Aki woke up to white.
White ceiling. White walls. White sheets pulled so tight across his chest they might as well have been restraints.
Hospital vibes. Prison vibes. Same difference, really.
He sat up anyway.
Pain shot through his ribs—still cracked, apparently regeneration had priorities and "structural integrity" wasn't top of the list—but he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold. White tile. Everything in this damn room was white except for the gold scars covering his arms and the dried blood crusted under his fingernails.
Very aesthetic. Very "sterile nightmare."
The door opened.
"Sit back down." A woman's voice. Sharp. The kind of voice that expected obedience and usually got it.
Aki stayed standing. "I'm good."
"You're destabilized. The Suppressor is the only thing keeping your core from fragmenting again." She stepped into the room. Tall. Mid-forties maybe. Storm-grey eyes that looked at him like he was a math problem she was already tired of solving. "If you move too much, you'll undo six hours of stabilization work."
"Six hours." Aki processed that. He'd been out cold for six hours. "How long until it fails?"
"Six more. Give or take." She pulled out a chair, sat without being invited. The kind of casual authority that came from years of people doing what she said. "My name is Lyenne Cael. Senior Assessment Officer for the Order's Forsaken Integration Program. You're in Dawnreach—the Order's main headquarters in Seriglia." Her grey eyes didn't blink. "You ran from my officers. Nearly exploded in a civilian district. Then crawled back bleeding from every orifice, begging for help."
"I remember it being slightly more dignified than that."
"It wasn't." Lyenne pulled out a tablet. "Let's establish something. You're not valued here. Not yet. You're a liability we're legally obligated to evaluate. Integration Act, Section Three—any Forsaken who requests stabilization receives assessment for Academy placement." She tapped the screen. "Note the word 'assessment.' Not acceptance. We determine if you can control your power, follow protocol, and not explode during training." She looked up. "Most runners fail."
Aki's hands clenched. The gold scars pulsed faintly. "What's the pass rate?"
"Twelve percent."
Fantastic. Great odds. Absolutely inspiring.
"And the other eighty-eight?"
"Containment until stabilization. If they stabilize, they can re-test." Lyenne's expression didn't change. Like she was reading a weather report. "Most don't stabilize."
So. Containment was a polite word for "prison cell until you either get better or explode." Cool. Very reassuring.
"Your file." Lyenne's fingers moved across the tablet. "Aki Sith. Eighteen. Pathless until nine hours ago. No family. No stable residence. Employment history shows forty-three temp positions in two years—none lasting more than a week." She paused. "Multiple warnings for aggressive behavior toward authority figures."
"They were being assholes."
"They were doing their jobs."
"Not mutually exclusive."
Something flickered across Lyenne's face. Not amusement. Something colder. Recognition maybe. Like she'd heard that line before from other Forsaken who were now contained somewhere dark.
"Your awakening occurred during an altercation. You intervened in an assault on an elderly woman." Her voice stayed clinical. Professional. "She reported you as the aggressor."
"She lied."
"The record says—"
"I don't care what the record says." Aki's voice dropped. Flat and hard. "I was there. I know what happened. If your system can't tell the difference between someone trying to help and someone trying to hurt, that's a system problem, not a me problem."
Lyenne set the tablet down carefully. Like she was setting down a weapon. "The problem is your emotion core shattered instead of opening. That means every emotion you feel feeds directly into your Path with zero regulation. You're not just dangerous—you're fundamentally unstable. A bomb with a faulty timer."
"And yet." Aki spread his gold-scarred arms. "Still not exploded."
"*Yet*." Lyenne stood, walked to the window. Dawnreach overlooked the city—lights spreading out below like a map of inequality. The wealthy central towers giving way to darker districts at the edges. Where people like Aki came from. "Do you know what happens to Forsaken who can't achieve stability?"
"Saw one explode last night. Got a pretty clear picture."
"Then you understand the stakes." She turned back. "The Academy exists because Forsaken are powerful. More powerful than Fated in almost every measurable way. But only if they can be controlled. Otherwise they're threats." Her voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "And threats get neutralized."
"Killed."
"Made safe. By whatever means necessary." No hesitation. No apology. "That's my job. Assess whether you can be trained or need to be contained."
