The bunker felt different this time.
People filled the hall wall-to-wall. Benches in uneven rows, chairs stolen from every floor, blankets along the sides for elders and kids. Nomads and Core sat shoulder to shoulder for the first time without that invisible line between "us" and "them."
They whispered quietly to one another glancing to the end wall, there a long table had been dragged in and set up as a council bench. Behind it sat Talia and the leadership—sixteen faces in a loose curve, some stiff-backed, some pretending to be relaxed and failing.
Talia pushed her chair back and stood, she didn't raise her hands or call for silence. She just stood there—dust on her boots, hair tied back—and looked out over them.
People straightened without thinking.
"We're too large now to run on habits and panic," she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but the stone carried it. "We need shape. Not chaos."
Murmurs softened. Almost everyone could agree with that.
A little boy tugged his mother's sleeve. "Is she really the one making the stone move?" he whispered.
His mother swallowed. "Yes," she said quietly. "And she's doing it for us."
Up near the front, two Core women leaned in together.
"I thought the Rowes would just… run everything," one muttered.
The other shook her head slowly. "This feels… bigger than them," she said. "Bigger than any one family."
"In the last weeks," Talia said, "we've been living in emergency mode. That worked to get us here, it won't work forever. Today we're showing you the structure that will run Deepway, not just for the next storm but for the years after."
She glanced sideways.
"Theo?"
Theo stood, picked up a stick of chalk, and turned to the battered whiteboard someone had sacrificed from their precious Earth loot. He wiped it clean, then drew three lines at the top:
LORD
HIGH SENTINEL
SENTINEL COUNCIL (15 DEPARTMENTS)
Audible gasps answered the number.
"Fifteen?" someone muttered. "We have fifteen departments?"
"Better than fifteen random committees," another replied. "At least this sounds like someone thought about it."
The nomads clustered near the left wall exchanged glances. An elder with wind-burnt skin watched Theo's careful writing with a furrowed brow.
"We will introduce each department," Theo said, chalk tapping once. "Who leads it, and what it governs. If you don't remember all of it, that's fine. We'll inscribe it on the main hall wall later."
He wrote at the top of the Sentinel list:
HIGH SENTINEL — THEO ROWE
Steward of the Lord, Head of Sentinels
"Hang on," someone in the mid-row blurted. "Weren't you running Administration?"
Theo gave them a thin smile. "I was. I'm stepping down from that to take this post. For my sins."
Snorts of laughter broke the tension.
"So you got a promotion?" a voice called.
"Does that come with a pay rise?" another added.
"Tragically, no," Theo said. "It comes with more lists, more headaches, and the privilege of signing my name on fifteen separate problem reports every morning."
Real laughter this time. Some of the fear cracked.
"So Administration is passing to someone else," Talia added. "You'll meet her in a moment."
The nomad elder at the wall sucked in a breath. "Us?" he whispered, suddenly hoarse. "In leadership?"
A woman beside him murmured, eyes bright, "We're not outsiders anymore."
Theo's eyes flicked to his slate, then back to the board.
He wrote the first name.
SENTINEL OF GUIDANCE — MEGAN HARPER
Administration
"This is Megan," Theo said. "She's been running half our logistics from behind the scenes since day three. Administration covers records, rosters, internal logistics, council scheduling, and the Contribution Point system. If something needs to be tracked or balanced, it passes through her department."
Megan let her gaze sweep the room—measured, calm, very slightly unimpressed by chaos.
"Simple version," she said. "I keep us from tripping over our own feet. If you change shifts, move teams, get injured, or suddenly decide to switch from hunting to childcare, my clerks need to know. Bring us information early, and we keep things smooth. Hide it, and everything clogs."
Her tone wasn't harsh. It was worse: efficiently matter-of-fact.
A baffled respect moved through the room.
"That's… dangerous," someone muttered. "In a good way."
"Better her than Theo doing three jobs," another whispered.
Theo wrote her name on the board under Guidance, looking faintly relieved.
