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I force myself under the fence feet first, careful not to snag my shirt on the loose wires. I'm behind schedule, and if there's one thing I hate more than anything it's being late. A raindrop hits me square in the eye and I curse as I scoot myself under the blockade. Blinking away the water I inspect the world above and see that not much has changed from this morning. There's still a grey polluted sky and a smoldering setting sun too bright to comfortably look at. The only thing that has remotely changed is a bundle of dark clouds rolling in from the mountains. It'll only get worse, which gives me even more of a reason to hurry home.

Sunspots dance across my vision as I scurry up, tugging on the boot of my companion.

"Hurry up, we don't have all day," I groan as I heave his body under the barbed wire, forcing down a grin with a scowl.

The curly honey blonde head of my best and only friend for the past ten years emerges from the long grass, a grin plastered on his sun-kissed face. Freckles dot his button nose, and he hasn't quite matured out of his baby face yet, making him look younger than he is.

Nico hoists himself up, brushing the clay dust of the cracked land off of his cargo pants. Sweat trickles down his brow, and I roll my eyes as he sticks out his hand to tug on a strand of my hair.

"Relax," he laughs, "we have another hour at least before sunset. Don't even try to tell me you need rest, we both know you won't be falling asleep anytime soon."

I groan at his ignorance, but he does have a point. Succumbing to sleep has always been difficult for me, and tomorrow is the Collection Day. One wrong move, one wrong decision, and my whole life could be ruined.

Around the year 2100, the people that lived before the Six Triggers of Apocalypse realized that they were going to die torturous deaths; their kind was simply using too many resources, deeming the land that surrounded them unsustainable. As if sensing its destruction, the earth sent the Triggers raining down upon them, leaving none untouched.

The first Trigger was famine. Almost in an instant, the entire world's crops died. Not many history books survived the Triggers, but from what the public knows, over two-thirds of the population died of starvation alone.

Then came poverty. Without crops, farmers, businesses, and the entire social pyramid fell. The rich's coins and paper notes were useless when all that was valued and wanted was food. People were fearful of being jumped and refused to leave their homes. They stayed hidden away with dwindling supplies, anger, and sorrow. Many committed suicide and even more became criminals.

Next came the social unrest; the dreaded Third Trigger. Uprisings started, buildings were lit on fire, entire communities turned against each other. Perhaps worst of all, anarchy broke out and the government fell. With no leadership, humanity struggled to survive when the Fourth Trigger struck.

Natural disasters, hurricanes, floods, wildfires, volcanic eruptions, and tsunamis shook the countries and killed millions. It left no civilization in its wake, and only one of the seven continents remained. The majority of North America and its inhabitants survived; the rest sank into the growing abyss of the oceans.

The final stage of disaster was disease. The cluster of nearly a billion people was living in a space designed to only hold only half that. Viruses spread like wildfire, bacteria ran rampant in the warm and moist air, and another five hundred million perished, bringing us to the Sixth and final Trigger.

Mortality.

The first stages of the Sixth Trigger were peaceful and just. The first sovereign rose out of the ashes of the ruined world like a phoenix. She created the five Dynasties and the Regime, declaring that each would work to create differing essential items. In this way, the world would fall back to functioning order. But this time, humankind would work solely to survive, not expand. From some projections, the Sovereign realized that what was left of the world's resources would last at most half a century. She needed to limit the number of births while still maintaining the original population and order.

So the Sixth Trigger was made. A brutal survival game that launched all sixteen-year-olds onto deserted islands littered with genetically engineered animals and traps from before the Triggers for thirty days. Split into groups of five, teenagers are forced to survive with strangers with nothing but two daggers and three matches. Typically, two or three members of the group survive, but, to ensure population control, the Regime decided that if more than three members of the original group survived, one would be sentenced to death, voted upon by the Sovereign's court, or in some cases, the squad members.

Tomorrow is Collection Day. Tomorrow, I'll be flown to an island, where I'll hide from death a little longer all the while trying to please the Regime enough to survive. I will be a pawn in their necessary game for thirty more days, but then I will be free.

"Elara," Nico says, "let's go watch the sunset. Enjoy it if.."

He doesn't have to finish his sentence for me to understand what he means. This could be the last time we get to watch the stars from the farmland of Dynasty Four. More importantly, this is most likely the last time we'll get to watch them together. Even if we both survive, the chances of his squad being placed in the same Dynasty as my own are slim. Tomorrow is likely the last day I will ever see Nico.

In many ways, Nico Fawks is my polar opposite, and yet it surprises me how we still manage to understand each other perfectly. After a decade of being inseparable, we've grown to understand each other in the way only siblings can. He's kept me grounded and resilient in this Dynasty, and I'm sure he will be a valuable asset to whoever his four squad members are.

Nico grabs my hand and pulls me forward. "Come on, Cupid."

