Every twenty years the city of Stork held a tournament they have so named _Founed or Crowned. _It’s a moment set in time where Stork City held their breath and crossed fingers. Mothers prayed to their saints, fathers did what they could to aid contestants. Most people volunteered themselves for the prize—riches beyond anyone’s comprehension. One person in the 567 years of the wicked tournaments history, had actually won—an old fellow who goes by the name Arrow. Funny to think there were still those who believed they had any sort of chance at winning. However, as most stories went, there happened to always be that one person amongst many who did things for a more nobler reason.

Ebony Kelly did not sign up to die, though it felt much like it. She signed up for her family. Poor, they were, and the lack of _macs _provided a sense of boldness and desperation. If they were well sustained, the young lady wouldn’t feel the need to risk everything. But times had never been harsher on her family. Her youngest sister, Vivienne had passed a few months ago of a new sickness. Mother and father hadn’t possessed enough _mac _to pay for any sort of medicinal aid. Now, Ebony’s twin, Coreny, had just come down with the same illness.

It shouldn’t have been up to Ebony. She shouldn’t have had to take things into her own hands, but who else would have signed up? The eldest, her brother, Killian, had been drafted out last winter to join the resistance, to fight off enemy’s from the rival Ketrez City.

Once boys reached the age of seventeen, they had no choice. None of them even knew if he was stilling living—there was no way of knowing, only hoping the wings of Odealius, the saint of protection and strength, would carry him back to us, once his two years of service were paid.

Her parents wouldn’t do it. Mother had to provide food, and tend to her sister. Father was too much of a coward to enter. He had a job, but once one signs up, the Eyes—what the Storks called their government—sent the contestants family money every two weeks until the year of Found or Crowned_ _was over. Ebonys best guess was that father had heard great grandpas gruesome tales of when he had been in the tournament, and got scared away from being the man he was supposed to be. Yes, great grandpa Kelly had been the only victor reccorded in history. He was a legend, and maybe the fact father could never live up to him, made him the frightened man he was.

Sadly, great grandfather had foolishly spent all his _mac _dry on drink and other such things. He had been a young, sickly boy with a head full of death, blood, and merciless cruelty, because of the tournament, or at least, that was what mother had always said. Grandfather was better now, though it took losing great grandmother to set him back to his senses.

All of that to say, there had been no other option but Ebony. She hid it well, but she was so very afraid. She had nightmares every night about what it could be. Yes, she was prepared for anything and everthying to be against her, she was used to such things. But this was different. Ebony didnt know what Killian was dealing with in the lands between the two city’s, but everyone knew Found or Crowned was much worse, no mater how selfish it sounded.

Killian and the other men fought to keep citizens safe, to end years of violence between two city’s not so different from the other. Found or Crowned had no noble reason for existing, even if everyone got to choose whether or not they wanted to try their hand at victory. It was an environment set, supposedly for entertainment. It was the worst nigthmare imaginable, where people killed other people for the soul purpose of satisfying their greed.

And the whole thing was absolutely preposterous, as well. Sure, one might gain wealth, more _mac _than they could’ve gotten they’re hands on before. but not only were those very palms coated with gold, but also the blood and horror they bestowed on others. Fingers forever stained with the heartless, crimson fate thoughtlessly given to, at least, _some _innocent people that could’ve joined for the same reason as her. Fifteen-year-old Ebony didn’t see how such a thing could ever be considered _good. _

She dreaded the day when Miss Rosie Poursers voice would ring out through the whole city, her pinked lips and ashy white hair would appear on every single screen of Stork to speak such damned words. The one moment in time where the whole world seemed to pause, where the crystal clear air grew thicker and more deadly, as harmless individuals watched and listened. Rules would be explained, and then the Announcer, Rosie, would turn her attention to the contestants and utter the beginning of mosts ends, and only one persons glory:

_“You have ninety seconds to hide. If you are found, you die. Good luck.”_

Such poisonous words easily given with a sweet smile and bright expression. No amount of counterfeit pleasure or happiness would keep Ebony at ease. She wanted so badly to back out.

But she’d already written her name down as one of the thirty-seven players, willingly, stepping into a place not even her family attempted to persuade her from—Coreny would’ve, but she was too sickly to know what was going on around her.

In the end, it all came down to one thing—_me or them, _Ebony told herself.

And it surely wasn’t going to be them.