"I've been chosen."
A mixture of self-pity, angst, and sadness lingered inside my heart, competing for dominance as I sat with Loren under a black granite sky. We snuck off to our usual hideaway, an unused, forgotten training room lying at the end of a twisted meshwork of tunnels. We stumbled across the secret spot years ago as the result of being hopelessly lost, new runners, just trying to find our way back to the courtyard in time for evening stretches.
Ever since that fateful day, Loren and I would sneak to the private room and discuss the wounds that scarred our souls, deeper and more painful than the ones decorating our skin. When I failed or if I had a bad run, I walked away from it all and strolled far down the winding stone corridors to the isolated room. It was the furthest I’d ever traveled from my home in the mountain, and even though we were only a meandering tunnel away from our problems, it felt like another world. Here we were once more, one last time, clinging together in a final farewell to painfully haunting memories and forgotten whispers of traumas past.
We sat there for a long time, not talking. Not that anything needed to be said. My feelings concerning the situation sat plainly between us.
"We won't be parted long, Arya. She'll choose you soon. There's no denying your talent." His voice was like gravel against my temple as he attempted to reassure my doubtful heart. I opened my eyes I’d been squeezing shut, if only to will back tears imminently building behind them. Loren's free hand ran through the loose braid trailing low down my spine. The naturally tanned skin of his fingers mixed with the ash blonde hair falling out of the leather binding at the base of my back. My temple dropped into the space between his shoulder and his neck, the spot perfectly molded for my head—the spot I would miss the most.
"I'm a woman, Loren. We all know I have a slim chance of making it as it is. That's why none of the other girls even try." I bit back the bitterness, if only to spare myself the sting.
"So, you’re just going to give up? That doesn't sound like my best friend."
I smiled against the curve of his neck. "You're right. It doesn't." It's not like I wanted to surrender to an unexceptional fate, but I was already twenty years old, and very few runners were chosen after that age. The closer we got to the age limit, the smaller our chance at grabbing the queen's attention. Guilt replaced my pity an instant later. Loren didn’t deserve this reaction. He had worked equally as hard and deserved every bit of this honor. "I'm sorry, Loren. I'm happy for you, truly. You deserve to be called up, and I know you'll make a great Chosen."
His breath snagged in his chest. "I feel like I should be more excited, but to be completely honest, I'm terrified to go on a real run. I don't understand how I got picked. I was deliberately trying to do worse so I wouldn't be called up."
I lifted my chin to look him in the eyes, but his gaze was straight ahead, staring at the large crevasse in the corner of the room. I followed his stare to the fissure splintering through the mountain rock—a small window to the world beyond. It didn't reveal much, but it gave us a glimpse of the outside. Tiny white flecks winked against a black backdrop, a beautiful tease of what laid beyond my stone prison. I secretly wished I could grow wings and fly far, far away from this mountain, forgetting all the haunting memories while the darkness swallowed me whole.
"Look at the bright side, at least you'll finally get to see the stars," I whispered. "You'll know what it feels like to sense the breeze against your face, smell the air, see the world. Lor, you get go outside! I'd face a thousand demons and let them rip me apart just to get a minute out there."
He kissed the top of my head affectionately, paying the desperation in my voice no mind. "Your curiosity will be the death of you, Arya."
"There are worse things than dying," I mumbled.
"Like what?"
"Like never truly living." My teeth bit the inside of my cheek, flustered at the very thought.
“Aye, you have a point,” he shrugged. “At least I won’t have to run the same endless lap sequence for a long run. Just one long, unending stretch of land as far as the eye can see.”
I groaned, the guilt was replaced with envy. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still get dizzy nearing the hundredth lap around the flats. The other day, during our recovery run, I lost track of my lap number. Mallo made me start all over again.”
A breathy laugh escaped his lips. I shifted my gaze from the wall to find his mouth only inches away from my face. Many of our friends believed we were secretly pining for each other, but there was nothing further from the truth. Loren and I had a love for each other that was special, going beyond superficial romantic feelings. Our love was familial, bound together eternally by tears, blood, sacrifice, and suffering.
"I love you, Loren. Please, be cautious out there." He didn’t reply as his face lowered to meet mine, until all I saw were glossy, jade eyes and messy blonde hair. "When are you leaving?"
"As soon as we walk back. The letter said I had time to say a few quick goodbyes, then I had to report to Instructor Tarsus."
"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had such little time or I wouldn't have stolen it all for myself.” His body shook slightly against mine, muffling a laugh at my lie.
"Aye, because there's a long list of people I like well enough to tell goodbye," he replied in a voice light with sarcasm, floating on the tension between us on an imaginary breeze.
I forced a small smile, but it felt hollow in my chest. We never had to say the word before to each other, and I wouldn’t start now. "This isn't goodbye, though."
"No. It's not goodbye. Just do me a favor?"
"Anything."
"Get called up soon, because I don't think I can do this without you." His confident mask fell away in a moment of vulnerability, revealing the fear and uncertainty lying hidden behind his emerald eyes. I forgot myself in the hues for a short moment, losing all my troubles and coloring over my pain with the various shades of green.
"Be quick," I whispered.
"Be quiet." He replied.
"Be careful." We said together.
He pressed a long kiss to my forehead before standing up to leave, but I didn't follow him. Instead, I pulled my knees to my chest and set my chin on the bony parts, staring into the abyss calling out to me beyond the mountain wall. I didn't hear him leave for the last time. Didn't believe in my heart it was the last memory I would have of him. Nor did I think he would perish like the three runners before him. There were no tears shed as he walked out of my life forever, and I didn't feel like a part of my soul had been torn from my spirit.