Aki's hands clenched. The gold scars pulsed brighter. Heat built in his chest. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you're classified as a voluntary threat and contained immediately." Lyenne moved back to her chair. "But you won't refuse. You crawled back last night because you want to live." She sat. "The question is whether you want it enough to follow rules."
"I follow rules when they make sense."
"And when they don't?"
"Then I make better choices."
Lyenne's grey eyes narrowed. "You think you know better than people who've been handling Forsaken for decades?"
"I think your system let an old woman get beaten in an alley, then believed her when she blamed the person who saved her." Aki held her stare. Didn't blink. "So yeah. Sometimes I know better."
Silence stretched between them. Lyenne studied him like she was calculating variables. Risk assessment. Cost-benefit analysis. Whether he was worth the resources or just another liability.
"You're angry," she said finally.
"Observant."
"Not at me. Not at the Order. At everything." She leaned forward. "That's your Path. Pulse, fueled by anger. You've spent eighteen years swallowing rage at a system that crushed you. Now that rage has power." Her voice dropped. "Question is whether you control it, or it controls you."
Aki said nothing. Because she was right and they both knew it.
"Assessment has three parts." Lyenne stood. Back to business. "Physical evaluation—we test your Path's capabilities and limitations. Psychological evaluation—we determine your threat level and capacity for growth. Practical demonstration—you prove you can follow orders under stress." She walked to the door. "You'll begin in one hour. Pass, you're admitted to the Academy with probationary status. Fail any portion, you're contained until your core stabilizes. If it doesn't…" She stopped. "Then containment becomes permanent."
"Lovely options."
"One more thing." Lyenne opened the door. "Your face stayed out of the reports, but people here will see you. See your scars. Some won't like it. Integration is policy, not popular opinion."
"Shocking." Aki's voice was dry. "Next you'll tell me people are judgmental."
"Don't antagonize people who can make your life harder." She stepped through. "An officer will collect you in one hour. Be ready."
The door closed.
Aki stood alone in the white room. Six hours until the Suppressor failed. One hour until assessment. Twelve percent pass rate.
He looked at his hands. At the gold scars glowing against pale skin like some kind of fucked-up nightlight.
Twelve percent meant eighty-eight percent failed. Got contained. Or worse.
But Aki had survived eighteen years of impossible odds. Survived being pathless in a city that worshipped Paths. Survived his mother's death. Survived working himself to death for thirty marks.
This was just one more impossible thing.
He sat back on the bed. Closed his eyes. Breathed.
One hour.
Then he'd show them exactly what a pathless kid could do with power.
And maybe—*maybe*—he'd figure out how to not explode in the process.
-----
The officer who collected him was young. Maybe twenty-five. Avoided eye contact like Aki's scars were contagious.
"This way."
They moved through identical corridors. White walls. Harsh lighting that made everything look like a hospital or a morgue. Other Order members stopped to stare at Aki's face. At the gold scars impossible to hide, branching across the left side like lightning frozen under his skin.
One spat on the ground as he passed.
The young officer's hand twitched toward his weapon but Aki kept walking.
Not worth the energy. Besides, he'd been looked at like trash his entire life. This was just a different flavor of the same shit.
The elevator descended. Kept descending. Deeper than Aki expected.
"Assessment's below," the officer said. Breaking the silence like it was making him uncomfortable. "Reinforced rooms. In case…" He trailed off.
"In case I explode." Aki's voice was flat. "Yeah. Makes sense. Good planning. Very thoughtful."
The officer said nothing.
The doors opened onto grey concrete and metal reinforcement. Scorch marks on the walls. Old burns. Evidence of previous assessments gone wrong.
Great. Inspiring. Really set the mood.
Lyenne stood in the center. Different uniform now—more armor, more protection. The kind of outfit that said "I expect things to go badly."
Three figures stood with her.
The first was massive. Bald head catching the harsh lights. Heat shimmer radiating from his body in visible waves. Pulse user. Arms crossed like he'd already decided Aki wasn't worth his time.
The second was older. Smaller. Hands marked with ink stains and the distinctive calluses of someone who worked with glyphs or Verse constantly.
The third—
Aki stopped walking.
