Ch 5 Lord Vorthan

Deep within the obsidian spires of the Zorvak homeworld, Lord Vorthan sat at the head of a massive war table.

Layers of holographic light stretched across its black surface, projecting star systems, fleet movements, Dungeon territories, and shifting battle lines across the Empire. Hundreds of worlds burned as tiny points of light beneath his claws.

Around the table stood some of the most powerful commanders in the Zorvak military.

They were enormous creatures by human standards, clad in armor forged from dark alien alloys. Thick scales covered their bodies in shades ranging from charcoal gray to polished obsidian. Jagged bone crests swept backward from their skulls, and predatory amber eyes glowed beneath heavy brows.

Each of them had commanded armies.

Conquered worlds.

Slaughtered enemies by the thousands.

Yet not one dared meet Lord Vorthan's gaze for long.

Even among Zorvaks, Vorthan was a monster.

He stood nearly a head taller than the commanders surrounding him, with a massive frame encased in ornate black armor traced by thin veins of crimson light. Dense Esoteric Energy radiated from his body without conscious effort, filling the chamber with an oppressive pressure that made the air itself seem heavier.

Vorthan rested his chin against one clawed hand.

His expression was bored.

"Pathetic."

Nobody moved.

Vorthan's amber eyes traveled across the tactical display.

"Three outposts lost in a single offensive."

His claws tapped once against the arm of his throne.

"And you call yourselves commanders."

One of the Zorvaks stepped forward.

"My Lord."

The commander touched the war table.

A section of the galaxy expanded until a smoke-shrouded continent appeared above them. Red markers covered its southern territory, where a jagged front line had been forced several hundred kilometers backward.

"The enemy launched a coordinated surprise offensive along our southern perimeter. Three forward outposts fell before reserve forces could stabilize the line."

Vorthan's gaze shifted toward him.

The commander lowered his head.

"We have halted their advance, but reclaiming the lost territory through conventional forces will take time."

"Then stop wasting mine."

The commander swallowed.

"I request authorization to deploy Task Force G."

That caught Vorthan's attention.

The map changed.

A cluster of symbols appeared behind the Zorvak defensive line.

"A concentrated strike by their Vanguard units should rupture the enemy's center. Once the breach is established, our main force can surround the southern divisions and reclaim the territory."

Vorthan studied the projection.

"Task Force G."

He leaned back.

"A blunt instrument."

The commander's jaw tightened.

"But an effective one," Vorthan added.

He waved one claw dismissively.

"Granted."

The commander bowed.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Do not thank me."

Vorthan's eyes narrowed.

"Erase them."

The holographic battlefield reflected across his scales.

"I will not sit through another briefing explaining why the same territory has been lost twice."

"It shall be done."

The commander stepped back.

Vorthan shifted his attention to another section of the display.

"And the Dungeon network?"

A second commander immediately moved forward.

"Rank One and Rank Two operations remain stable, my Lord. Human deployment numbers have exceeded projections."

A series of statistics appeared above the table.

Casualty reports.

Resource yields.

Clearance rates.

Population replacement projections.

The commander barely glanced at the casualty figures.

"The human population remains sufficient to sustain current losses indefinitely. Their numbers allow us to replace casualties faster than the lower-rank Dungeons can consume them."

Vorthan gave a quiet grunt.

"But?"

The commander hesitated.

Vorthan's eyes lifted.

"There is always a but."

"The higher ranks remain unstable."

The display changed.

Several sectors turned red.

"We have lost control of multiple high-value nodes. Rank Three teams have managed to slow further losses, but they lack the strength required to reclaim the deeper territories."

Vorthan stared at the red sectors.

"I request authorization to elevate a controlled number of human candidates to Rank Four."

Silence settled over the chamber.

Several commanders exchanged glances.

Vorthan's claws stopped tapping.

"Rank Four humans."

"Only a select number," the commander said quickly. "Individuals screened for loyalty and placed under direct supervision. Stronger human assets would allow us to stabilize several contested nodes without committing Zorvak forces."

Vorthan slowly looked at him.

"And when those assets become strong enough to question why they serve us?"

The commander said nothing.

Vorthan exhaled through his nostrils.

"It would be much simpler to chain the entire species."

Nobody around the table reacted.

"Unfortunately, chains make poor motivation."

Vorthan rose.

The movement alone made several commanders instinctively straighten.

He walked around the table, studying the human territories displayed beneath him.

"Humans are ambitious creatures. Give them nothing, and they become desperate. Give them too much, and they begin imagining themselves your equal."

One claw traced across the holographic Earth.

"So we give them a ladder."

His claw stopped.

"Then decide how high they are permitted to climb."

The commander bowed his head.

"Then you approve the request?"

"Provisionally."

Vorthan turned toward him.

"Advance the most useful candidates. No more than necessary."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And watch them."

"Of course."

"No."

Vorthan's voice hardened.

"Watch them."

The commander stiffened.

