Red Rising
By Pierce Brown
I would have lived in peace. But my enemies brought me war.
I watch twelve hundred of their strongest sons and daughters. Listening to a pitiless/ˈpɪtɪlɪs/ Golden man speak between great marble pillars/'pɪlɚ/. Listening to the beast who brought the flame that gnaws/nɔ/ at my heart.
“All men are not created equal,” he declares. Tall, imperious /ɪm'pɪrɪəs/, an eagle /'igl/ of a man. “The weak have deceived you. They would say the meek should inherit/ɪn'hɛrɪt/ the Earth. That the strong should nurture the gentle. This is the Noble Lie of Demokracy. The cancer that poisoned/'pɔiznd/ mankind.”
His eyes pierce the gathered/'gaðəd/ students. “You and I are Gold. We are the end of the evolutionary/ˌivə'luʃənɛri/ line. We tower above the flesh heap of man, shepherding /ˈʃɛpəd/ the lesser Colors. You have inherited this legacy/'lɛgəsi/,” he pauses, studying faces in the assembly. “But it is not free.
“Power must be claimed. Wealth won. Rule, dominion/də'mɪnɪən/, empire purchased with blood. You scarless children deserve nothing. You do not know pain. You do not know what your forefathers sacrificed to place you on these heights. But soon, you will. Soon, we will teach you why Gold rules mankind. And I promise, of those among you, only those fit for power will survive.”
But I am no Gold. I am a Red.
He thinks men like me weak. He thinks me dumb, feeble, subhuman. I was not raised in palaces/'pæləs/. I did not ride horses through meadows and eat meals of hummingbird tongues/tʌŋ/. I was forged in the bowels/'bauəlz/ of this hard world. Sharpened /'ʃɑrpən/ by hate. Strengthened by love.
He is wrong.
None of them will survive.
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