"Look around you and ask—"

  The two boys lay back in the endless sea of golden grass that stretched behind the cottage. The blades swayed gently in the caress of the breeze. The clouds drifted freely in the wide afternoon sky. And the sun—The brilliant Sun reigned over it all in its quiet glory.

  "I was thinking, I want to visit the arena…" Sol gazed making out the various shapes of the clouds, lying with his hands folded behind his head.

  "Why?" Finnian turned, "All of a sudden?"

  "Maybe, I would sign up eventually…"

  "Sol! I told you before it's dangerous and you will get hurt again—"

  "I know," Sol cut in quickly, rolling onto his side, "but—"

  "Seriously? You're going to fight about it again?"

  "No!" Sol shot back, sitting up now, "I don't want to fight you, but—"

  Finnian sighed. "I know, I told you that you would win if you went there. Maybe you would win against some of them, but right now…" He fixed Sol with a firm stare. "No way you are surviving!"

  "Hey!" He tackled his friend but the other wriggled free and simply ran off with a loud laugh.

  "Catch me if you can!" He dashed away and into the fields, leaving Sol to chase him.

  "If I catch you I will go to the arena and sign up!"

  "Blah blah blah!" Finnian’s voice rang back with a taunt, already distant between the swaying stalks. Sol muttered under his breath and charged after him, their laughter carrying across the field until both boys collapsed breathless in the dirt.

  By the evening, Finnian, smug from victory, dragged Sol into town—not underground Solthar but the buffering zone that led to it. Dust clung to Sol’s hair and clothes, proof of his tumble, but Finnian showed no mercy. He was not any better, with dirt smudged onto his face.

  "Come on," he chirped, tugging him along. "I know where we’re going."

  Sol trudged behind him, still wheezing. "If this isn’t the arena, I’m going to—"

  "You’ll live," Finnian cut him off, grinning over his shoulder as he led him with a firm grip on Sol’s wrist. "We’re getting food! Meat!"

  "But Finnian… That's expensive." He followed behind. "Don't tell me—"

  "No! We are not stealing nor did I steal any money!" He exclaims, "Granny gave it to me for a treat because I ran some errands the other day!"

  "Is that so?" Sol teases, eyeing him suspiciously.

  Finnian’s face flushed red in frustration. "Yes, that’s so! Do you want food or not?"

  The streets of the marketplace were narrow and crooked, choked with the hiss of steam. The bustling space sat in the heart of the city, lined up with all kinds of imported fruit stalls, there were workshops on the side where merchants barked from behind makeshift counters hammered together from scrap iron. They sold what little they had consisting of dented tin cups, gears salvaged from broken machines, vegetables stacked beside piles of rusted bolts. The two children pass by a few shops and reach a small stall grilling meat. It had no queue, luckily for them as it was early until the crowd arrived and the two boys hurriedly stood to order.

  Finnian ordered, and Sol drooled at the smell of cooked meat.

  Moments later, the vendor set a steaming plate before them. The boys scrambled onto a bench, their legs dangling, and dug in without ceremony.

  "By the Sun! This is delicious!" Finnian muttered with his mouth full. "I can’t remember the last time I had food this good."

  They ate to their full for the first time in a while.

  "Thank you for bringing me along, Finn."

  "We are friends, why wouldn't I?" The boy simply stuck out his tongue again. Sol giggled.

  By then, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting the city in slow gloom, which meant they had to get to the orphanage.

  The smoke of grilled meat still clung to the evening air when Finnian waved goodbye to the stall owner, patting his full stomach with satisfaction. All while Sol wandered ahead. He passed a shuttered workshop, its forge cooling, then an abandoned cart left askew in the road. The lamps thinned here, their light too far apart to chase away the shadows. And by the alley, he heard it before he saw. A group of men had cornered a young woman in a pale silk dress. One shoved her against the wall, another clamped a hand over her mouth, and a third rifled through her belongings.

