Jessica swept the thin doona off her legs and stood up, the bed creaking. Her ears rang with the screech of the morning bell. As soon as the worn, cotten doona was gone, a chill crept into Jessica’s bones, despite the meagre warmth enclosed in her pants and jumper. The boy next to her, Mark, has swollen eyes and a pillow wet with tears. Jessica smiled grimly at him and they slumped to the eating hall.

All the children in the state were there, as it was NSW’s Child Development Home, where every human under the age of 21 grew up. Jessica jabbed at the lumpy porridge with her spoon. She glanced at her reflection in its shining surface.

Beside her, Mark glared at his breakfast with hate, hate at his parents, the government, the world. Jessica felt no hate, only despair.

Because in two months, the Exam would take place. The very test that determined her life.

The water glistened in the few spots sunlight reached. Droplets of water sprayed in a heavenly mist away from the cascading waterfall.

Esther ran her hand down the stallion’s mane, relishing the silky feeling. Her armour weighed down on her slender frame, but she bore it heroically, sitting tall.

With a hand on her sword hilt, she galloped away, settling into a rough rhythm.

Hours passed and her eyelids drooped. Her hand was limp against the scabbard. A dark, foreboding presence lurked in the shadows around her. Esther sighed, jumped off the horse and drew her enchanted broadsword.

The shadow melded into a swirling figure of darkness and light. It glared at her, sending tendrils of killing magic her way.

Esther deflected it easily, charging with her weapon out in front of her. The thing leapt over her head, and d sad he spun to face it.

It jabbed a misty hand through her, slicing through metal, flesh and sinew. Blood gurgled from Esther’s lips. With a mouth stained red, she collapsed, dead.

The skin wrinkled around his mouth as his lips widened in a grin. He took my hand firmly and shook it with the enthusiasm of a maniac. I smiled back hesitantly, shirking from his twinkling blue eyes. He plonked down on the skeleton of a chair and launched into a story about his daughter and a cat. He chattered so fast I had trouble keeping up, but I could tell it wasn’t a very interesting or particularly uplifting recollection, but when I asked why he was so happy about it, he simply chuckled and said, “She’s alive. I’m alive. She’s happy. Being glad is better than sad!”