“Upon each of your crowns will be placed this marking, a symbol of hope,” called the Hue Master dressed in his dusted whites, “a reminder of the rules we are all bound to-“
“More like enslaved to,” muttered Rannock in my ear. His disgust carefully hidden beneath a penitent brow.
“Quiet,” I murmured, “they’ll hear.”
We shifted there, upon the cracked cement, a group of hopefuls. Having passed the test of colours we were ready. Ready for the greatest sacrifice.
“To be a Hue Runner is to lay down your life,” the Hue Master continued to wheeze, spreading out hands over the gathered crowd.
With a flourish of robes and cracked hands he bid us turn round.
“Behold! Citizens of Raven’s Point! The rising force, the dawning light! Here, behold, the future Hue Runners!”