TRIAL'S OF DECEIT

UNEXPECTED

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In its rarity, the selection was something to be greatly anticipated by everyone, for the instructors whose social image was on the line if a detrimental fault were to be found in a jalak, for the managing staff, who needed more funding to run the center smoothly and most especially for the jalaks grouped for the selection.

In whispers, an absurd rumor had spread a day before regarding the high prince of the house, Sol of Cal, being in need of a jalak. The grouped slaves for the selection buzzed about with palpable excitement and a cloud of anticipation in each elated whisper.

They'd inadvertently grouped themselves into two.

The first group, considerably fewer than the next, had the delusion of forming a natural bond between themselves and the prince. Cal natural bonding compatibility was as rare as the Razeh-Cal xenon moon that last occurred five hundred years ago. A point that both the swooning and blushing jalaks failed to acknowledge, or they just chose to ignore.

The second bunch were making a more physical effort than the last. Each, believing they would be selected by the prince himself because of their personal attributes. Not minding their already perfect appearance, they fussed over their makeup and hair, undoing and restyling their tresses over and over again. Some practiced the best way to display their unique features in hopes of a presumed bonding as a high-ranked jalak to the prince of the second most powerful house in Razeh-Cal and by proxy elevating their lowly social status - at least most were.

In her current condition, Abriella couldn't afford to care about anyone but herself and certainly not a prince. At the moment, all that ran through her head was the idea of being publicly rejected again. If the rumors were to be true, her only thought of the prince was that his presence would most definitely attract a crowd. Fear and anxiety knotted her insides, making it difficult to breathe, her nerves were jittering, her head felt fuzzy, and she found it difficult to process her thoughts. Panic clawed its way until it logged firmly in her throat, the shortness of breath made her already fast heart rate beat at a faster pace. Trembling and sweating, her thoughts swirling around in her head, she felt like she couldn't think straight. The room felt too hot, and her throat too dry.

"Honoured Guest". A distinctive voice that sounded like the head instructor boomed, silencing the crowd. "Welcome to the selection" .

The crowd erupts in applause, the sound of the clapping filling the room, the noise deafening as it washed over Abriella and vibrating through her body or maybe the room at large. The host droned on and on about the importance of the selection, the voice fading into the background, the excitement becoming more palpable in the dressing room at the voice of the instructor welcoming the guests to the start of the long-awaited event. The jalaks adjusted their sleeves, touched up their hair and makeup, readying themselves both mentally and physically. Abriella couldn't say the same for herself. She didn't know it was possible to be feeling more overwhelmed and anxious than she already was, but she proved to surprise herself once more. She glanced at the other slaves and observed that not a single person resembled the sweating mess she'd become. They all seemed to glow with excitement, joy, anticipation, and some had wonder on their faces.

Abriella could almost see the electricity, like a spark of energy that ran through the others. There was a sense of connection between them, like they're all part of something special and unique. Something she'd never been privileged to witness before. She wanted that - no, she needed that. If it weren't because of past humiliation for she would have just been as excited. But two public shaming would traumatize even the thickest exterior.

She sighed and looked at her reflection once again. Abriella knew her own beauty, even to herself she was attractive. Her gorgeous raven black hair, almost a deep blue in different lighting, framed her heart-shaped face streaming like a waterfall down to her lower back. Her brows were as thick as her locks and naturally aligned to work together with her long lashes, bringing out the beauty in her emerald eyes. If it weren't for her ghostly pallor and almost translucent skin, her natural full red lips wouldn't look so bright in her eyes.

The stress of the moment had part of her hair clinging to her scalp and face. Just like the other jalaks, she wore a transparent robe like dress made with a deep hood, the waistline of the dress was high, right under the bust and made to flow out to the hem, stopping at her feet. It was made to be deep with a long veil attached to it.

Somehow, the material of the hood was made to be slightly less transparent than the other parts of the robe. Probably to seal our faces until they've passed the first and second trial. They wore nothing underneath to make the trial easier to achieve.

