Ryvak sat slumped against the wall, arms crossed over his ribs like he was holding himself together. Breathing sounded like gravel grinding. Across from him, Asher crouched—shirt off, shoulder wrapped in a strip of scorched cloth. His hands moved on instinct. His mind didn't. Neither spoke at first. "She could've killed us," Ryvak said, voice hoarse. "One kick. That's all it took. She took me out in one hit man." Asher didn't look up. "She gave us mercy." Ryvak snorted. "You gave her pain. That Nyxroot stunt? Brilliant. Evened the playing field." Asher's grunt didn't sound like agreement. He kept wrapping the cloth, too tight. Ryvak winced. "Still… I thought she liked me. The laughing, the way she listened. That meant something." The cloth slipped. Asher yanked it tighter. Ryvak flinched. "She used you," Asher muttered. "Used all of us." The tower creaked in the wind. Sounded like old bones settling. "It's sad she used both of us but I know what you mean. I thought she liked me too. I really wonder what was real about her and what was fake," said Asher. Ryvak stared at the ceiling. "I dunno. She bled. I heard her scream. Doesn't feel fake." Asher didn't answer. His eyes stayed locked on the floor where Beth had stood. Where the blood still hadn't dried. "You think she'll come back?" Ryvak asked looking at the door nervously, like she might be standing just behind it listening. He didn't mean it loud. Didn't even mean it to be answered. Asher's voice came flat. "No." Ryvak hesitated. "Do you want her to?" Asher looked up just for a second. Then back down. "Doesn't matter." Outside, something groaned in the wind. Like the desert wasn't done chewing on things. Inside, it was quiet enough to hear breath. "Her name was Beth," Ryvak said softly. "Beth Rallin." "No," Asher said. "That was just the lie." He leaned against the wall, knife in his lap. Blood on the handle. Dust creeping over the edge. They waited. No one said what they were really thinking.
Asher dozed first, blade balanced on his lap. Ryvak sat upright, ribs throbbing, one eye on the door Beth had vanished through. Then. A hum. Low. Mechanical. Engines. Ryvak elbowed Asher. "Hey. You hear that?" No response. He kicked his boot. "Asher." Asher jerked awake, eyes wild. Knife up, half-raised. "Relax," Ryvak said. "Sounds like our ticket out of this hell hole." From the ridge, three armored crawlers appeared. Dull-black plating. Red eagle sigils streaked across their sides. The Ninth. Ryvak muttered, "Before they get here I have something to admit..." he said solemnly. "I stole your MREs. All of 'em. And gave you the shit ones. In my defense, I thought you were the assassin." Asher blinked, then slowly stood up, groaning. "You rat, I knew it—you rat!" Ryvak grinned. "It was the peanut butter one I enjoyed the most. No regrets." "You owe me six meals and an apology." "I regret nothing." The crawlers thundered closer. Sand lifted in choking waves. Then the doors hissed open. Troopers spilled out fast. Black visors. Precision M-4 rifles. One of them spotted the boys within the tower. "Alive!" a soldier barked. "Two survivors!" A field officer stepped forward. His face was half-melted from old burns. Helmet under one arm. "Report." Asher stood reluctantly but didn't salute. "Hive Queen's dead. Mission complete. We're all that's left." The officer's eyes swept the carnage, lingered on the blood smeared across the stones. "Captain Thorne?" Ryvak swallowed. "Dead." The man didn't flinch. "Secure the area. Retrieve anything valuable." Soldiers fanned out. Scanners flickered. Boots crunched bones. Asher dropped back down, same spot. Same knife. Ryvak coughed a laugh. "Guess we're heroes now." Asher didn't answer. The officer glanced at them one last time. "Med evac incoming. Stay put." Behind them, the crawler's doors hissed again. A medic waved. "You soldiers want help or not?" Neither moved. Not yet. The medic who approached looked too clean. White coat, silver gloves. Her steps were light but practiced. Asher recognized the type—Empire-trained, Fortress-raised, someone who learned medicine from simulations and not the real thing. She knelt beside him. "Injuries?" "Treated," Asher said. "Mostly." "Let me see." He hesitated. Then pulled aside the bandage just enough. She poked, prodded, ran a scanner over his skin. No reaction. Not until she touched too close to the base of his spine. He twitched. Her eyes flicked up. "Nerve flare? Or artifact interference?" "Old injury," Asher said, deadpan. She didn't argue. But her scanner hovered longer this time. As if waiting for something to speak up. "You're being flagged for observation," she said. "Standard for survivors. You'll be taken to processing." He grunted. "Great." She stood, scribbled on her pad, then added quietly, "If it starts changing your thoughts—don't listen." Before he could ask what that meant, she moved on.
