Thornblade kept his hand on the gun at his side as he walked through the training grounds. Soldiers of all ages training as hard as they could in every possible field necessary. Shooting. Wrestling. Helicopter flying. Ambush tactics.

One boy—a weakling who was recently lured in—was cowering in a corner behind some ration crates. Thornblade noticed and approached.

“What are you hiding for? You’re not fooling anyone.” He told the child, forcing his voice softer.

His wide green eyes looked up at him, fear clear. “I wanna go home.” He whispered, clutching his bruised wrist.

Thornblade let out a quick chuckle. “Once you’re in. You’re out when I say you’re out.”

The boy flinched, dropping his gaze to the dirt beneath him. “I will make something out of you.“ Thornblade continued, pulling out a knife to show him. “You will either be useful or you will die.” He let the knife loosely rest on the boys throat.

The kid nodded quickly then scurried away to the barracks.

Thornblade simply slipped the knife back into it’s sheath and continued his rounds.

Back in his office, the white walls pristine thanks to trade and the few rich merchants in the town, a contrast from the training grounds.

Thornblade sat idly at his desk, examining papers as if bored, when his general’s second-in-command, Alastor, opens the doors to the office.

Thornblade wasn’t sure why his general wasn’t reporting, but he decided if the kid had somehow died it would’ve made his life easier.

“Thornblade.” He said coldly. “We have news about the Holders.”

He looked up from his desk. Alastor stood firm in the doorway, barely seventeen yet high enough in the army ranks to make him not completely useless.

“Go on.” Thornblade urged.

Alastor nodded, presenting a flash drive to him in his gloved hand. Thornblade took it and plugged it into his computer with a click that will never not be satisfying.

Camera footage appeared on his screen, one of the Elemental children scaling the side of the building, sharpshooting perimeter defense, then climbing into the vents.

Alastor clicked the side arrow on the keyboard and another video popped up. A team of a few more of the Holders taking out guards and getting into the building.

Thornblade scanned the group. A taller boy—the leader, no doubt. Thornblade didn’t recognize him, nor the blond boy. But he did recognize the other two. Skylar and River.

Thornblade felt a ache in his chest when he saw his daughter—wishing she could see through the Eternal crap.

And River…he knew River better than he’d admit.

“What about Luce?” Thornblade snapped, using the last name he knew the kid despised. “He’s always with them.”

Alastor shook his head. “Ronan seems to be on bed rest after the run-in the night before.”

Thornblade hated being dependent but he needed Ronan back. that rogue solider had a debt to pay and Thornblade never left a debt unpaid.

“Did the scrounging team find their hideout?” Thornblade asked, looking up at Alastor—eyes full of the power and devotion he once saw in Ronan.

Alastor shook his head. “No sir. None came back alive, their sharpshooter took them all out before they could report.”

Thornblade cursed under his breath. They shouldn’t have sent out the test subjects out so soon. They were too fragile.

“Send a message to the general. He needs to start getting me information or we’re going to have a problem.” Thornblade told him. His voice slow and clear.

Alastor nodded, bowed, then exited the office. The steel metal doors slamming closed behind him.

Thornblade turned his chair to look out over the city. The tall towers of sector two loomed above the crumbling outskirts of Sectors Four and Seven. He gripped the edge of his desk “That kid better know what he’s doing.” he muttered. Everything was at stake.