  The Cathedral’s guards patrolled Solthar, yet here, in the cracks where the Sun’s light could not reach, evil still thrived.

  He had seen posters of the arena that were all painted warriors with broad shoulders, clenched fists, and heroic smiles. He had imagined the glory, the cheers that he fantasized about. But in this dirty alley, there were no cheers, only the stench of piss and damp stone, and the trembling sob of a woman about to vanish into the dark.

  The hero in him commanded to go help, and he rushed in without a plan.

  "Sol!" Finnian called from somewhere, but Sol was already gone with blazing fire in him.

  Recalling all that he watched the people in the arena do, and what he had practiced against the useless sack dummy, Sol rushed. The first man swung at him with a heavy fist in anger and Sol ducked immaturely. Sol dug his feet in the stones, and lent a punch square at the face of one. The crack in the jaw surprised even himself, but the pain that sizzled up his arm made him stagger back as well.

  "What the hell!?" The second masked man snarled seeing a guest in the alley, pulling a knife that glinted arterial red when the nearby gas lamp hit it. And Sol’s chest tightened at the sight of blood. He had never faced a blade before, his instinct screamed at him to run.

  His feet tangled as he attempted to dodge the coming attack, and instead he slipped on the damp cobblestones.

  Gah! The knife slashed empty air where his head had been. Sol flailed his arm out in panic, only by chance, his elbow struck the man’s ribs. The attacker gasped and doubled over, more from shock than pain. Sol shoved him with both hands, and the man toppled awkwardly into a pile of broken crates.

  How lucky! The boy mentally patted himself on his back, seeing one man down.

  The third thug cursed and rushed him in rage, but Sol, in a frantic bid to look braver than he felt, ducked low and charged forward like a wild animal. His head butted into the man’s chin with a wince, despite his short stature. The impact hurt more than it helped. But the larger man lost balance and crashed to the ground with a wheeze, clutching his jaw in pain.

  And just like that, it was over. One groaning, one knocked out and one fleeing into the night. Sol does not spare them a glance. Instead, he rushed to the woman in the elegant dress. She held her purse as she stood bracing the grimy wall, her knees weak.

  "T—Thank you, child. Praise the Sun! You were here to help." Her voice is shaky, and he guides her out the alley.

  "Would you like me to help you get home, ma'am?" His voice cracked in the middle.

  "No, it is alright…" She smiled kindly, and pressed coins into his hand before he could refuse. "At least take this…"

  He panicked again. "N—No, this is unnecessary…"

  "Please, this is the least I can do after you've saved me!"

  The woman is gone by the time Finnian finds him.

  "Sorry, I…"

  "Sol! I—I thought you’d been stabbed!" Finnian’s voice cracked with worry. "I ran to the police—Sun’s light, they haven’t even arrived yet—"

  "Let us go home, Finn…" Sol pleads. And Finnian stared at him, torn between anger and relief. Giving up he simply nodded and fell into step beside him.

  "Of course!"

  They were late, Finnian worried wordlessly.

  Sol walked faster, clutching the weight in his pocket. His first fight, his first coin earned. To him, it was something more. His first step, however clumsy, out of Solthar.

  · ? ·

  The alley behind the orphanage was quiet as two kids approached it. The underground was ridden with everything worse compared to the marketplace they had come from.

  "I will go first, once I am in, I will leave the window open so you can sneak in." Sol assured him, determined to keep him out from Madam’s wrath.

  "Sol, are you sure?" Finnian’s eyes widened.

  "It’s alright, don't think too much about it." He smiled. "You did take me to eat something nice today. It’s… my fault that we are late."

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  The orphanage loomed before him with it's white brick walls and angular roof. Sol shivered, remembering every harsh word, every dark corner he had been forced to endure. The madam in the orphanage was strict. He thought how she did care for the children, but with any mistake, any lapse in obedience, they were punished. When they sleep past the time to wake up or stay awake past bedtime, they are punished. Sometimes, she let's them off, but he has not seen it happen before him.

