Divided Paths
The looming specter of the impending trials hung heavy over the auditorium, but it could not dampen the spirits of the three friends. They shared a final, fleeting moment of camaraderie under the fierce, unblinking gaze of the conductor, Anna Eberheart. With a sharp gesture of her hand, she began steering the thousands of partakers toward the exits, directing the flow of humanity toward the enigmatic training zones where their fates would be decided. The air was thick with the sound of rustling paper—a dry, frantic symphony of thirty thousand envelopes being torn open at once. Every tribute stood frozen in a pocket of personal anxiety, awaiting the verdict of the cards. George, Nana, and Kayn huddled close one last time, their shoulders touching as they braced for the reveal.
"On three," George whispered, his fingers trembling slightly against the seal of his envelope.
Nana nodded, her expression a mask of focused calm, while Kayn's jaw remained set in a hard line of resolve. With a synchronized movement, they tore into the parchment.
Nana was the first to speak, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. "Group A, number two hundred," she read, showing them the card. It was a low number; she would be among the first to face the grueling physical course and the shifting spirits of the maze.
Kayn looked down at his own card, his brow furrowed. "Group D, number C one thousand two hundred." He let out a slow breath, the weight of the upcoming hours settling on him. He would have time to watch the early rotations, but the wait would be its own kind of torture.
George finally looked down at his own hand. His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that seemed to echo the hum of the Tele-stone on his finger. Branded on the card in sharp, black ink was the designation: C one thousand five hundred and seventy-five. "I'm in Group C," George said, the realization sinking in like a stone in a well. "The C one thousand five hundred and seventy-fifth. tribute."
The weight of the numbers hit them all at once. They weren't just separated by groups; they were separated by hours of grueling evaluation. George realized with a jolt of trepidation that he would be surrounded by nearly two thousand strangers, far from the familiar comfort and tactical synergy of his friends. He would have to navigate the malevolent spirits of the maze and the crushing weight of the physical trials without Nana's quick wit or Kayn's steady strength beside him.
"We knew this might happen," Nana said, placing a firm hand on George's arm. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, locked onto his. "The groups are designed to test us as individuals, not as a trio. But remember what we promised. We stick together in spirit, even if we're on different fields."
Kayn nodded, his dark eyes reflecting a silent promise of support. "We shouldn't let the strangers get in our heads, George. We've survived the Coffin Gang and the East Blue Lab. An obstacle course is just more nithing we can't handle."
"You're right," George replied, forcing a nod as he tucked the card into his belt. "I'll see you both soon. Just make sure you do your best."
The crowd began to surge, the Watchers in their dark, nondescript cloaks moving through the rows to usher the groups toward different wings of The Factory. The trio was forced to break their huddle as the sheer volume of participants pushed them toward separate corridors. As the trials commenced, George looked back one last time, catching a glimpse of Nana's determined stride and Kayn's broad shoulders before they were swallowed by the sea of colorful garb and flickering torchlight. His young face was a mix of anticipation and nerves, the cool violet glow of his Tele-stone a solitary companion as he marched toward Training Zone C. The magnitude of the challenge ahead was vast, but as he stepped into the shadows of the corridor, he carried the silent vow of their companionship with him. The individual evaluation had begun.