Morning hit Durnfield like a physical blow.
Hours before, Kel had been lying awake in the dark, watching his hands and trying to convince himself that the weird heat in his veins was just adrenaline. Now, there was no time for theorizing. The Guard Selection was here.
The sun dragged itself over the jagged Badlands peaks, sharp as a blade. It washed the village square in a cold, unforgiving light, stirring up dust that sat heavy in the morning heat. Cracked stone felt hot under everyone's feet.
The sixteen-year-olds gathered in groups. Some held wooden blades they'd carved from junk; others had rusted shields or pieces of armor picked off dead travelers. Most of them had nothing but their own hands. You could feel the fear moving through the crowd, quiet as wind through dry grass.
The Durnfield Guards stood along the edges, watching. Their armor was dull iron, scratched from years of patrol work. They looked tired—the kind of relaxed exhaustion you get when you've seen too many kids come and go to actually care about the new ones.
"Another caravan got hit near the canyon last night," one guard muttered.
"Bandits?"
"Skinwalkers, most likely."
The other shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Command just needs bodies."
Kel heard that. He heard everything. He glanced at them for a second. Bodies. That was it. Not recruits, just more meat for the grinder.
Kel looked away, standing in front of Luno. He kept his shoulders loose and his arms relaxed, looking bored even if he wasn't. It was a mask he'd perfected.
Luno stayed close. He had a glass jar tucked under his cloak, the same jar that had acted up the night before. Inside, the insects were shifting. Luno looked down and saw a group of ants pressed against the side of the glass nearest his hand. He frowned, and then they scattered.
"Everyone looks stronger than us," Luno whispered.
"They're not," Kel said.
"How do you know?"
"Because they're scared."
Kel was right. You could see it in the tight shoulders and the way hands shook. These kids were looking for exits, and fear like that just makes a person clumsy.
A tall guard slammed his spear into the stone. *CLANG.*
"Selection starts now," he shouted. "Three trials. Survival. Combat. Raid response. Pass them and you're in. Fail..." He let his eyes wander over the teens. "...and you go back to the orphanage."
Nobody asked questions. They knew. Failing meant the same leaky roofs, the same empty stomachs, and the same dead-end streets. Kel had promised Luno a way out. Today was the day he had to deliver.
The guard pointed to a graveyard of broken structures. "Run."
The course was a mess. Deep pits of stone, walls that looked like they'd crumble if you breathed on them, and heavy beams swinging like pendulums. One recruit went for it and immediately got a log to the ribs. Another disappeared into a pit. A scream echoed, but the crowd surged forward anyway. No one stopped to help.
Kel moved. He wasn't fast, but he was controlled. He watched the timing of the beams and where the dirt was loose. He watched the people bunching up, ready for someone to fall and become another obstacle.
A rope bridge swayed over a drop of broken rock. Kel jumped, grabbing the rope. The rough fibers bit into his skin, tearing his palms open. He climbed. Behind him, Luno jumped and barely caught the edge, his feet swinging over the pit.
"Kel!"
Kel turned and reached back. "Climb."
He hauled Luno up. Luno was breathing hard. "Thanks."
"Stay close," Kel said.
They kept running through the chaos. Logs swung and walls fell. One boy tried to sprint past, but Kel saw the beam coming and slowed down. The other kid didn't. *WHAM.* Kel stepped over him and kept going.
Luno was actually paying attention too. He started timing the rhythm of the course. "Third beam is slower," he called out. Kel checked. He was right. They adjusted and made it through the rest easier.
When they hit the finish line, Kel's hands were bloody and Luno was stumbling. A guard nearby watched them with a look of mild interest. "Skinny kid almost died on the rope," he noted.
"Almost," Luno panted.
The second trial was combat. They threw wooden weapons into the dirt. "Pair up!"
Kel grabbed a blade. His opponent was a big kid with a grin that said he enjoyed hurting people. The boy swung immediately. Kel ducked, pivoting to strike—then he saw Luno behind the guy and hesitated. It cost him. A wooden blade slammed into Kel's shoulder, and pain shot through him. He hit a knee.
