined them, pressing their hands against the rough ground, and watched the shadows of birds flying overhead.
The crowd chanted, “Our lord, we serve. Our lord, we love.”
“Thank you all for coming. Please rise,” sounded his booming yet pleasant voice through the speakers.
Lord Mordred gestured broadly with a theatrical display of his arms. “We’re here to celebrate the nine-hundred-and-ninety-ninth-and-a-half Wyrd with two gifts for everyone who remains after today’s events.
Only those who consistently demonstrate their love and dedication to our society each day will receive these tokens of appreciation. ”
Two?
Each Wyrd typically came with a single gift. Sometimes it was an extra day off work; other times, it was a silver token. Many in the crowd looked up with surprise and excitement, with children jumping around and clapping.
Lord Mordred responded with a broad smile.
“Everyone will receive three additional food tokens for extra rations upon the completion of today’s Wyrd. Please remember not to spend all of it at once and to save some for a rainy day,” he said.
Rain never fell on Joro soil with the home high in the sky. The aquifer, flowing from the ground, moved through the city and was the only source of water and relief. She could only see the rain patter against the dome on the stormiest days, a gentle reminder of their safety.
She had always yearned to feel the gentle touch of rain in her palms and on her cheeks, but the idea of leaving the dome was too terrifying to consider.
For some mysterious reason, animals and people could pass through the glittering barrier, but neither rain nor monsters could.
For safety reasons, no one was allowed to leave without prior approval.
A large, heavily protected wall surrounded the bottom part of the dome, with only a few exits allowing passage beyond.
Lord Mordred continued, “I want to thank everyone for your dedication to our society. Your efforts have helped us sustain ourselves. As we approach the one thousandth year of our victory over the monsters, we have repeatedly improved our education, allowing us to offer stronger protections for our families.”
Lord Mordred scanned the crowd and pointed at a man with a young child. “You, sir, are a prime example of why we succeed!” He bared his jagged grin once more.
A light applause echoed through the stadium, and Seda rose onto her tiptoes to get a better view of the man in the crowd.
The man had dark hair, and a small boy, about seven years old, stood with him.
The man bowed deeply, and when he stood up, a proud smile with reddened cheeks appeared as he looked at his young son.
“As for our second gift, this Wyrd, we will select forty individuals instead of fifty who have not been committed to Joro’s success.
These forty have been given more than fifteen years to secure their place in our society by bearing children, but have failed to do so.
They will be sent to the Camp as a final effort to redeem themselves, where our doctors will do everything possible to ensure successful reproduction,” Lord Mordred said as his eyes slowly scanned the crowd.
Everyone stood there in silence, watching those around them.
“Teivel, please bring the list of names,” he demanded.
Teivel hurried over to him, his robe slipping loosely over his small shoulders, and handed Lord Mordred a rolled piece of paper tied with a red ribbon. The ribbon’s color accentuated the shine of the lord’s thick bracelets, catching Seda’s eye.
Please don’t call us. Please don’t call us.
Lord Mordred looked over the crowd and said, “Rozzers, be on standby. The following people must come up to the podium for processing. Ensure a smooth transition.” The Rozzers all gave a firm salute in unison.
Conflicts during selection were rare, as Joro citizens were well-versed in the Wyrd and its rules. Everyone was aware of the risks. Having a child by age thirty guaranteed a sense of security.
Reproduction rates had plummeted over the past two centuries, and now only one in fifty could have children. Nobody understood why the decline had occurred or why it was getting worse. For Joro to survive, their community had to flourish, and the drop in birth rates was a significant concern.
“Derek Howell, Margarite Powers, Ruthette Winters.”
Citizens watched as Lord Mordred read off the list of names. Seda continued to hold tightly to Cahir’s hand as the selected individuals turned to their loved ones and shared somber embraces before taking their first steps toward their rehabilitation.
“Cahir, I’m so scared of the Camp. What will happen to us if we get chosen?” Seda whispered nervously. “What do we do if only one of us gets called?”
Cahir pulled Seda into a hug, and his familiar, cedar scent surrounded her. He reassuringly ran his hand up and down her back. “We will always have each other, Seda. Always.”
Before each Wyrd, every adult without a child performed an age and birthing registration.
Registration, like the Wyrd, was mandatory.
If you or your partner confirmed a pregnancy, you both received a stamped pregnancy certificate, which gave you additional time before signing up for the selection queue.
Upon the child’s birth, you received a birth certificate that confirmed your ongoing loyalty to Joro.
If you were over thirty without a certificate, your name was provided for selection.
Cahir and Seda registered five days earlier for the selection, despite their ongoing efforts to conceive through artificial insemination.
“Brad Merguee. Xavier Ruppert.” Lord Mordred continued calling names with a hint of nonchalance as more people solemnly walked to the stage to be processed.
The Rozzers remained alert, holding various weapons and blocking all escape routes.
There was a loud, crashing sound that erupted against the dome, shaking the ground violently and echoing through the sky. Seda flew away from Cahir, and she braced herself against the trembling earth. A scream escaped her lips as her veins grew cold and her vision blurred.
In response to the chaos, the black birds let out screeching caws as they swooped down in a frenzy, one of them scraping its claws across Seda’s shoulder and sending a sharp pain through her.
She raised her hands to shield her face.
Cahir struggled to find his footing and crawled over to her, pulling her close. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, shielding her from the bird.
“We have to get up!” he shouted over the terrified screams ringing out through the stadium. Seda stayed frozen in Cahir’s arms, her body refusing to move as she watched people around her desperately searching for their loved ones.
Over the past few months, the Jotnar’s attacks on the dome had become more intense, with each subsequent attempt to breach the barrier growing stronger.
The Jotnar were the worst of the monsters in Xyberus, towering over twenty feet tall.
They were colossal creatures that ate humans for both entertainment and delicacy, and were known to hunt anyone who wandered outside, like the Traversers.
“Look at me, Seda, please.” Cahir pulled her face to his. “I’ve got you.” His steady gaze locked onto hers, and slowly, Seda’s fear started to fade as she got lost in the security of his eyes.
“Okay,” she responded weakly. “I see you.”
He wrapped her in a tight hug and lifted her to her feet from the rough ground. “Don’t let go,” he said, as she clung to him.
The rumbling earth gradually quieted.
“Calm!” Mordred called over the crowd. “Everyone, calm yourselves. This dome has never faltered. We’re safe! They cannot get in.”
As the echoes died down, a profound silence descended upon them. People slowly got to their feet and glanced around nervously.
“Where were we?” Mordred asked into the mic as he adjusted it. “Ah, yes… Now that the little display from the Jotnar is over, we can move on.”
He continued to call names.
Seda took a deep breath and refocused her mind on what was happening in front of her.
How many was that? Are we safe this round?
“… Gavin Smith,” the lord continued. “You’re our final Wyrd selectee.”
The crowd, still reeling from the attack on the dome, clapped quietly.
“Our names weren’t selected,” Seda whispered with a smile. “We get another chance.”
“And that concludes our Wy…” Seda looked up at Cahir as Lord Mordred paused. She glanced back up at the podium, and her eyes widened.
Lord Mordred’s intense crimson gaze cut through the bustling crowd, locking onto her with an unsettling focus.
She quickly looked away from him.
Was he aware that she and Cahir had registered this Wyrd without a certificate?
“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat, looked away, and then resumed in a cheerful tone, “What an eventful day we’ve had. I want to thank everyone for their dedication to our success and survival. Please do not forget to collect your tokens on the way out.”