SENTINEL OF DEFENSE — DAV ROWE
Defense
Dav stood. He didn't need an introduction, but he got one anyway.
"Defense covers patrols, training programs, wall security, and emergency deployment," Theo said. "If you want to defend Deepway or learn not to die in your first fight, you'll pass through this department."
A low ripple of awe and relief moved through the hall.
"The Deepway Army," one of the hunters murmured, half-joking, half-reverent.
"Stop calling it that," Dav said dryly. "We're not an empire. We're a wall. And we're hiring."
Laughter, plus a few immediate "sign me up" calls from the younger crowd.
SENTINEL OF ORDER — CAEL
Justice & Civil Order
Cael rose, expression calm, eyes almost half-lidded. A shiver ran through several rows anyway.
"This department covers law, mediation, and judgment when the code is broken," Theo said. "If there's a dispute, they handle it before it becomes a wound."
"We're not here to rule you," Cael added softly. "We're here to keep things from rotting under the surface."
The room believed him. Or feared him. Both worked.
SENTINEL OF NOURISHMENT — MARA ROWE
Food Management
Mum stood, apron still tied, hair pulled back in a scarf. Several people perked up immediately.
"This department handles everything food-related," Theo said. "Farms, seeds, kitchens, rations, preservation, safety, planning. If you like eating, do not make her job harder."
"Feed the Clan, keep the cooks alive, stop twenty people boiling water twenty ways," Mara said. "That's us."
"Makes sense," someone whispered. "Never upset the kitchen."
"Or the person who decides stew portions," another agreed.
SENTINEL OF SOUL — JUNIA
Events & Ceremonies
Auntie Junia stood. People actually straightened; she'd shepherded them through storms, fights, bedtime stories.
"Events, mourning rites, celebrations, public announcements," Theo said. "If it gathers the Clan, her department shapes it."
"It also covers making sure we remember joy," Junia added. "And grief. Both matter."
Soft murmurs of agreement.
SENTINEL OF HERITAGE — ELISE TANFORD
Culture & History
Elise rose, composed as always, notebook tucked under one arm.
"Heritage tracks our stories," Theo said. "Earth and Beastworld both. Languages, art, customs, and how we braid them together without erasing either."
"We will be more than one disaster and a valley," Elise said. "We will know where we came from—and where we're going."
The older generation watched her with a fragile kind of relief.
SENTINEL OF KNOWLEDGE — ELENE ROWE
Education
Grandma Elene stood to a completely different kind of silence.
"Education, curriculum, basic schooling, higher learning," Theo said. "If it involves teaching or learning formally, it touches her department."
"Children will not grow up feral," Grandma said, and sat back down.
The room laughed nervously. Several kids swallowed.
Talia leaned over to Dav. "They haven't seen Grandma attack a beast with a shovel, have they?"
"Neither have I," Dav muttered. "I'm not volunteering to be first."
Theo wrote again.
SENTINEL OF INSIGHT — COLLIE
Intelligence
There was a collective blink.
"Who?" someone whispered.
Collie rose near the end of the table. Average height, forgettable face, quiet posture. She could have been anyone—and that was the point.
"This department reads patterns," Theo said. "Outside threats, inside pressure points. Rumours, movements, odd correlations. They focus on information that keeps us ahead of danger, not gossip."
Dav's voice cut in. "If Collie says you're a problem," he said mildly, "you are."
That did more than any speech. Confusion turned to wary respect and a subtle fear.
SENTINEL OF SPIRIT — KASS
Beasts & Taming
Kass bounced to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair. A cheer went up from the youth immediately.
"This department manages animal handling, beast taming, pen design, and not dying around claws," Theo said.
"Also Beast Education hour," Kass added, grinning. "Where you learn which beasts want to be friends, which want to eat you, and which want to headbutt you because they can."
Kids looked delighted. Parents looked… less so.
SENTINEL OF TRADE — EVAN
Trade & External Relations
The moment Evan stood, whispers went up like sparks.