The third was perfect. Literally. Pale blonde hair with a white tint that looked almost silver under the lights. Crimson eyes. Features so flawless they looked engineered instead of born. Like someone had designed her in a lab specifically to make regular people feel inadequate.
She noticed him staring. Smiled. Sharp and knowing.
Fantastic. Aki was already off to a great start.
"That's everyone." Lyenne gestured. "Aki Sith, meet your assessment panel. This is Garren, Pulse specialist." The bald man nodded once. Barely. "Mirae, Ink specialist." The older woman inclined her head. "And Aurelia Barclay. Order consultant specializing in Forsaken assessment."
"Consultant," Aki repeated. His eyes stayed on Aurelia because looking away felt like losing something.
"I evaluate whether Forsaken are worth the investment." Her voice was smooth. Controlled. Like she was discussing stock portfolios instead of human lives. "Think of me as quality control."
"How comforting."
"Isn't it?" Those crimson eyes didn't blink. "I've assessed hundreds of Forsaken. Most die. Some survive. Very few become interesting." She tilted her head slightly. "Let's see which category you fall into."
Aki wanted to say something sharp. Something that would wipe that knowing smile off her perfect face.
But Lyenne was already moving forward.
"Physical evaluation first. Garren will test your capabilities. Use your power. Show us what you can do." Her grey eyes fixed on Aki. "Try not to destroy yourself."
Garren moved to the center of the chamber. Planted his feet. Heat radiated from him like a furnace cranked to maximum.
"Whenever you're ready," he rumbled. Voice like gravel. "Hit me."
Aki looked at the bald Pulse specialist. At the way he stood—confident, dismissive, like this was a waste of his time and Aki was just another pathetic Forsaken who'd fold under pressure.
Something hot flared in Aki's chest.
"Hit the bald guy," he muttered. "Great. Love that. Always wanted to punch a bald guy."
Garren's eye twitched.
Aki moved forward. Rolled his shoulders. "No offense. I'm sure you're very intimidating. The bald thing really works for you. Very aerodynamic. Probably saves time in the shower."
"Are you done?" Garren's voice was flat.
"Probably not. I have more bald jokes." Aki flexed his hands. Felt the anger in his chest—at Garren, at Lyenne, at this whole situation, at having to prove himself to people who'd already decided he was worthless. "Did you know bald people are just people who gave up on hair? It's like hair looked at your head and said 'nah, I'm good.'"
"Aki." Lyenne's voice carried warning.
"Right. Sorry. Professional assessment. Serious business." Aki stopped three feet from Garren. Let the rage build. Hot and sharp and familiar. "Let's do this."
He channeled it into his right arm. Felt power flood his muscles like liquid fire. His bones groaned under the pressure.
This was going to hurt.
Aki punched.
His fist moved faster than human. Fast enough to crack the air. Fast enough that Garren's eyes widened—just slightly, just enough to be satisfying.
The impact hit like thunder.
Garren slid backward three feet. Boots scraping concrete.
Aki's hand exploded.
Bones shattered outward. Metacarpals bursting through skin like shrapnel. Blood sprayed across grey concrete in an arc. His wrist folded at an angle that made Mirae look away.
"*Fuck*—"
The word tore out through clenched teeth. Aki clutched his destroyed hand. Watched bone fragments patter to the floor like grotesque confetti.
Then the heat started.
Regeneration kicked in. Bone sprouted from bloody stumps. Muscle wove around forming structure. Skin crawled over raw tissue like something alive and wrong.
Every cell screamed.
Aki's vision blurred. He bit down hard enough to crack a tooth. But he stayed standing.
Thirty seconds. His hand was whole.
He flexed his fingers. They worked. Barely. Everything felt wrong and new and like his hand didn't quite belong to him anymore.
"Interesting." Garren looked impressed despite himself. "Good power. Terrible control. You flooded your entire arm when you only needed specific muscle groups. That's why you shattered. Overwhelmed your own structure."
"Thanks." Aki's voice was hoarse. "I'll take notes. Maybe draw some diagrams."
