Hall Two is already full when I arrive, though the notice named only the cadets from Sorid's expedition training group. Liora stands near the front with Zandor, Tam, and Nadi, while Sorid waits beside the central console without activating the grid. The floor has been cleared of the usual markers, leaving a wide grey space between us and the far wall. Five members of the Minister's personal guard stand there in dark field uniforms, watching us with the same calm attention Sorid uses before a difficult drill. Four of them look older than any of us and carry the confidence of people who have spent years above ground. The fifth is younger, broad-shouldered, and unarmed except for the protective bands around his wrists. When the hall doors open behind them, everyone straightens at once. Minister Runav Yansley walks in alone.
The hall doors seal behind Yansley, and the tap of his cane becomes the only sound as he walks between the cadets and the guards. He does not look at Sorid or acknowledge the salutes from the Ministry officers by the wall. He passes our line slowly, while everyone holds still and waits for him to stop.
At the centre of the hall, he turns to face us. "Three hours north of the upper gate, a relay station has begun drawing current again," he says. "The equipment there is old, and it needs to be checked before it damages a line we still use. A crawler will take a small team out, inspect the station, and return within the week. This is routine work." He lets the last words settle before adding, "Assignments will be made this morning."
Until that morning, I had only seen Minister Runav Yansley on the public screens, where his face appeared beside ration notices, breach reports, and the names of people commended for service.
No delegate was meant to attend first-phase training. We were supposed to have twelve weeks with instructors before anyone higher up in the Expedition Corps took an interest in us, much less the minister
Yansley turns from us and rests the head of his cane against the shoulder of the guard nearest him. "This is Aren," he says. "He is the weakest link in my personal guard." Aren remains still, with his eyes fixed ahead. Yansley brings the cane back between us and points to Liora first, then Zandor, then me, and finally Nadi. "You four will face him," he says. "Take your positions." "You win if you force Aren beyond the line with both feet, or hold him on the floor until the count reaches three. Aren wins if he puts two of you outside the boundary. No strikes to the head, throat, or joints. Your Shapes are permitted."
Liora moves first when Yansley indicates the floor. She is taller than the rest of us, with a thick braid drawn back from her face and the balanced, straight posture she keeps even when Sorid has us running drills for hours. Zandor follows at her shoulder, broad through the chest and arms, his close-cut hair showing the pale scar that runs above his left ear. Nadi comes next, smaller than either of them, with a narrow face and watchful dark eyes that miss very little. I go in last, leaner than Zandor and already aware that I am the least certain of the four. Sorid steps close enough to speak without the guards hearing him. "Stay within reach of each other," he says. "Do not let him separate you or drive you toward the line. If one of you is forced back, the others pull the fight with you."
A side door opens at the far end of the hall. The man who enters wears the same dark guard uniform as the others, buttoned high at the throat, but there is nothing ordinary about the way the room makes space for him. He is taller than Zandor, lean rather than heavy, with a pale burn scar crossing one side of his jaw and disappearing beneath his collar. His eyes pass over the four of us without haste as he walks toward the marked floor. Liora's shoulders tighten beside me, and even Zandor does not make the usual joke under his breath. When the man stops across from us, I understand why Yansley has called him the weakest link only after bringing four of us to face him.
Liora looks at each of us once, then speaks without taking her eyes from Aren. "Zandor, you take the first hit. Nadi, stay behind him and call the direction. I will turn the charge if he gives me one." When she looks at me, her voice softens slightly. "Kaelen, stay behind Nadi and keep clear of the boundary. If he breaks through, move. Do not try to stop him alone." She does not say that I have no known Shape to bring to the fight, but the empty space in her plan makes the meaning clear enough. Zandor moves to the front, Nadi crouches behind him with two fingers hovering above the platform, and Liora takes his right side. I step into the space they have left for me. When Sorid gives the signal, Aren drives his heel into the floor. The sound reaches us first. Then his body follows, crossing the distance toward Nadi with a speed that makes our plan feel too slow before it has even begun.