I groan at the nickname given to me just a few months after we first met and throw a playful punch into his shoulder. The first time he ever used that word both of us were gathering strawberries in the stretch of fields miles long that are the trademark of Dynasty Four. My basket broke in half, throwing hundreds of the plump and juicy berries onto the ground where they bruised and were deemed inedible. Although only six, I had the mouth of a sailor and promptly spit out all the curse words I knew.

Nico had stood there, mouth agape, before bursting out laughing. From then on, I was known as Cupid supposedly because I had the charm of one, when in reality, I just knew it was a pull on my last name, Lovejoy.

His hand--calloused and tanned from long days working in the sun leads me away from the center of Dynasty Four and back towards the surrounding forest. He's leading me to the mountains that encircle our Dynasty like a cage, where we'll have the best vantage point for observing the sky. For anyone else, it'd be a tough climb and a dangerous journey, but the many times we've hiked caused a hidden path that leads directly to the top of the shortest of nine mountains.

We push through saplings and stray leafless branches, careful not to push them in a way that scratches our skin. Any mark can and will be noticed by the Regime, knocking our points. Collection Day is the most important day of a sixteen-year-old's life, neglecting the interviews that come after the island. Those interviews determine whether you live or die, and less significantly, which Dynasty you'll be placed if chosen to survive. It's not enough to just survive the island, you have to beat the island.

The higher we climb, the more silent the world around us becomes. Even almost one hundred years after the Triggers took place, animal diversity and population has not recovered. There's no sign of life anywhere, except for the occasional hum of a bee or the annoying buzz of a fly. A twig snaps behind me, followed by the crunch of leaves and a short sigh. Immediately, I know who it is.

Nico moves through the forest with the grace of a bull. He's always been a little awkward on his feet, some limbs of his body growing faster than others, but he assures me soon he'll grow into it. For now, his torso is too wide for his legs, with broad, toned shoulders and a solid core. His legs are lanky from minimal movement in the fields and appear unable to hold up his top half. His hands and feet are both petite, and as much as he hates it, are the center of my constant teases.

Meanwhile, I'm more appropriately proportioned, even if I am a little short and stubby. I barely reach five feet tall, making Nico tower over me, although he's also small for his age. It doesn't matter though, because I'll always know how to take him down with one swift kick to the knees.

I've always been overlooked because of my size, but unfortunately, my personality makes me a target. I've never been good about keeping my mouth shut, but I've never been the peacemaker, that's always been Nico.

"Elara."

Nico beckons me over, his hands cupped together. I squint in the shadows trying to make out what it is, but the fading sun rays leave a pink hue through the autumn leaves, distorting the object. I take a few steps closer, breathing in the crisp air. In his hands lays the singular wing of a butterfly, a creature that no one has seen in person for ages.

I restrain a gasp, moving closer to admire the delicate fragment. The wing possesses a symmetrical beauty unique to nature. The orange of the wing is soft and intricate, a mix of hues ranging from more yellow to more red. The tip of the wing is broken, and some of the membrane is gone. But there's no denying it, the insect is breathtaking.

I reach out to touch the wing but pull back when the soft brush of my fingertips sends more of the membrane fluttering to the ground. I'm puzzled by the fragility of the creature. How did it ever survive in the wild being this delicate?

Nico moves the wing out of my reach and glares at me with the same look a teacher gives a wild student.

"Well don't break it," he groans. "Who knows if we'll ever see one again."

"Sorry," I mumble as I stalk off to the last stretch of the mountain. Around me, the sound of rain is masked by the thick blanket of leaves ahead. They litter the ground below me, but even with a quarter missing from the trees, barely any rain reaches the floor of the forest.

My boot snags on a large rock and I curse under my breath, careful to steady myself before knocking the stone to the side. Knowing Nico he'd trip over it and snap his wrist breaking his fall. No one wants to enter the Sixth Trigger with any injuries, no matter how small. At this rate, I'll be looking out for him long after we part ways.

I reach the top of the mountain and am immediately breathless, partly from the exerting climb, but also due to the view. Around me the entirety of Dynasty Four is visible. A dozen large fields are spread out around the perimeter and take up about three-quarters of the territory. In the center, taking up the remaining fourth is an abundance of small houses and markets crammed together with hardly five feet of space in between them. Below I can see a few stray figures scurrying about, making their final purchases and returning from the fields before the sunsets.

Sunset is curfew for all children sixteen and under, but it's not strictly enforced. I was told it used to be worse, even punishable by treason, but the Regime's grip around here has lowered in the past decade. The Sovereign and her Regime still have control among us, but they aren't tyrannical anymore. That left once order was established. Nowadays, everyone is just trying to survive. We know uprising won't get us anywhere but death, whether from war or a new system, and what we have now works well enough. Deep down we know the Sovereign is doing her best to ensure the human race's survival.

