CROWN OF ASHES

THREE

VENUSTAS

The news hit them hard. I knew it would.

I just didn’t expect it to hurt me this much.

“I’m signing up for the Games this year,” I said, barely above a whisper.

Our kitchen was small—too small for anything heavy, like silence. But that’s what I got. Thick, sharp silence that settled in the air like dust after a crash.

The old paint on the walls was flaking, the floor creaked when you shifted your weight, and the air still smelled like leftover stew from the night before.

Then my mother snapped.

“No!” she screamed, her voice high and shaky. She pushed her chair back so fast, it screeched against the floor. “No, no, no! You will not!”

Her hands trembled. Her face twisted, a mix of fear and anger. Then, before I could even move, she grabbed the chipped cup on the table and threw it at the wall. It exploded into pieces, shards flying everywhere.

“You want to die like her?” she shouted. Her voice cracked. “Is that what you want? You want to leave us too? You want to break me all over again?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, sliding down the lines that hardship had drawn on her face. Her chest rose and fell too fast, like she couldn’t breathe. “Do you even care about me? About your father?”

I couldn’t speak.

She didn’t wait for me to. She turned and ran out, her sobs echoing behind her. The bedroom door slammed so hard it shook the house.

I just stood there, staring at the wall where the cup had shattered.

I hadn’t meant to hurt her. I just wanted to say it out loud, to be honest.

But maybe being honest hurts more than lying ever could.

My dad hadn’t moved from his seat. He sat at the edge of the table, shoulders hunched, head down. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the last ten seconds. He didn’t look up.

The silence came again. But this time, it felt even heavier.

Then he spoke, voice quiet and rough. “Your sister thought she could win too.”

I closed my eyes.

Leah.

Just hearing her name opened up the hole in my chest all over again. She had been my everything—my big sister, my protector, the girl who sang while braiding my hair, who snuck me extra soup when we were hungry.

Now she was gone. Just a name whispered in sad voices. A memory. A ghost in a house too full of silence.

“I know,” I said, my throat dry.

Dad finally looked at me. His eyes were red around the edges, heavy with the kind of sadness that never really goes away. “Try to understand your mother. Leah’s death… it broke her. Broke both of us.”

I looked at him, swallowing down everything I wanted to say. “I’m not Leah, Dad. I’m me. And I have to do this.”

He ran a hand over his tired face. “Why, Venustas? Why go through all that pain? All that danger? Why now?”

“Because I can’t keep living like this,” I said, louder this time. “We’re stuck. All of us. I want more than just surviving. And… Elara almost made it. She reached the final trial. That has to mean something, right?”

He didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at me like he was trying to see into my soul. I held his gaze. I had to.

“I won’t stop you,” he said finally. “I know I can’t. But I won’t lie—this scares me.”

His voice cracked a little, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. A father’s fear.

I nodded slowly. “I know.”

He stood up, walked over, and gently placed his rough, calloused hand on my shoulder. I felt the warmth of it. Felt the years of love behind it. “You’re still my little girl. No matter how strong you are.”

That nearly broke me.

I blinked fast, keeping the tears back.

“I have to try,” I whispered. “I have to do this. For me. For Elara. For all of us.”

He gave a slow nod. “Then be smart. Be safe. And come back.”

I gave him a small smile. Not a promise. Just… hope.

Then I turned away and walked out of the kitchen.

****

The next morning, Malus looked even darker than usual.

Smoke curled low over the streets, and the sky was the color of ashes. The air smelled like coal dust and something colder—something that always reminded me of fear.

I walked with my hands stuffed deep into my coat, trying not to shake, even though I could feel my nerves rattling inside me.

Beside me, Eddie walked quietly.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to.

He was my best friend. The one person who never asked me to explain myself. I’d told him about my decision earlier that morning.

I thought he’d be mad or try to talk me out of it. But he hadn’t. He just looked at me, his eyes soft but serious.

And then he said, “Okay.”

That was it. That was Eddie.

He walked with me now, through the dirty streets of our district, past broken windows and tired faces, all the way to the front of the Registration Center.

The gates loomed ahead—tall, rusted metal bars wrapped in old wires. People stood in line, their faces pale, and their eyes hollow. Everyone knew what stepping through those gates meant.

I felt my stomach twist. My feet slowed without me meaning them to.

Then Eddie stopped and grabbed my arm gently. I turned to him.

“If you’re going in,” he said, voice low, “then I am too.”

I blinked. “Eddie… no. You don’t have to. You shouldn’t.”

“I know,” he said. He looked at me, really looked. His eyes were the color of warm honey in the sun, even under this gray sky. “But I want to.”

But I felt my heart swell so tight, I thought it might c***k open. There were no words for what Eddie was to me. He was home. He was steady. He was the person who showed up and stayed.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my throat tight.

He just nodded and gave my arm a small squeeze. And without another word, we walked through the gates together.

The line was long, full of quiet faces—some young, some old.

All of them looked tired. Some were thin like shadows, others had eyes that didn’t blink anymore, like they’d seen too much. But still, they stood there. Waiting.

I knew a few of them. Old man Tiberius was near the middle.

He sold yesterday’s bread like it was baked fresh, but no one complained—bread was bread.

A bunch of kids were near the front, pushing and yelling, trying to win a spot just a little closer to hope. I saw worn boots, patched coats, arms too thin to lift a stick—but their eyes still burned.

Burned with something more than hunger.

Some of us were here because we had nothing left.

We’d rather risk our lives in the Games than rot away in the smoke and dirt of Malus.

The Registration Center looked just as sad as the people standing outside it.

The room was dim, the walls peeling, the smell thick like old cloth and wet stone.

A single desk sat at the center, guarded by a man who looked as tired as the floor beneath him. His face was stuck in a scowl, like he hadn’t smiled in years.

Behind him was a large scroll nailed to the wall. The paper was yellow and wrinkled, the names on it messy and squeezed together, like they were written in a rush.

I took my place at the end of the line.

My heart thudded like it was trying to break out of my chest. Eddie stood next to me, quiet as always. I didn’t need him to say anything. Just having him there made me feel like I could breathe.

As we moved forward, I listened.

"They’re making the trials harder this year," a girl whispered to someone beside her. "They say they want to get rid of the weak ones early."

"Doesn’t matter," said a man with a deep voice. "The rich kids always win anyway."

"Maybe not this year," someone else mumbled. "Maybe someone from Malus will make it."

I wanted to believe that. I really did. But Malus was a place where dreams didn’t last. Every win we hoped for always slipped through our fingers.

Finally, I reached the desk. My legs felt shaky. My palms were damp. The guard didn’t even look up at first.

Then his eyes snapped to mine.

"Name?" he asked, voice sharp and dry.

"Venustas," I said. "Venustas Masisus."

He flipped through a thick book like it was the most boring task in the world. "Age?"

"Seventeen."

He scratched something down and pointed toward the scroll behind him. "Sign your name."

I took the quill. The feather was broken at the top, the ink dark and slow. My fingers felt stiff, like they belonged to someone else. I stared at the parchment, then took a deep breath and wrote my name.

Venustas Masisus.

Just like that, I was one of them.

One of the 141 names now inked into the Games.

As I stepped away, I glanced back at the scroll. The names blurred into one another, but mine was clear. My heart beat faster. It was real now. No going back.