Kingdom of Fallen Ash (The Order #1)

by Katerina St. Clair

Initially, the solution I created could only ease infection. Now, it can repair major tears without leaving any trace of damage. We add to the original formula each year, growing the product's versatility for Untouchables across our sector.

At times, I wish that I had never invented the Cure-All so I'd actually have my work cut out for me regarding our side of society.

Humans have always been naive; some might even say they could not find true peace before the government we call Sanctum took over.

The human race as we knew it was a mere few months away from its demise. A few months after the ash had settled, some survivors created a safe space in the Pacific Northwest, a place we used to call North America.

Nearly thirty years of countless deaths and back-breaking labor ensued before the ward came up. Society rebuilt from the bottom up, all thanks to the advancements in technology our government had provided.

After New Haven's ward came up, genetic testing followed shortly after. Blemishes became nonexistent. Individuality ceased to exist. Diseases were eradicated within the womb. A new era of divine innovation created the first generation of children unaffected by the nuclear fallout.

that's why we do the Expulsions. Without the Expulsion Tests, we wouldn’t be able to control those who cannot conform to the unity and order needed within our society. Sanctum keeps us safe and upholds this society's virtues.

Amy winces at the sight with a look of disgust. Slowly, I gravitate closer, watching the chip's spindles seep into the cut, its light moving from a dull white to light green.

This reminds me of the movie The Host

Sometimes I envy the Unfortunates’ tattered and patched clothes. At least they get some variety.

my eyes avoiding my hip entirely, ignoring the dreadful mark I always do my best to cover up. I feel the gnarled skin beneath my fingertips while I pull up my pants. The birthmark lingers on my skin, standing out in a way most Unfortunates do.

and seeing as no one else seems to have one, I have always found it easy to keep my mouth shut about it.

In addition to the uniforms, hair and what we may do with it is one of the other regulations the New Foundations Academy implemented. No hairstyles other than a ponytail, bun, braid, or straight down our backs are allowed. No makeup or distracting facial enhancers are allowed anywhere near your face. Vanity derives from many things, as does lust in young men for something as simple as a pair of earrings. All potential distractions have been eradicated.

The only real difference between the uniforms of the men and women who attend New Foundation’s Academy is that women may wear skirts if it’s warm enough outside.

Blue is the customary color for all of those in the health field.

Each meal resides in a small glass container, delivered by Unfortunates every morning like clockwork.

Unfortunates. The people who have been placed on the lowest totem pole of this society. Here in the Untouchable sector of New Haven, we have a good thing. We continue to create advancements in this society that better the people.

Unlike Unfortunates, we were born to do something more significant. We are more innovative, cleaner, and advanced in our thinking.

The Unfortunate sector lies on the other end of New Haven. Like most bottom feeders, they reside in a separate commune, not ever leaving the comforts of their hell hole. Some Unfortunates work in the primary strip market, while others run transportation or deliver food for the Untouchables. Unfortunates have been tasked to do the work our people cannot be asked to do. Farming, electrical, grunt military work, and all other undesirable tasks are left in the laps of Unfortunates. Once they are away from their sector, Unfortunates are only permitted to speak to Untoucha...

In most scenarios, Untouchables roughing up Unfortunates is far from uncommon. They were bred to do the work our people did not want to do. ...

The chips are supposed to gather the data they need to create a proper placement for each individual in New Haven.

"Your mother works with Unfortunates and Untouchables. Her lines sometimes blur," my father whispers, watching me pull away with a look of confusion. "Do not look at her differently when she needs guidance away from her good nature toward them," my father says sternly.

taste once I take a quick drink of the running sink water. Unlike Kai, I still struggle with significant flaws despite the perfection supposedly coded into most Untouchable children. Ever since I was little, I’ve had minor episodes in which I would be absent from my mind. It was as if I had stepped away from my line of vision, only to come to and have no idea where I had gone or how I had gotten back. These absent moments concerned my mom enough that she started investigating them as soon as she noticed. As far as I know, from what she has told me, I am not the only one who struggles with these episodes. Regardless, she hasn’t told my father, and the few times Kai has seen me take a pill, he often ignores it

For some reason, the women in our family have spouts of silver in their hair that never seem to go away. Regardless of age, our hair streaks with gray if not dyed.

My bag stays close to my side with nothing but my sketchbook and a vial of my mother's Cure-All. You never know when you might need to heal a wound, or so that's my mother's mentality.

"What's wrong?" he questions worriedly. "Nothing," I lie. But something was wrong. My birthmark burns beneath my touch. The skin feels like it was scorched with a hot branding prod. The pain is sudden and unexpected.