"That's the difference between Fated and Forsaken." Garren stepped closer. Clinical now. Teacher mode. "Fated Pulse users open their cores properly. Controlled release. Their enhancement and strength stay balanced—their bodies can handle what they dish out. They regenerate, but slowly. Takes minutes, sometimes hours for serious damage."
He gestured at Aki's newly-formed hand. "Forsaken? Your core's shattered. Power leaks out uncontrolled. Your strength outpaces your enhancement by a massive margin. You're hitting with force your body can't contain." His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "That's your scar's gift—overwhelming power. And your scar's curse—you destroy yourself using it."
"The regeneration's faster," Mirae added from the side. Still clinical. Still detached. "But the pain's worse. And the mental toll—every time you break and rebuild, it damages your psyche. Chips away at your sense of self."
"Fantastic." Aki looked at his hand. At the gold scars pulsing like they were mocking him. "So I'm stronger than Fated but using my power is literally self-destructive. That's just… perfect. Really well-designed system."
"The scars on your skin—they're not just cosmetic." Garren's voice dropped. "They're your core's fracture made visible. Every Forsaken's scars are different, but they all do the same thing. Grant power beyond what a proper awakening gives. And exact a price every time you use it."
"Again," Lyenne said.
Aki stared at her. "My hand just exploded."
"And regenerated. Again. Less power this time."
Aki wanted to argue. Wanted to tell them all to go fuck themselves. But he'd literally crawled through his own blood to get here, and spite was a luxury he'd run out of somewhere between the second time his legs exploded and the moment he realized dying in that alley would prove every asshole who'd written him off correct.
Survival wasn't noble. It was just cheaper than giving them the satisfaction.
He raised his regenerated hand. Made a fist.
Less power. He could do that.
Maybe.
He punched again.
This time his hand cracked. Didn't shatter. Didn't explode into bloody fragments.
But it hurt like hell and Garren barely shifted.
"Better." The bald specialist's voice was approving. "Again."
Again. And again. And again.
By the fifth punch his hand still exploded—skin splitting, bone tearing out in jagged fragments—but this time he forced himself to watch it happen. To hold back just a little, to feel where the power surged wrong. His chest heaved, breath ragged, but regeneration pulled the hand back together in less than half a minute.
It hurt worse because he hadn't looked away.
By the tenth punch he realized something—he'd been flooding the whole arm every time, wasting strength. He tried focusing only on the bicep, the forearm, keeping the surge tighter. The blow still cracked bone, but not as badly.
Progress. Sort of. The bar was low.
A shard of bone skittered across the floor and Garren actually grunted approval.
By the fifteenth his timing clicked—he gathered the anger, let it peak, then released in one clean surge. But he sent it to the wrong muscle group. His shoulder tore instead of his hand, ligaments snapping with a sickening pop.
He staggered but stayed upright, forcing the regeneration through gritted teeth until the joint knit itself together again.
Learning through systematic self-destruction. Very efficient. Very fun.
By the twentieth punch his fist held. No explosion. No crack. Just bruised knuckles and a tremor running through his arm.
Garren caught his fist. Held it. "Fast learner."
Aki pulled free. His hand shook. Everything shook. His entire arm felt like it had been run through a meat grinder and hastily reassembled. But it was whole.
"Physical assessment complete." Lyenne made notes on her tablet. "High capability. Minimal control but improving rapidly. Regeneration functional but painful. Standard Forsaken pattern." She looked up. "Psychological evaluation."
Mirae stepped forward. "I'm going to ask questions. Answer honestly. If you lie, I'll know."
"How?"
"Twenty years doing this. Forsaken are terrible liars." She pulled out her tablet. "First question. Why did you awaken?"
"Rage."
"At what specifically?"
"Everything." Aki's voice was flat. "Watching people get hurt. Being powerless. The system crushing people like me." He paused. "Take your pick."
"All of the above." Mirae noted something. "When you use your Path, what do you feel? Before the pain."
Aki was quiet for a moment. "Anger. Hot. Like fire in my chest." He stopped.
"And?"
"Relief." The word tasted wrong. Like admitting something he shouldn't. "Like I'm finally doing something instead of just taking it."
Mirae made another note. Her expression didn't change. "If you couldn't control your power and knew you'd explode and kill civilians, what would you do?"