  Sol does not like getting punished. He had been thrown in the shabby basement with one small window. It was dark, damp and he felt as if an abyssal-wraith would crawl up the walls with it's gleaming red eyes right out of a horror book and it would be his last day living. Pushing the memory aside, he climbed the steps, his hands trembling against the rough railing.

  The madam’s voice rang sharp behind him as he entered, and the boy dared not to look up.

  The same eerie basement with pipelines that he was so familiar with in Solthar lies beneath him, and the stairs that creak in agony as he walked down into the abyss.

  "Stay there till dawn, and think about what you have done, boy." She scolded him. The last bit of light is gone as the door is shut, but not locked.

  Sol wondered, there is never dawn in the underground city of Solthar.

  A sharp knock at the single glass window above him broke his train of thoughts, and relief immediately surged through him. He scrambled onto the broken wooden shelf beneath it and slid the window open with slight difficulty.

  "Sol!" Finnian chirped, and sneaked in, small enough to easily get into the room.

  "Finn…" Sol grinned. "Stay here till madam goes to bed—don't worry, the door is not locked!" From his pocket, he pulled out a half-stale roll he’d filched earlier from the kitchens. "Here. For you."

  Finnian blinked, caught off guard. "You’ll go hungry..." He comments, and Sol shook his head.

  "I’ve gone hungry before," Sol shrugged. "Besides, It’s you who likes eating more than I do."

  They sat side by side on the cold floor, and their friendship made the darkness a bit lighter than it really was. Finnian broke the silence first. "I am sorry about this morning…" Upon hearing it, Sol tilted his head in a questioning look.

  "Your dream—I shouldn't have stopped you…" He rambled on, eyes downcast in guilt.

  "It's nothing, Finn. After all, you are not wrong. I am just a weak kid, and I will be out the moment I step in!" He laughed, but Finnian does not mimic is lightheartedness.

  "Still…" He hesitated.

  "But one day." The boy with sun in his eyes interrupted, "One day I will go there and I promise I will win!" Hearing that, Finnian's eyes light up despite the darkness that engulfs them. Sol's determination lights up the night, and Finnian could only smile at it. "I’ll get strong. I’ll enter the Trials. I’ll win, Finn. With the prize money… I’ll buy my freedom, and will you promise to watch?"

  Finnian’s eyes gleamed in the gloom with challenge. "You really think you can?" He teased.

  "I don’t just think." Sol pressed, "I’ll prove it."

  "Then, I'll promise to watch you win!" His friend gave him a crooked smile. He was younger than him yet always consoled him.

  Sol pulled his knees closer to his chest, as Finnian left through the door after a while (when they were sure everyone had gone to bed). He slept alone that night, bidding his friend a farewell with a weary nod.

  Morning arrived quietly, but not by the Sun in the underground of Solthar. Instead, it was when Madam’s booming voice had ordered him to wake up. When the time for a break came, he ran off early, hoping to practice at Granny Lethea’s cottage and tell her about how he fought off three men the night before.

  It's not like she will remember that, or even remember me... He pondered as he rushed to the cottage, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The fields of golden grass ahead promised a small reprieve. Sol paused mid-step, catching sight of Finnian already there standing by the lone tree in the field.

  "Finn! You are here earlier that I thought!" He exclaimed in surprise. Finnian looked at him but he did not mimic his excitement, and instead, there’s a pained look on his face. It made Sol's heart lurch, and he immediately asked him what had happened.

  "Granny Lethea… She is gone." The words hit him like a stone. He attended her funeral as just the two of them, it’s small—the woman had known no one throughout her days at the cottage. She was buried next to a tree near her house—just her and the tree. The grass stood still, as if everything mourned the parting—as though the nature itself bowed in grief.

  "Where… do you think she’s gone?" Finnian asked him. "Do you ever wonder what happens after death?"

  "That’s a strange question coming from you, Finn…"

  "Just answer it." He shook his head.