"Faster!" the instructor screamed.
Kel got back up. This time, he didn't think. He slipped the next swing, hooked the kid's ankle, and sent him face-first into the dirt. No wasted energy.
Luno was fighting his own way. He wasn't strong or fast, and his form was terrible. But he was learning. He watched how his opponent moved his shoulders and where his feet went. When the next swing came, Luno wasn't there. He tapped the other kid's wrist—lightly, but in the right spot—and the weapon fell. Even Luno looked surprised it worked.
During a break, a guard frowned. "What's that noise?"
Under Luno's cloak, the jar was clicking. *Click-click.*
"Glass settling," Kel jumped in. The guard stared at them. For a second, the insects went dead silent. The guard spat and walked off. "Keep it quiet."
Luno looked under his cloak. The insects were watching him. Then, just like that, they started moving again.
The final trial started with a horn blast. Smoke bombs turned the square into a gray fog. Guards started screaming different orders, making the chaos worse. Some kids froze; others started hitting anything that moved in the smoke.
Kel stayed low. He used his ears instead of his eyes. Footsteps. Shouting. The scrape of a crate. Luno's breath behind him.
"Stay—" Kel started, but a large figure burst through the fog. A kid was swinging a blade wildly at Luno.
Kel shoved Luno out of the way and took the hit. It slammed into his chest, and his ribs burned. He should have been knocked back, but he wasn't. That heat from the night before came back—it wasn't a fire, more like a steady, solid pulse. His feet felt locked into the earth. His body took the hit, absorbed the force, and just... stayed there.
Kel didn't get it, but his body did. He grabbed the attacker's arm and drove his fist forward. The other boy stumbled back, dazed. Kel let him go, his heart thumping in his ears. The heat lingered.
"You felt that," Luno whispered.
"Adrenaline," Kel said.
"You always say that."
In the distance, two instructors were talking. "That one," one said, gesturing to Kel. "He's rough, but his body is responding."
"He has no idea what he's doing," the other added.
"No. But something inside him does."
By sunset, the names were posted on a board. Kel pushed through the crowd.
*Kel — PASS*
*Luno — PASS*
But then he saw the assignment: FRONTIER PATROL UNIT 7.
People around them started whispering. "Unit 7? That's canyon territory. Highest casualty rate in the place."
A tall officer, Captain Harven, walked up. His face was a map of scars. "You two barely made it," he said. "No special treatment. You'll take the worst routes. Frontier Patrol isn't about playing guard at a gate. People disappear out there. Things come down from the mountains that you don't want to meet." He leaned in. "Sometimes patrols don't come back."
He walked away, leaving Luno silent.
"We made it?" Luno eventually asked.
Kel looked at him and felt a small smile tug at his mouth. "We made it."
Luno grinned. "We actually did it!"
"Don't start celebrating," Kel said, heading for the barracks.
"You smiled."
"No, I didn't."
"You definitely smiled. I saw it."
"Keep it up and I'll send you back."
Luno just laughed. "You can't. I'm a Guard now."
That night, the barracks smelled of old wood and sweat. It was the first time they hadn't slept at the orphanage. Luno lay there with the jar on his chest. "You're still my hero," he told Kel.
Kel stared at the ceiling. His body felt alive, humming with that weird sensation. He thought about the blade hitting his chest and the way he'd just... stood his ground. He didn't know why it was happening, and honestly, it scared him a little.
"Stay behind me tomorrow," Kel muttered.
Luno didn't answer. He was looking at the jar. The insects had gathered against one side of the glass—not randomly, but all pointing in the same direction. Toward the dark outside Durnfield.
They started clicking. A rhythmic, nervous sound.
"Kel," Luno said, sitting up. "What are they doing?"
Kel looked. He didn't have an answer.
Outside, the wind hissed over the Badlands. Kel felt that internal pulse one more time before it vanished. Neither of them knew what was coming. They didn't know Kel was tapping into something most soldiers take years to find. They didn't know why Luno's insects were sensing things in the dark.
They only knew they had survived the Selection. Tomorrow, the real work would start, and out there in the black, the Badlands were finally starting to pay attention.