My head rises, attention instantly diverted from my book—not that it’s such a hard feat to accomplish. Hardan’s voice continues, ever louder than necessary, “I spoke with Captain Daren this morning. The situation is more serious than they initially thought.” He pauses, likely for dramatic effect. “They’ve discovered an entire community hiding beyond the perimeter. Women, children, the works. Living out there like rabid animals.” My father makes a noncommittal sound as my lip curls.
“The Syndicate’s forming a special unit,” the man continues. “Best of the best. They’ll train over at the center, then head out to deal with these vermin once and for all.”
“When will they deploy?” my father asks, his voice a careful neutral that tells me he has many opinions about this subject but will keep them hidden.
“Don’t know exactly. Few weeks, maybe a month. They’re recruiting now—any able-bodied man between twenty and thirty-five. Preferences given to those with useful powers, of course.” Hardan groans before speaking again. “I tried to convince Easton to join, but the boy continues todefy me. He’ll never become a man at this rate. Fucking waste.”
My pulse quickens at his words, pushing out the hatred he carries for his son.
Father mentioned this yesterday…an Enforcer group formed specifically to hunt people living freely beyond our borders? How did they escape?
“The interesting thing,” my eyes roll at Hardan’s voice again, though I no longer want to vomit at the sound, too interested in his words, “is this unit won’t be assigned to a specific province afterward. They’ll be mobile, responding wherever they’re needed. Directly under Syndicate control.”
“That’s…unusual,” my father responds.
“It’s brilliant,” his boss counters. “No provincial loyalties, no local entanglements, or restrictions. Pure enforcement of Syndicate law, wherever required.” His boisterous laughter makes me cringe. “Recruits are to meet at their respective Halls before dawn tomorrow, so hopefully they’ll figure this shit out soon and we can go back to normal.”
I bite my tongue a little too hard when my mother speaks. “Wonderful news, Hardan, though I am curious why you are providing Pierce with the details?” I’m expecting him to lash out at her like he does his wife, but to my surprise he chuckles and answers her question.
“Well for Pierce’s son, of course.” I scoff, the sound melting into the damp surroundings. Of course he would refer to Lachlan as my father’s son, as if my mother didn’t make and birth him. “I figured the boy would appreciate something better for his career than being a mere messenger.”
Mom doesn’t respond, and my father quickly shifts the conversation to other topics—trade quotas, new library restrictions, the Founding Festival. It’s disgusting there’s a day tocelebrate the Syndicate’s founding, but that train of thought disappears as I’m no longer listening to them.
My mind races, caught on this single piece of information.
A mobile Enforcer group. Unattached to any province or station. Free to travel across Dascenia.
Something stirs in my gut—a wild, impossible thought I immediately try to dismiss.
But it lingers.
What exists beyond the perimeter? I’ve been told it’s wasteland—barren expanses of land and water, devoid of resources and civilization. Each province specializes in producing different necessities, trading with each other through official channels. Pyrem provides administrative services and manufacturing, Ailridge specializes in mining and stonework, Ofin grows most of our food, and so on. A perfect system of interdependence, carefully controlled by the Syndicate.
But if there are people living beyond the perimeter, thriving enough to form communities…
Sometimes, I watch Enforcers through our windows, during the night when all lights are off and ensure my parents are sleeping. They all wear the same uniform, the same one Lachlan is made to wear when traveling between provinces. Black tactical clothing with reinforced panels, heavy boots, and those masks—full-face coverings with only a narrow slit for the eyes. I’ve never seen an Enforcer’s face; their identities remain hidden even from each other when on duty. Not that I’d have much of a chance to, with the smallest opening in my curtain the only view I have of the outside.
But curiosity has always been my weakness, especially where Lachlan is involved. Seeing him in uniform for the first time sent me spiraling down a path of learning the Enforcer code, along with random texts dripping in military idealization.
Because of this, I know their masks are not just for intimidation.
They’re for anonymity.
A thought forms, so outrageous I almost laugh aloud.
What if a woman joined them?
Ridiculous. They’d know immediately…the physical differences alone would give them away within minutes.
But would they?
I think of my brother and me, mirror images with subtle distinctions. We have the same dark hair, the same angular features and observant eyes. His jaw is sharper, his shoulders broader—but not dramatically so. We’re both thin, on the smaller side for our age.
If I pulled my hair back in a tight bun like he wears his, if I bound my chest and pitched my voice lower…
Could I pass as Lachlan?
And I have powers. The Empath ability I’ve kept hidden; the same one I likely have because I shared a womb with my twin. I can sense emotions and influence them with concentration. Only men are supposed to have powers…my ability would be undeniable proof of my sex.
