Morning came to Durnfield without mercy.
Only hours earlier, Kel had been lying awake in the darkness, staring at his hands and telling himself the strange heat inside his body was nothing more than adrenaline.
Now there was no time to think about it.
The Guard Selection had arrived.
The sun climbed over the jagged Badlands mountains like a blade being unsheathed, flooding the village square with pale, punishing light. Dust lifted slowly from the ground as heat began to settle into the cracked stone beneath everyone's feet.
Sixteen-year-olds gathered in tight clusters across the square.
Some held wooden practice blades carved from scrap lumber. Others carried rusted shields or mismatched armor pieces scavenged from dead caravans.
Most had nothing but clenched fists.
Fear moved through the crowd quietly, like wind through dry grass.
Along the edge of the square stood the Guards of Durnfield.
Their armor was scratched iron dulled by years of patrol through the Badlands. Their posture carried the relaxed fatigue of people who had seen too many recruits come and go to expect much from any of them.
One guard spoke under his breath.
"Another caravan hit near the canyon road last night."
"Bandits?"
"Skinwalkers, probably."
The second guard shrugged.
"Doesn't matter. Command just needs bodies."
Kel heard it.
He heard everything.
His eyes shifted toward the guards for only a second.
Command needs bodies.
So that was what they were.
Not warriors.
Not recruits.
Bodies.
Kel looked away.
He stood slightly ahead of Luno, shoulders loose, arms relaxed. To anyone watching, he looked calm—almost uninterested.
Exactly the way he wanted it.
Luno stayed close behind him, his cloak wrapped tightly around the glass jar hidden beneath it.
The same jar that had behaved strangely the night before.
Inside, the insects shifted softly.
Luno glanced down.
For a moment, several ants gathered against the side of the glass closest to his hand.
He frowned.
Then they scattered.
Luno looked toward Kel.
"Everyone here looks stronger than us."
Kel's eyes moved slowly across the square.
"They're not."
"How do you know?"
"They're scared."
Luno studied the crowd again.
Tight shoulders.
Shaking hands.
Eyes constantly searching for exits.
Kel was right.
Fear made people clumsy.
A tall guard stepped forward and slammed the butt of his spear into the stone.
CLANG.
The square fell silent.
"Guard Selection begins now."
His voice carried easily across the open space.
"Three trials."
"First—survival."
"Second—combat."
"Third—raid response."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"Pass all three and you'll be assigned to a Guard unit."
Another pause.
"Fail…"
His eyes traveled across the teenagers.
"…and you return to the orphanage."
Nobody spoke.
Nobody asked what that meant.
Everyone already knew.
For Kel and Luno, it meant returning to the same broken streets.
The same leaking roof.
The same struggle for food.
The same road out of Durnfield that they would be forced to watch other people take.
Yesterday, Kel had promised Luno that if there wasn't another way—
he would make one.
Today, he intended to make sure that wasn't necessary.
The guard pointed toward a jagged stretch of broken structures beyond the square.
"Run."
The obstacle course looked less like training and more like a graveyard waiting to happen.
Deep pits filled with jagged stone.
Half-collapsed walls barely strong enough to climb.
Rope bridges sagging dangerously over empty space.
Heavy beams swung across narrow paths like pendulums.
A few recruits stared.
One swallowed hard.
Then the first recruit sprinted forward.
A swinging log caught him across the ribs and threw him into the dirt.
The second recruit slipped and disappeared into a pit.
A scream rose from below.
No one stopped.
The crowd surged.
Kel moved with it.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Controlled.
Exactly as he had trained.
The ground burned beneath his feet as dust exploded with every step.
He watched everything.
The swinging beams.
The timing between them.
Where the dirt was loose.
Where recruits were bunching together.
Where someone falling could create another obstacle.
Ahead of him a rope bridge swayed violently above a pit of broken stone.
Kel jumped.
His hands caught the rope.
The rough fibers tore into his palms instantly.
Pain flared.
He climbed anyway.
Behind him—
Luno jumped.
His fingers barely caught.
His body slammed against the side of the structure.
For a moment, he hung above the pit, feet swinging over the rocks below.
"Kel!"
Kel turned instantly.
He reached down.
"Climb."
Luno grabbed his wrist.
Kel pulled.
Luno hauled himself over the edge, breathing hard.
"Thanks."
Kel released him.
"Stay close."
They ran.
Logs swung.
Walls crumbled.
Recruits slipped and fell.
One boy tried to sprint past Kel.
Kel saw the beam before he did.
He slowed.
The other recruit didn't.
WHAM.
The beam swept him off his feet.