In the crawler, one of the rear compartments had been converted into a makeshift exam bay. Fluorescent lights. Steel benches. Cameras in every corner. Another man waited for him there. Not a medic. Too stiff. Too polished. Thin suit, void-grey. A clipboard and a gaze that didn't blink enough. "Asher Dren?" Asher didn't respond. Just sat. "I'm Intelligence Officer Selen. You were present at the collapse of Operation Emberlight. We need your debrief." No preamble. No pleasantries. Selen flipped through a thin file. "Captain Thorne. Medic Rallin. All the fireteams. Everyone dead. Engaged Hive threat. You and one other survived." Asher shrugged. "Lucky us." Selen's pen paused. "That wasn't just a single squad deployment. You understand that, correct?" Asher didn't move. "The Empire sent three thousand soldiers to breach the southern range and crush the Hive Queen's forces before she could migrate north. The Hive decimated them. Scattered the survivors. Most didn't make it out of the tunnels. Your fireteam—Thorne's—was stitched together from what was left. And now... only two of you remain." Asher just nodded once. Selen pressed on. "Reports suggest anomalous resistance patterns in your final confrontation. The Queen was destroyed. Without shard weaponry." Asher kept his face still. "Luck again." Selen didn't smile. "Did medic Rallin display unusual behavior before her disappearance?" Asher nodded. "She started acting like a damn assassin. That count?" A pause. The officer's pen scratched. "You are aware the real Beth Rallin died during the deployment?" "Yeah. I figured." "You're also aware that impersonation of military personnel carries a death sentence?" "You planning to hang me for not noticing sooner?" That earned a glance. "What do you remember about her weapon? Her shard use?" Asher thought about the way her voice had echoed, how his brain had tried to obey even when he didn't want to. "She used sound. Mind stuff. Made people trust her." "Do you feel you're still under her influence?" He stared. Then chuckled, dry and cracked. "If I was, I'd be dead." The officer closed the file. "You're being cleared for transport to Vireon Academy. Your survival suggests you may be... useful. Any final comment?" Asher met his gaze. "Yeah. She let me live. That means she's not done yet." Selen didn't reply. He just tapped the wall. And the door opened. Light flooded in. Time to go. Another crawler hissed open. Polymer bags. Six of them. They didn't unzip them in front of the boys. They didn't have to. Asher watched from a distance, arms folded, knife still at his hip. Ryvak leaned against the wall beside him, ribs wrapped tight. "They're taking what's left of Thorne," Ryvak said, voice soft. "Least they better." "Won't be much," Asher muttered. "Still. He deserves to be buried, not scraped into evidence bags." Asher didn't reply. Just stared as the soldiers loaded the dead one by one, tagging, scanning, hauling them like cargo. "Do you think they care?" Ryvak asked. "I mean, about us?" "No." "Yeah. Me neither." A gust kicked up red sand. It swirled between the body bags. Then settled. They stood there, long after the bags were sealed. After the soldiers moved on. After the last bag was gone. The tower creaked. The wind shifted. Beth was gone. Thorne was ash. And the road ahead led north. Boots crunched gravel. The field officer barked orders. "Sweep the perimeter." Troopers moved like clockwork. They found a sand worm buried nearby. The soldiers opened fire. A shard-powered specialist stepped in last. The beast's blood hissed as it hit the sand, steam rising like oil on metal. "Why do we even bother with rifles?" muttered one soldier. Asher sat still, back to the wall, knife resting beside him. Ryvak picked up a rock and lobbed it lazily at the wall. It bounced once and rolled. "Think they're salvaging Thorne?" he asked. "Maybe." "Only ashes,"
Ryvak muttered in a melancholic tone. "Void power's gone. That's what they're really after. But… still. I hope he gets a proper burial." A soldier approached with a clipboard. "Names?" "Asher Dren," he said. "Ryvak Rennick," said the other. The soldier hesitated. "Rank?" "Conscript," they both answered. The trooper didn't even look up. "Then keep sitting," he said, and walked off. Asher didn't move. Neither did Ryvak. For now, they waited. Inside the crawler, the engine vibrated beneath their boots. The tower shrank behind them. The desert, endless and red. Asher stared out the window, silent. His hand rested on the cloth-wrapped shard in his lap. Not Beth's. His own. Picked up near the ridge. He didn't unwrap it. Ryvak glanced at him. "Why'd you cover for me?" Asher blinked. "When?" "Back in the debrief. You could've told them I froze up." Asher didn't look at him. "Cause you didn't ask me to." Ryvak leaned back, lips pressed tight. "Thanks." Asher didn't reply. Just kept watching the tower fade. In his head, a promise. I trusted her. That won't happen again.
The crawler groaned across the cracked desert floor, engines humming like they were half-dead. Heat warped the windows. Dust kicked up behind them in thick plumes. Inside, the silence was worse than the war. Asher sat near the back, slouched, boots spread, arms crossed. Ryvak leaned beside him, head back against the steel wall, mouth half open. Across from them, in the seat bolted to the far corner, Intelligence Officer Selen sat motionless. Not blinking. Not scratching. Not breathing, as far as they could see. "I think he might be a robot," Ryvak muttered.
Asher didn't move his head—just his eyes. "Too creepy to be a robot." "No, seriously. Look at the eyes. Dead. No emotion. He's been staring at the same bolt on the floor for, like, two hours."