  "The priests say souls return, and flow into the river, wash up on the shores of afterlife, and finally get reborn. It’s a cycle, and maybe that's where Granny Lethea will be right now…"

  He doesn't know, and no one truly did. But in the scripts and stories, everyone returned to the cycle of rebirth from the river of souls. And when someone enters the river of souls, they will end up in the shores of afterlife, and perhaps, in time, be reborn.

  "What will you do now, Finn?" Sol broke the short silence that had began to engulf the fields this time.

  "I… don't know, Sol," Finnian admitted.

  "I want to leave," Sol states sincerely.

  "I wish to stay."

  This shocked the boy, his flame colored eyes widen at his friend's words, and a simply why escapes him.

  "I… I don't know, Sol. I want to stay here, forever. I don't have anywhere to go, nor do I wish to go anywhere. I don't know who my parents were, and I don't know where I am from, but to me, this is where I was born, and maybe when I return to the shores of afterlife, I will find my way here again."

  Sol does not voice his wishes, instead he looked at the grave before them: fresh soil and a headstone. The echo of life that once touched both of them. The Sun charm she had gifted him sits by his heart, warm and pulsating with energy. It’s remains a fragment of Granny Lethea, the woman who is now no longer here.

  "I have no need for money. If I were to want something, it would be a family, or even living in a single cottage at the end of my life." Finnian laughs, inwardly deciding to return to the orphanage early this time. He could not bear to look at the house again, or every again. "But, Sol, I am glad you are here with me."

  But Sol remained in the empty house. He stayed at the back, practiced on a dummy with a thick branch again. Now it felt heavier than before in his hands as he struck each time. Now it was quite, no more company stayed with him in the afternoon. The chair that Granny Lethea sat on was empty.

  A child like him could not handle loss.

  "You’d be bound here forever. You know the law, we all belong to the city. The moment we come of age, they send us to guard posts, kitchens, barracks. There are no dreams in Solthar." He had told him once when he asked Finnian what his dream was.

  "I won’t die serving at some noble’s table! I was meant for more!" Sol scoffs, hitting the dummy harder. My life isn’t mine until I take it back. The Trials are the only way!

  When the evening comes he ran off to the orphanage alone, without his friend to accompany him. This time they are both on curfew, and still quite early considering it was way before sun was to set. Though, the underground did not follow that. Yet the moment he stepped inside, he froze.

  As soon as he arrived, Sol was startled by how busy the space is, they are all working hard to prepare for the visit of a rich family who wishes to adopt a kid. Madam barks orders, and the children scrubbing faces, tugging collars. They frantically check their clothes as if to hide any trace of poverty lingering on them with full blown smiles and hopeful eyes.

  "Smile, bow, do not speak unless spoken to," she said with a sharp tone. Unlike the kids, her eyes glittered with the tension of the coming event.

  Sol dropped the bread he had bought from marketplace onto the wooden table.

  Oh, how kind they are to choose from poverty rather than the orphanages of their district. Sol thought as he leaned against the wall, watching and observing. He was not interested, for he had no interest in being chained into the city even more. But that thought fell away when he spotted Finnian. His friend was bright, smiling again with the children as if he was not sobbing moments ago. The joy was truly contagious, and for a moment, the gloom of the day seemed to ease in his heart.

  Without thinking, he held the hand his friend had extended to him.

  "Let’s hope we are chosen by the family!" Finnian stated his wish with hope. The wish to live with a loving family. "What if we were adopted together?" He thought with a finger under his chin.

  But Sol knows it was far from truth, a delusion even. They both cannot be adopted. It will be Finn, it could be Sol, but the chances are negligible. Sol was not that lucky, after all. And that night, sleep was restless, and he rolled around the thin mattress of his bed, throwing his blanket off his frustration. Sol’s thoughts tangled with shadows, and when he awoke, the unease had not left him.

  The family arrived the next evening in a horse cart. A showcase of their wealth, as they flaunted it in the poverty ridden streets. Dust swirled in its wake as the family stepped down, their shoes never touching the dirt. Finnian and Sol watched from the creaks of the door as they entered.