Kel stepped over him and kept moving.
Luno followed.
But Luno wasn't simply following Kel anymore.
He was studying the course.
His eyes moved between the swinging obstacles.
One.
Two.
Three.
Pause.
One.
Two.
Three.
Pause.
He noticed the pattern.
"Kel."
Kel glanced back.
"Third beam is slower."
Kel looked ahead.
Luno was right.
They adjusted.
The next section became easier.
Then the next.
By the time Kel crossed the finish line, his palms were streaked with blood.
Luno stumbled across seconds later.
A nearby guard watched them both with mild curiosity.
"Hmph."
His eyes lingered on Luno.
"Skinny kid almost died on that rope."
Kel didn't respond.
Luno did.
"Almost."
The guard raised an eyebrow.
Luno hurried after Kel.
The second trial began immediately.
Wooden weapons were thrown across the dirt.
"Pair up!"
Recruits scrambled to grab them.
Kel picked up a worn training blade.
His opponent stepped forward immediately.
A broad-shouldered recruit with thick arms and a grin that promised pain.
The boy swung without warning.
Kel moved.
The strike missed his head by inches.
Kel pivoted and jabbed toward the ribs—
then stopped.
Luno had drifted behind the opponent during the shuffle.
Kel shifted position instead.
The hesitation cost him.
CRACK.
The wooden blade slammed into his shoulder.
Pain shot down his arm.
Kel dropped to one knee.
"Move faster!" an instructor barked.
Kel stood again.
His opponent charged.
This time Kel didn't hesitate.
He slipped sideways.
Redirected the swing.
Hooked the boy's ankle.
The larger recruit crashed face-first into the dirt.
Kel stepped back immediately.
No wasted movement.
No celebration.
Across the training field, Luno fought awkwardly.
At least—
that was how it looked at first.
He couldn't overpower anyone.
He wasn't particularly fast.
And his technique was nowhere near Kel's.
But Luno watched.
He copied.
He learned.
Every strike that came at him told him something.
Foot placement.
Timing.
Confidence.
Weakness.
His opponent swung high.
Luno ducked.
Another swing.
Same shoulder movement first.
Luno noticed.
The third time the shoulder twitched—
Luno was already moving.
The wooden weapon passed through empty air.
Luno tapped the recruit's wrist.
Not powerful.
But precise.
The recruit's grip loosened.
Luno kicked the weapon away.
He stared at it.
Then at his own hand.
Almost surprised his idea had worked.
During a brief pause, a guard frowned toward him.
"What's that noise?"
Luno froze.
Inside his cloak—
click.
click-click.
The jar.
Kel stepped forward immediately.
"Glass settling."
The guard stared at him.
Then at Luno.
For one uncomfortable second, the insects became completely silent.
The guard spat into the dirt.
"Keep it quiet."
He walked away.
Luno slowly looked beneath his cloak.
Every insect inside the jar had stopped moving.
Watching him.
Luno's eyes narrowed.
Then—
all at once—
they began moving again.
He quickly covered the jar.
The final trial came without warning.
A horn blasted across the field.
BWOOOOOM!
Smoke bombs exploded across the square.
Gray clouds swallowed the recruits instantly.
Guards shouted conflicting orders.
"Raid simulation!"
"Defend the supplies!"
"Hold the line!"
"East side!"
"No! Barricade the west!"
Chaos spread instantly.
Recruits ran in every direction.
Some froze.
Some followed the first order they heard.
Others began swinging at shapes moving through the smoke.
Kel lowered his stance.
He couldn't see.
So he listened.
Footsteps.
Shouting.
Wood striking wood.
Someone falling.
A supply crate scraping across stone.
Luno's breathing behind him.
Kel turned.
"Stay—"
A figure burst through the smoke.
Large.
Fast.
A recruit swinging a wooden blade wildly.
Straight toward Luno.
Kel moved without thinking.
He shoved Luno aside—
and took the strike himself.
THUD.
The wooden blade slammed into his chest.
Pain exploded through his ribs.
Kel's feet should have slid backward.
They didn't.
Something answered.
The same thing from the alley.
The same thing from last night.
Warmth.
It spread from somewhere deep inside him.
Not fire.
Not burning.
Something steady.
Something controlled.
His feet planted firmly into the dirt.
His legs tightened.
His stomach hardened.
His shoulders locked.
The force of the blow traveled through him—
and disappeared.
Kel's eyes widened.
For a fraction of a second, he could feel everything.
His heartbeat.
His breathing.
The tension running through his arms.
The pressure beneath his feet.
Even the blood moving through his injured palms.