Nico emerges behind me, his face covered in shadows from the fading light. While there are a few exceptions from children who's parents originated from other Dynasties, Dynasty Four children's coloring is almost always alike, with their traits usually being browned or tanned skin, dirty blonde curled hair, and fair eyes. Nico and I are no exception, from our frizzy hair and freckled golden skin, with large round eyes and toned shoulders. His eyes are a brilliant green, rather than a dull grey, however, and they flicker in the light.

He meets my gaze as he sits down on the damp grass, but says nothing. I don't take it personally, I know it's just how Nico is. Years of being inseparable have taught me that Nico doesn't say anything unless he feels he needs to. He doesn't waste his words.

I take a seat next to him, my mind racing with worries about the upcoming days. There's no use in thinking about things out of my control, and I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat and slow my breathing.

We sit, listening to the soothing sound of rushing water droplets as the sky turns from soft grey to a deep blood red. I fiddle with the locket around my neck as my mind goes to war with itself. There's too much uncertainty in the upcoming days and my mind can't manage it. In just two weeks, I could be dead. In two weeks, Nico could be dead.

I scoot my body closer to his and playfully lean against him.

"After it's all over, what Dynasty are you hoping to get?" I ask, hoping to distract myself from the silence.

Nico pauses for a moment and his eyes wander. A lopsided grin swallows his face whole and his voice rings out, breaking slightly and a little hoarse. "I think Five."

"Really?" I question, my brows scrunching. In all my years of knowing Nico, I would never have pictured him leaving Dynasty Four; he's always been somewhat of a homebody.

"Well, I wouldn't manage in one, I have no interest in being an authority figure. I don't abide by the rules now, I wouldn't be a very good example. Two would be rather boring, Three I'm too active for, and I've never been creative enough to belong in Five. I could survive in this Dynasty, but I want to try something new. What about you, still set on Two?"

I scan my mind for any second thoughts, but I know there aren't any. Dynasty Two is home to the doctors, teachers, and scientists of what's left in the world, and I've always been interested in learning. I know deep down I would get bored in whatever Dynasty I end up in, I'm always looking one step ahead, and after the Sixth Trigger, there's nothing left to work towards. My life becomes the same routine for the rest of my days, after two years of training for my profession.

Dynasty One is the most prestigious of all the Dynasties, and home to authority. Among leaders, officials, and soldiers, there are also Sixth Trigger advisors, who deal with everything surrounding the ultimate test of survival. They design new traps and prepare the islands, along with managing what resources we have left and searching for a better solution than the final Trigger.

Then there's Dynasty Two, which battles with Dynasty Three for being the brains of Earth. While Two's are focused more on the basics of life and medicines, Dynasty Three workers know everything there is to know about technology. Although what they can make is limited to what is deemed necessary for the human race by the Regime, I'm certain that even a seven-year-old from there could build a helicopter.

Our home, Dynasty Four, is the most easygoing of all the Dynasties from what I've been told. Our schedule is simple; we attend school from dusk to dawn on weekends and daily during the winter, and when harvest season comes, we spend our time in the fields harvesting food for the nation. As long as we supply the people with their food, we can more or less do what we please. And being the largest Dynasty, there's more than enough time to harvest and still have time for leisure.

Dynasty Five is home to the artisans. The architects, craftspeople, painters, and designers of the world. They often work closely with the people from Three, and they're located right next to their territory, in the center of a desert. They've designed technology to protect themselves and us from the excruciating temperatures, but it still was cruel to throw them there. Being that crops are essential and could only grow in certain environments, we were given the richest and most fertile piece of the world. But most of the Dynasties weren't as lucky.

Dynasty One was placed on a dry and barren rocky slab of land that stretches over most of their territory, and the Dynasty Two people were placed in a marsh that constantly floods. Five's got the third-best plot after us and the Regime, with them being located in the cool areas of the mountains. The Regime controls most of those though, and their territory is only just barely worse than ours. Perched high and protected from flooding, the land up their is still green and is home to some plant and animal life. But it's the smallest of all the territories, just big enough to house the Sovereign's quarters and the Regime's houses, along with a few essential markets.

"Elara?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," I blush. "Still set on two."

He just rolls his eyes and glances back out at the last sliver of light disappearing under the hills. It's grown almost ten degrees cooler since we first began our hike, but it's only now reached a comfortable temperature; perks of a dying world.

"We should leave," Nico says, groaning slightly as he stands up. "We need to get you home before they start to worry."

I almost snort. "They only worry if food's not on the table or Apollo's not tucked in sleeping."

