Andrew’s head throbbed, each pulse reminding him how fragile he now was. The memories of the drowning, the twisting metal, the icy sea—they came back in flashes. He had thought death was the end. But opening his eyes to this dim, gray place proved that he had been wrong.For a moment, he let himself scowl at the unfairness of it all. How ridiculous. Me—Andrew Blackwood—the son of a billionaire, the master of every situation I touched—reduced to this? He clenched his fists, the ache in his body and bruised muscles protesting. Arrogance surged in him, defiant even through pain. No matter what this place is, I will not bow. Not now. Not ever.He pushed against the rough floor with trembling arms, attempting to rise. Each movement was agony; his ribs ached, his head spun, and his legs wobbled like they belonged to someone else. His body was weak, alien. Yet every time he fell back, he forced himself up again.The room he found himself in was dim and musty, the walls cracked and stained wi

The hut fell quiet after Eli left.Andrew let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and leaned back against the cracked wall. The thin wood pressed uncomfortably into his spine, but he barely noticed. His thoughts drifted far from Ashwake House, far from Aetherion, back to a life that now felt like a dream fading at dawn.Nightclubs filled with neon lights. Music so loud it drowned out thought. People who smiled when he entered a room because his name carried weight. Women who laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t funny. Cars, money, power. Control.His father.Andrew’s jaw tightened.For the first time since waking in this world, regret seeped in quietly. Not loud, not dramatic. Just a dull ache. He had lived like tomorrow was guaranteed. Like consequences were for other people.Now tomorrow had arrived wearing rags and hunger.He scoffed softly. “Pathetic,” he muttered, unsure whether he was insulting his past self or his present one.He exhaled and stared at the

The silence that followed Eli’s last words lingered like dust in the air.Andrew was still thinking about the caravan, about tests and gates and cracks in cages, when a sharp, unmistakable sound cut through his thoughts.Grrr.His stomach twisted violently, the ache sudden and humiliating. Andrew stiffened, one hand pressing instinctively against his abdomen. The hunger hit harder than before, as if his body had finally decided to remind him of its priorities.Eli blinked, then burst out laughing.“Oh no,” he said, pointing. “Don’t tell me you forgot about that too.”Andrew shot him a flat look. “My body seems determined to remember everything I don’t.”Eli wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Yeah, well, your body’s right. It’s almost dinner time.”“Dinner?” Andrew repeated skeptically.Eli was already standing. “If you want to call it that.”Andrew pushed himself up, moving slower this time. His muscles protested, stiff and sore from the earlier fight, and the hunger only made it wor

The morning came too early.Andrew knew it before he opened his eyes.The bell didn’t ring—it attacked.Metal screamed against metal, sharp and relentless, tearing through Ashwake House without mercy. It wasn’t the lazy, half-hearted ringing of ordinary mornings. This was deliberate. Angry. A command rather than a call.“Up!”A caretaker’s voice followed immediately, loud enough to echo.“Everyone up! Outside. Now!”Andrew’s eyes snapped open.For a brief moment, clarity flooded him.The pain in his ribs was still there, a dull pressure beneath his skin, but it no longer ruled him. His limbs felt lighter. His breathing steadier. That strange calm from the night before resurfaced, quiet but firm, settling into his bones.Prepared.The word surfaced without permission.Andrew frowned slightly as he sat up.Around him, the hut stirred—but not the way it usually did.There were no groans. No curses. No slow complaints about aching joints or cold floors.Only whispers.Low. Nervous. Sharp.

The courtyard did not empty when the names were finished.That was the first sign.The caretakers ordered everyone else away—those whose names had not been called. No explanations were given. No comfort offered. The unselected were herded back toward the dormitories in small groups, watched closely until they disappeared through the gates.Some of them looked back.Others didn’t.Andrew noticed how quickly they were forgotten.The fifty who remained were kept standing under the open sky. No one told them to sit. No one dismissed them. Time passed in silence, broken only by the scrape of boots and the low murmurs of caretakers conferring among themselves.Eli stood a few steps away from Andrew, shoulders tense, hands clenched at his sides.Neither of them spoke.Hunger settled in slowly, deliberate and intentional. It wasn’t sharp yet, but it was noticeable. Andrew recognized it immediately for what it was.Pressure.A man Andrew had not seen before stepped into the courtyard.He wore