Ever since I can remember my mind has craved knowledge like oxygen to a lung. Even as a small boy I was curious and inquisitive about everything I came across, a trait a soon learned to discourage. My faction defines knowledge as greedy, unnecessary and self-absorbed; but my brain needs the constant flow and input that only knew information can provide. This is why the spines of my books are split and worn, why the pages are thin and tattered, why the covers are torn and faded, for I cram the sources of my knowledge into every nook and cranny I can find. At night, I turn those endless pages over and over till my candle burns to its base, till my vision is blurry and my fingers quiver with exhaustion. Then I conceal them from my ignorant family and return to my obedient nature that they know and love.
The day of the Choosing Ceremony arrives and I'm distraught. I wake in a sweat, thrown out of haunting nightmare to the reality I have dreaded for the past year. I knew my aptitude test results before I even entered the room and now, this whole situation rings far too true. I take a moment to compose myself, an act my parents would consider selfish no doubt, before exiting my room and running right into my sister, Beatrice. I am sure her expression matches my own and I give her a nod of confidence before we move down towards the kitchen.
The morning moves fast and after what seems like less than a few minutes I find myself seated in a sea of dull grey, with Beatrice quite literally shaking beside me. Beatrice has never been selfless. She tried so hard, but putting others before herself never came naturally to her. I have no doubt that she pulled an aptitude for a faction different from our own, but I just hope she makes the right decision. This is what it all comes down to I suppose; faction before blood.
"Caleb Prior."
My name is called and the moment hits me like an oncoming train. I knew it would come, sometimes I even hoped it would come sooner, but now, the thought of deserting my family feels like an act of the devil.
Before rising I give Beatrice's hand a squeeze. She looks up at me, a puzzled expression on her face and I hope that won't be the last time I see it; her face. I stride towards the troublesome circle in what I hope is a confident manner and stand in the dead centre. The crowd before me is a blur and I search out my parent's faces. It takes me a panicked moment to catch their eyes.
"Farewell," I whisper.
Marcus hands me the knife and I slice it across my hand, the pain nothing but a dull sting, and thrust my hand out over the bowl of serene water. I have chosen Erudite; faction before blood.