He didn't understand it.
But his body did.
Kel grabbed the attacker's arm.
His fist drove forward instinctively.
CRACK.
The recruit stumbled backward, stunned.
Kel released him slowly.
His heart pounded in his ears.
The warmth lingered inside his muscles.
This wasn't like yesterday.
Yesterday it had exploded through him.
This time—
it moved through him.
Luno stared.
"You felt that."
Kel looked at his hands.
"Adrenaline."
Luno frowned.
"You always say that."
Kel didn't answer.
Across the field, two instructors watched quietly through the thinning smoke.
"That one."
"He's rough."
"But his body's responding."
"Yeah."
The second instructor narrowed his eyes.
"He doesn't know what he's doing yet."
"No."
A faint smile appeared on the first instructor's face.
"But something in him does."
The smoke cleared slowly.
By sunset, the results were posted.
A wooden board was nailed to the side of the guard barracks.
Recruits crowded around it nervously.
Names.
Units.
Assignments.
Kel pushed through until he found his.
Near the bottom.
Kel — PASS
His eyes immediately moved downward.
One name below his.
Luno — PASS
Kel stared for another second.
Then noticed the assignment written beside both names.
FRONTIER PATROL UNIT 7
The murmuring around them changed.
A recruit nearby winced.
"Seven?"
Another shook his head.
"That's canyon territory."
"Worst patrol routes in Durnfield."
"Highest casualty rate too."
Luno slowly looked at Kel.
Kel kept staring at the board.
They had passed.
They had escaped the orphanage.
But Durnfield hadn't given them freedom.
It had given them the patrol everyone else wanted to avoid.
A tall officer approached them.
Captain Harven.
His scarred face studied them both carefully.
"You two barely passed."
His voice was calm but firm.
"You'll take the worst routes."
"No special treatment."
He stepped closer.
"Frontier Patrol isn't standing at a gate pretending to be important."
"Caravans disappear out there."
"Bandits hunt the roads."
"Creatures come down from places most people know better than to enter."
His gaze hardened.
"And sometimes patrols don't come back."
Luno's smile disappeared.
Harven looked between them.
"Learn fast."
"Or the Badlands will bury you."
He walked away.
Luno remained silent.
Then—
"We made it?"
Kel finally looked at him.
A small smile appeared.
"We made it."
Luno grinned.
"We actually made it."
Kel started toward the barracks.
"Don't celebrate yet."
Luno followed.
"You smiled."
"No I didn't."
"You definitely smiled."
"Keep talking and I'm putting you back in the orphanage."
"You can't."
Kel looked over.
"Why?"
Luno grinned wider.
"I'm a Guard now."
Kel stared at him.
Then kept walking.
Luno laughed and hurried after him.
That night the barracks smelled of dust, sweat, iron, and old wood.
Rows of thin cots filled the room.
Outside, guards changed shifts while distant lanterns burned along Durnfield's outer walls.
For the first time in their lives—
Kel and Luno weren't sleeping in the orphanage.
Luno lay back with the jar resting on his chest.
The insects inside moved slowly across the glass.
"You're still my hero."
Kel stared at the wooden ceiling.
His body still felt warm.
Not hot.
Just alive.
He remembered the attack.
The wooden blade striking his chest.
The strange sensation spreading through his muscles.
The feeling of his entire body becoming connected for one brief instant.
He didn't know what it was.
He didn't know why it was happening.
And he wasn't ready to admit that it frightened him.
"Stay behind me."
Luno smiled.
Then his expression changed.
He lifted the jar.
Every insect inside had gathered against the glass.
Not randomly.
Together.
All facing the same direction.
Toward the darkness beyond Durnfield.
Luno sat upright.
"Kel."
Kel turned his head.
"What?"
Luno stared at the jar.
The insects began clicking.
Once.
Twice.
Then dozens at once.
A nervous rhythm filled the quiet barracks.
Kel sat up.
"What are they doing?"
Luno didn't answer immediately.
He looked toward the dark window.
Beyond it—
the Badlands stretched for miles.
Empty.
Black.
Waiting.
"I don't know."
Outside the barracks, the wind moved across the Badlands like a warning.
Kel felt the warmth inside his body pulse once.
Then disappear.
Neither boy understood what was happening to them.
They didn't know that Kel had begun touching something warriors spent years learning to control.
They didn't know why Luno's insects had begun responding to things he couldn't yet sense.
They only knew they had survived the Selection.
Tomorrow—
their lives as Guards would begin.
And somewhere in the darkness beyond Durnfield…
the Badlands had begun to notice them.