Nadi's fingertips touch the platform. "Right," she says, feeling the first push of Aren's movement travel through the metal beneath us. Zandor steps across her path and pulls density into his legs and shoulder, making the side of his body heavier and harder before Aren reaches him. The collision sounds like someone striking a sealed door. Zandor holds long enough to keep Aren away from Nadi, but the impact forces him back two steps. Liora is ready for it. She catches Aren's arm as he drives into Zandor and redirects the rest of his charge across the platform, sending him away from the space behind Zandor instead of through it. For a moment, it works exactly as she intended. Then Aren plants his foot, takes the sideways force Liora has given him, and turns it into another burst of speed. He was never trying to reach Nadi. He is suddenly in front of me, and his leg sweeps mine out from beneath me before I can move.
My back strikes the platform hard enough to empty my lungs. By the time I force air back into my chest, Liora has already moved in front of Aren. He throws a straight punch at her shoulder, using another sharp push from his rear foot to give the blow more speed. Liora meets his forearm instead of trying to block it. Her Force Shape catches the direction of the strike and turns it downward, so Aren's fist hits the platform beside her rather than her body. Zandor closes from the other side and reaches for Aren's arm, his hands dense enough to hold a stronger grip than they look capable of. Nadi calls out each new movement as she feels it through the floor, but Aren keeps changing position before either of them can hold him for long. I get to one knee near the boundary, aware that I have done exactly what Liora was trying to prevent. I have become the part of the team Aren can use to break their formation.
Aren twists free of Zandor's grip by driving his shoulder down and forward. Zandor has made his hands dense enough to hold him, but the change has slowed his arms, and Aren uses the moment before he can adjust to pull him off balance. Liora steps in at once, ready to catch the next charge, but Aren stops before he gives her one.
"You wait for force to reach you," he says, tapping two fingers against her forearm. "Then you turn it. Cleanly done. But if I do not commit my weight, you have nothing to take."
Aren slips free of Zandor's grip and immediately drives a fist toward his chest. Zandor reacts by pulling density into his shoulder, ribs, and forearms. His upper body locks into place just before the blow lands.
Aren stops the punch short.
Instead, he drops low and sweeps at Zandor's front leg.
Aren's shin catches it cleanly, and Zandor stumbles sideways before he can shift the density down to protect himself. He catches his balance at the last second, one hand striking the platform.
"You chose your chest because that is where you expected me to hit," Aren says. "If you make your whole body heavy, you cannot turn or recover quickly enough. If you keep part of yourself light, I only need to find it first."
Zandor pushes himself upright, jaw tight. This time, he does not rush back in.
Nadi's fingers remain pressed to the platform. Aren notices. He stamps once, and the sound travels through the metal beneath us. Her head turns toward him. Before she can call his direction, he has shifted his weight back.
"You hear the floor after I touch it," he tells her. "By then, I have already decided where the next step goes."
Then he looks at me. Liora moves without thinking, placing herself between us, but Aren plants one foot and crosses the space before she can stop him. He comes to a halt close enough that I can see the sweat at his hairline.
"The other three gave each other a job," he says. "They gave you somewhere safe to stand." His eyes drop to the space I have left between myself and the boundary, then return to my face. "What are they waiting for you to do?"
"I do not know," I say. The answer feels weak the moment it leaves my mouth.
Liora takes a step toward us. "He is still learning."
Aren does not look at her. "So are the rest of you."
He moves before I understand what he means. One moment he is standing in front of me, and the next his palm strikes the centre of my chest. He has planted his back foot first, and the force of that push travels through his arm into me. I stumble backward so quickly that my heel catches the white boundary line.
Liora reaches for me, but she is too far away to turn the force without touching me. Zandor tries to close the distance, yet the density still sitting in his legs makes his first step slow. Nadi calls, "Back," only after I have already reached the edge.
I throw a hand down to steady myself.
The platform should be solid. It has been solid every time I have fallen on it.
Instead, my palm sinks into the metal as if the floor has forgotten what it is supposed to be.
The white line beneath my heel flickers, but it does not mark me out. The metal around my hand gives way in a slow circle, softening under my palm until my fingers press into it as easily as they would into packed soil. I pull back sharply, but the change follows my hand across the panel. A shallow impression remains where there should only be smooth steel.
For a second, nobody moves.
Then Aren comes toward me.
Liora reaches him first, catching his arm before he can close the distance. He twists free, but when he plants his foot to launch again, the platform beneath it bends. His boot sinks a few centimetres into the softened metal, stealing the push he needs for speed.
