The days after the northern road ambush did not grow easier.
They shifted.
The sneers disappeared first.
Not replaced with respect—
nothing that generous.
But the way people looked at Kel and Luno changed.
Glances lingered a little longer.
Conversations dipped when they entered the barracks.
Whispers traveled through Unit 7 like smoke curling beneath a door.
"That's him."
"The one who dropped those raiders."
"Bare-handed."
"The other one called the ambush before Harven did."
"He listens to bugs."
"That's not better."
Kel hated every word of it.
Luno seemed undecided.
Part of him disliked the attention.
Another part was clearly entertained by the fact that grown Guards had started whispering about him.
Kel woke before dawn as always.
Buckets first.
Then fence repairs.
Then latrines.
Then whatever work the higher units decided was beneath them.
If anything, Kel worked harder now.
As if enough exhaustion could grind the attention back into dust.
Captain Harven said nothing about the ambush.
No praise.
No punishment.
No questions about the strange way Kel fought.
But patrol assignments shifted.
At first, Kel thought he imagined it.
Then Luno noticed too.
They were being placed closer to the outer wall.
Closer to the roads.
Closer to the places where problems appeared first.
It wasn't a promotion.
They were still Unit 7.
Still the lowest detail.
Still sleeping beneath a roof that leaked when the Badlands decided to remember rain existed.
But Harven was moving them.
Testing them.
Watching what happened when the danger became less controlled.
Luno leaned toward Kel one evening as they returned to the barracks.
"They're talking about us."
Kel kept walking.
"You mean you."
Luno blinked.
"Me?"
"Yeah."
Kel glanced at the jar beneath his cloak.
"You're the weird kid who talks to insects."
"I don't talk to them."
Kel looked at him.
Luno hesitated.
"Not exactly."
Kel raised an eyebrow.
"That made it worse."
Luno grinned.
"Right. Because you're completely normal."
Kel ignored him.
"Everyone blocks blades with their arms and punches raiders into the dirt."
"Lucky punches."
"You have a lot of luck."
Kel flexed his fingers.
His bruises had faded.
The cuts across his knuckles had closed.
But sometimes—
when he stopped moving—
his hands still trembled.
Not from fear.
Not even from exhaustion.
Something deeper.
Like the muscles beneath his skin remained tense long after he had told them to relax.
Kel hid the shaking by closing his fist.
Luno noticed anyway.
His grin faded.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
"That means no."
"It means fine."
Luno stared at him for another second.
Then let it go.
For now.
---
Training changed.
For the first time since joining Frontier Patrol Unit 7, they were allowed to drill beside one of Durnfield's stronger Guard units.
Not with them.
Nobody was pretending Unit 7 had earned that.
They were placed along the far edge of the yard.
Close enough to watch.
Close enough to be watched.
Captain Harven stood between the groups.
"Balance before power!"
A Guard lunged.
His partner shifted.
"Overcommit and you die!"
Wood cracked against wood.
"Again!"
Kel watched everything.
Foot placement.
Breathing.
How the hips turned before a punch.
How a fighter's shoulders revealed movement before the weapon did.
How experienced Guards wasted less motion than recruits.
Kel's eyes narrowed.
He copied.
Step.
Turn.
Strike.
Reset.
Again.
His movements smoothed.
Not immediately.
But faster than they should have.
One of the mid-tier Guards noticed.
"Kid."
Kel stopped.
"What?"
"Do that again."
Kel repeated the combination.
The Guard frowned.
"Who taught you?"
Kel looked toward Harven.
"No one."
The Guard stared.
Then barked a laugh.
"Figures."
He walked away.
Kel resumed.
Jab.
Pivot.
Elbow.
Step.
His breathing slowed.
Warmth appeared.
Faint.
Controlled.
Foot.
Leg.
Core.
Shoulder.
Fist.
The same path he and Luno had been studying at night.
Kel struck.
THUD.
The practice post shuddered.
Kel froze.
The warmth vanished.
He looked around.
Nobody seemed to have noticed.
Except Harven.
Across the yard, the captain's eyes were already on him.
Kel immediately returned to ordinary movement.
Harven said nothing.
That worried Kel more.
By the end of drills, sweat poured from him.
His legs shook.
His arms carried that familiar rhythmic hum.
Not exactly pain.
Not exactly strength.
Something between.
He bent forward with his hands on his knees.