The room went quiet.
Aki looked at each of them. At Lyenne's grey eyes. At Garren's imposing bulk. At Mirae's clinical expression. At Aurelia's crimson stare.
"Run," he said. "Get as far from people as possible. Then let it happen."
"Not seek help?"
"If I'm at the point where I know I can't control it, help won't matter." His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "Best I can do is make sure I only kill myself."
Mirae studied him. Nodded once. "Self-aware. High risk but capacity for growth." She stepped back.
"I have a question." Aurelia's voice cut through.
Lyenne frowned. "You're consulting, not—"
"One question. Then I give my assessment." Aurelia's eyes stayed on Aki.
Lyenne's jaw tightened. "Fine. One."
Aurelia moved forward. Stopped three feet from Aki. Close enough that he could see there were no scars on her. No marks at all. Just perfect, flawless skin.
But something in her eyes said she understood anyway.
"Last night," Aurelia said quietly. "When you were dying in that alley. Coming apart. What made you crawl back?"
Not why did you awaken. Not what do you feel.
*What made you choose survival over pride?*
Aki met her crimson eyes.
"My mother—" He stopped. Started again. "Rich people decided she wasn't worth saving. I spent eighteen years powerless and then I—" His jaw clenched. "My first instinct was still to run. Because I didn't trust…" He looked at Lyenne. At Garren. "Any of you."
His hands shook. "But if I died in that alley, I'd prove them right. That pathless kids don't matter. Can't survive. Aren't worth—" He cut off. "So I crawled back. Not because I trust you. Because *fuck them* for thinking I'd just die quietly."
Silence.
Aurelia smiled. Not warm. Not friendly. But genuine.
"Good answer." She turned to Lyenne. "He passes."
"The practical demonstration—"
"Isn't necessary. He's demonstrated everything that matters." Aurelia's voice was final. "He understands pain. Consequences. And most importantly, he chose survival when death would've been easier." She looked back at Aki. "That's all you need. Everything else is training."
Lyenne's expression was unreadable. She looked at her tablet. At notes from physical and psychological. At Aki standing there with gold scars and regenerated hands and defiance written across his face.
"Aki Sith." Her voice went formal. "You are hereby accepted into the Academy's Forsaken Integration Program with probationary status. You'll be assigned quarters, training schedule, and a supervisor. You'll attend all classes, complete all assignments, report weekly for stability checks." Her grey eyes fixed on him. "Any deviation from protocol, any instability, any incident that puts others at risk—probation's revoked. Understood?"
Aki wanted to say something sarcastic. Something sharp that would cut through the formal bullshit.
But twelve percent pass rate meant he'd just beaten eighty-eight percent odds.
"Understood."
Lyenne nodded. "You'll transport to Academy grounds tomorrow. Until then, you're confined to quarters. No contact with other Forsaken until orientation." She gestured to the young officer. "Escort him back. Post a guard."
"One more thing," Lyenne said as Aki turned to leave. "Your probationary status includes full Academy sponsorship. Housing, meals, training equipment—all covered under the Forsaken Integration Act. The four founding nations fund this program."
Aki stared at her. "So I don't have to—"
"Pay for it? No." Her grey eyes were unreadable. "But understand what that means. You belong to the system now. You're an investment. The Academy will protect that investment aggressively."
Right. Because nothing in life was free. He'd just traded one kind of debt for another.
Aki moved toward the elevator. The panel parted.
As he passed Aurelia, she spoke. Quiet. Just for him.
"See you at the Academy, Aki Sith."
He stopped. "You're there?"
"I'm everywhere interesting things happen." Her crimson eyes held his. "And you're going to be very interesting."
She smiled. Sharp as broken glass.
Cold settled in Aki's chest. Not fear. Something else. Recognition maybe. That smile said she knew something he didn't.
But the officer was waiting. Standing here would look weak.
Aki stepped into the elevator. Watched doors close on Aurelia's knowing smile.
Back to the white room. Back to confinement. Tomorrow, the Academy.
Tomorrow, whatever game he'd just agreed to play.
The rage in his chest pulsed. Contained but not gone. Never gone.
Twelve percent.
He'd made it.
Now he just had to survive what came next.
-----