We walk forward until a row of buildings cuts off our view of the mountains. Temporary fences connect the barracks to familiar metal barriers enclosing the entire course. I can’t quite see the starting gates from here, but it’s still nice to get a look at the size of our cage for the next five days. The officials start herding us to our assigned buildings and a chill runs down my spine.

Everything after this is real.

No more games. No more practice rounds. Blood is going to spill and bones are going to break. I remind myself that if I go in there and do my job, this will just be the beginning.

War is coming.

Generals will look at the Gravitas on carefully etched maps. We’ll consider where to send troops, how many to send, and how many are likely to die in each engagement. A small voice inside of me begs for peace. Daddy’s voice echoes louder. He showed me the truth. The peace the Ashlords offer us is a lie. We exist at their mercy—and the mercy of their gods. My victory will be a sign to every Longhand across the Empire. Rise up and take what is ours.

The Empire’s fate is in my hands now.

Time to bloody my knuckles.

I’m directed by an official to the building on the far right. Bravos and Imelda Beru walk with us. There’s a few sideways glances, but for the most part we’re too focused on our own thoughts to say much to each other. The interior of the building is plain and undecorated. It’s similar to the temporary barracks used during wartime. Something that’s quick and easy to put up and take down. They’re only meant for a night or two.

Officials flock around us. They take our bags and start rifling through the contents. Our ashes are confiscated for inspection, too. I smile a little, seeing Bravos treated with the same lack of dignity that I am. The Ashlords revere the Races as a sacred event. It is one of the many ways they honor their gods. The only possibility more distasteful than a Longhand winning is one of their own cheating and getting away with it.

We’re taken into private bathrooms, strip-searched, questioned. The other officials circle like hawks until I’m given the all clear. They look a little disappointed at finding nothing. Like I’d be foolish enough to cheat. Dressed, I return to the main entryway. Imelda Beru stands off to one side. Bravos returns a second later, still tugging his shirt back over his head.

“Bravos, you’ll be on the far left.” The head official points to that door. “Imelda, you’ll enter the center door. Adrian, you’re on the right. Once you enter and close the door behind you, the only way out is forward. Do you understand?”

We all nod.