As the days passed, Violet's life began taking a turn toward normalcy.
It was a strange feeling. Normalcy was a luxury in District 4, something usually reserved for the people who lived high above the smog in the inner cities. But for Violet, it was happening.
Her evenings with Elara had become a routine. They were almost sweet. They sat in Violet's small room, sipping synthetic tea, sharing quiet gossip about the neighbors or the rationing lines. Elara was changing, too. Slowly, the terrified, bruised woman was fading away. She began to smile more. Her shoulders weren't always hunched. And when Boros came home drunk, shouting and throwing his boots against the wall, Elara didn't just cower in the corner anymore. She started to stand up to him. She would raise her voice, telling him to be quiet, telling him to leave her alone.
Violet felt that her life had finally begun to change. The shadow of her father's execution, the endless bullying at the Academy, the constant fear of starvation—it all felt like it was starting to wash away.
Although the passing days also bore an underlying tension. It was almost invisible to anyone else, but Violet could feel it. It was a faint buzzing in the back of her mind, a feeling that something was just slightly off-axis. Mary had begun to behave strangely. She was more mysterious around Violet. She would stop talking when Violet entered the kitchen. She would quickly slide papers under the counter. It didn't ease the tension, but Violet ignored it. She wanted to focus on the light.
And today was a special day.
Today, the sky was a little dense. It wasn't the usual swirling gray smog. It was a heavy, suffocating blanket of dark clouds. It was raining ash. It fell quietly, like gray snow, coating the cracked ceramic of the streets in a pale, powdery film. The streets seemed to whisper beneath the white ash, every footstep muffled, every sound swallowed by the falling dust.
Violet had once again been invited to test her capabilities in District 2. It was supposed to be her last test before they actually admitted her into the Communications Bureau.
She stood on the transit train, holding onto the metal railing, watching the gray world pass by. In her pocket was a crumpled pamphlet.
The Horizon Program.
It was the deep-space service option. Total isolation. Sending radio waves into the endless void of the universe. She had kept it for weeks, reading it over and over when the nights in District 4 felt too loud. But on the train ride back, she made a choice. After a deep, silent conversation with herself, she had decided to reject the idea of this particular service.
She didn't want the cold isolation of space. She didn't want to run away anymore. She was more willing to focus on the people living beside her. She wanted to drink tea with Mary. She wanted to teach Benny how to calculate frequency ranges. She wanted to see Elara's baby be born.
Violet had taken the long transit ride to District 2, and after a few hours, she exited the facility with a bright, genuine smile on her face.
Her evaluation hadn't been a grueling interrogation. It was tame. It felt more like an acceptance. The examiner had shaken her hand. They had told her she had a rare talent. Now, the only thing remaining was the official admission paperwork.
For the first time in years, Violet felt like she was winning.
For the first time in years, Violet felt like she was winning. She could see a life here. She could bring Mary and Benny. She could help Elara. She walked back to the transit station with a spring in her step, the "Song" of the universe feeling like a distant, harmless hum.
She wanted to tell Mary. She wanted to run into the diner, slam her hands on the counter, and tell the older woman that they were going to celebrate.
But as she turned the corner onto Mary's street, what she saw made her heart skip a beat.
The diner was closed. The heavy metal shutters were pulled down, entirely blocking the windows. That never happened during the day.
But that wasn't what made the blood freeze in her veins.
It was the crowd.
A massive circle of people had formed in the street outside the restaurant. They were packed tightly together, shoulder to shoulder, standing in the falling ash. No one was speaking. The whisper of the ash hitting the ground was the only sound.
Violet's breath caught in her throat. She moved forward, her boots slipping slightly on the slick, ashen street.
No. No, no, no.
She walked toward the edge of the crowd, her eyes scanning the backs of the people standing there. Before she could push her way through to see what they were looking at, she saw two familiar figures standing on the outskirts of the circle.
Elara and Boros.
Elara was hugging her pregnant belly, her head bowed. Boros was standing next to her, swaying slightly, a half-empty bottle in his hand.
