Dawn came not with light, but with the shriek of the bolt being drawn back. The hooded figure who collected my untouched bowl and cup said nothing, just jerked his head towards the corridor. My muscles were stiff from the cold stone, my mind still a numb haze from the vision of Lucas's new life. I followed, my footsteps a dull slap on the damp floor.
We entered a cavernous, torch-lit chamber. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and fear. About a dozen other teenagers stood shivering in a ragged line. They were all like me—confused, terrified, and ripped from worlds they once knew. I saw a girl with the faded logo of a rock band on her shirt, a boy whose fancy shoes looked completely out of place on the grimy floor. We were all lost.
A man stood before us, waiting. He was built like a bull, with a scarred face and arms as thick as my legs. His eyes were small, hard chips of obsidian that missed nothing. This was not the Curator. This was something blunter, something more primal.
"My name is Kael," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in my chest. "I am your instructor. Your god. Your beginning and, for most of you, your end." He paced before us, his movements heavy and deliberate. "You are here to become weapons. A weapon does not feel. It does not think. It does not question. It only obeys and performs. The process of stripping away your useless parts starts now."
He didn't wait for a response. "Ten laps around the chamber. Go."
We hesitated for a second, a confused herd. Kael's hand blurred. A leather whip cracked through the air, snapping an inch from the rock-and-roll girl's face. She screamed and scrambled back. That was all the motivation we needed. We began to run.
The floor was uneven, slippery in places. The air was thin and hard to breathe. After two laps, my lungs burned. After four, my legs were screaming. Kael stood in the center like a malevolent statue, watching.
A boy in the fancy shoes stumbled and fell. He lay on the ground, gasping for breath. "I can't," he wheezed.
Kael was on him in an instant. He didn't use the whip. He just kicked the boy, a single, brutal kick to the ribs. The sound was a wet, sickening crunch. The boy curled into a ball, silent.
"A weapon does not say 'I can't'," Kael said, his voice dangerously calm. He looked at the rest of us, his gaze sweeping over our terrified faces. "It performs, or it breaks. He is broken."
Two hooded figures emerged from the shadows, dragged the unmoving boy away, and disappeared. Just like that. He was gone. The message was clear. There was no room for failure here. Failure was not just punished; it was erased.
Fear is a powerful fuel. We finished the laps.
Then came the push-ups. Then the squats. Then exercises I didn't even have names for, each designed to push our bodies past their breaking point. Kael stalked among us, his presence a constant, suffocating pressure. A girl's arms gave out during a push-up. The whip cracked across her back, leaving a bloody line on her thin shirt. She cried out, but she got back up. Pain was the only teacher here. Its lesson was simple: keep going, or you will be broken.
Hours bled into one another. My body stopped being my own. It was just a machine fueled by agony and terror. The only thing that kept me moving was the image of Lucas in his shining armor, a cheering crowd at his feet. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the pain in my muscles. It became a cold, hard knot of rage in my stomach. Why him? Why not me? The question hammered in my head with every forced repetition, with every searing gasp of air.
Finally, Kael called a halt. We collapsed onto the floor, a heap of trembling, bruised limbs. My entire body felt like one giant, throbbing wound.
"Pathetic," Kael spat. "But you survived the first day. That is more than I expected."
He gestured to a corner of the chamber where a hooded figure stood beside a large, steaming pot. The smell of something vaguely like food wafted from it. My stomach clenched with a hunger so sharp it was dizzying.
"Your reward," Kael announced. "One bowl. One cup of water. You have five minutes."
We scrambled towards the pot like starving animals. There was no line, no order. It was a frantic, desperate crush of bodies. I was shoved aside by a bigger boy, falling to my knees. Someone stepped on my hand. I saw the wooden bowls being filled with a thin, grey gruel. It looked disgusting. I had never wanted anything more in my life.
I fought my way back into the throng, my desperation giving me a strength I didn't know I had. I shoved, I elbowed, I clawed my way to the front and thrust a bowl forward. The server filled it. I grabbed a cup of water and scurried away to a corner, guarding my prize like a wolf.
I ate with my bare hands, shoveling the lukewarm gruel into my mouth. It was tasteless, gritty, but it was the most incredible thing I had ever eaten. It was fuel. It was survival. As I ate, I watched the others. The bigger boy who had shoved me down was trying to snatch a second bowl. Kael saw him. He didn't use his whip. He simply walked over, took the boy's first bowl, and poured it onto the grimy floor. The boy stared, his face a mask of disbelief and despair. He got nothing.
Another lesson learned. Take what you are given. Do not ask for more. Do not draw attention. Survive.
I finished my meal, licking the bowl clean. I felt a flicker of strength return to my exhausted limbs. It wasn't just the food. It was the understanding. This place had rules. They were cruel, they were brutal, but they were simple. The world of light Lucas was in might be full of politics and honor and complex emotions. My world, the world of shadow, was brutally straightforward. Perform or break. Eat or starve. Kill or be killed.
Kael stood over us as we finished. The five minutes were up. His obsidian eyes seemed to bore right through me.
"This is nothing," he spat, his voice laced with contempt. "This is just conditioning your body. A simple task for a simple beast."
He paused, letting the silence hang heavy in the air. A new kind of dread, colder and sharper than physical exhaustion, began to creep up my spine.
"Tomorrow," Kael continued, a cruel smirk twisting his scarred lips, "we condition your mind. You will be sent to the Echoing Caverns. What you hear in there will either forge you into steel or shatter you like glass."