Lieutenant Vexe’s voice tore through the barracks before dawn, jolting us awake. His shouts were routine for morning wake-up calls, but today felt different. The usual sunrise glow was nowhere to be seen, leaving everything shrouded in gray shadows. My limbs felt heavy as I dragged myself out of bed. 

“Everybody needs to be dressed and in formation, in front of the barracks, in fifteen minutes!” he bellowed, his deep voice cutting through the fog of our sleep.

We scrambled to pull on our uniforms over our undergarments. Around me, other Spearheads were fumbling with their clothes, cursing as their hands shook from the cold and nerves. As I yanked on my top, I caught Cy’s gaze; he was already half dressed, his face set with a steady determination to beat the time.

“Do you know what might be going on?” I asked, knowing full well he probably didn’t know the answer.

He shook his head, wrapping his feet with the thick bandages we used as shoes. “Not a clue, but it feels serious.”

Figures.

Once dressed, we filed outside into the biting cold, forming up as instructed. Lieutenant Vexe paced in front of us, scrutinizing our faces one by one with his deep brown eyes, his expression unreadable. There were fourteen other King’s guards standing behind him, patiently waiting for whatever he was about to announce. To our left, the young Sparks looked exhausted, rubbing their eyes and shivering in the predawn chill. The Reserves stood to our right, silent and wary.

“Listen up!” Vexe barked, his gaze cold and assessing. “Starting today, you’re entering a new phase of training. You’ll be divided into permanent teams based on your individual performance and skills.”

A murmur rippled through the ranks as his words settled over us.

“These teams won’t follow your age or rank,” he continued. “Team One will consist of the best of you, the strongest and most resilient. The last team? You’ll be handling the lowest assignments, cleaning the streets of the Veil District or worse. Team ranking will determine the danger of your missions: the higher your rank, the higher the risk importance of your assignments. Team One will face the most perilous tasks, while the lowest-ranked among the formation will serve as little more than errand runners.”

The tension was palpable. None of us expected real missions so soon. My heart pounded with the realization: we weren’t just trainees anymore. They saw as tools, ready to be deployed. I knew I’d be placed on Team One, if for nothing else than the King to display me for my lineage alone– a sign of the power in his possession.

Vexe began calling the names, starting with Team Fifteen– the bottom of the barrel. In reality, they were the luckiest of us. As he worked his way through the list, more soldiers began stepping forward and moving into their respective teams, with a King’s guard assigned as their team leader. Each time my name wasn’t called, my pulse quickened.

After what seemed like an eternity, Team Two was completely listed off, and my stomach dropped.

Vexe looked at the remaining six of us. “Team One: Noemi Seraphiel,” he called out, his voice monotone. I stepped forward. “Cyrus Seraphiel.”

Cy stepped up next to me, his fingers brushing mine. Even though we were in the most dangerous group, at least we were in it together.

As I looked behind me, I noticed that the remaining group consisted of the Spearheads that were trying to plot an escape yesterday. 

And Miriam…

“Del Revar,” Vexe added, and the tall dark-haired boy with piercing gold eyes stepped forward. He was the sarcastic one who had joked we would all starve if we left the camp. I had sparred with him before– he was strong, steady, and had the ability to create protective barriers. It was a rare angelic skill, one that would prove invaluable in high risk missions.

“Koy Halver,” Vexe called next. Koy strode forward, his thin frame hiding surprising resilience. His eyes were a piercing green and he held a sharp nose. He was of demonic lineage– a tracker, able to sense movements and locate people over short distances, a useful ability for both reconnaissance and survival. 

“Xia Verin.” The petite, icy blue-eyed girl moved to join us. I’d sparred with her before as well– she had a quick mind, and even quicker reflexes. Her demonic ability allowed her to manipulate people’s senses which would assist in masking our movements. It was subtle but effective, the kind of skill that could turn a tense situation in our favor.

“And finally, Miriam Moonseer.” he finished. Miriam stepped up. She was more fragile than the rest of us, and not the best in combat, but her ability would prove important to us. With her training, she was finally able to control her ability to prophecy a few days into the future.

I suddenly realized that Team One wasn’t just experienced soldiers, but each of our abilities were the most unique and complemented the others. With the six of us assembled, Vexe gave us one last hard look. “Congratulations,” he sneered, “you’re Team One. The elite. Now prove yourselves worthy of the rank. I will be your team leader from here on out, and our missions start tomorrow, so go pack your gear– you will be moving to your assigned posting in the morning.”

As he dismissed us, we were each given a golden brooch with the roman numeral “I” to pin over the clasp of our cloaks. The cold reality set in: we’d be thrown into the field, expected to act like soldiers, expected to be as loyal as the King’s guards, and put everything on the line. The camp was silent as we dispersed, the weight of this new reality pressing down on each of us.

Once inside the barracks, we noticed the other soldiers were already packing their bags for their new posting’s. Our team gathered in the corner, an unspoken need to figure out how we’d work together.

Del leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he looked at each of us. “If we are going to survive, we need to get to know each other better and figure out how to work as a team.”

We all nodded and I glanced around at the others. There was a heavy silence between us, a mixture of apprehension and understanding. None of us had chosen this, but it was the hand we’d been dealt. If we were going to make it through this, we’d have to rely on one another.

At least, on the bright side, none of our team members consist of brainwashed idiots who were happy to be loyal and serve the King. 

As we packed our gear and uniforms, we began sharing pieces of ourselves, small details that slowly grew into real connections. From an outside view, we probably looked like any group of teenagers, laughing and talking about ordinary things, as if we weren’t trapped in this nightmare.

Koy’s voice was the first to cut through the weighty silence. “So, anyone got a skill outside of survival?”

Xia snorted, tossing her blonde hair behind her shoulder with a smirk on her face. “I used to cook– decently, I might add. I could make the most delicious food without many ingredients in the house. Maybe when this soldier business is finally over, I’ll find my way back to an oven.”

Cyrus chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’d pay to see you bake, Xia. You probably burn bread just by looking at it.”

The room lightened, the laughter and banter easing the tension. Del’s rough voice cut through again, a rare softness in his tone as he said, “If we let you cook on mission, just… don’t burn us all out there.”

As we packed our gear, we continued the conversation and laughter. Miriam joined in, too, quick to uplift our spirits. She even took it a step further by pretending to be completely lost in her blindness. She’d stagger around, purposely bumping into other teams gear piles and cots, ruining any progress they had made toward organization. The confusion and frustration on their faces would shift to guilt the moment they realized who she was, only for her to flash a sweet smile and say, “Sorry, I can’t see.” Then she’d come running back to us, expertly dodging every obstacle, and grinning as she told us about the latest person she’d exasperated.

Even Del, usually as serious as they come, couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her antics. Cyrus rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile, and even I found myself laughing, the sound feeling strange in my throat after so long. It was these small, stolen moments of normalcy that kept us grounded, reminding us that, despite everything, we still had a little spark left in us.

For just a moment, our reality felt a little less grim, and the bonds we were forging felt a little bit stronger. Yes, tomorrow, we would be real soldiers. We’d face danger, probably loss, and the unrelenting cruelty of the King’s demands. But tonight, in the dim light of the barracks, we were just a group of broken children trying to survive. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.