DISCLAIMER: I do not own Divergent, the book, the idea or characters. Also the characters appearing in this story resemble the characters from the movie or at least close to it with a few changes.
"WHAT IS LIGHT WITHOUT DARKNESS"
TRIS PRIOR
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
MAY 31, 2175
She awoke in darkness to the soft, steady patter of rain against the tin roof, sweat plastering her thin, white nightgown to her trembling body as she gasped, deeply drawing in a sharp and shuddering breath.
Pushing the tangled mass of silky honey blonde hair from her face, she quietly crept to the edge of her bed, staring out into the midnight hours from the small bedroom window, her senses raw and exposed.
The winds howled loudly, white lightening crackling violently through the sky, plastering the torrent of rain that was steadily growing in its intensity against the glass pane, her body was stiff and restless as she leaned her forehead against its surface, watching in desolation as shadows drifted past one another.
Why did it seem so endless? A haunting nightmare of a lost time that was waiting for her, watching her, taunting her to come out and play.
It was because of this that Beatrice Prior no longer slept.
She had been haunted by her dreams for the last several months since twenty-first birthday. Each dream different, but still the same, growing in intensity as each night passed.
Blood and brimstone, something that licked beneath the fiery surface, hungry and alive, promising her death.
Her death and the death of millions. A turning of the world to an unknown darkness.
She had become afraid to sleep.
But this night had been different.
She had dreamt of him again.
His face was strong, sharp bones, the curved sculpted lips, a reflection of haunting male beauty with bronzed skin. His leanness was dangerously deceptive, for it was all muscle, conditioned graceful strength. A sort of sensuality and masculinity that only made her think of sweaty skin and twisted sheets.
But it was his eyes that burned her, frightened her even.
Tiny prisms of light seemed to catch, blue swirling together with silver in an unusual magnetic mixture of lightened darkness, holding her gaze captive.
She had felt the strength his hands on her body, her breath catching as he pressed her wrists to the mattress, holding her captive as he tasted her, making her moan, marking her as his.
Warming her when nothing else could.
It would be so good, she imagined, so wanton.
It would be wrong.
But his taste had warned her, to be prepared for the dawn, his dark whispered promise for the storm that was coming.
To be prepared for him.
ERIC COULTER
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
MAY 31, 2175
A crash of thunder rumbled, rain unexpectedly pounding against the window as he sat up in the bed, the blankets falling around his waist, his bare chest covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his heart pounding at a rapid rate, his adrenaline slowly surging.
Swearing viciously under his breath, he scrubbed the palms of his hands against his stubble covered cheeks, struggling to separate his reality from fantasy.
He had dreamed of her again.
Her taste, her beauty as he lowered her to the bed, her glossy hair falling around her shoulders in a shimmering mass, ribbons of her dusky skin peeked teasingly through the silken strands, tempting him, teasing him.
He was haunted by her.
Dampened slick golden flesh, moving frantically against, beneath one another, molten fire reflecting in the russet depths, clawing, moaning, pressing to be closer if possible.
Her dark eyes unable to hide the love that would curse and seal her fate.
Naked, he crossed his bedroom, bracing his hands on the window frame as he stared out into the darkness, watching as the waves of rain pounded the ground.
His tattoos burned.
The intricate designs of his forearms, a vicious reminder, mocking him of the what fact he could no longer ignore or deny.
Tomorrow had finally arrived.
TRIS PRIOR
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
JUNE 1, 2175
Silently Beatrice Prior walked behind her family, barely listening to the murmur of their voices and steadily ignoring whatever questions they directed to her.
The breeze picked up the hem of her dress, swirling the grey material, pressing the cloth against the length of her legs, outlining the slender shape. Folds of the cloth billowed slightly behind her, creating graceful shadows, the gravel of the pavement crunching beneath her brown ankle boots.
She looked almost fragile, blonde strands of hair escaping her low-rising bun, dark shadows of exhaustion lighting her eyes.
She walked towards the Choosing Ceremony through the ruins of a once great city that fallen 150 years prior during the dark period.
The religious prophets has called it Judgment Day while the intellects called them fools.
Battles and judgment had raged for months bleeding into years,and then one day, it just stopped almost as suddenly as it had once started.
The hatred, the desire for destruction had faded and what remained of civilization had awoken as if from some terrible dream with little memory of how or why it had happened.
All that was understood was that the world they once knew had been destroyed.
The founders of the new world order had built the wall around the city of Chicago intent to keep them safe, and what had remained had society had been divided into Factions. Each Faction would serve a different purpose but all with the common goal to prevent future conflict and preserve what fragile peace remained.
