Kiah didn't have much to pack.
All she owned had been given to her by the organization: a few clothes, her standard issue uniform, basic toiletries, and her labrys.
From what they were told, the towns they were being deployed to would provide essential supplies. Still, Kiah wasn't one to depend on promises. She preferred to be prepared, no matter how little she had.
Her bag was packed, and she was dressed and ready to leave.
But there was one thing left. She couldn't go without saying goodbye to Killan. She would be gone for days, maybe even weeks. It was only right to see the old man one last time.
Kiah made her way to the mechanic workshop, the place he practically lived in. But for the first time, it was empty. The lights were on, the tools left scattered across the benches, but there was no sign of him.
"Killan?" She called, stepping inside and scanning the dim corners. Nothing.
After waiting for a few minutes, she gave up and reached for a notepad on the worktable. He was probably buried in some project somewhere else. She scribbled a quick note, folded it, and left it on his desk, right beside a half-dismantled drone engine.
Then she left.
.
The assignment hall was already buzzing when she arrived. Dozens of Initiates crowded the front, eyes fixed on the large holo-board that displayed mission rosters and team placements.
Some were beaming with excitement while others looked like they'd just received death sentences. They probably had.
Kiah was quite surprised by the crowd. She hadn't expected this much energy after last night's alcohol party. She'd assumed most people would be dealing with hangovers. Apparently, alcohol's effects weren't that strong here, or maybe they were just good at resisting it.
She pushed through the crowd, scanning for her name.
Each mission cluster was labelled with a Vanguard's name, with the task listed beside it. The initiates under them were listed below. There was no secrecy, just public assignments for all to see.
Teams ranged from three to five, grouped according to mission difficulty, or at least, that's what she guessed. The criteria had never been explained.
She found her name.
Right below it, a second familiar name caught her attention.
Nayeli Rourke.
Kiah allowed herself a small smile. At least there was someone she knew by her side.
But then her eyes moved up to the bold name written above their group.
Vanguard: Anwyll Ieuan
Her smile faded. She groaned under her breath.
"Just my luck." She muttered.
"That's not the reaction I was expecting."
Kiah flinched slightly and turned. Anwyll stood right beside her, one brow raised in mock offense.
Her eyes widened.
"When did you get here?"
"A second ago. I came to check which lucky souls got to bask in my leadership. Aren't you glad?"
Kiah suppressed a scoff.
"Sure."
He rolled his eyes.
Kiah sighed. She should be glad. How bad could it be? Anwyll was someone she was familiar with. He was also a skilled fighter. An elite, if she must add.
'I guess it won't be that bad.'
"Guys!"
Naya's voice broke through the crowd, cheerful and familiar. She jogged over and linked arms with them.
"Did you guys see? We ended up together! This is going to be so much fun."
"Glad to see your enthusiasm, unlike this one over here." Anwyll threw her a look before patting Naya's head gently.
Kiah sneered but said nothing.
Behind Naya, Wayne, and Kira followed at a slower pace. They greeted Anwyll politely before turning to Kiah. Wayne was the first to speak.
"We've been paired with a different Vanguard. Our team is being sent to deal with a small group of degenerates near one of the eastern towns."
Naya's face fell into a pout. "Aww, I'll miss you guys. Still, I'm glad you'll be together."
Kiah noticed it then — the way Wayne's gaze lingered a second too long, how Kira looked like she wanted to say more but didn't. They were reluctant to leave. Maybe they'd hoped the four of them would stay together.
Kiah almost rolled her eyes. She wasn't the sentimental type. Sappy feelings and soft goodbyes made her itch.
"Stay safe." She said flatly, but sincerely. She really hoped they made it back in one piece.
They nodded and turned, walking toward the Vanguard waiting for them a short distance away.
Kiah exhaled, long and slow, then turned to Anwyll. "So… where are we headed?"
"Fallowmere Hold," he replied, his tone all business. "It's one of the primary agricultural and hydroponic zones for the rebel organization and the whole of Duskworn at large. But recently, there have been some degenerate attacks, and several farmers were killed. That town is our primary food source, so it's kind of urgent. If the town collapses, we are screwed."
He checked his watch. "We are already late. Let's move."
He turned and strode off without waiting for a reply. Kiah and Naya exchanged looks before following him.
They arrived at the garage, a wide underground space lined with transport pods of varying sizes. Anwyll led them to a medium-class pod, opened the hatch, and jerked his head toward the interior.
"Get in."
They climbed into the back while he took the driver's seat. The pod hummed as it lifted and glided smoothly out of the base, heading toward the surface. Once they were clear, Anwyll spoke again.
"According to the report, we will be dealing with three degenerates who consistently terrorized the settlement for the past week."
He reached beside him, pulled out two compact kits, and tossed one to each of them. Inside was a sleek wrist-based tactical pad and a wafer-thin chip.
Kiah examined them. Dr. Helen had mentioned these briefly in one of her lectures. The chip was no larger than a micro sim. It was designed to be affixed on the temple, and it enabled sub-vocalized communication. The user could whisper under her breath, and the receivers could hear it crystal clear, like an earpiece.
The tactical pad, worn on the wrist like an ultra-sleek smartwatch, projected texts, maps, and real-time field data. It could be used for silent communication, navigation, and basic monitoring.
The details of the mission were already downloaded on their pads, so Kiah skimmed through as the pod hummed forward.
Three Thrashers had attacked the settlement over the past week. Ten farmers had been killed. Two entire families were wiped out. If it continued, the labor force would collapse, halting food production entirely, and if the Thrashers began targeting the crops next, it would be catastrophic.
The mission may have seemed simple on the surface, but it was critical.