A body slams into mine, hard enough to jar my teeth, and instinct takes over—I reach out, steadying us both with a hand on his bare arm. Wrong move. I hadn’t closed my power off completely, and emotion slams into me harder than the impact I just took. His thrill at the violence and a sharp spike of aggression flows under my skin, hijacking my pulse.
“Come on then!” I bark, shoving him harder than I mean to. The words tear out loudly, my voice not my own. The recruit stumbles, blinking at me in surprise before grinning like I’ve lost my mind. Laughter breaks from a few others as heat imbues my cheeks, covering both cheeks.
I’m too worked up…humiliated myself because I couldn’t keep my power contained properly.
Damn idiot.
When the ball drops near me, I dodge away, earning frustrated shouts from my teammates. Another player barrels right at me; I sidestep too late and get knocked to the ground where a rock takes residence in my shoulder blade.
Getting back up is easy, and I brush dirt from my uniform before retreating to the edge of the action, hoping to observe enough to fake competence. My team is annoyed with me—I catch multiple eye-rolls and exasperated gestures in my direction.
“What are you doing?” Malcolm hisses as he passes me. “At leasttryto block someone.”
After three more disastrous attempts to participate, I fall back even further, pretending to guard some invisible boundary while actually trying to become as unnoticeable as possible.The sun beats us without an ounce of mercy and sweat pours down my face inside the mask. I’m dizzy, overheated, and utterly humiliated, both eyes burning from something other than heat.
A shadow falls across me, and my head snaps to Elias standing beside me, breathing hard from exertion but not yet winded. Unlike most of the others, who are red-faced and soaked with sweat, he seems barely affected by the heat or physical activity.
“You going to yell at me or what?” I snap, frustration overriding caution. “I know I’m terrible.”
He studies me for a moment before, unexpectedly, his expression softens. “You’ve really never played shockball before.” Did I not tell him so already?
If Elias is bothered by my silence, he doesn’t show it, instead just releasing a thoughtful sound. “Just watch for a few rounds. See how the plays develop, then join back in when you’re ready.”
Before I can respond, he jogs back to the action, leaving me stunned by his acceptance of my continued incompetence. I’d expected ridicule like the Commander offers, or at least disappointment—not understanding.
But I accept his advice, studying the next few rounds with curious intensity, stunned when the game becomes clearer the more I watch. The ball carries a mild electric charge that players canshockfrom one position to another on the field. Scoring happens when the ball is in a shock position and a player manages to pass it through a specific point in the opposing team’s goal area. It’s complex and strategic, almost like the chess I play with my father, but with the added dimension of physical prowess.
After watching three complete plays, I suck in a deep breath and rejoin. This time, when Elias signals, I move to the position he indicates, replicating the blocking stanceI’ve seen others use. When the ball comes my way, I don’t flinch back—instead, I catch it like I’ve seen the others do, ignoring the slight sting as the charge transfers to my hands. I pivot and pass to Malcolm, who pauses momentarily before spinning away from a defender and scoring.
“Nicely done, Ashford!” someone shouts, and a strange warmth that has nothing to do with the sun spreads through my chest.
I’ve always been a quick learner—my mother joked that I seemed to absorb knowledge through my skin. By my fifth rotation in the game, I’m holding my own, and by the eighth, I steal the ball from Kellen’s team, earning a grudging nod of approval from Darius.
It would be easy to get lost in the simple physicality of the game, the temporary camaraderie of shared purpose. To forget, for just a moment, that these men are my enemies.
I wish.
After what must be two hours of play, Elias calls for a break. Everyone is drenched in sweat, breathing hard, many lying sprawled on the grass to recover. My own body throbs with exhaustion—legs heavy like a soaked-through towel, lungs burning, a stitch in my side sharp enough to make me wince. But beneath the discomfort is an unfamiliar feeling: satisfaction. I contributed. Learned. Adapted.
As the others discuss food and rest, I seize my opportunity and begin the trudge back to the center. I need a shower and a moment of privacy to recover my composure. More than that, I need distance from the strange mixture of disgust and attraction I feel when looking at these men with their shirts off, laughing and clapping each other on the back like they haven’t dedicated their lives to oppression.
I’ve gone maybe thirty paces when I spot him.
Arayik stands unmoving at the edge of the tree line wherethe path meets the compound, arms crossed. His posture is more than rigid, though whether it’s directed at me specifically or the entire gathering, I can’t tell.
My first instinct is to turn around, find another way back to the compound. But he’s already seen me, his head tracking my movement across the way. Avoiding him now would only earn a public scolding.
He nods toward the space in front of him—a silent command to which I comply without complaint. I bristle when he remains silent. What the hell is going on?
The Commander’s eyes flick over me once, his gaze lingering on the mud streaking my uniform, before turning back to watch the forest beyond. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t demand explanations or issue orders. It’s unnerving to be in his presence without beratement.
Gradually, other recruits begin trickling back along the path. They fall into formation beside and behind me, their excited chatter dying as they notice Arayik’s presence. The atmosphere shifts from casual to formal in an instant, tension replacing relaxation.
Elias and Kellen arrive last, still engaged in conversation, shirts draped over their shoulders rather than worn. Both stop when they notice the man in front of me, exchanging a glance I can’t interpret before moving to flank him. Kellen pulls his shirt back on in a smooth motion, but not before I notice a long scar across his left side, puckered and pale against his skin.
I don’t dare turn my head to count, but I sense we’re all here now, standing in formation before the three leaders, as the Enforcers not on our team make for the front doors.
Arayik’s voice, when it finally comes, is ice wrapped in steel. “The Syndicate has issued new orders. We deploy at dawn.”
