The transport was nicer than anything Aki had ridden in his entire life, which wasn't saying much but still felt worth noting. The seats didn't smell like piss. The windows weren't cracked. The floor wasn't sticky with unidentified substances.
Luxury.
He sat alone in the back compartment. The young officer—still avoiding eye contact like Aki's scars might be contagious—sat up front with the driver. A partition separated them. Probably for everyone's safety. Possibly just so they didn't have to look at him.
Through the window, Seriglia gave way to countryside. Rolling hills. Forests that hadn't been harvested for fuel. The kind of landscape Aki had only seen in advertisements for Path academies he'd never afford.
The kind of places that didn't exist for people like him.
Except now, apparently, they did.
His hands rested on his knees. The gold scars caught morning light, turning his forearms into something between art installation and biohazard warning label.
Two other Forsaken sat in separate compartments. He could see them through reinforced glass because apparently even the transport was designed for "what if someone explodes."
One was older—mid-twenties maybe—with scars that glowed pale blue across her neck and jaw. She stared straight ahead, blank-faced. The expression of someone who'd already accepted whatever came next.
The other was young. Sixteen at most. Scars like green lightning down both arms. The kid was crying silently, shoulders shaking.
The kid's shoulders shook. Silent. Practiced. Like he'd learned early that making noise when you cried just made things worse.
Aki looked away.
Not his problem.
Except his mother used to cry like that. In the hospital. When she thought he wasn't watching. When she thought he was asleep.
His hands clenched. The gold scars pulsed once.
Still not his problem.
The transport climbed. Higher elevation. Cleaner air. The kind of place where people didn't die from treatable illnesses because they couldn't afford Mend clinics. Where "healthcare" wasn't a fucking lottery system.
After two hours, the forest opened up.
Veylan Academy sprawled across the valley like someone had decided to build a small city and forgot to stop. Multiple campuses connected by covered walkways. Buildings that ranged from traditional stone architecture to modern glass and steel structures that probably cost more than his entire neighborhood.
Students moved between buildings. Hundreds of them. Uniforms in different colors—purple for Pulse, green for Mend, blue for Verse, gold for Curio, red for Echo, silver for Dream. All Fated. All exactly where they were supposed to be.
All living the lives Aki would never have if he'd stayed pathless.
The transport didn't stop at the main entrance. Of course not. That would be too normal. Too integrated.
It kept going, skirting the edge of campus, heading toward a separate complex set back from the main buildings.
The Forsaken wing.
It was newer. More utilitarian. Grey concrete and reinforced walls. No beautiful architecture, no glass and steel, just pure function. The design screamed "containment facility trying to pretend it's a dormitory."
Very welcoming. Really set the tone.
The transport stopped at a checkpoint. Guards—Order members, not students—checked credentials. Examined the transport like they were looking for contraband. Or explosives.
Waved them through.
Inside the complex, the transport finally stopped.
"Out," the officer said. Still not making eye contact.
Aki stepped out into a courtyard. The blue-scarred woman and the green-scarred kid emerged from their compartments. None of them spoke. What would they even say? *Nice scars, want to compare trauma?*
More Forsaken were already there. Maybe twenty total. Gathered in small clusters or standing alone. Scars in every color—red, purple, white, black. Some glowing brighter than others.
Everyone looked either terrified or dead inside. Sometimes both.
Great first impression. Really inspiring group energy.
A woman in Order uniform stood at the center. Different from Lyenne—younger, less sharp edges. Her expression was carefully neutral. The kind of neutral that came from training, not genuine feeling.
"Welcome to Veylan Academy's Forsaken Integration Program." Her voice carried across the courtyard. "My name is Instructor Vael. I'll be your intake coordinator and primary counselor for emotional management." She gestured to the complex behind her. "This is your residence hall. Each of you has been assigned a private room with reinforced walls and suppression wards. Your rooms are spaced exactly three hundred meters apart—safety protocol in case of destabilization events."
Three hundred meters. In case someone exploded and they wanted to minimize collateral damage.
Very reassuring. Very "you're all bombs we're storing carefully."
The green-scarred kid made a small noise. Like he was trying not to cry harder.
"Your schedule will be delivered to your rooms tonight." Vael continued in that same carefully neutral tone. "You'll attend Path-specific lectures with Fated students. Pulse with Pulse, Mend with Mend, and so on. You'll also attend mandatory non-Path courses—Emotional Intelligence, Survival of the Fittest, Tactical Assessment, and Ethics of Power." She paused. "Additionally, you'll have twice-weekly counseling sessions and daily stability checks."