Pressure built behind his eyes.
Across the yard, Luno crouched in the dirt.
He was supposed to be resting.
Instead, he watched a line of ants dragging a crumb across cracked stone.
Kel walked over.
"You're supposed to be training."
"I am."
"You're staring at ants."
"Exactly."
Kel sighed.
Luno pointed.
"Look."
One ant slipped.
Another immediately took its place.
The crumb barely stopped moving.
Then another ant joined.
Then another.
Luno watched quietly.
"You ever think we're like them?"
Kel glanced down.
"Small?"
Luno frowned.
"That's rude."
"You asked."
"The lowest Guards."
Kel looked back toward the yard.
Luno continued.
"Always hauling what nobody notices."
Kel snorted.
"That's one way to say expendable."
Luno's eyes stayed on the ants.
"When something's too heavy, they don't stop."
Another ant joined the line.
"They just keep adding bodies until it moves."
Kel's expression changed slightly.
"Sounds like Durnfield."
"Yeah."
Luno extended one finger toward the ants.
Kel expected them to scatter.
They didn't.
The line split around Luno's finger.
Then reformed.
Kel noticed.
Luno did too.
Neither said anything.
Luno slowly moved his finger left.
Several ants shifted with it.
Right.
They followed again.
Kel's eyes narrowed.
"You're doing that."
Luno whispered,
"I think so."
The words hung between them.
Kel crouched beside him.
"Do it again."
Luno swallowed.
He stared at the ants.
For several seconds—
nothing happened.
Then one turned.
Another followed.
Then the entire small cluster shifted toward his hand.
Luno's face changed.
A mixture of wonder and unease.
"I didn't touch them."
Kel looked around the yard.
"Stop."
Luno blinked.
"What?"
"Not here."
The insects scattered as his concentration broke.
Kel stood.
"If people start noticing that, questions come next."
Luno looked up.
"You're one to talk."
Kel stared at him.
Luno pointed toward the practice post.
"You almost shook that thing apart."
"I hit it."
"Sure."
Kel started walking away.
Luno followed.
"Kel."
"What?"
"Do you think something's happening to us?"
Kel stopped.
For one moment—
he considered telling Luno everything.
The heat.
The current.
The way his body had begun responding to his breathing.
The feeling that sometimes—
if he focused hard enough—
he could almost sense something moving inside himself.
Then Kel remembered Brask.
The Guards.
Harven watching.
The whispers.
He looked at Luno.
"I think we need to keep our mouths shut."
Luno smiled faintly.
"That wasn't a no."
Kel kept walking.
---
Evening patrol took them along Durnfield's southern wall.
A windstorm had torn through the area the night before.
The outer barricade looked like something had taken a giant hand and twisted it.
Logs had splintered.
Metal braces bent inward.
One entire support beam lay across the road.
Beyond the opening—
the Badlands stretched empty and exposed.
"Fix it before nightfall!" a senior Guard shouted.
Everyone moved.
Kel grabbed one end of the fallen support beam.
Another Guard caught his wrist.
"Leave it."
Kel looked over.
"You'll wreck your back trying that."
"We need it up."
"We need four men."
Kel looked around.
Two Guards were repairing the brace.
Another was bleeding from his palm.
Sunlight was already sinking.
He looked back at the beam.
Then felt it.
The hum.
Low.
Steady.
Waiting.
Kel released his breath.
Slowly.
Luno noticed immediately.
His eyes sharpened.
Kel crouched.
Foot placement.
Balance.
Don't force it.
He gripped the beam.
Lifted.
Pain slammed through his shoulders.
His jaw tightened.
The beam barely moved.
Then—
warmth.
Foot.
Leg.
Core.
Back.
Shoulders.
Arms.
Everything connected.
Kel pushed.
The beam rose.
Not easily.
Not impossibly.
Just enough.
"Move!" Kel shouted.
Two Guards rushed forward.
Together they shoved the support into position.
Metal brackets slammed around it.
The beam held.
Kel immediately released it.
His chest heaved.
His vision swayed.
Both hands trembled violently.
He clasped them behind his back.
Luno hurried toward him.
"You used it."
Kel's eyes snapped toward him.
"Quiet."
"You did."
"I lifted wood."
"Kel."
"Luno."
Luno closed his mouth.
An older Guard approached.
He slapped Kel's shoulder.
"Got guts, kid."
Kel winced.