Aren looks down at the floor, then at me.
The expression on his face is no longer amusement.
Nadi has been holding the first impact of the fight since Aren drove into Zandor. She strikes her palm against the platform, and that collision returns beneath Aren's left boot, smaller than before but sharp enough to knock it sideways.
Aren catches himself before he falls. Liora is already there. She takes the force of his recovery through his arm and turns it away from me, while Zandor comes in from the other side with his shoulder reinforced.
Aren breaks their hold with a violent twist and drives straight for me.
His palm hits my chest.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then the muscles in his arm begin to move beneath his skin in the wrong order. His fingers lock against my uniform. His forearm tightens so hard that the tendons stand out at his wrist, and his elbow jerks backward as though someone has pulled a cord inside him.
Aren tries to step away. His left leg folds before it can take his weight.
He catches himself on one knee and slams his heel into the platform, attempting the same burst of speed he used at the start of the fight. The impact is ordinary. There is no sudden launch. His body shudders once, and the muscles along his shoulder and neck seize again.
Nadi has gone still. Zandor does not move toward Aren. Even Liora takes one careful step away from me.
I look down at Aren's hand on my chest, then at the way his body is fighting itself, and a cold fear settles in my stomach.
I have no idea what I have done to him.
Sorid takes a step toward the platform. "Stop the drill."
The tip of Yansley's cane strikes the floor once.
"Not yet," he says.
Sorid looks at him, then at Aren's shaking arm. "Minister, something is wrong with the grid or the cadet's manifestation."
"Then we will learn which."
Aren pulls his hand from my chest one finger at a time. He gets his feet under him and stamps down, trying to launch again. Nothing happens. His heel hits the platform with an ordinary thud, and his face tightens when the burst of speed does not come.
For three breaths, he stands there without his power.
Then the trembling in his arm stops.
Aren draws in a slow breath and sets his feet wider than before. When he drives his heel down again, the platform splits beneath it. He crosses the distance toward me so fast that Liora does not have time to reach his arm.
Aren's eyes are fixed on the space beneath my left ribs. He is not looking for an opening anymore. He has chosen a place that will fold me around the impact and keep me down.
I try to turn away, but I am too late.
The woman who has been standing at Yansley's right crosses the platform in a single jump. She catches Aren at the shoulder just before he reaches me and drives her forearm across his chest. The collision carries both of them sideways. Her boots scrape over the metal, but she holds him long enough for his charge to miss me by inches.
Aren twists toward her at once, his face stripped of the calm he wore when the drill began. He tries to drive through her.
She locks an arm around his chest and forces him back.
"Stand down," she says.
For a second, I think he will ignore her.
Then his eyes return to me, and I understand that whatever he saw when his power failed has made me more dangerous to him than the other cadets ever were.
Yansley waits until the guard has Aren under control before he steps onto the platform. His cane makes one quiet tap against the metal.
"The relay station north of the upper gate is still drawing power from an abandoned Ministry line," he says. "It is three hours from the gate by crawler. Your task is to reach it, determine what has activated it, and return with a record of anything that may threaten the Sanctum."
He looks across the hall, not at Aren and not at me.
"The expedition leaves in two days. Your instructors will receive the final roster tonight. Until then, every candidate in this hall will prepare as though their name is on it."
No one asks about the fight.
Yansley turns away as soon as he has finished speaking. His guards follow, taking Aren with them. Sorid remains at the edge of the platform until the doors close behind the Minister, then dismisses us without another drill and to meet back two hours before departure on expedition day.
By the time I reach our block, the morning work shift is still running, and the corridor outside our apartment is empty.
No one is home.
I close the door behind me and stand in the sitting room with my torn training jacket still on. The apartment looks exactly as it did when we left earlier that morning. Gran's book is face down on the table. June's cup is drying beside the sink. Nothing in the room suggests that, less than an hour ago, I made a man's body stop obeying him.
I take off my jacket and press a hand to the place where Aren struck me.
Then I hold out my palm and try to make something happen.
Nothing does.
The room remains stubbornly ordinary, as though it has no memory of Aren or the way his body folded beneath my hand.
The expedition leaves in two days, and I have only that short time to understand what is happening to me before I carry it beyond the Sanctum.