The next morning arrived with the same pale grey light without the sound of any trumpet or bell. The sound of boots on stone and the usual murmur of the Academy waking took the centre stage. Kael didn’t sleep much. His body was tired, but his mind had settled. There wasn’t anything left to overthink.He was in the yard before the sun fully cleared the ridge. The stone flagstones were still damp with morning dew, their cold surface biting faintly through his boots. Darius was already there, seated on a low bench near the weapons rack with a tin mug of cappuccino cradled in his calloused hands. Steam curled upwards, soft tendrils vanishing into the chill air.He didn’t speak as Kael approached. He just sat watching the steam drift, the weight of thought thick in his silence.Kael didn’t interrupt it. He stood nearby, shifting his weight slowly from heel to toe, feeling the sting of cool air on his neck, waiting.Reyna arrived not long after. Her braid was tighter than usual, slicked bac

The lecture room smelled faintly of chalk dust and stale coffee. Darius stood at the front with his arms crossed, and his expression as unreadable as ever. His low and firm voice filled the space without needing to rise.“Teams fail because people assume they can carry their weight alone,” he said. “Squads fall apart when egos speak louder than strategy. And when that happens, people die.”Kael sat between Reyna and Jared, staring at the scuffed table in front of them. He’d heard versions of this speech before, but never with the same weight Darius gave it. Something about the man’s cold manner stripped away the fluff and left only bone.“Some of you think you can handle this on instinct,” Darius continued. “You can’t. You either become a unit, or you’ll become a liability. Simple as that.”The silence that followed was deliberate. Darius scanned the room like he was waiting for someone to challenge him. No one did.When the session ended, the squad filed out without a word. Outside,

(Two weeks later)The Academy’s sparring grounds were restructured overnight. Bleachers circled the central arena, hexagonal panels shifted beneath the sand to reset the stage between matches. Banners hung high, bearing the symbol of the Academy: a white fracture across a black sun. The Gauntlet was underway.Kael sat on the outer bench, eyes lowered as the sun filtered through the pale dome overhead. The matches had begun an hour ago. Faint cheers and the thump of boots echoed with each bout. A large board displayed brackets, glowing softly with every update.“Kael?”He looked up, slightly startled. Reyna approached, a layer of sweat still clinging to her brow from her own round. She held two canteens under one arm and tossed him one with a practised flick.“You’re up soon,” she said, seating herself with a sigh beside him.“Thanks,” he murmured, unscrewing the cap. The metal was cool in his hand, condensation trailing down his fingers as he took a long drink.Reyna studied him. “You

Kael adjusted the collar of his training tunic and lingered near the east wing archery range, where the morning sun had yet to breach the frost-laced flagstones. Pale light filtered through the high, arched windows, catching faintly on the racks of longbows, each one unstrung and aligned with military precision. The air still carried the night’s chill.He was early, though not unreasonably so. Reyna rarely kept him waiting. He cast a glance towards the slate-grey sky, then turned back towards the quiet stillness of the range.She appeared minutes later, brisk steps cutting softly across the stone. Her hair was damp, sticking slightly to her neck, and a fine sheen of sweat lined the collar of her tunic. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face with a familiar gesture.“Sorry. Sparring drills with the twins overran. They’ve started copying each other mid-cast now, takes twice as long to correct.” Her tone was flat, bordering on dry, but not insincere.Kael didn’t a

The informant, if that’s what he truly was, called himself “Dag.” He was middle-aged, gaunt, with hollow cheeks and a scar that carved a pale line from temple to jaw. He stood like he was already halfway to running, eyes twitching from corner to corner, the whites showing just a little too much. Every few seconds, he’d glance over his shoulder, as though the darkness behind him might come alive.“They’re coming for me,” he muttered, voice dry and gravelled. “I sold things I shouldn’t have.”Kael stepped forward, boots crunching softly on the grit-strewn floor. He kept his tone even, careful not to startle the man further. “We’re not here to judge. We’re here to get you out. But you need to hold up your end. The intel. You said you had it.”For a moment, Dag didn’t answer. His mouth twitched like he was working up the courage to say something else but he thought better of it. With a jerky movement, he reached beneath his weather-stained cloak, fingers trembling, and drew out a small sh