I woke up to panicked shouts and rushing footsteps. I jumped out of bed, already dressed, and raced into the hall, to find Selena racing out of her room. We nodded to each other, and ran together.

  We rushed in the direction of the shouting, bursting through the doors into a world of smoke and fire. The heat hit me like a wall, thick and suffocating, the acrid stench of burning wood and scorched metal filling my lungs.

  For a moment, it felt like the entire training town was ablaze—the fire stretched high, licking toward the tower’s ceiling, its orange glow swallowing the early morning dimness of the crystals above. Embers spiraled through the air like dying stars, and shadows twisted and danced across the buildings, making it impossible to tell how much had already been lost.

  Then, as my eyes adjusted, I saw the reality. It wasn’t the whole town, just two buildings at the heart of the fire—yet the sheer scale of the flames, the frantic figures dashing through the smoke, the roar of the blaze as it devoured everything in its path, made it feel like an unstoppable force. The town hall was the worst of it, already collapsing in on itself, and across the street, another building burned like a beacon, flames pouring from its shattered windows.

  The colonel was in the thick of it, almost every lieutenant and even a few sergeants shouting over each other for updates, orders, anything that could turn the chaos into control. The sky above was alive with movement—fliers dashing back and forth, dropping water onto the inferno, their silhouettes flashing in the firelight. I clenched my jaw. This was bad. Not as bad as it seemed at first glance, but still bad.

  And yet, beneath it all, I suppressed a smile. This was going very well. I kept moving, barking orders where needed, keeping my focus sharp. But beneath the urgency, a different kind of awareness settled in my chest. All was going to plan on our side, so Bongi should already be in his office by now.

  I knew that the resident lieutenant who could control water was dead, thus making the fire harder to stop. A shame the colonel did not think of the long term consequences.

  I saw them wetting the area around the fire, trying to make sure it wouldn't spread, as some of the lieutenants spoke frantically into their Streams, trying to get a head count. I wanted to snort, no one went into the town, especially not at…

  I checked my Stream, not at five o'clock in the morning. A moment later, Viktor and Calder rushed out of the dorms, half dressed as instructed, racing towards us. They raced up to the colonel, saluting, asking what they could do, and the colonel just shook his head and turned back to the fire.

  I decided to join them, so Selena and I walked up to the colonel and simultaneously saluted, shouting “Sir!”

  “Selena, thank god. Get your ass to the infirmary, there's about fifty low ranks who need you,” he said frantically, before turning away and to go help one of his lieutenants. The woman was caked in sweat and soot, smoke rising from her clothes.

  What? Why would there be low ranks in the infirmary?

  I turned toward Calder first, forcing my voice to remain even. “Was there anyone in the town?”

  He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Not that I saw, but clearly there was.”

  That tone. The indifference. I felt a sharp spike of irritation crawl up my spine. This wasn’t a mistake to him, just another inconvenience.

  A sergeant rushed past us, a low-ranker slumped in his arms, his uniform dark with soot and blood. His face was twisted in pain, his burned arm hanging uselessly over the sergeant’s shoulder. The sight was a punch to the gut—proof of the damage, of the suffering Calder was treating as nothing more than an afterthought.

  And then, just beside the path they took, Calder bent slightly, rubbing his sleeve against his boot, casually wiping away a smudge of soot. His expression was unreadable, almost bored, as if this were just another tedious morning chore.

  I stared at him. The contrast between him and the man fighting to keep a half-conscious soldier alive made my stomach turn.

  “Excuse me?” My voice was ice. “Is that all you have to say? Your ability makes you immune to fire, right? So get in there and make sure there’s no one else trapped.”

  His face darkened, eyes flashing with anger, his lips parting like he wanted to spit something back at me.

  “Right. Now.”

  He thought better of it at my tone, and I could practically hear his jaw clenching, his teeth grinding audibly.

  “Of course,” he bit out, his tone clipped. “I was going to do that anyway.”

  I didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

  He turned sharply on his heel, stalking toward the colonel to request entry before breaking into a sprint. I watched as he tapped his shoulder, flames erupting around his body before he disappeared into the inferno.

  That left Viktor.

  I shifted my focus to him, finding him standing unnaturally still, his head slightly bowed. His skin looked pale under the firelight, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was trying to suppress something.

