Chapter 1:
"I do not understand why everyone is so happy today." Salem huffed, tucking his shirt roughly into his cleanest pair of trousers. "There is no reason to be."
"Oh hush Salem, you know very well. Today is the Endowment, and soon you will be gifted with your purpose!" His mother said cheerfully, standing above him while combing his hair to the side.
"And what if I don't have a purpose..." Salem mumbled to himself, keeping his eyes fixed on the wooden floor.
"Darling don't even say that!" She said as she knelt down to meet his gaze, with sudden tears in her eyes. "Of course you do. And you will prove to him your potential. He would have to be blind not to see it."
She kissed his forehead then embraced him tightly, but Salem kept his arms to his sides. He was still haunted by the memories of the Endowment two years prior, when a boy named Waver died at the hand of his Author. Only a few seconds after being chosen his subject, Waver collapsed on the platform right in front of Salem. The Author warned all of the children that it was the fate of those with no purpose, those who's wickedness got in the way of the prosperity of Emery.
Up until the day of this death, Waver would spend most of his time alone at a lake far into the forest. Though he had always been rather bitter and depressing, Salem would often join him there and they would talk for hours. Waver had a harsh outlook on life, but Salem believed there was something more to it all. Most of the time, it would end in a heated argument, one time in particular, Salem went home with a black eye. But that never stopped him from going back, and Waver never sent him away. Perhaps it was because he was one of the few people who actually spoke to him. Though neither of them ever called themselves friends, secretly they both meant something special to each other. That is why Salem had always loathed the day of his own Endowment. It was not only the day he lost control of his fate, it was the anniversary of the death of a friend.
Salem could still remember the look on Waver's face on the day he died. It was not the same fierce expression he had often scared the other children with. It was dismal and helpless. As Salem looked at his reflection past his mother's shoulder, he realized the similarity in his own eyes that evening. It worried him, which only further added to the knot of uneasiness in his stomach.
"My cup runneth over." His mother whispered, stroking his cheek with the palm of her hand.
"My cup runneth over." Salem echoed.
"Now, be a good boy and fetch my good dress from the closet." She said abruptly, standing up to adjust her corset. "Hurry, we don't want to be late." She winked before making her way to the mirror where she began twisting loose strands of hair up onto her head.
"Yes mother." Salem said walking out of the room, but he was in no hurry at all.
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Every year the whole province of Emery would gather together to witness the bestowal of an Author to every child in their twelfth year. It was known to be a time of celebration and feasting for the youth that would often last for days. They called it the Endowment, referring to the gift of provision freely given by the Author. But Salem always thought of it differently, that the child was always the one giving. And that the gift they would hand over was their life.
The Endowment ceremony itself was held on the East side of Emery, in a stadium molded from the ground. There, the boys and girls were seated on a platform in the center of a massive crowd of people. The children would look their best, smiling and waving to their family and friends around them, anxious to be chosen by their Author. This would be the beginning of the rest of their life. Or so they were told at least.
Salem's mother had given him one last hug before taking a seat, and told him that everything was going to be just fine. Not feeling very convinced, he made his way through the chattering crowds of people towards the platform. Through all the noise and commotion, he heard his name being called by a very familiar sweet voice.
"Salem! Salem!" She hollered.
His eyes darted around him until they finally fell on Reagan. Though they had always been best friends, there was something about her that made Salem nervous. Maybe it was just the fact that she was a girl, a very pretty one at that. Her long blonde curls bounced as she ran towards him, holding up the skirt to her long blue dress. The gold braided ribbon wrapped around her forehead almost seemed to make her glow.
"I got you your favorite number!" She said cheerily, holding up a piece of silk with the number eight embroidered on it. Without asking, she stepped closer to Salem and pinned it onto his shirt. She was always that way, doing exactly what she wanted and saying whatever was on her mind. Salem loved it most when they would explore together in the forest. Well, he did most of the exploring, she really just followed him around and talked constantly about anything she had learned from her father. She seemed to know everything. Salem very much enjoyed her company, and especially liked that she wasn't afraid of dirt and bugs like all the other girls were.
"Thanks." He said, sliding his hand behind his neck.
She took a step back and placed her hands on her hips. "Well? What do you think?"
"What do I think of what?" Salem said confused.
She cocked her head to the side and sighed disappointed. "My dress! Do you like it?" She spun around, grinning from ear to ear, her eyes dancing in excitement.
"It's nice." Salem replied, chuckling to himself.
"Why thank you." She curtsied. "You look very handsome yourself."
Feeling his face heat up, Salem turned his head toward the floor hoping Reagan wouldn't notice.
"Well I think it's time to take our seats." Reagan said, "Come on!" She grabbed Salem's wrist and tugged him along with her toward the center of the stadium. Once they got to the gate, she let go and faced the two guards.
"I am Reagan Laurel, number 17. And he is Salem Hunt, number eight." She stated, looking over to Salem who was busy staring in awe at the platform.
"Welcome." One of the men said, opening the gate for them to step inside.
Salem followed Reagan up the steps to a seat that was somewhere in the middle of the long row of chairs. While Reagan was busy smoothing out her dress to perfection, Salem sat there like a statue, staring at the massive flocks of people surrounding the platform on all sides. His eyes scanned thousands of faces as he nervously awaited for the ceremony to begin.
My Author is out there. He is watching me right now, Salem said to himself.
Suddenly, a strong voice interrupted his thoughts, and it rang throughout the entire stadium causing the echoes of a thousand voices to fall silent. It was the Leader of Emery, Sloane Woods standing at the podium. The sight of him alone was enough to hush a crowd, anyone would be honored to kneel before him. Dressed in fine leather garments, he stood before his people tall and proud. The forest green cape that trailed behind him only intensified his fierce green eyes that were set above his strong nose and sharp jaw line.
"To those of you seated on this platform, we have come here to celebrate the prospect of your future. For as it has been said before, today is the beginning to the rest of your life!" As his voice boomed throughout the stadium, the crowd erupted in cheers. But by the raise of his hand, all chaos fell still. Silence once again pierced Salem's ears, causing him to hold his breath. He hoped their leader would speak again soon, for he feared that Reagan would hear how fast his heart was pounding.
The ceremony had begun.