Distracted, her ear rings slipped through her fingers, landing on the floor. A single piece lay close to her feet, but the other rolled towards the clustered group of jalaks, disappearing from sight. She'd recovered the first and went after the second, only to realize too late that she would have to approach the clustered group. She stood right before them for a short while, shuffling her feet awkwardly while they pretended she wasn't standing there. When she tried to push past them, she was simultaneously pushed back while also being completely ignored. Abriella tried again, only for the action to be repeated all over. Righteous indignation flooded her, she knew they did all they could to act like she wasn't always present because they didn't embrace change, and because of that Abriella understood that she wasn't liked, but they had no right to keep her from getting what was hers. Standing behind a lean jalak, because of his behavior, she fought to ignore his name though she remembered it. Knowing it was petty didn't change her mind.

Disgruntled, she cleared her throat loudly, making sure she did so close to his ear.

Abriella wasn't disappointed. His reaction pleased her more than she would have liked to admit. She had never believed herself to be the spiteful type, but she discovered new things about herself each day. The sharp hearing of his person and the closeness of her lips to his ear probably made the sound piercing for him. He whirled around so fast that it would have given her whiplash had she not been expecting it. When she caught sight of his face she frantically schooled her expression against the laughter that threatened to curl her lips.

"What?". He snapped, clearly incensed. Before she could respond, someone kicked her ear rings back at her.

She huffed. Of course, they understood why she came, but they pretended they didn't. Not seeing a reason to reply, she quickly bent at the waist and plucked the tiny object. As she made her way back she discovered that she was not so tense any longer. The confrontation had made wonders to clear her mind of anxiety regarding the selection program.

"You should have been burnt alive the very moment an abomination like you came upon Razeh-Cal". The toxic words made her steps halt in disbelief. The other jalaks had always been mean to her, yes, but they mostly just ignored her. She'd thought it would be the same today, but she was so wrong. Her chest squeezed tight at the cruel words flung at her with no care for her feelings. Abriella understood the pricking sensation in her eye, she didn't want to turn to let them see how they'd got her, she didn't want to acknowledge her pain in front of these horrible people, but rather she kept her shoulders squared, choosing to ignore the slashing words.

But unfortunately, they didn't have the same plans.

"How the system lets a repugnant thing like you participate in a holy tradition of which the likes of you will never understand is just baffling". He scoffed. Getting closer, almost standing directly behind her. "Like really...".

A stifled laughter came from the back, the individuals making a poor attempt at manners.

"You think you are so beautiful, you think you are so special, you think you are wanted. But all you are is a disease corrupting our community. Look at you, this is your third selection. You are clearly not needed, and you are going to get rejected again, so why do you not just take the trouble off our hands and slit your own wrists. It will obviously bring everyone peace, including your pathetic self".

He spat and promptly continued. "You will never be loved. You will never be needed, and you will most certainly always be discarded". He paused and continued. "Do you know why?...". He didn't wait for a reply to land the final blow.

"Because you are a disease, an outcast. Forever an outcast in the body and...". He came close and whispered the last bit into her ear but loud enough for the others to hear.

"An outcast in the soul". He finished.

This time around, someone burst into laughter, making no attempt to stifle it. Abriella shook so hard that her ears rang. It hurt, it hurt so much and the worst part was they knew. She'd always managed to ignore their taunts and jeers, but this was categorized as cruelty. It felt he'd gone straight to her heart to pluck out her different vulnerabilities.

She felt immensely proud of herself when her voice came out steady and calm, not betraying her emotions.

"I find it funny that people who share similar situations can point fingers at others". She huffed in derision. Fake amusement coating her words. "Say whatever makes you feel better, but we both know we are outcasts. If not, you wouldn't be wearing that collar". With that she disregarded their outraged gasp, probably because of the 'we' she used in the statement, and strode away mentally searching for a quiet area to nurse her aching wounds.

If not for anything else, the confrontation toned down her anxiety and nerves. All she wanted to do at the moment was to get it over with, so she would take a different step in her life.