Heavy footsteps followed close behind me, always seeming to turn the corner seconds after me. I didn’t dare look behind me. Anything slowing me down would ensure that I wouldn’t make it out of here. 

   Another corner. A bright screen flashed above me. It was a television screen affixed on a repurposed traffic light pole, the screen showing the map of the arena along with everyone's positions. And, of course, the timer. I didn’t spare another glance at the screen— I already knew what it could tell me. I was running out of time. 

   Turn right. Turn left. Turn right again. Go forward. Jump over debris. Left. Right. Ignore that the steps are getting closer. Right. Find the ladder. 

   My feet ground to a halt when I came up on a wall. A wall that certainly shouldn’t be here. And worse, a dead end. The ladder, which my father’s final letter told me would be here, had seemingly disappeared. There was no way out for me. 

   So, for the first time since the start of this trial, I timidly turned around. All breath was caught in my throat when I saw that they were already here. The Scouts readied their weapons. There was a dangerous glint in their eyes and a bloodthirsty smile that anyone could tell was only craving carnage. They weren’t going to wait for any meaningful last words, only the “go-ahead” from the Lieutenant. 

   I had nowhere to go but backwards. Breath quickening, heart pounding, eyes streaming, I just needed to move. My back hit the wall within seconds, forcing breath out of my mouth. I started gasping for air, panic taking control of me. This isn’t how I was supposed to go. I laughed. Tonight, my mother was going to make me tomato soup, my favorite of our allotted rations. I was supposed to finish my school project, all about the first division. I was supposed to make my father’s life mean something. But, I wasn’t supposed to be a Chosen.

   I grasped at the brick wall behind me, hoping that I could at least find solitude and comfort in one last remnant of home. 

   Thoughts slipped by, of my final school picture in front of our small brick home. I didn’t smile. Dad wasn’t there to make me laugh behind the camera. After the picture was taken, I balled up my fists, turned, and punched the brick wall over and over, not caring about the blood that poured down my knuckles. I did the same now— hating the world that took my grandfather, my dad, and now me. 

   My hand sunk into the brick wall. The strange sensation tore me out of those thoughts. I pushed, and the wall started moving with me. I kept pushing with all of the strength that I had in my body. There was a hidden door. I still had a chance at escaping. I had to get out.

   For a fleeting moment, I wondered why the Scouts hadn’t killed me yet, but when I briefly turned my eyes to their previous position, they were gone. I didn’t stop to question why. 

   Finally, I pushed through the wall, nearly toppling to the ground. I caught myself and used the momentum to keep running as far as I could go. There it was, right in front of me. The ladder. The way out. 

   My lungs screamed at me to stop, but I ignored them, running even harder than before to reach my chance at salvation. When I was close enough, I leaped onto the wooden rungs, climbing up them as if my life depended on it. It did. I would have laughed again if there was any air left in me. 

   Rung over rung and hand over hand, I climbed, the thought of my father giving me strength. I wonder if he would be smiling at me right now. I wonder if he would elbow one of his friends and mutter, “That’s my kid.” 

   When I got to the top of what I thought to be an endless ladder, a siren echoed down the hall. That was the sound of the trial ending, meaning someone had won. I had to move, and fast, in case that winner wasn’t me. I set my eyes on a large wooden door. Dad’s letter didn’t mention this, but it also didn’t mention the wall. I softly repeated the words he wrote as I ran up to try it. “The Sun Dial will be there,” he had told me in his perfect cursive, “past the ladder.” I didn’t doubt him. 

   With weak arms, I shoved open the leviathan doors, thoughts of my mother’s warm hugs and fragrant soup faintly crossing. With one final ram of my shoulder, the doors were thrown open. I threw my resisting arms up to shield my eyes from the blast of light I was hit with. I had never seen anything as bright as this. Especially not at home, where the streetlights and indoor lamps provided all the light we needed. 

   So, I looked up.. only to see the blazing sun. The tears that were brought from the vivid light started to pour as the realization sunk in. What the Lieutenant had told us was a blatant lie. The Trial of the Labyrinthe City was not the last, like he had said. They had something else in mind for the winners. 

   All the thoughts of making my parents proud were torn away from me, like I was an unwanted page in a god's divine notebook. The sun, more yellow than I could have ever imagined, continued to beat down on me. It was taunting me, telling me what I refused to accept. This was truly the last thing I had to endure, and it was the trial that killed my father, and his father before him. The Trial of the Sun.