Red Rising (Red Rising Saga, #1)

by Pierce Brown

I was forged in the bowels of this hard world. Sharpened by hate. Strengthened by love.

The Sons of Ares are called tribal murderers,

“Death isn’t empty like you say it is. Emptiness is life without freedom, Darrow. Emptiness is living chained by fear, fear of loss, of death.

“Live for more,” she mouths to me. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the haemanthus I gave her. It is smashed and flat. Then loudly she screams to all those gathered, “Break the chains!”

elite. The Gray soldiers prowl the cities ensuring order, ensuring obedience to the hierarchy. The Whites arbitrate their justice and push their philosophy. Pinks pleasure and serve in highColor homes. Silvers count and manipulate currency and logistics. Yellows study the medicines and sciences. Greens develop technology. Blues navigate the stars. Coppers run the bureaucracy. Every Color has a purpose. Every Color props up the Golds.

“Was it a good dream?” I ask. “What?” “The one with me.” “No. No, it was a nightmare. One of a man from hell, lover of fire.” He’s silent for a spell. “Why is it so horrible?” I ask him. “Life. All this. Why do they need to make us do this? Why do they treat us like we’re their slaves?” “Power.” “Power isn’t real. It’s just a word.”

Later that evening, I research the dances I performed. Polemides is Greek for “child of war.”