Violet approached them. Her hands were starting to shake.
"Elara?" Violet asked, her voice tight. "Elara, what's happening? Why is the restaurant closed?"
Elara flinched. She looked up at Violet, and her face was a mask of pure, absolute horror. Her eyes were red and swollen. Tears were tracking through the gray ash that had settled on her cheeks. She let out a small, pathetic whimper, but she didn't say a word. She just looked back down at her feet.
"Elara," Violet asked again, stepping closer, desperation creeping into her tone. "Tell me. What is going on?"
Elara seemed like she couldn't tell Violet what happened. Her jaw trembled, but the words wouldn't come out.
But Boros was there.
Boros looked at Violet. His eyes were glazed with alcohol, but there was a sharp, cruel light dancing in them. He suddenly smiled. It was a wide, ugly, yellow-toothed grin.
He chimed in, his voice loud and slurred, shattering the quiet of the ash-fall.
"Oh," Boros said casually. "The bitch got caught."
Violet stared at him. The words didn't make sense. "What?"
"Caught," Boros repeated, taking a swig from his bottle. "Smuggling revolutionaries in the 3rd district. Who would have thought, right? A small, unsuspecting little restaurant hiding such a massive conspiracy."
Violet stood completely confused. Her mind raced, violently rejecting the information. She stared at Boros, then at Elara, trying to find the lie.
Revolutionaries? Smuggling? In a desperate attempt to rationalize the situation, she questioned him. "Why would they suddenly raid a small diner? The Wardens walk past here every single day. They eat here. This doesn't make any sense. They don't just find conspiracies out of nowhere."
She was speaking fast, her voice rising.
But the moment the words left her mouth... something clicked inside her mind.
She understood.
Boros, who was drunk, watched her face. He saw her expression change. He saw the exact second the realization struck her like a physical blow.
Seeing her figure it out made him smile more profoundly. It was a terrible, beautiful smile of pure spite.
"Yeah," Boros spoke, leaning toward her, his breath reeking of fermented grain. "What you think is probably right. Someone tipped them off."
He paused, his smile stretching wider.
"But who, I wonder?"
Violet heard the words, and the world went completely silent. The hum of the universe vanished. The sound of the falling ash faded away.
There was only a blinding, white-hot rage.
It exploded in her chest, burning away the cold fear. She didn't think. She just reacted.
Clutching her fists so tightly her nails broke the skin of her palms, she lunged at him. She grabbed his filthy collar with both hands, twisting the fabric, slamming him backward.
"I'll kill you, Boros!" she screamed, her voice tearing out of her throat, completely unrecognizable. "I'll fucking kill you!"
Boros stumbled but didn't fall. He just let her shake him.
"Why?!" Violet roared, tears of absolute fury spilling from her eyes. "What had she ever done to you? She feeds people! You fucking cunt!"
Boros didn't look scared. He looked victorious. He looked down at the girl who had always looked at him with disgust, the girl who had made his wife defiant.
He smiled again and whispered his answer.
"Be your accomplice."
Violet's heart stopped. The breath left her lungs. He didn't do it to Mary because he hated Mary. He did it to hurt her.
She pulled her fist back. She was going to shatter his jaw. She was going to beat him until he stopped smiling.
But before she could land a hit on Boros, a sound echoed over the crowd.
"Citizens of the Empire."
Violet froze. Her fist trembled in the air.
It was a voice projected through a Warden's megaphone. It was cold, metallic, and perfect. It was the exact same voice, giving the exact same speech, that she had heard on the day her father was executed.
"We are gathered here today to witness the cleansing of the rot..."
The words triggered a deeply buried trauma. Violet let go of Boros's collar. She stumbled back.
Despite wanting to kill Boros right here and now, despite wanting to tear him apart with her bare hands, a sudden, terrifying thought pierced through her rage.
Benny.
She needed to take care of Benny. If Mary was caught, Benny was there. She needed to go.
She turned away from Boros and Elara. She threw herself into the dense crowd.
"Move!" she screamed, shoving a large man in a suit aside. "Get out of the way!"
