The wind howled across the cliffs of Velros-9, carrying dust and silence in equal measure.
Group Two stood at the edge, breathless, staring down into the jagged ravine.
Kael was gone.
Feyla's hands trembled. She stared over the drop, her lips parted as if trying to say something — anything. But the words never came.
They returned in silence.
The mission was cut short. No one claimed a core. No one cared.
By the time they reached the landing zone, a broadcast had already been sent to the instructors. A recall order followed shortly after.
Back at the training post, the cadets gathered in the concrete assembly hall, their boots tracking dirt and blood from the field.
Standing at the front was Instructor Dareth Korr — head of the training unit. Lightning-born. One of the first.
His short yellow hair bristled like static, and his eyes crackled faintly beneath his heavy brow.
Even now, he looked like a storm waiting to break.
"You lost a student," he said, staring at Feyla, Rin, Mila, and the others.
"It wasn't our fault," Mila spoke up. "It was Torrin—he—"
"I know what happened," Korr snapped. "Torrin has already been dealt with."
"But—" Rin started.
Korr raised his hand. A thin thread of blue lightning danced across his knuckles.
"I said, he's been dealt with. And the Blank?" He snorted. "You came back. He didn't. That's what happens when you send lambs into the wild."
Feyla's voice cut through the room.
"We're not leaving him."
Korr's gaze narrowed. "He's gone. Fell over a cliff. You want me to waste trained search operatives for a Blank who shouldn't have been here in the first place?"
"He saved Jaro," Feyla snapped. "He took the hit. You don't get to write him off just because you think he's beneath you."
A few cadets flinched. No one spoke.
Korr stepped forward slowly.
"Power is everything in this world, cadet. That's a lesson you should've learned long before now."
Feyla held his stare. "I'm not asking as a cadet."
The room stilled.
Korr's eye twitched. He knew her family name. Everyone did.
"Fine," he growled. "You want your search? You'll get it. Two junior scouts. Five-hour sweep. If they find a corpse, they bring it back. If not… we move on."
Feyla said nothing.
But Korr saw it — the fire behind her eyes. She hadn't given up.
Not yet.
Elsewhere
Dust stirred in a dim cave. A soft beeping echoed faintly — a broken rhythm like a heartbeat out of sync.
Kael's map, still strapped to his forearm, pulsed weakly with red light. The glass was cracked, flickering.
Kael groaned.
His eyes fluttered open.
The fire in the cave had long since gone out. The air was colder now.
He felt the sting first — a warmth around his wrist that pulsed like heat trapped under skin. He looked down.
A thin black ring curled around his arm like a fresh tattoo. Dark. Faintly shimmering. It moved… not with his skin, but with something underneath.
He blinked.
"...Wake up…"
Kael's head jerked.
He sat up, breath caught in his throat.
The cave was empty.
But the voice had been real.
Soft. Old. Familiar.
"...Wake up…"
This time, it came from within.