Chapter Five
CASSIA
My stomach churns—not from motion sickness, but the oppressive brick of fear and uncertainty pressing on every nerve ending.
I reach to adjust my mask under the guise of comfort, but in truth, I’m trying to steady my trembling hands before anyone notices.
The synthetic material feels alien against my skin, trapping my breath in humid pockets that smell of my own sweat and anxiety.
Ahead of us, the Training Center looms like something from a nightmare.
Its massive, merciless structure displays a sharp silhouette against the pale afternoon sky.
The stone walls, fortified with gleaming steel, swallow the weak sunlight rather than reflect it, casting a foreboding shadow over the surrounding area.
This place was not built to welcome. It was built to intimidate.
I follow Elias, lengthening my strides as much as I dare to mimic his. He moves with the easy familiarity of someone returning home, while every step I take feels like a trespass into forbidden territory. Like I may as well scream my true name for everyone to hear.
My shoulders ache from hours of sitting stiffly in the transport, muscles tense and sore. I don’t dare roll them for relief. Everything about my movements must scream ordinary and blend seamlessly with the men around me.
But even before we reach the building’s entrance, I realize I have no idea what ordinary means in this context. Doubt creeps in, cold and insidious.
The air here is warmer than in the city, but I feel cold to my marrow. A shiver threatens to collapse my body as we’re herded into a large open courtyard. I suppress it viciously, snarling at it from within. Enforcers don’t shiver. Enforcers don’t show weakness.
Other vehicles were in line before Elias’ and mine, and more arrived behind us.
I count nineteen other recruits walking ahead of me.
Elias has already stopped near the entrance, speaking with someone whose posture suggests authority.
I can tell which ones are new recruits like me—we all carry small packs and lack weapons the established Enforcers wear with such casual menace.
The perimeter of the courtyard is lined with silent Enforcers, their faces turned toward our group with the unnerving attention of predators assessing potential threats. Or prey.
And I’m willingly walking into their ranks.
“Line up,” barks a sharp voice, cutting through the quiet murmuring.
I jolt and move into formation with the others, counting my breaths to keep calm.
One in, two out, three in, four out.
The man addressing us has imposing, broad shoulders, his posture rigid with the kind of command that expects immediate obedience. Even through the space filled with bodies, the weight of his gaze is heavy as it sweeps across us.
“You will be tested,” he begins, pacing the line with measured steps.
It’s clear he’s accustomed to being heard and obeyed without question.
“Your strength, endurance, and intelligence will determine whether you are fit to wear this uniform. Fail, and you will be dismissed. Succeed, and you will earn your place among us.”
He introduces himself as Arayik, the Commander, and continues outlining rules and expectations with ruthless efficiency.
This must be the man that selected Elias to be in our group—
I stall, my attention snagging on the two Enforcers standing behind the Commander. The one on the right, standing where Elias was a few minutes ago, stares across our group with calculating eyes.
Fuck me. He’s not a recruit. I was stupid to not check his ranking in the vehicle, but I can easily make it out right here. Two arrows pointing downward—a lieutenant.
I silently curse myself. Of course, the one person I was borderline rude to during our journey turns out to be one of our leaders. Perfect. My ability to sabotage myself remains unmatched.
Arayik introduces the other two as Elias, his second, and Kellen, his third.
I’m so frustrated with myself for not taking in every detail, for immediately getting off on the wrong foot with leadership.
When Arayik directs us to follow him, I linger at the back of the line.
The heat of Elias’ gaze tracks me, and I’m hyperaware of every step I take. No wonder he was so curious about me.
I wish there had been time to practice walking. I can’t just keep changing my gait. They’d either kick me out for being suspicious or for looking like a damn idiot.
I decide to keep my walk as normal as I would move, just with longer strides. That should be easy enough to maintain, regardless of how awkward and forced it feels.
We follow the Commander through a grove of trees, and my jaw drops when we emerge at what can only be an obstacle course.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen outside of the forbidden books my father brings home.
There’s a towering wall with strange shapes sticking from it, thin beams suspended over what look like deadly drops, followed by a series of tunnels and obstacles that appear designed to break the human body rather than test it.
Arayik barks at us to drop our packs and line up to begin.
My heart hammers against my ribs. I didn’t expect this—not on day one, after traveling for ten hours.
I thought there would be some kind of orientation…
an introduction to the facility, or at least a chance to get our bearings before being thrown into physical trials.
No, we’re diving directly into the flames without so much as a safety briefing.
Commander announces with cold clarity that this isn’t merely an assessment. Anyone who fails to complete the course will be sent home immediately. He doesn’t even want to learn our names until we prove ourselves worthy of his attention.
“You’re not worth the effort if you can’t handle the most basic training you’ll do here,” he states, the contempt slicing through his voice thick.
Sweat trickles down my back and builds in my mask. I’m certain I look as terrified as a cornered animal facing a pack of hungry wolves.
When several recruits, including myself, hesitate to move after being instructed to begin, Arayik snarls another command and I jolt into action, running to catch up with the others.
I glance to where the leaders stand, Elias’ head tilted in my direction.
But I remind myself I’m just one of many recruits.
There’s no reason he’d be focusing on me specifically—no way I could have done anything so egregious already to warrant special attention. They can’t possibly know my secret.
My blood thickens, pounding through my body so hard that remnants of it push through my temples.
As I wait for my turn on the first test, I watch the others carefully, analyzing their approaches.
It’s obvious brute strength—which I decidedly lack—will not be enough to get me through.
I’ll need to rely on my mind, balance, and whatever scrap of physical endurance I can muster.
Conditioning my muscles all these years to prevent atrophy will be of no aid to me today.
When I step to the beginning, the Enforcer overseeing this section of the course watches me with disdain. Perhaps he can already tell I’m physically weaker than the others. Or more likely that’s just how they all regard recruits—as if we’re insects they would love nothing more than to squash.
“Go,” he commands, his tone almost taunting when I hesitate.
Then I’m moving.
The first hurdle is a climb—a towering wall with thick, knotted ropes hanging from its peak.
I’m not muscular by any means, especially in my upper body, but I am thin and lithe.
I silently pray to any star that might listen that I can lift my own body weight.
Being sent home on the first day would be humiliating and terrifying in equal measure—somehow worse than being killed for identity theft.
Or for being a woman.
I leap for the nearest rope, my hands burning instantly as the rough fibers drag along my skin.
Pain shoots up my arms as I haul myself upward.
Every single muscle screams in protest, unused to this kind of exertion.
It’s more difficult than I imagined, and I doubt the added weight of the Enforcer gear is doing me any favors as it threatens to drag me back to the dirt.
Nearby, one of the other recruits yelps as he slips from his rope. The leaders laugh, a sound that chills my bones despite how hot I am. I will not be the next source of their amusement.
My nails dig into the rope, several snapping against the coarse fiber, and pull myself up with renewed determination. Pain becomes secondary to survival. My arms shake with the strain, but somehow I manage to reach the top of the wall.
At the summit, I allow myself half a second to scan the next challenge ahead.
It’s a narrow beam, slick with water, hovering above a pit so deep light barely penetrates its depths.
Fall there and I would die—or suffer injuries severe enough to wish I had.
What kind of training facility intentionally risks lethal injury?
Are they trying to kill us before we even begin?
A steadying breath whistles through my teeth when I notice I’m the last in line, and all three leaders are watching me as if I’m the evening’s entertainment.
Their scrutiny ignites something in me—not fear, but anger.
How dare they set us up to fail and then watch with delight?
The flash of indignation gives me a burst of much needed confidence.