Selen didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Ryvak shifted in his seat. "You think he's even human?" Asher tilted his head. "If we ask, he'll probably eat our skin." Ryvak smirked. Then Selen's eyes snapped up. Locked straight on him. Both boys froze. "I am human," Selen said, voice flat. Silence. Then— "Bet the Academy's full of cute girls," Ryvak said, like nothing had happened.
The crawler hit a rut. Metal slammed. Asher grunted, hand reflexively going to his side, brushing the inside pocket where Thorne's sealed letter sat. "You think they'll go for conscripts?" "Sure. We are war heroes. Chicks dig heroes." For a moment, just a moment, both of them smiled. It faded fast. The crawler hit a rut and jostled. Asher grunted, hand sliding to his side instinctively, brushing the inside pocket where Thorne's sealed letter was hidden. He still hadn't opened it. He wasn't sure if he ever would. The seal felt wrong. The wax shimmered oddly in the light. Marked with a symbol he didn't recognize. Not military. Not noble. Something older. And heavier. He'd tried once to peel the edge but stopped. Something in his gut warned him: not yet. The crawler rolled into the outer walls of Fortress Vireon just before dusk. Massive steel gates yawned open. Spotlights flicked on. Dozens of soldiers waited at the gates with scanners and medical kits. The doors hissed open. Selen stood without a word and stepped off first. A guard barked, "Next!" Asher and Ryvak stepped down together. The wind bit colder here. Cleaner. The walls weren't sandblasted ruins anymore. They were fortified, new, untouched. Scanners swept over them. One beeped loud. "Hold still," the guard said. He passed the wand again—closer to Asher's spine. Another beep. Then a pulse. Blue light arced. "Void trace," the soldier muttered. "Low grade. Probably a fused shard. Congrats, soldier." Asher blinked. "What?" The guard nodded. "You're showing signs of Void mutation. Likely exposure to a low-tier shard. You'll be flagged for enhancement and training." Asher kept his face still. That was good. That was exactly what he wanted them to believe. Ryvak gave him a slow side-glance. "So that's why you keep twitching in your sleep." Asher didn't respond. Just stepped through the gates. But his spine itched. Inside, they were routed through medical. Bright halls. Clean beds. Monitors that blinked too fast. Empire-blue paint on every surface. Cold enough to make your teeth ache. "Strip to the waist," a nurse ordered. Asher obeyed. Another scanner. More questions. Another cold hand. He caught Ryvak trying to flirt with a nurse and getting completely ignored. Ryvak muttered something under his breath about Empire women having no taste. Asher almost laughed. They were separated for evaluations. Asher's room had one chair, one table, and a mirror that was too obvious to be anything but watched. A man in a white coat entered. Older. Lines around the eyes. But not cruel. "I'm Doctor Vail. I'm going to ask you some questions. Just answer honestly." Asher shrugged. "Sure." "Name?" "Asher." "Last name?" …"Dren." "Place of birth?" "Redvale." The doctor paused. "I see." Redvale wasn't a town. It was a sentence. Everyone knew it. "Parents?" "Both dead." "Cause?" "Sent down south. Never came back." The doctor scribbled. "Siblings?" Asher's voice stiffened. "One. A younger brother. We got separated in the orphanage. He got adopted. I didn't." "Have you ever tried to find him?" Asher looked up. "Yeah. Empire didn't care." A pause. "Let me ask you a personal question? is that ok?" Asher nodded his consent. "Most people from the outskirts, like Redvale they... tend to fail in life. I have seen countless kids your age pass through initial screening most fail at the academy. You have an advantage that most don't have. Your void-powers. My question in what do you really hope to gain from the Academy?"
"The stipend." "Money?" "Yeah. That and power." The doctor nodded. "Honest." "No point lying." A long moment passed. "You're being placed under Class A observation," the doctor said. "Low-grade Void signature. We'll see what develops." Asher nodded once. "That all?" "Good luck." Asher left. The halls echoed under his boots. He found Ryvak waiting near the lobby, snacking on a packet of dried fruit he'd probably stolen. "Well?" Ryvak asked. "They think I fused with a shard." "Nice. That means we'll probably get better rooms." "Or more questions." Ryvak offered a fruit strip. "Want one?" Asher shook his head. "Too sweet." Ryvak grinned. "Suit yourself." Across the room, a new door opened. A woman stepped out. Mid-thirties, maybe older. Hair tied in a cruel bun. Eyes like frost. Bureaucrat face. Flat. Angry. Like someone who took pride in failing you. She looked at them like someone would look at a stain that wouldn't scrub off. "Welcome to the next phase of your indentured service," she said. Her voice had the warmth of a hungry alligator, that is to say none. "My name is Counselor Veva. I will be overseeing your admission into Vireon Academy." Ryvak elbowed Asher. "Think they've got showers?" Asher whispered back, "I hope they've got rations that don't taste like jalapeño pepper jack." Ryvak made a face. "You serious? I hated those." Asher gave him a look. "I know." he growled. They followed Veva down the hall. Neither spoke. Asher didn't look back. In his chest, a vow. I won't die poor. I won't die a rat. Not this time.