Surrounded by tall, rundown buildings, a frail youth walked down the dark, garbage-filled alley he called home. These days, the nights were growing ever darker, as moonlight was rarely visible due to the large apartment complexes looming above.

  Even the neon lights that had once given him some visibility were now starting to break down. The alley was mostly empty at this hour, accompanied only by the familiar flicker of lights, faulty wires, and rats as he made his way to his basement room in one of the apartment complexes. Arriving at the entrance, he looked up one last time in the hope of catching a glimpse of the moon.

  ‘Not today either.’

  With a quiet sigh, he headed down the stairs to his room. As a child, he had always been fond of the moon, always trying to reach and grasp it. Now, that was just a faraway fantasy. The Selection was upon him. Using his fingerprint to open the outdated, rusty apartment door, he stepped inside.

  "Welcome home, Rain."

  The automated door, on the brink of malfunction, always greeted Rain with a small jingle whenever he arrived home. Normally, he would just ignore it like always, but today was different. Even the small things Rain never paid attention to somehow got through to him, leaving him feeling empty.

  Although he was used to fighting to survive every day in the slums, he had always persevered, pushing death away. Now that the Selection was drawing ever closer, Rain didn't know if he could continue escaping it. Kids from the slums had a minuscule chance of surviving their first time in the Mirror.

  Rain stepped inside his apartment, leaving a small bag on his kitchen counter. His apartment was more like a single room. Upon entering, he had a small kitchen to his left, containing a slightly rusty electric stovetop, small cupboards for storage, and a malfunctioning mini-fridge. However, it didn’t bother him that it wasn’t working, as he never had any need to refrigerate food.

  From there, it took only a couple of steps to reach his old, creaking bed, and to the right of it, a small bathroom with a toilet and a tub. While it wasn’t much, Rain was over the moon having his own bathroom, as many others were forced to share with others.

  He sat down on his bed and turned on the projector next to it. After a short flash of light, the projector displayed the news channel on the blank wall.

  ‘They really reuse the same show every year, don’t they…’

  He had already watched this newcast many things throughout his life, although only now was he the one being addressed.

  A well-dressed news anchor sat alone at a table, speaking solemnly about the upcoming Selection. Rain, already familiar with the broadcast, turned the volume up and settled back.

  “We are mere hours from the 112th Selection. The future of our children and the next generation of Blessed will soon be decided. We thank the government for granting every household access to this broadcast, as it may offer valuable insights and potentially save lives. While much of what follows may be common knowledge, we urge every family to watch this documentary in preparation.”

  The screen faded to black as the familiar history of the Mirror began to play. Rain rose from his bed and wandered into the kitchen, leaving the projector running. He had seen it enough times to recite whole sections by memory. Standing at the counter, he prepared a bowl of nutrient paste, a staple in the slums, whilst half-listening to the narration and filling in the rest from memory.

  Just over a century ago, the world was dying. War, famine, and disaster had left nations in ruin, and just when humanity started to pick up the scraps, the phenomenon later called the Selection began. Without warning, people collapsed into hours-long unconsciousness. When they awoke, they were changed, stronger, faster, more perceptive, and each possessed a strange, singular ability.

  No one could explain it. For many, it was a boon, skyrocketing into fame and glory; for others, a curse.

  Governments moved quickly to contain them. Through interrogation, one truth emerged: each of them had relived a defining moment from their past, able even to alter their actions. Upon return, they found a shard of indestructible glass in their hands, their Reflection, the source of their new power.

  Then, a month later, the change deepened. Their skin hardened into crystal. Within a day, they were fully encased. Hours passed before the first crystallized human shattered, and with it, their bodies morphed into grotesque creatures named the Shards. Sweeping across the earth, they toppled cities and nations into ruin, with modern weaponry barely able to hold them back.

  Amid the chaos, a handful emerged from the crystal intact. They were unchanged in body but holding onto their powers. The world called them the Blessed, and with them, humanity prevailed.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  It was they who spoke of the Mirror. When the crystal took them, their bodies stayed behind, but their souls were cast into a wild, unforgiving world. Death waited in every shadow, and the only escape lay through scattered Rifts. Most never found one. A rare few grew stronger, and fewer still ever returned.

  ‘Being Blessed sure sounds great, except for the fact you have to survive the Mirror first.’

  Rain’s hands had stilled over the counter without him noticing, his mind lost in the weight of the Selection. The unopened bag of nutrient paste sat beside the utensils, waiting. He shook off the fog in his head, tore the bag open, and squeezed the gray mixture into a bowl. The blend of meat and vegetables was quite common in the slums. Despite its varied contents, it had no flavor at all. Pure sustenance, as people called it. For Rain, a normal dinner.