Somewhere between my seventh and eighth birthdays, my parents decided to stop caring where my brother and I went as long as we were home to supply food on the table in the morning. Apollo was barely five years old at the time, and he suffered without my mother's constant guidance. I didn't mind, I knew it was her way of growing our independence to train us for our sixteenth year. Apollo on the other hand had always been sensitive, and a small hatred towards our parents grew in him.

"I may have gotten everything ready for tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure you haven't," Nico teases as he offers me a hand up. "You don't want to rush in the morning, noon comes rather quickly."

I scowl as I try to remember if I had forgotten to prepare anything. My dress for the Collection lies hanging up in my house and my locket is around my neck. The only thing left to do is say my goodbyes, but only one of those will take place tonight.

***

By the time we reach the fence again, the moon shines brightly down on us, all clouds from the earlier storm gone. Thousands of stars litter the sky, scattered in distinguishable unsystematic clumps. There's a strange beauty in them, but they're mesmerizing nonetheless. They remind me slightly of the hundreds of small freckles scattered along Nico's cheeks.

The ground underneath has become muddy and soft from the rain, and I slide under the fence rather easily this time. I can feel the wet dirt stick to the back of my shirt as I stand up, and I shiver at the coolness of it.

Nico reaches down and grabs a handful of the earth. I realize what he's about to do seconds before he does it, and I attempt to scurry away, but he's too fast. He wipes the mud across my face and my mouth puckers at the pungent taste of minerals.

"You ass," I murmur as I spit out the dirt in his direction.

I lunge at him and his eyebrows raise as I jump on his back, knocking him to the ground. He lands with a groan and I know I knocked the wind out of him. I take a fistful of mud and smear it into his matted curls, already messy from the humidity and rain.

I let out a small laugh as he flips me over, sending me flying away from the mud pit and instead into the long grass. A few disturbed bugs fly away, buzzing angrily at us and I sneeze as the grass tickles my nose.

Nico, still breathless, comes and falls in the grass next to me, his head landing on my arm. He smells faintly of sweat and cedar, with a few earthy undertones I can't quite place.

"How am I supposed to leave you tomorrow?" I wonder aloud, bringing attention to the unspoken worry that's been on our minds for the past weeks.

Since we met at age six, we've been inseparable. We haven't spent more than a few hours without each other, and Nico's mother is more of a mother figure to me than my own. How are we supposed to go from spending every second with one another to the possibility of never seeing each other again?

"We'll find a way," he reassures me. "Just focus on surviving. Promise me?"

"I promise," I deadpan.

"And try to make friends with your squad members," he warns me. "Don't start unnecessary fights."

"I know. And you don't be a pushover," I retort.

He shoots me a look but otherwise stays quiet and lets out a sigh as he gets up. "Time to go home, Cupid."

I reluctantly follow him along the dirt path that connects all of the Dynasty. We pass by field seven, home to nearly half the vegetables we grow. Stalks of corn sway in the wind as we near the outskirts of town where my home is located. While my house is about as far away from the village you can get, Nico's is almost dead center.

When my cabin comes into view, a pang of sorrow cuts through my chest like a blade. The reality of what happens next is a punch to the gut. My face grows hot and I feel the tears coming. I order myself to be strong, there's no time for tears, but one is squeezed out by my blinking eye and trickles down my nose. There's no lanterns on in the three-room and poorly made cabin, signaling that my family is dead asleep. I sigh, knowing that I'll have to sneak into the bedroom that all of us share. Waking anyone up would force me to sleep outside, and with the scavengers; both people and wildlife, I doubt I would make it untouched through the night.

Nico extends his arm around the back of my neck and unclasps my locket, holding it carefully in his hand. The dented heart-shaped charm glitters in the moonlight, the silver metal reflecting the moon's light. His fingers rub briefly over the metal before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the remnants of the broken butterfly wing. He places the wing inside the locket along with the straw ring Apollo made me for my birthday last year and closes it shut. He strings it back around my neck and presses the heart on my sternum.

I pull him into a hug and let the tears fall. They streak down my cheeks and onto his shirt, but he doesn't care. Nico is warm and safe and home, and without him, I don't know who I am. I bury myself in the cotton and long for the moment to stay forever.

But it can't.

Nico pulls away and looks me in the eyes.

"We'll find a way," he promises, then pulls me in again, wrapping his strong arms around my own.

He moves his head towards me, and his lips brush softly against mine for a few seconds before he draws back, his arm barely touching mine as he turns to go.

"Just in case," he murmurs so softly I almost think I imagine it.

I stare frozen in shock as he walks away, scanning my mind for the signs I must have missed for years. Nico doesn't like change, if he liked me in that way, he never would have told me for fear of our friendship being damaged. Did I give him the wrong message? Or was I just too preoccupied with surviving that I didn't let myself spend much time worrying about the possibility of silly relationships?

I stand there with my mind racing until he grows into an indistinguishable speck, waiting for him to turn, but he never looks back once.