My fifth year at the academy began. It felt strange, being only 6. I shared a dormitory with only Clara, and we began to develop a grudging respect for one another. Being 16 now, and therefore more mature, we refrained from the childish insults and pranks. We still hated one another, of course. But quietly.
I caught Oak looking at me several times during the next couple of months, until one evening, when the others had left, he ambushed me outside the training room.
"Wha-" I started to say, but he stopped me by pressing his lips against mine. We stood there for several minutes before breaking apart, breathlessly.
From that night onwards, Oak and I spent most of our free time together. Oak was gentle, kind, strong, sweet. I guess I kinda fell for him.
He opened up to me. He admitted that his childhood had been less than happy, and that when he fought, he imagined every obstacle, every target, every dummy, every person to be his uncle.
What I couldn't fail to notice, though, was Cato's jealousy. I suppose I assumed he was jealous of Dylan, for Clara and Dylan's relationship was still going strong. I assumed he was in love with Clara, with her blonde hair and pale blue eyes, her perfect skin and muscled limbs. She was beautiful, to be honest.
My fifth and sixth years at the university were my happiest. Until the end of my sixth.
Only the top two girls and top two boys progress into their seventh year. Clara and I were both safe, having no one to compete with.
Oak pressed his lips against my forehead, holding me close.
"Come back. Please. For me." I whispered.
"I will. I promise." Oak told me.
The four boys were taken into a room, and Clara and I were left to wonder which of the four would emerge alive.
The answer was, all four.
The four boys returned to the training room, where Clara and I were practising our knife-throwing. Clara, noticing them first, screamed and ran at Dylan, who lifted her up and spun her round, their lips pressed together.
I walked towards Oak, tears in my eyes, and stretched out a hand. I didn't know how, I didn't know why, but all four boys had survived. He took it, pulling me gently towards him, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders.
"I love you." He murmured. I stared at him, my eyes widening, for no one had ever said that to me before.
"I-" I started to say, as Kieryan walked in, flanked by 6 Peacekeepers.
"I have your results." He told us, with a sigh.
"I- I thought they all survived? I thought they were all coming back?" I cried, turning to Oak.
"No, Clove." Oak said, quietly, "We just haven't got the results yet."
Kieryan's gaze was troubled, as he unfolded the slip of paper.
"In fourth place..." He began.
My mouth was dry, my palms sweating.
"Caelyn."
Two peacekeepers came forward, each taking one of his arms, dragging him away, kicking and struggling. A fist to the head stopped his struggling, and they took his limp body out of the training room.
Time seemed to slow down.
Cato, Dylan or Oak?
Oak, Cato or Dylan?
Which one would be dragged away, sent back to their family in a cold, wooden box?
Kieryan's eyes found mine. They were full of regret, sympathy, pain. They said "I'm sorry." They said "There's nothing I can do."
"In third place... Oak."
My heart was heavy with the weight of yet another broken promise.