  A light, familiar knock broke the quiet. Rain set down his utensils; he already knew who it was. Crossing the small room, he pulled the door open to find a short, older woman standing there, a small plastic bag cradled in her hands. He greeted her with a warm smile.

  “Granny, I knew it was you.”

  The old woman’s smile was kind but heavy, shadowed by unspoken worry. She had always looked after the slum’s children, especially orphans like Rain, slipping him vegetables from her garden in exchange for his help with chores.

  “Rain, my dear boy.”

  She hesitated, searching for words. Rain knew what they were.

  “I’m alright, Granny. No need to worry. Whatever comes, I’m ready.”

  He kept his smile steady, though the truth was harsher; the Selection claimed more slum children than it spared. With little to no training, most never returned from the Mirror.

  Granny sighed, the sound heavy in the small hallway. “I know, Rain. You’re one of the cleverest in these parts. If anyone can survive the Mirror, it’s you. I just… find it cruel.”

  Her hands, thin and trembling, closed over his. “I was never among the Selected. In all my years here, I’ve never seen anyone come back. I like to imagine they escaped… built a better life somewhere far from here.”

  Her voice caught. “So do me a favour, and survive, even if we never see each other again.”

  Rain squeezed her hands and forced a grin. “Of course I’ll survive. You know I’m not the type to give up. And when I return, I’ll treat you to a proper meal.”

  Granny let out a soft laugh, releasing him to hold out a small plastic bag. “Speaking of proper meals, here, an assortment from my garden. I’ll leave you to your thoughts now.”

  “Thank you, Granny. And no matter the result, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Rain.”

  She turned and slowly made her way up the stairs. Rain shut the door, the weight of the bag in his hand suddenly heavier than before. Back in the kitchen, he let out a long breath. His confident words had been for her sake, but inside, fear gnawed at him.

  ‘The Selection will likely be my end… but I can’t spend another day in this slum. If I stay, I’m already dead.’

  His mind was set; whatever happened, he had to survive. He couldn’t let fear hold him back.

  Peeking inside the bag, Rain found small tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and a few cucumbers. It wasn’t much, but to him it felt like a feast. He reached for a chipped bowl from the cupboard, squeezed in the thick, grey nutrient paste, and chopped the vegetables over it. For the slums, this was luxury and the best meal he’d had all month.

  He ate slowly, trying to savour the taste of real food. His mind and sight, however, hovered over the battered clock near his bed.

  ‘One hour to go…’

  When the bowl was empty, he pushed it aside and sat on the edge of his old, creaking bed before finally lying back. Thoughts swarmed in, relentless. Every scenario began the same way.

  ‘For me to live… I’m going to need a really powerful Reflection.’

  Reflections are what the Mirror called the abilities it granted to the Blessed. Some were deadly in combat, others purely practical, and most reflected the person’s nature in strange and unpredictable ways. They came only after the Selection, like a gift… or a curse.

  Rain had no idea what his would be. He had no idea if he would even get to use it. His life had been nothing but clawing for survival, losing his parents as a toddler, scavenging and stealing when he couldn’t work, sleeping in abandoned corners, and somehow, through sheer stubbornness, living another day. Every memory was marked by hunger, cold, and the desperate need to keep going. His life right now was as stable as it had ever been, but for how long would that be? The slums were unpredictable, and dangerous folk prowled over the innocent, using any opportunity to steal or even kill.

  Therefore, his mind drifted to wilder dreams, escaping the slums, waking without the fear of what the day might bring, buying a home in a neighborhood where the streets didn’t stink of rot, living as a Blessed with enough money to breathe easily… maybe even starting a family.

  The fantasies running wild through his mind, as a flicker from the clock pulled him back to reality. Minutes left. Staring at the old clock, his chest tightened, and fear began showing itself once more, not only of death, but of the grip the slums had on him should he not be Selected.

  He stood and walked towards his bathroom, splashing water on his face, he shortly caught his own gaze in the mirror.

  Rain stood at roughly one-eighty centimeters, tall for the slums. His black hair was short but unruly, a fringe brushing against his forehead. Pale skin, dark green eyes, nothing remarkable, though he suspected that with a little care, he could pass for a seventeen-year-old from an average family. He wore a frayed grey jacket patched with mismatched fabric, a thin black shirt, and ripped jeans, though unlike the wealthy kids who bought them for fashion, his had torn from years of wear and use.

  ‘This is it… ‘

  Focused on the present, he lowered himself onto the bed again, making sure he was lying flat.

  ‘Whatever happens next could change everything.’

  He gripped the clock, staring at its hands as they crept toward the hour.

  10:00 p.m.

  The slums were usually a loud neighbourhood even at this hour, but now, the silence was deafening.

  The Selection had begun.