  I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Did you see anyone in the town, Viktor?”

  He jolted, like he hadn’t realized I was standing right in front of him. Wide eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered across his face—hesitation, guilt? It was gone just as quickly, buried as he seemed to find my shoes fascinating.

  “No.”

  I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “Are you sure?”

  His lips parted like he was about to speak. His gaze flicked somewhere over my shoulder, and for a moment, his breath seemed to hitch.

  Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “I’m sure.”

  Liar.

  The word settled in my chest like a lead weight.

  The Viktor I knew didn’t have those wide eyes, that haunted look in his face. He didn’t hesitate before speaking, always giving me a straight answer when I asked for one.

  Something was wrong.

  Had he seen someone? Had he hesitated? Had he known and simply chosen not to abort his mission?

  The questions turned in my mind, heavy and sharp. The heat of the fire no longer felt suffocating, but the air between us did. I let the silence stretch, watching him shift under my gaze before finally stepping back.

  “Go help with the fire,” I said. It wasn’t a suggestion.

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  Viktor nodded quickly and rushed off, too eager to leave.

  I stayed rooted in place, watching the flames, feeling a cold dread settle deep inside me.

  Richard came walking out the fire, only his pants and shoes remaining intact, before he walked up to the colonel and shook his head. The colonel looked at him for a long second, and then said something, and Richard shook his head again. The colonel nodded, turning to one of his subordinates.

  He said something, and the man tapped his shoulder and pointed at the colonel.

  “I'm bringing the buildings down, everyone get back right now!” the Colonel's voice boomed over all the noise, making the roaring fire seem almost quiet.

  We all did as instructed, scrambling back as the Colonel tapped his left shoulder and pointed a finger. That was all it took.

  No sound, no warning—just an instant and the weight was there.

  The first building caved inward like a dying animal curling into itself, beams snapping, walls folding, fire pouring out in desperate bursts before being swallowed by the collapse. The second structure followed a breath later, the entire frame groaning in protest before buckling all at once, as though it had always been destined to fall.

  For a moment, the fire fought back, licking through gaps, twisting and reaching as if trying to escape the inevitable. But there was nowhere left to burn. Every wooden beam, every shattered tile, every ember-filled crevice was being compacted beyond recognition, its fuel crushed into something too dense, too strangled, to sustain flame.

  What had been two burning buildings—bright, raging, consuming—was now nothing more than a smoldering mass of wreckage, heat still rippling off it, but the fire itself died.

  The fliers above swooped down, throwing out buckets of water to snuff out whatever remained. Steam curled into the air, but the fight was already over.

  No words. No ceremony.

  The Colonel simply lowered his arm and turned away.

  One of the lieutenants exhaled. “Damn,” he muttered. “That’s never not terrifying.”

  The fire was gone. The crisis had passed. But the damage was done.

  I turned and sprinted toward the infirmary.

  The moment I stepped inside, the stench of burnt flesh, sweat, and antiseptic nearly made me gag. The air was thick with the sound of groans, shouted orders, and the frantic shuffling of boots against the floor. The room was packed—too many bodies crammed into too little space, low rankers lying on cots, the floor, anywhere they could be placed. Some clutched at burns that covered their arms and faces, others writhed in pain as medics worked on them with hurried, desperate hands.

  In the center of it all, Selena stood like a living beacon, her entire body radiating a harsh, golden light that bathed the room in an unnatural glow. The brightness pulsed and rolled off her in waves, shifting and reaching outward, washing over the injured where they lay.

  Wherever the light touched, skin began to mend, charred flesh turning pink, wounds sealing shut. She didn’t even need to touch them—just being near her was enough. Her uniform was soaked with sweat, her breathing ragged as she staggered forward, her glow dimming slightly before flaring back to life. She was burning herself out trying to keep up.

  A low ranker stumbled past me, his shield hanging uselessly from his burned arm, his face twisted in agony before Selena’s glow brushed over him. He gasped, the pain fading in an instant, and collapsed to his knees in relief.

  Across the room, another recruit leaned over a cot, whispering something soft and soothing to a fellow sleeveless whose eyes fluttered, barely conscious. Blood stained the bandages hastily wrapped around limbs, the floor slick with water from overturned buckets.