"That's the sharp-tongued man."
"Careful—his handler's here…"
Annika, standing just behind him with her arms folded, smiled politely. The whispers cut off.
"Trade handles internal markets, bartering, and, when the time comes, negotiations with other territories," Theo said.
Evan opened his mouth—no doubt to charm or antagonise an entire hall—but Annika's hand landed lightly on his shoulder.
He closed it again.
"I'll… behave," he said eventually. "For now."
Nervous laughter. They believed him about the "for now."
SENTINEL OF INVENTION — NATHAN CALDER
Craft
Nathan stood, immaculate as ever—shirt neat, sleeves rolled just so, tools clipped in perfect order.
From the crafter's corner, chaos burst immediately.
"That's Nathan Calder. The Nathan Calder."
"Does that mean our stitches have to be perfect now?!"
"Not unless you want to show them to me," Nathan said dryly. "Craft covers carpentry, textiles, smithing, tool-making. If you build it or mend it, you'll see my department."
Grandpa Arlen, notably, was nowhere near the front. Someone whispered, "He went fishing instead of standing up here," with grave respect.
SENTINEL OF INQUIRY — BEN "THE PROFESSOR"
Research & Innovation
Ben stood, looking thrilled and faintly apologetic.
"This department pokes new things," Theo said. "Safely. New plants, beasts, systems, technologies. They test before we roll anything out to the Clan."
"We will try very hard not to explode anything important," Ben said. "If we do, we'll write it down so no one repeats it."
Disturbingly, that reassured people.
SENTINEL OF INTENT — CASEY
Urban Planning
Casey pushed his chair back, smiling crookedly.
"Urban planning sounds fancy," Theo said. "Practically, it means: where roads go, where houses are built, where we put schools and markets, how we expand without tripping over ourselves in ten years."
Warm cheering rose from several families who'd already had quiet, thoughtful conversations with Casey while staring at cliff faces.
"She listens," one woman whispered. "Actually listens when you talk about kitchens and light."
SENTINEL OF PROGRESS — DILLON
Labour, Construction & Transport (LCT)
Dad stood last—broad-shouldered, dust still in his hair.
"This department is the muscle behind the plans," Theo said. "Labour assignments, construction teams, transport carts, road crews. If something heavy moves, or something big gets built, his people are involved."
Dad scratched his jaw, suddenly self-conscious. "We'll… try not to drop anything on anyone," he said.
Builders snorted approvingly. They knew how much would be on him.
When the last name was written, Theo capped the chalk and stepped back.
The whiteboard was full now. Lord at the top. High Sentinel beneath. Fifteen departments branching out like the bones of a new creature.
The hall stared.
"It feels real now," someone whispered. "Like a city forming."
"Like we might actually last," another murmured.
Talia stepped forward again.
"We begin moving forward today," she said. "Not as scattered survivors. As Deepway Clan—with structure, with people you can go to, with work shared instead of stacked on three backs."
A boy in the second row nudged his friend. "She's standing different," he whispered. "Like a Lord."
"She is a Lord," his friend whispered back. "We're just finally seeing it."
The hall buzzed with low conversation—questions, small hopes, a few private fears.
"What if I don't fit any department?"
"They'll need general labour, surely."
"At least now I know who to yell at about stew portions."
"I'm going to sign for beasts. Kass is terrifying. In a good way."
Theo waited for the sound to crest and ebb again. Then he drew one last horizontal line along the bottom of the board.
"Structure is the skeleton," he said. "Next, we'll talk about the muscles—rules and expectations that keep this from collapsing."
The room shifted uneasily.
Rules.
People who'd been smiling moments ago sobered.
Talia's hand brushed the edge of the table. For a heartbeat, her pulse thudded against the wood. This was what she'd wanted—shared weight. A real framework.
It was also terrifying.
Somewhere in the crowd, someone swallowed hard. Someone else straightened their spine.
They had a shape now.
Next, they'd find out at what cost.