Waging War | The Amber Duology #1

3 | The Reaping

At the top of the highest building in all of Ninjago City, Pixal Borg wasn't having the same luck. Cyrus Borg had just shoved a huge backpack into her hands and insisted that she go with the trucks.

"You must be joking, father." She scoffed, walking towards the man in the wheelchair. "I don't belong there!"

Her father, Cyrus Borg, was known as the best inventor in all of Ninjago City. With his talents of creating absolutely anything from scratch, there was no doubt she would inherit his gift too.

He turned his chair around, the moonlight bouncing off his spectacles. "Pix, there will come a time when you will realize that I am doing this for your own good." He sighed. "You have a talent that surpasses almost all of my employees here and it is best that we hide it."

By the time she was 5, Pixal discovered her love for inventing when she managed to create a working toy car with spare parts she found in her father's office–which turned out to be important pieces that he had been collecting–but he was proud, nonetheless.

Which is why she couldn't understand whether he was getting rid of her or protecting her. There were times she really couldn't figure out what her father wanted–which frustrated her greatly–but she knew she was smart enough to find out.

Pixal tilted her head, her shiny silver hair following her movements.

"Father," She started, crouching at the edge of his wheelchair as she did. "If your plan is to hide me, then why must I go with the trucks?"

"It is best if you serve the army. You will be safer there." His eyes left her, instead, he focused on the view from his glass window. "They can protect you in a way I cannot."

Growing up in the biggest building of all of Ninjago City, she thought she was secure with her father's high security system. Protecting her from all the possible dangers from a young age. But with him doubting her safety now, Pixal was beginning to wonder whether she was wrong to believe that.

"But I don't need protection, father. If you just give me–."

"You will go with the trucks, Pixal. Do you understand?"

The girl took a step backwards. Her father rarely raised his voice and she knew better than to mess with him when he did. She grabbed the backpack she left on the floor and slung the straps around her shoulders.

"If you go, I promise I'll tell you everything."

The offer was intruiging and Pixal always wanted answers. "Do you swear by it, Father?"

"There is a boy at the camps. His name is Zane, find him and he will tell you exactly what you should do." Cyrus said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he did so. "You will report to me at the end of every 2 weeks about your progress. Only by then, will I tell you what is going on."

Pixal sighed, knowing she didn't really have a choice.

"I will do my best, Father."

"Blend in with the trainees. Hide your gift and make sure that no one, I mean no one, will ever find out, Pix." He placed his hands on her shoulders, taking a good look at his daughter before pulling her into a hug. "Come back to me alive, Pixal."

The girl smiled and returned his hug. At least she knew he cared about her wellbeing. "I will."

They pulled away, savoring the moment while they could. Pixal looked around the very place she grew up in, taking in every detail she could. She knew better than to disobey her father now, so with a heavy heart, she made her way towards the elevators.

"Hurry now, they're waiting for you." Cyrus Borg ushered her into the double doors, a nervous smile playing on his face.

"See you soon, Father." She waved right before the doors shut in her face.