Everybody has their place. Everyone knew where they belonged.
Except for her.
She had taken her test, the test promised to tell which Faction she was to belong too.
But something had gone wrong.
The Dauntless woman named Tori had frantically pulled her from her chair, insisting she leave through the back door and let her family know that the serum had make her sick.
She was special, unique, Tori had insisted. Unable to fit in the mold that the Founders had created, free of choice and will more than any other.
She was Divergent and that very fact could cost her her life.
But even then Tori had explained there was something more, something she had never seen before in any test. A sort of lightness that the darkness craved.
Tris knew she should stay with Abnegation, hide amongst her Faction. Be pale, lifeless, blending into the masses and doing as she was told for the rest of her life.
It shouldn't be hard. It was something she had done for as long as she could remember. Never stepping around the corner, never challenging what she knew to be wrong.
But she could no longer stay away from the sun. One test had assured of that fact.
She watched as her parents greeted other member of the Council, turning away in time to see a Candor boy dressed in black and white, violently yank something from the grasp of a Factionless woman as she desperately tried to hold onto her food.
"Beatrice, no."
Tris paused, glancing at her brother's impassive face and she shrugged off his restraining hand, ignoring her parents warning.
She stepped forward into the street, knocking the unsuspecting Candor boy to the side, standing between him and the woman he had chosen to be the victim of his taunts.
"You have a problem Stiff?" He sneered, his green eyes narrowing with disdain.
"As a matter of fact, I do." Tris snapped, raising her chin, frostily meeting his contempt with her own. "Especially with a little boy pretending to be the man by punishing a Factionless woman. I find it to be pathetically sad, if you want the truth of it."
Her words drew the attention of others surrounding the situation and at the sound of their snickering, the Candor boy turned a furious red, stepping forward intent on regaining his position.
"Peter, leave it."
Peter stiffened at his father's warning before glaring viciously at the highly amused Abnegation girl, silently promising his revenge.
"Better hurry back to mommy and daddy." Tris smirked. "Wouldn't want to upset them."
Sighing as Peter stalked away, Tris turned, crouching down to help the fallen woman sit up, grimacing when she saw the tatters of her food smashed into the ground.
"I know it isn't much, but it's all I have with me." Tris pulled a thick, crusty bread from her brown satchel, placing into the hands of the Factionless.
"You didn't have do that." The woman's voice sounded weak.
"Yes, I did. In fact, I sort of enjoyed it so I should be thanking you." Tris leaned over, grasping the chain on the necklace that had fallen to the ground from the woman's grasp in her struggle with Peter.
She held the necklace, suprised such as beautiful treasure would belong to someone deemed to be worthless and lost.
The amethyst amulet rested in her palm and as she watched the stone seemed to burn, the dark purple, swirling, brightening almost glowing with its force. Tris felt her hand twitch, her fingers aching to close around it and keep it as her own.
It someway it felt as if it belonged to her.
"Well, well isn't that interesting." The woman murmured, her eyes sharply cutting upwards, examining Tris' features. "I believe this belongs to you."
"I can't take this."
"You must," the woman insisted, holding up a hand. "It's been searching for you. It will protect you. His dawn is coming. You must be ready."
"I don't understand," Tris stammered slightly. "Who's dawn?"
"He will frighten you at first. Hurt you, push you, tempt you, but you must trust him. If you don't, there is no hope. For anyone."
"Trust who?"
"Beatrice!" Her father's insistent voice cut through their conversation, the tight angry sound causing Tris to turn to him, raising a hand before looking for the woman.
She could see the tattered clothing of the Factionless woman as she ran down the street, disappearing into the crowd and for a moment she wondered if it had been a dream.
She slid the gifted amulet in her pocket, attempting to look apologetic as she returned to her family.
TRIS PRIOR
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
JUNE 1, 2175
Her brother had chosen Erudite.
There were gasps, whispers of speculation and Tris sat stunned at the choice her brother had made. Caleb had been primed, molded almost from birth to take her father's place on the council and maintain control of the Factions.
And he had chosen what his heart knew to be true.
"Beatrice Prior."
Natalie Prior squeezed her hand as she stood, placing a soft kiss against the surface, whispering her love.
It was as if her mother knew. Knew the struggle, the conflict twisting through her stomach.
As the blade drew across her skin, blood welling in her palm, she questioned did she trust her heart and leave behind the only life she knew or did stay, protected in the walls of the selfless community.
She out the last of her regret, her shame, shedding her fear as drops of bright red blood fell, sizzling against the black stone.
"Dauntless."
Her choice had been made.