  A man and a woman, wearing the attire only seen among the higher class (one Sol had only seen from afar, and even those people did not adorn fancy clothes as the couple), with silk gowns and velvet gloves. Their eyes sweep the line of children as though picking fruit at a stall. And when they spoke, it was all in clipped tones.

  "Strong arms; straight back. That one looks obedient." They conversed with the Madam as she smiled gently at the family.

  Finnian stood straighter, trying to look appealing. "If they choose me, I’ll finally have a family." He whispered to Sol beside him.

  "We’re not pets." His voice slipped out, sharper than he intended. The nobleman’s eyes flicker toward him. The madam shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut.

  "Don’t—" Finnian’s eyes went wide as he continued to whisper.

  But the lord had already heard. He stopped before Sol, clearly amused by his bravery to utter before a noble. "Not pets? And what are you, then, boy?" He questioned.

  Every eye in the hall turned. The Madam’s face drained of color at the unkind tone that laced the man’s words.

  "Forgive him, my lord, he—" She attempted to reason, but the noble waved her off, eyes glinting with amusement.

  "I like spirit, child." Far too rare in gutters like this.

  Sol completed the unsaid.

  Despite all that, the couple smiled at each other before the lady whispered to the Madam. With a shock, Sol watched the Madam call for him with a welcoming hand.

  "He’ll do. Have him ready by the third dawn."

  "Sol. Step forward."

  Sol knew what it meant. He obeyed, feeling Finnian’s gaze at the back of his head. It was slow, and he did not think he would dislike this. But he hated how he can feel Finnian’s surprise, one that is not good. And most of all, he hated the sinking weight in his stomach, the certainty that this was not salvation. The couple's faces became a blur to him, the madam loomed over in the center of the room, like a beacon calling for him.

  "Congratulations, Sol. You can now have a family!" She spoke with sincerity, and the couple smiles warmly at him. He is unable to return them, stiffly standing in their embrace. The kids cheered behind him, but when he turned, Finnian had vanished.

  "We will return to take you home soon, dear."

  With that, they bid him goodbye, and Sol stood at the entrance of the orphanage in the damp street. The cart disappeared in the darkness, leaving behind all that is dark and dusky.

  The madam seized Sol’s arm, nails digging in.

  "You will hold your tongue, boy! Not a repeat of what you had done before!" She hissed through her teeth. "Do not shame this orphanage—"

  But in Sol’s chest, something burned hotter than fear.

  He went to the rooms he shared with other kids. He was surprised it is not the basement that always waited when he disobeyed. Still, Sol was glad to not be sleeping in the cold and dark basement again. Maybe, he will also be sleeping in the warm embrace of a room once he moved in with his parents.

  "He’ll do. Have him ready by the third dawn."

  The words sealed his fate, and Sol’s wish for freedom twisted into something else entirely.

  He did not want this.

  "No, no, no!" Sol griped his head, falling into the stiff mattress. He turned to look and finds his friend enter the cramped quarters.

  Finnian comes in, shaken and heaving as if he had run all of Solthar to find him. "Why would you try to throw that away!? Don't you know how lucky you are!" He scolded the boy on the bed. "A family. A name. Do you know how many of us would beg for that!?"

  "F—Finn… I don't—I don’t want that kind of freedom!" His eyes burned with hot tears of frustration, confusion and underlying grief. "I won’t serve this city. I’ll—I want to buy my life with my own hands."

  "But… if we don’t take what we’re given, what do we have left?"

  "The Trials. The Sun didn’t give me a family, it gave me a path, and I’ll follow it."

  "Those damn beliefs you have!? It's always the Trials with you!" His voice rose, before he whirled away to leave. "Then maybe you don’t need me either."

  Sol turned away, clutching the charm. He clutched it tight, holding on as if it were the only anchor he had left. He refused to answer to his friend, and even after the other children slipped into the room to sleep, the silence remained heavy.