"Thanks."
Captain Harven arrived moments later.
Of course he did.
His eyes moved over the repaired barricade.
The bent metal.
The support beam.
Then Kel.
Kel felt suddenly more exposed than he had during the raid.
Harven walked closer.
"You lift that?"
Kel nodded.
"With help."
Harven looked at the two Guards who had finished the repair.
One shrugged.
"He got it moving."
Harven's gaze returned to Kel.
Not impressed.
Not angry.
Measuring.
Again.
"Don't do that again without orders."
Kel nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Harven took one step away.
Then stopped.
"But keep showing up."
Kel frowned slightly.
Harven continued walking.
Luno bumped Kel's elbow.
Kel ignored him.
Luno did it again.
"What?"
"See?"
"See what?"
"He likes you."
Kel stared at Harven's back.
"He threatened to let the Badlands bury me three weeks ago."
"Guard affection."
Kel shook his head.
Luno smiled.
But as they walked toward the barracks, his expression slowly became thoughtful.
"Kel."
"What now?"
"Standing out gets people killed."
Kel glanced at him.
"That was my line."
"Or noticed."
Luno looked toward Harven.
He paused.
"Sometimes that's the same thing."
Kel didn't answer.
Because he knew Luno was right.
---
Sleep refused to come that night.
Kel lay staring at the ceiling.
The barracks breathed around him.
Snoring.
Coughing.
Wood shifting in the wind.
Somewhere nearby, Brask muttered in his sleep.
Kel ignored all of it.
The hum was stronger.
Persistent.
Not painful—
but impossible to forget.
Kel closed his eyes.
Breathed slowly.
The warmth moved.
Chest.
Shoulder.
Arm.
He opened his eyes.
It stopped.
Kel sat up.
Moonlight spilled through the window.
He raised one hand.
Normal.
No glow.
No fire.
No visible difference.
He flexed his fingers.
The warmth returned faintly.
Kel stared.
"What are you?"
Nothing answered.
Of course nothing answered.
Across the room—
something clicked.
Kel looked over.
Luno was asleep.
His jar rested beside his cot.
Except the lid was slightly open.
Kel's expression changed.
"Luno."
No response.
Kel stood.
Walked closer.
Several ants crawled along the rim.
Kel reached toward the jar.
The insects froze.
Every one of them.
Kel stopped.
Slowly—
the ants turned away from him.
Toward Luno.
Kel looked at his brother.
Luno slept peacefully.
His breathing slow.
The ants climbed down the outside of the jar.
One after another.
They crossed the blanket.
Reached Luno's arm.
Then stopped.
A tiny line of insects rested against his skin.
Kel stared.
"That's new."
Luno's fingers twitched in his sleep.
The ants moved closer.
Kel's chest tightened.
For a moment—
the warmth inside him pulsed.
At the exact same time—
the insects stopped.
Kel looked from his hand—
to Luno.
Something was happening.
To both of them.
He didn't know the word for his own change.
He didn't understand what Luno was doing.
But hiding it suddenly seemed more important than ever.
If anyone discovered it—
everything would change.
Kel carefully lifted the jar.
He nudged the insects back inside one by one.
Strangely—
they allowed him.
Mostly.
One ant refused to leave Luno's hand.
Kel stared at it.
The ant stared back.
Or at least—
Kel imagined it did.
"Get in the jar."
Nothing.
Kel frowned.
"I am not arguing with a bug."
The ant finally moved.
Kel almost felt insulted.
He sealed the jar.
Then returned to his cot.
For several minutes, he sat in silence.
His eyes dropped toward his hands.
He thought about Harven watching him.
About Luno moving insects.
About the current inside his body.
About how much stronger it had become since the Guard Selection.
Kel slowly lay back.
He wasn't foolish enough to believe the Badlands had suddenly become kinder.
Tomorrow would still mean patrols.
Work.
Pain.
Raiders.
Orders.
Possibly death.
None of that had changed.
But something inside him had.
Something inside Luno had too.
And for the first time since they had traded the orphanage for the barracks—
Kel allowed himself to imagine that maybe their lives did not have to remain exactly what Durnfield had decided for them.
The thought was dangerous.
Small.
Fragile.
But there.
Hope.
Kel closed his eyes.
Beneath his ribs—
the quiet warmth pulsed once.
Like a flame without fire.
Then settled.
Waiting for morning.