Unfortunates run all the trams, and, in return, they are occasionally housed for short periods in our section of New Haven.

"Blackburn!" a familiar voice yells in a sweet tone. A pair of blonde twins wait at the tram stop, looking straight toward us.

Both twins radiate an unshakable beauty neither my brother nor I can look past. My brother's eyes remain on Raegan like a moth to a flame.

Max and Raegan Vega have been with us for as long as I can remember. Their father got promoted around the same time my father did, and because of it, our housing has never been far apart. From childhood to now, they’ve been consistently in our lives. The twins are twenty and in their fifth year at New Foundation’s Academy.

His raven-colored, curly, black hair is nothing but a wild mess atop his head.

"Your legs still work, don't they, Dove? Get out of my sight," his deep voice snaps. I look him over repeatedly, trying to process what the hell he’s doing. His voice is unfamiliar.

His hands are calloused from manual labor. A deep scar is set on his cheek, his curls falling forward to frame his face. His body is larger than any Unfortunate man I have seen at our age.

An Unfortunate told me what to do. An Unfortunate touched me. His legs are spread where he sits. He slings his arms over his neighboring chairs, letting them drape. He cranes his neck back, his head still held high. He’s utterly indifferent to being stared down by this many Untouchables.

Never in my life have I hated a pair of blue eyes like I do the ones on the Unfortunate seated at the back of the tram right now. The question is, who is he? And what is he doing in the Untouchable sector?

“The transfer program. Don’t you remember how desperately our dads tried to shut it down?” Each school year, a few Unfortunates are granted the ability to learn on the same level as Untouchables to give them more skills to keep the businesses and economy in their sector functioning. Without the Unfortunate's aid in growing crops, we would have no food and without us, they would have no safety.

A ward surrounds New Haven, keeping away the ash and toxins floating around the air beyond the city. Some other regions adopted by Sanctum are spread across the continent, but we rarely hear anything about them. New Haven is all there is for miles. Only ash and a once vibrant society remain buried in the Earth's ground.

Although rugged, many of the details on his face are easy to get lost in, even from afar. The scar under his cheek is deep, possibly deep enough that even the Cure-All couldn't fix it. His eyes are blue, but not light blue like Max’s. His are dark and soft all at once. Someone spent a great deal of time on the genetic code responsible for the details of his face.

Unfortunate or not, he is beautiful in his own, terrifying way.

The layout of the building is straightforward. To the left of reception are all the elective wings, and to the right are all the primary classes.

I want to feel pleasure in this touch. Why can't I?

“My name is Fallan Markswood. I’m the student that was picked for the transfer program this year.

It's hard to stop myself from covering my mouth at the sight of the several white scars working over the surface of most of his skin.

Foreign Entities, otherwise known as Shifters, are genetically mutated individuals scorched by the nuclear fallout after the wars. While some humans adapted genetically to the changes in their environment, like our ancestors, others changed for the worse. People's minds were no longer their own. Human's feral instincts came into play as their bodies began to mutate, shifting from something human to something animalistic. They are one of the main reasons we still have the ward. To keep them out. New Haven’s military occasionally goes beyond the ward to flush out any that have gotten too close to our borders. I’ve heard the horror stories of some soldiers never returning home in one piece.

Like a knife cutting skin, his eyes finally land on me. They’re a deep blue like an angry, ever-looming sea. His jaw is clenched.

At least I know why Josh hates me. Not knowing why Fallan does is a considerably scarier feeling.

“Many Unfortunates were taken outside New Haven’s borders during the Re-Establishment Act. A lot of those Unfortunates were parents. It left a lot of kids orphaned to keep the food supplies plentiful for us.”

I pull my hateful gaze away from Fallan, landing on a pair of unfamiliar blue eyes looking down at me. The black material of an Official uniform clings to the man's body. Unlike all of his comrade's slicked-back hair, he keeps his blonde curls in a wild frame around his face.

“What's your name?” I question, watching his eyes fill with sudden amusement. “Xavier,” he mutters, smiling as I lower my hand. “My name is Forest-” “I know,” is all he says before pulling away.

I now see what Xavier truly looks like. His hair is a wild frame around his face. His eyes are blue like the streams that once coated the ground of the Earth.

“We will begin implementing on-site punishments for crimes committed inside this sector. This includes more extreme shows of force if any Unfortunate chooses to resist punishment.” My father pulls out a leather scourge from behind him. “These are generally only utilized within the Unfortunate sector but are now permitted within the Untouchable sector of New Haven. For every crime committed, 20 lashings are permitted at any time by any Official, regardless of rank. This has been decided,” my father finishes, staring back at the crowd with lowered eyes.