Lyra POV

Lyra's Generals appear out of nowhere, crowding into a corner.

"Okay, we have our weaponists," - teenagers with knives strapped to their bodies raise their hands-" and our combat fighters," - the rest of the teenagers raise their hands -" and we are ready for this," Lyra declares, her eyes stern.

"What if we don't win," one of the younger boys asks nervously, and Lyra shrugs.

"Then you don't win. You did your best, and you can try again next year," she responds, her eyes roving around the hall.

"Okay, they're handing out the fighting schedules, so find where you are and make sure that you're not fighting...