Someone in the back muttered something. Aki couldn't hear what, but Vael's expression tightened.
"I know this feels restrictive. But the Forsaken Integration Act exists because people like you can be powerful assets—or catastrophic threats. The Academy's job is to determine which category you fall into." Her voice softened slightly. Probably thought it sounded comforting. "My job is to help you survive long enough to figure that out."
Silence. Nobody looked reassured.
Aki certainly wasn't. "Help you survive" was a weird way to phrase "make sure you don't explode and kill people."
"Your rooms have your names posted. Your uniforms are inside—grey with your Path color as trim. Wear them. They have suppression weave built in. It won't stop destabilization, but it'll slow it." Vael stepped back. "Orientation begins at 0800. Dinner is at 1800 in the Forsaken dining hall—separate from main campus. Questions?"
Of course the dining hall was separate. Couldn't have the dangerous Forsaken contaminating the normal students' meals.
The blue-scarred woman raised her hand. "How many of us typically make it through the program?"
Vael's expression didn't change. "That depends on your definition of 'make it through.'"
"Graduate. Become actual members of society instead of contained threats."
"Last year's cohort started with forty-three Forsaken." Vael's voice stayed neutral. "Eighteen graduated."
The courtyard went silent.
Eighteen out of forty-three. Less than half. Better odds than the twelve percent assessment pass rate, but still. More than half didn't make it.
Aki did the math automatically. Twenty-five failures. Twenty-five people who either got contained permanently, died, or exploded.
Great odds. Very inspiring. Really motivating stuff.
"Any other questions?" Vael waited. "No? Then find your rooms. Rest. Orientation begins at 0800."
The group dispersed. Slowly. Like nobody wanted to be first to show weakness by running.
Aki found his room by process of elimination. The names were posted on reinforced doors spaced absurdly far apart. Three hundred meters between each one. He passed rooms labeled with names he didn't recognize, scars glowing through windows in colors that made his gold ones look tame.
His door was at the far end. Isolated even by isolation standards.
**Aki Sith - Pulse Path - Probationary Status**
The probationary part was in red. Just in case anyone forgot he was on thin ice.
Inside, the room was small but maintained. Clean sheets. Working bathroom. A desk. A bed that looked structurally sound.
Things he'd never had in the apartment with his mother.
The guilt hit immediately. Because this—this cell designed to contain him—was nicer than anywhere she'd ever lived.
A tablet sat on the desk with his name already loaded. Schedule. Meal plan. And a stipend notification: 50 marks per month for personal expenses.
Fifty marks.
More than he'd made at the warehouse. More than he'd had most months scraping together rent. For doing nothing except existing as a contained threat.
The Academy's way of saying: *We'll keep you alive. We just won't let you have leverage.*
The uniform was grey with purple trim—Pulse Path colors. The fabric felt wrong. Not texture-wrong, but price-wrong. This was the kind of material that came from specialized suppliers, the kind rich people called "investment pieces."
He'd owned one jacket his entire life. Sold it for rent money.
This uniform probably cost more. They'd given him three.
The math made him nauseous.
The suppression weave was visible if he looked close enough. Threads of silver running through the material in complex patterns. Probably cost more than his mother's hospital bills.
Aki set it aside. Sat on the bed.
Three hundred meters from the nearest person. Twice-weekly counseling. Daily stability checks. Mandatory emotional intelligence courses.
They were treating him like a bomb that needed constant defusing.
Which, fair. He was.
His hands clenched. The gold scars pulsed in response. Heat built in his chest—automatic, instinctive. The anger was always there, just waiting for an excuse.
He forced himself to breathe. To let the heat dissipate without channeling it.
Control. That's what they wanted. What he needed.
What would keep him from ending up like that other Forsaken. The one who'd exploded in the street while Aki ran.
Eighteen out of forty-three graduated. Better odds than assessment. Still meant more than half didn't make it.
Still meant he could fail. Could get contained. Could die.
Aki lay back on the bed. Stared at the ceiling.
The tablet sat on his desk. He grabbed it. His schedule loaded automatically.
-----
**WEEK ONE SCHEDULE - AKI SITH**
0600-0700: Stability Check (Mandatory)
0800-1000: Pulse Path - Thread Fundamentals (Mixed Cohort)
1000-1200: Emotional Intelligence (Forsaken Only)
1200-1300: Lunch
1300-1500: Survival of the Fittest (Mixed Cohort)
1500-1700: Pulse Path - Practical Application (Mixed Cohort)
1800: Dinner
1900-2000: Counseling Session with Instructor Vael (Twice Weekly)
-----
Mixed cohort. That meant Fated students. People who'd spent their entire lives being told they were better, stronger, more valuable than Forsaken.
