O N E

1.3K 68 22
                                    

The sun is beating down hard on my back, searing my skin as I stand behind my father, stiff and silent as ever. The crowd that has formed a loose circle around us is restless, loud. But all my father has to do is raise one hand above his head, palm open, and everyone falls silent instantly.

I've always admired — and even feared — this about my father. The power that charges the air around him, the ease with which he commands the respect of his followers.

"The Imperium continues to rob us of what we are owed, of what our children are owed," he begins, drawing my attention to his booming voice.

The audience, an indistinguishable mix of tired faces and worn limbs, breaks out in a weak ripple of indignant cries, their feet scraping against the rough cemented floor of the town centre.

"There is strength in our numbers!" A new voice cries out from my father's right. I shift my gaze to the back of Joseph's fair-haired head. Standing behind him is Everett, his back just as stiff as mine.

Joseph, always the loyal friend, waits for my father's signal before stepping closer to the ring of people. "The second cycle of recruitment has been announced, but the Resistance will not submit!"

"We will have power over the Imperium only when our children say no to them," my father declares, his voice taking on a new edge. "And this year my daughter, Arya, and Joseph's boy, Everett . . . the youngest members of the Resistance . . . have turned sixteen! Should either of them get recruited, they will be the first to reject the Imperium!"

The crowd gasps and hoots with newfound vigour, all eyes swiveling to where Everett and I are standing. Joseph urges us to step closer. I move reluctantly, flinching as my father claps his hand on my shoulder.

"But they will not be the last!" Joseph says triumphantly.

As my father and Joseph continue talking, their voices hoarse and scratchy from having to shout, I silently squint into the frenzied crowd, feeling choked and small, my father's words replaying in my head.

The youngest members of the Resistance.

Almost as though Everett and I are here by choice. Almost as though, if not for our fathers, we wouldn't be just like every other sixteen-year-old on this side of the world: eagerly hoping to get recruited and wanting no part in the Resistance.

I shift from one foot to the other when my hand brushes against Everett's. Immediately, I step to the side and cross my arms tight. But my concentration has already skittered far beyond my control.

"Shit," I say under my breath, wiping my brow with the back of my hand, ignoring the raw red tinge the sun has left on my skin.

Even several minutes later, when everyone else has left the town centre, my thoughts remain hazy. Just then, the giant clock perched atop the mills begins to strike.

I raise my eyes to the clock looming in the distance, the structure sticking up like a massive brown thumb against the grey evening sky. The moment the sixth and final strike echoes around me, I start walking away from the centre, down the narrow, winding streets. I find myself taking the familiar path without any hesitation as I have done nearly every day for the last few weeks. For the most part, I keep my gaze glued to the scuff marks on my sandals, raising my head occasionally only to make sure I'm not being followed.

Finally, a badly burnt section of living chambers appears just ahead. Looking behind me one last time, I hurry into the abandoned house through the open doorway.

 Looking behind me one last time, I hurry into the abandoned house through the open doorway

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Hi guys! I hope you liked the first chapter!

The length of the chapters will be short like this one so I'll hopefully be able to update frequently. :)

Thank you for reading and please share your thoughts in the comments!

Amethyst

Under Changing SkiesWhere stories live. Discover now