2. Welcome to the Games

                                    

                                          

As the glassy emerald elevator descended into Ambrosia's Capitol, Beatrix could feel her heartbeat hammering relentlessly against her chest, echoing into the tips of her fingers. Her hands were clammy, and she clenched them into tight fists in an attempt to calm herself. A bitter taste lingered in her mouth, and her throat felt parched.
The Capitol itself was a palace entirely constructed of obsidian and emerald glass, a striking contrast to the muted tones of the rest of the kingdom's buildings. The gemstone structure's reflective sheen captured and magnified every glimmer of light, illuminating the realm at night and earning it the nickname "Gods' Light." The palace served as the seat of Ambrosia's government, functioning as a judicial court, a venue for exclusive gatherings, and a training ground for the elite.
"We're almost there," someone whispered softly.
The elevator continued its descent to a dazzling underground chamber. Everything below gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance—tall, pure emerald columns stretched skyward, framing six ornate thrones, each representing one of the kingdom's factions. At last, the elevator touched down on the glossy floor.
Beatrix swallowed hard.
"Welcome to Gods' Light," Witch Sylvester announced. "Here is where the Consul primarily judges law offenders and criminals and where we host esteemed guests of the Capitol."
The Witch led the group through a massive set of double doors. Beyond lay a long, spacious corridor branching into numerous rooms and hallways. They eventually entered an immense training center, its walls lined with combat gear, suits of armor, and countless weapons. Awe rippled through the group, their reactions captured by a cameraman for the live broadcast of the Games.
"This is crazy!" one competitor exclaimed.
"Woah!" another murmured in awe.
Witch Sylvester gestured around the room. "This is your training center, where you will prepare for the Games over the next three weeks. Here, you will have the opportunity to experiment with various weapons, discovering what suits you best and what may serve as a disadvantage. Once the Numbering is complete, you will be assigned to teams with whom you will train. Any questions?"
The room remained silent.
"Good. Follow me to your dorms—you must all be drained."
They exited the training center and proceeded down another corridor, which ended at the dorm chambers. This section housed a multitude of private rooms, one for each competitor.
"You'll find everything you need in your chambers. Should you require assistance, ring the bell, and a servant will attend to you. Tomorrow, you will have your first live interviews, broadcast across Ambrosia. Your personal styling team will assist you throughout the festivities, ensuring you always look your best. Following the interviews, the Gathering will take place. More details will be shared during tonight's supper. For now, let me assign your rooms."
Witch Sylvester began reading names from a list.
"Beatrix Syleph, room 09!"
As the competitors dispersed, Beatrix realized there were far more participants than she had anticipated, drawn from all corners of the kingdom. She tried to maneuver through the crowd to her room but collided with a broad chest, stumbling back with a groan.
"Excuse me," she muttered.
The figure before her didn't move. Irritated, she growled, "Excuse me."
Looking up, she met the gaze of a tall young man with defined cheekbones framing strikingly metallic blue eyes, and messy jet-black hair. His piercing stare seemed to trap her in place, making her breath hitch from the heavy darkness they reflected. Then, a smirk spread across his lips, breaking the spell and sending a wave of annoyance through her. Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him with a glare. Must be an elite.
What a jerk, she thought.
***
The dining room was a marvel of opulence, where the competitors joined the elite for supper. The Consul sat at an elevated table overlooking the space, granting them an unimpeded view of the room.
Although supper was served later than usual, Beatrix was too hungry to care. She tried to eat delicately, savoring the veal draped in a rich, savory sauce. She almost moaned from how tender the pieces of meat were falling apart in her mouth, but decided against it. The silence at her table was uncomfortable, broken only by the Elite and the Consul's boisterous laughter booming against the high walls, their cheeks rosy from Ambrosian wine.
Finally, the Consul addressed them.
"Greetings, dear competitors. We've eagerly awaited this moment to meet you—the future leaders of Ambrosia. As announced earlier, tomorrow, you will face your first live interviews. Choose your words wisely. As potential Consul members, you must earn the kingdom's respect. Each of you symbolizes the gods and the factions you represent, which is of utmost importance to our citizens. After the interviews, the Gathering will take place—Ambrosia's most celebrated and anticipated ball. You will wear costumes representing your respective factions, an opportunity to showcase your talents and bond with one another."
Faery Elyza took over. "Let it be a reminder to you all that, to win these Games, your team must be the last one standing. Victory grants you a place in Ambrosia's Royal Consul, elevating your closest family members to royalty and extending Elite privilege to your relatives. However, the stakes are high. In these Games, those who fall may enter a decade-long slumber. From experience, I can tell you most awaken to solitude and despair."
Angel Rafael concluded the speech with a solemn declaration.
"With that, we officially welcome you to the Games of Ambrosia. May the gods bless your beings..."