People who'd probably look at him the same way that guy at Dawnreach had. The one who spat on the ground when Aki passed.
Fantastic. Really looking forward to that.
Aki pulled up the information on Thread levels.
-----
**Thread System: Power Scaling for Path Users**
**Threads 1-5: Fated** - Progressive mastery of Path fundamentals. Most users plateau between Thread 3-4.
**Thread 6+: Transcendent** - Surpassed normal Path limitations. Rare. Approximately 2% of Fated reach this level.
**Thread 8+: Divine** - Mastery beyond conventional understanding. Extremely rare.
**Thread 10: Higher Divine** - Theoretical peak. Less than 0.1% of all Path users across the four nations.
-----
The note at the bottom made his jaw tighten:
*Note: Probationary students must reach Thread 2 proficiency within six months or face mandatory containment review.*
Six months. Thread Two. Or back to being classified as a threat.
The anger in his chest flared. Of course. Put pressure on the bomb and see if it exploded. Great strategy. Very logical.
Aki set the tablet down. Looked at his hands. At the gold scars glowing in the dim light.
He'd survived eighteen years of impossible choices. 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 timeline. One more demand.
He could do it. Or die trying.
Either way, better than that alley.
-----
Dinner was exactly as welcoming as expected.
The Forsaken dining hall was a separate building—smaller than the main student facilities, reinforced like everything else in this complex. Aki arrived at 1800 because the schedule said 1800 and he didn't need to add "couldn't follow basic instructions" to his list of problems.
About fifteen Forsaken were already there. The blue-scarred woman. The green-scarred kid. Others Aki didn't recognize. They sat in clusters or alone, carefully maintaining distance even while eating.
Because everyone here was a potential explosion. Very cozy atmosphere.
The food was… good. Actually good. Real protein. Fresh vegetables. Not the recycled synthetic shit he'd lived on for years. Not the expired discount packages from stores that should've thrown them out weeks ago.
Aki took his tray to an empty table. Sat with his back to the wall so he could watch the room. Old habit. One that had kept him alive in worse places than this.
Three tables over, a group of Forsaken were talking quietly. One of them—scars like black veins across his face—kept glancing at Aki. Not friendly glances. Not curious. Something else.
Aki kept eating. The stares weren't new. The scars on his face made sure of that.
He was halfway through his meal when someone sat down across from him.
The green-scarred kid.
He was younger-looking up close. Blond hair that refused to stay neat, like static had run through it, and wide violet eyes that kept flicking between the floor and Aki's face.
Aki said nothing. Kept eating.
"They said eighteen graduated last year." The kid's voice was quiet. Raw. "Out of forty-three."
"I heard."
"That's not even half."
"Math checks out." Aki took another bite. Didn't look up.
The kid's hands shook. "I'm sixteen. I awakened three days ago. I don't—" His voice cracked. "I don't know if I can do this."
Aki looked at him. Really looked. Saw the fear. The desperation. The same look he'd had crawling back to the Order covered in his own blood, begging for help he didn't trust.
The kid was looking for reassurance. For someone to tell him it would be okay. That he'd make it.
Aki didn't have that to give.
"You probably can't," Aki said.
The kid flinched.
"But you're here. Which means you chose to try instead of dying in whatever alley you awakened in. So either commit to that choice or don't. But don't sit at my table looking for comfort." Aki's voice was flat. "I don't have any to give."
The kid's jaw tightened. Something shifted in his expression. Not hope. Something harder. Sharper.
He stood. Left without another word.
Aki went back to his food. Ignored the guilt threading through his chest like one of those silver suppression weaves.
Harsh truths kept people alive. False hope got them killed.
His mother had believed the hospital when they said she was still on the transplant list. That belief had kept her calm. Kept her peaceful.
And then she'd died anyway.
He finished eating in silence. Left his tray. Walked back through three hundred meters of isolation to his room.
The bed was comfortable. The sheets were clean. The window looked out over forest instead of brick walls and the backs of other deteriorating buildings.
Improvement.
Aki closed his eyes.
0600 stability check. 0800 first class with Fated students who'd probably spent their whole lives being told Forsaken were dangerous animals.
He'd find out soon enough if they were right.
-----