  Then two men rushed in, carrying Beatrice on a stretcher between them. She was barely conscious, sweat pooling at her temples, her lips moving in silent murmurs. At her side, one of them held her hand, his voice raw with exhaustion.

  "You did so well, Bea. You did so well," he repeated, as if saying it enough times would wake her up.

  "What happened to her? Is she alright?" I said, stepping closer, checking her for any signs of serious injury. I had known her the longest, and while I pitied her for being a disappointment—a low-ranker born to high-rankers—I was almost grateful. Through her, I had a personal connection to the lower ranks, a bridge to understanding them.

  And I had known her the longest. Before the blessing, I might have even called her a friend.

  “Uhm, lady Sofia, maám, she’s fine. Better than fine. Just overused her powers. She saved at least three dozen people from burns before we could evacuate her, and she was still doing so even after she started vomiting.” One of the lower ranks said. He was a shieldman and seemed to be used to smiling, but everytime his eyes darted around the room the smile would stop reaching his eyes.

  “Tell me what happened. Now,” I ordered, even as I checked her pulse, stopping one of the nurses and grabbing an ice pack for her.

  The men glanced at each other, before the smiling one spoke.

  “Ma’am, some of us shieldmen started going to the training town early, before the day officially started, to practice with our shields. More people kept joining us over time. This morning, there must have been at least two hundred of us in the hall across the street when the fire started.”

  He swallowed, his expression tightening. “It spread fast. Too fast. We heard the first explosion, and before anyone could react, flames were already pouring through the windows. Then something must’ve hit a gas line because the fire jumped—shot straight across the street, right into the door of our building. Trapped most of us inside.” His voice dropped slightly, eyes flicking downward. “If Isaac hadn’t made us an exit, a lot of us wouldn’t have made it out.”

  He looked around as if seeing the fire all over again, then winced and peeled off his shield, revealing the raw, blistered burn stretching across his forearm.

  “Don’t worry,” he added quickly, trying to sound reassuring. “We got everyone out.”

  I grabbed him by the shoulder, “You will get that treated right now, am I clear?”

  He glanced at Beatrice, his mouth parting like he wanted to argue, but one hard look from me shut that down. He swallowed whatever protest he had, gave a stiff salute, and walked away.

  I moved through the room, stopping at every injured low-ranker, making sure each one was being seen to. One of them was crying softly, clutching her burned arm. I knelt beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  Had I miscalculated? No. I gave clear instructions. It was their job to ensure the town was empty. If they had listened, no one would be hurt. This wasn’t my fault.

  Viktor and Calder. They did this. They disobeyed me. They were supposed to make sure the town was clear, and they failed. No—not failed. They didn’t care. They left my people to burn. My people.

  A cold, seething fury coiled in my chest, sharp and suffocating. They will answer for this. They will understand exactly what they’ve done, exactly what their negligence has cost. And if they thought they could just walk away from this, if they thought I would let them off with a warning—

  They were wrong. So very, very wrong.

  My rage, my frustration, my exhaustion—everything vanished the second my Stream buzzed. I exhaled sharply, scanning the message. The Colonels login credentials. Bongi had done it. Despite the mess. Despite the variables. Despite the risk.

  I glanced around. No one was watching me. No one had put the pieces together yet.

  I turned and walked out, my pace steady, my heart pounding. Because no matter how bad the fire had been—

  This was what truly mattered.

  The field was eerily quiet. A small cluster of B ranks stood in loose formation, some still pulling on their uniforms, others rubbing the sleep from their eyes, all of them watching the thick plumes of smoke curling toward the crystals on the ceiling. The fire was nearly out now, but its mark remained—ash drifting through the air, the acrid stench clinging to their clothes, the distant murmur of frantic voices carrying from the infirmary.

  Bongi stood at the edge of the group, hands in his pockets, his posture as easy as ever. His expression was unreadable as he watched the last remnants of the fire fade into the dim morning light.

  He turned as I approached, offering a small smile. “Hey, I think that went rather well.”

  His voice was easy, almost amused—like he truly believed this had all gone according to plan.

  I stopped in my tracks, the words hitting like a slap. I turned, looking back toward the infirmary, at the low ranks groaning on their cots, at Beatrice barely conscious. My pulse pounded in my ears. He didn’t know. He hadn’t seen it.

  I exhaled sharply. “No. It did not.”