Chapter 27 #2
He points at the raging flames beside Dreth. “That’s an incinerator.”
“A what?”
“It’s where they put waste and trash. And all the bodies they don’t send to the sea.”
I go cold all over. “What’s it doing here?”
His eyes are suddenly steeled with fear. “I’m wondering the same thing.”
I look for Mae, searching for some assurance on her face, but she stares at the flames like she’s in practiced mourning. Dorian is with her, speechless. The other Grainfolk watch with hollow expressions, as if this incinerator is haunting them, and my pulse picks up.
“We’re packing rations today.” Dreth walks us through how to harvest some of the food that still needs to be pulled from the soil.
He grabs a ration pouch and stuffs it with two squash, a fistful of grain, and a pear, tying it up tight.
He tosses it into one of a dozen shelves in the back of a transport.
A shelf that could hold hundreds of the little ration pouches.
“It’s so much food,” I say, under my breath. “That’ll take all day.”
Kade grimaces as if he’s realized something.
But he doesn’t have to share—Dreth does. “Once you’ve filled two shelves, burn the rest.”
“Burn the food?” I ask. Two shelves. Two of a dozen.
Dreth’s eyes cut to me through the crowd.
I didn’t realize I said that aloud. “Contestant Fifty-Four asks a great question, for clarity, I’ll assume.
Yes, you will burn the excess food.” All of the Saltbloods and Stonebounds gasp and stare, whispering.
But the Grainfolk stare, as if they’re too numb to be shocked.
“Citizenship in Skyhaven requires your trust in your leader’s judgment,” Dreth goes on.
Trust his judgment by ignoring the truth right in my face.
Families in Dockers Row are starving. I’m sure it’s the same in other districts.
This is cruel! But I realize that’s the point: loyalty means caring about who and what the Benevolent cares about.
It means turning off that part of our mind screaming, this is wrong.
Dreth steeples his hands.
We can steal it for ourselves and be deemed selfish.
We can stow it away for someone else and be deemed rebellious.
Or we can burn it—and be deemed a patriot.
After all, there are “reasons” for the things our leader is doing.
Good reasons for Ethyria’s prosperity and safety, the pamphlet always says.
“Any other questions, Contestant Fifty-Four?” Dreth asks.
I stiffen.
“Don’t,” Kade mutters. “There’s no use. Just agree, Axira.”
I shake my head, and Dreth paces the length of the contestants, giving the rest of the instructions.
“You will each be given a ration truck to fill for your district and assigned a portion of harvest to burn. You will have until sunrise tomorrow to finish packing and complete burning the excess in your supply. Be careful of misstepping here, contestants. The cost of betraying loyalty is steep.”
Kade shadows me as we’re herded into separate lines, bound for various wagons—to our own sections of harvest. Across the distance, Mae offers me a faint, soft smile.
Caelus moves toward his line without so much as a glance at me.
But when our paths cross, our arms brush.
His fingers ghost over the back of my hand, a fleeting touch that feels like static.
We meet eyes for a single heartbeat. His burn with something that feels like sympathy.
It grounds me—barely. But I have to follow through. Somehow I have to do this.
“How can you burn all this food?” I ask Kade as we step into a wagon with others headed to our section.
“It’s just plants,” he says. “We can grow more.”
His words land like a slap. Just plants. As if whole villages aren’t waiting for what we’re about to destroy. The heat of his body, the casual calm in his voice—it all makes my skin feel too tight. He shifts closer as the wagon jerks forward, and I wish there was more space between us.
“Look, I’ll help you with the burning,” he says.
“I can do it,” I lie, because I need it to be true. I need to burn food that could keep Serafina alive. I need to send this truck into my district not even half filled. I need to do that to prove I can be Skyborn, even if I have no desire to be.
Ahead, I already see the stretch of grassland dotted with crates and pallets, transports waiting nearby. The field they’ve assigned me sits right beside his. Even from here, I can make out the mounds of produce piled high, waiting to be sorted, packed, or burned.
I get started and the ache of hunger behind my ribs is replaced by anger, rising with every ration bag I tie off, barely full. I’m tempted to stuff more in them, but there is a Mercyenforcer assigned to watch me. Kade is shouting distance away. He’s moving twice as fast.
Get past the trial. Get a ship.
I pack another ration pouch and set it in the tray.
Get past the trial. Get a ship.
But every pouch I stuff and pack and tie feels like a betrayal.
They’ve given me water, but my head starts to pulse from hunger.
The sun is high in the sky, and the first tray is almost half filled by the time a transport rolls by.
Dreth rolls down the window and hands me a tray piled with a midday meal and two Scents: one for Lingering Desire, the other for Emotional Yield.
“Eat up.” He drives off, and I tear into the bread with my teeth without thinking, biting into my finger hard enough to draw blood.
The bread tastes like it’s coated in honey and was made this morning, fresh.
The meat is juicy and my mouth waters more with each bite.
I gulp it down, barely breathing. I shove the fruit in my mouth and gnaw at a savory pie I’ve never seen before.
I eat until my stomach hurts and I can’t shove another bite of food down.
My face burns in shame.
I shove the tray away and get up, glaring at the crumbs and my bleeding finger. How could I sit here and eat when…My hands shake. But I drag myself back to the overflowing root crops still caked in soil. I have to finish. I have to get the trial done if it kills me.