Page 82 of The Bleak Beginning

He nods slowly. “In a way, yes. But it’s also a test. A way to identify those with potential, those who might be…useful.”

“Useful?” I echo, my voice hollow.

Sylvester takes a deep breath, his gaze drifting back to the churning water below. “This year is a rarity,” he says after a moment, like he isn’t sure if he should mention it.

“A rarity how?” I ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t look at me, his face locked in a mask of stoic indifference. His jaw clenches, and his lips form a stiff, silent line.

“Not every Legacy student is fortunate enough to have a team in the same grade year. It’s more common to have them in separate years.”

“What do you mean?” I press, my curiosity overriding my anger for a moment. “Isn’t that how it always works?”

Sylvester’s eyes finally meet mine, and I’m startled by the intensity I see there. “No, Alex. It’s not. Usually, the teams are mixed—one or two Legacies a grade, some years none at all. It keeps things…balanced.”

“But this year…”

“This year,” he continues, his voice tight with barely contained emotion, “all the Legacy students are in the same grade. We compete together. It’s expected. Our games have been anticipated from the day we were born.”

“Well, I don’t want to play.”

His eyes turn deadly, and the honesty of our conversation quickly shatters. “Who said I was inviting you to join us? We don’t want you, remember?”

His words sting, but I refuse to let them cut deep. I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze with defiance. “Good. Because I don’t want to play your sick, twisted games or be associated with your family names.”

“Good,” he agrees. “Because we don’t want to be tied with a family who abandons their team.”

I flinch involuntarily, his words hitting a raw nerve, talking about a history I didn’t completely understand. I can feel the weight of it pressing down on me, threatening to crush my resolve.

But I won’t let it. I won’t let him or any of the Legacies see me as weak.

“At least my father had the decency to walk away,” I spit back, my voice low and venomous. “Unlike yours and the others, who seem hell-bent on dragging everyone down with them.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice ice-cold. “The games are our birthright, our destiny. They’re in our blood.”

“Then your blood is poisoned.” Tainted. And nothing I want a part of.

There is a brief, tense silence. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either, but I can sense his anger simmering just below the surface.

“Have fun, finding your way back in the dark,pit.” His voice drips with venom as he sneers. He shrugs an indifferent shoulder. “Or jump, for all I care. At least you’ll be where you belong. Beneath us—with the rest of the pits who lost.”

I grit my teeth, a retort ready on my tongue, but he turns his back on me without a second glance. His departure is like a slap in the face.

With each step he takes, his posture becomes more rigid, his shoulders squared. He disappears into the darkness, and I’m once again consumed by the hatred I have for each of the Legacies.

Chapter 16

Alex

“No, Dolores, you don’t need more water, I gave you some yesterday.” I grumble at my roommate in my dazed, groggy state.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The soft consistent sound of someone knocking makes me groan.

“This is your fault,” I accuse Dolores, stumbling my way over to the door. “You were supposed to guard the door and ward off anyone before 10:00 am.”

I skipped Atlas’s morning class today, still reeling from the experience Sylvester called a lesson. I wasn’t in the mood to hear about the ocean or reflect on it in any way.

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