“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’sno 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 hisrope. The leaders laugh, a sound that chills my bones despite how hot I am. I willnotbe 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.
I steady myself before stepping onto the beam, focusing on keeping my center of gravity low. My balance wavers but never fails. A lifetime of confinement taught me how to move—quick, quiet, invisible—lest an inadvertent sound or vibration alert someone to my existence. Years of working with delicate concoctions for my experiments trained my hands and body to remain steady under pressure. For once, my sheltered life has given me an advantage.
The course continues with more obstacles—rope swings over mud pits, a tunnel crawl through jagged rocks, and a climbing net that leaves my hands bloody and raw. Each element is designed not just to challenge, but hurt; to weed out the weak through physical trauma rather than mere difficulty.
I catch sight of the leaders as I navigate the course, noticing the definition in their muscles, the way they carrythemselves with the conviction of men who’ve tested their bodies against impossible tasks and emerged victorious. They didn’t get those muscles from easy training. This brutality has purpose, even if I find it barbaric.
By the time I collapse at the finish line, my lungs feel like they’ve been scorched from the inside out. Every breath burns. But I don’t let the pain show in my eyes, instead forcing my body to straighten and meeting the gaze of the Commander as he walks past, observing each of us with clinical detachment. I try to project the same stoic indifference the other recruits display.
Perhaps not the best idea, as the lack of oxygen in my blood creates black spots in my vision.
He moves on quickly, pointing at two men who struggled more visibly than the rest. “You and you. Leave. You’re done.”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t realized he was being entirely serious about immediate dismissal. There’s no second chance or opportunity to improve. One failure equals immediate dismissal.
The next test comes without pause—a mental challenge designed to assess strategic thinking and problem-solving under pressure. We’re ushered to tables set with various objects that appear innocuous enough until Arayik’s third—Kellen, I think—explains our task: disarm a mock explosive using logic and deductive reasoning.
A timer is set, and my hands uncharacteristically shake as I work through the puzzle. But while my body may be failing me, my mind remains sharp. At least the bleeding wounds from the rope clotted quickly.
I dig into my head and recall a passage I read years ago about circuit mechanics and apply the principle here, my fingers manipulating the components with growing confidence. When the timer buzzes, my device is successfully dismantled.
One recruit isn’t so fortunate. He’s dismissed with the same flick of a wrist as the first two.
The final round tests our power. Each recruit must demonstrate their ability and the leaders will determine if it’s useful enough to warrant keeping us. My stomach flutters—I’m actually excited about this part. I’ve been practicing for years, pushing myself further each time. I must take a moment to thank whatever twist of fate gave me power when I was born—without it, this is where my deception would fall apart.
Elias instructs everyone to partner up, but I hang back at first, not confident enough to approach any of the others. He notices my hesitation and beckons me forward.
“Ashford, come here. You can demonstrate on us directly.”
Wonderful…just what I needed.