She hurriedly shoved everyone aside, desperate to see Mary and Benny, praying with every frantic heartbeat that nothing had happened to them. People grunted and cursed, but she clawed her way through the thick wall of bodies.
She broke through the front line of the crowd.
She stumbled into the open circle. And she saw the thing she dreaded the most.
The gray ash on the ground was soaked in deep, dark red.
Three men in dark clothes lay dead on the ceramic tiles. They were sprawled in unnatural angles, their blood pooling together.
And beside them, a woman was kneeling.
It was Mary. Her hands were bound behind her back. She was wearing her apron. The ash was falling on her hair, highlighting the slivers of gray that indicated her age. She looked incredibly small, kneeling there in the dirt.
Opposite to her, standing in a strict formation, were the local guards.
And they were holding off a teenage boy.
Benny was thrashing wildly in the grip of two massive, armored guards. He was kicking, biting the air, his face twisted in absolute agony. He was shouting for his mother, his voice cracking into high-pitched shrieks.
"Mom! Let her go! Mom!"
Violet felt her legs go numb, but she forced herself to move. She needed to get to Benny. She needed to take care of him. She made her way past the edge of the execution ring, running toward the guards.
As soon as Benny saw her, he stopped fighting the guards for a second. His eyes locked onto hers, and he broke.
He burst into violent, heaving tears. He was crying so hard he could barely breathe.
"Violet!" he pleaded, his voice a wet, ragged beg. "Violet, help! Help them! Convince them she had done nothing wrong!"
He reached his hand out toward her, straining against the heavy armor of the guards.
"Violet! Please! Tell them they made a mistake!"
Violet's eyes began to get red. The tears flowed freely from her eyes, hot and stinging against the cold ash falling on her face. She reached out and grabbed his outstretched hand, gripping it as tightly as she could.
"I'm here, Benny," she choked out, trying to calm him. "I'm here."
But there was no calm to be found.
Suddenly, the Warden stepped forward. The speech started again, drowning out Benny's cries.
"The accused, Citizen 3-542, has been found guilty of high treason," the Warden announced, his voice booming over the square. "Guilty of smuggling enemies of the State. Guilty of possessing unsanctioned media."
Violet held Benny's hand, looking at Mary.
And finally, the moment came.
Another guard stepped up behind the kneeling woman. He raised a heavy kinetic rifle. He placed the cold, black muzzle directly to the back of Mary's head.
"No!" Benny screamed, a sound that tore Violet's heart to shreds.
Mary took a slow breath. Then, she turned her head slightly. She looked past the executioner. She looked at Benny, and then she looked at Violet.
She smiled.
It was a gentle, sad smile. It was a smile that told them she loved them and that she was sorry to leave them behind in this dark place.
It was the last time they would ever see her smile.
And then, it ended.
Click.
Mary fell forward. She hit the ground, and she didn't move again.
The moment stretched into a very long series of minutes. Violet stood there, frozen in time. She couldn't hear anything. The world was a silent, gray blur. She felt Benny's hand go limp in hers.
She stared at the blood mixing with the white ash. Her father's memories blur her present. Her trauma came flaring back.
Eventually, the ringing in her ears began to fade. The Warden stepped back.
While the other Wardens began to move toward the bodies, another figure stepped forward from the shadows of the vans. It was an officer from the Bureau of Social Harmony. He wore a crisp, clean suit.
He pointed at Benny.
The guards holding the boy didn't let him go. Instead, they hoisted him up by his arms.
"No," Benny sobbed, his voice completely broken. He didn't even fight them anymore. "Mom... Violet..."
They dragged Benny away from Violet. Her hand slipped from his. She tried to step forward, to grab him back, but a guard shoved a rifle barrel into her chest, pushing her back into the crowd.
She watched, entirely helpless, as they threw Benny into the back of a black transport van. The doors slammed shut.
Violet stood in the falling ash. The crowd was already dispersing, scattering in fear
As said before, Violet wasn't a victim of special circumstances. In the Empire of Leng, executions like these were quite normal.