"The rebellion has survived because fools underestimate how quickly humans gather around symbols. The moment one becomes powerful enough, dissatisfied enough, or stupid enough to believe they can challenge us, rebels will begin whispering in their ear."

Vorthan's amber eyes burned.

"I want to know about that whisper before the human hears it."

The commander bowed deeply.

"Understood, my Lord."

Vorthan returned to his seat.

"Good."

The meeting continued.

Fleet positions shifted.

Supply routes were redirected.

Colonial quotas were increased.

Two commanders argued over access to a contested resource moon until Vorthan silenced them with a single glare and divided the territory himself.

To Vorthan, entire planets became numbers.

Armies became markers.

Populations became resources.

By the time the final tactical projection disappeared, nearly an hour had passed.

The commanders stood at attention.

In perfect unison, they brought their fists across their chests.

"For the Crown."

Vorthan barely acknowledged them.

"Leave."

The massive doors opened.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

One by one, the commanders departed.

When the last of them disappeared, the blast doors sealed with a deep metallic boom.

Silence returned.

Vorthan leaned back.

For the first time since the meeting began, some of the tension left his shoulders.

A smaller side entrance opened.

A woman entered.

She was not Zorvak.

Her species possessed none of their brutal features. Her skin was smooth and iridescent silver, shifting subtly beneath the chamber lights. Delicate markings curved along her temples, while narrow eyes regarded the room with an intelligence sharp enough to be dangerous.

Her people had been conquered generations ago.

She, however, had risen far beyond the position most vassals were permitted to occupy.

Lord Vorthan's personal assistant.

And one of the few beings in the Empire allowed to speak to him without first kneeling.

A translucent slate hovered above her palm as she approached.

"The southern deployment order has been transmitted," she said. "Task Force G is mobilizing now."

Vorthan grunted.

"Your next appointment is the Imperial Council audit."

His expression darkened.

"Followed by the Sector Nine resource-distribution report."

Vorthan closed his eyes.

"No."

The assistant stopped.

"No?"

"Tell them I died."

She stared at him.

Vorthan opened one eye.

"Temporarily."

"My Lord, I believe the Council would notice."

"Then tell them I conquered something."

"You conquered something yesterday."

"Something larger."

A hint of amusement touched her expression.

"I'll inform them that Lord Vorthan remains tragically alive and will attend as scheduled."

Vorthan growled.

"Administrative nonsense."

He rubbed two claws against his temple.

"I built an empire with blood. I broke armies. I shattered the defenses of twelve worlds personally."

He gestured irritably toward the slate.

"And now my greatest enemy is resource allocation."

"Resource allocation has defeated many rulers."

"I could kill resource allocation."

"I don't believe it has a throat."

"Find one."

The assistant's lips twitched.

Vorthan sank farther into his throne.

"One of my sons needs to become useful enough to take these duties."

"That may take some time."

Vorthan looked at her.

She calmly returned his stare.

"Especially," she continued, "if you are referring to Prince Vorash."

Vorthan's expression changed immediately.

"What did he do?"

"Which incident would you prefer?"

Vorthan's eyes narrowed.

"The newest."

"Two solar cycles ago, Prince Vorash initiated an unauthorized skirmish with a neighboring faction over a minor territorial dispute."

Vorthan went very still.

"He did what?"

"Three ships damaged. One destroyed. Forty-seven casualties."

The assistant flicked her fingers.

A report appeared in the air.

"The opposing faction is demanding compensation."

Vorthan stared at the casualty numbers.

Then he slowly leaned back.

"That idiot."

"He claimed they insulted the Crown."

"Everyone insults the Crown."

"Apparently they did it within hearing distance."

Vorthan muttered something in Zorvak too low for even her to hear.

"He behaves like a feral beast," he growled. "Every problem becomes a challenge to his pride. Every disagreement becomes an excuse to draw a weapon."

"Because he has never suffered meaningful consequences."

Vorthan's eyes shifted toward her.

The assistant continued without hesitation.

"Vorash knows his blood protects him. Most commanders would rather sacrifice an arm than risk killing one of your sons."

"He relies on strength."

"And his title."

"He has no patience."

"Correct."

"No foresight."

"Also correct."

Vorthan's claws tightened around the armrest.

"He wants command."

"Then perhaps you should give him one."

Vorthan's brow lifted.

The assistant tapped her slate.

A new projection appeared.

Earth.

Beside it were streams of human recruitment data.

Millions of candidate files moved across the display.

"The next human intake is beginning secondary processing."

Vorthan looked from the projection to her.

"You want Vorash supervising humans?"

"I want him responsible for them."

Vorthan stared.

Then he laughed.

A deep, rumbling sound rolled through the chamber.

"You want to punish him."

"I want to educate him."

"With humans."

"Precisely."

The assistant enlarged the recruitment projections.

"He believes humans are weak. Disposable. Beneath his attention."

"They are."

"And that attitude is exactly why the assignment would be useful."

Vorthan's amusement faded into interest.

"Explain."

"Give him a cohort."

The assistant moved several figures across the display.

"Make him responsible for their development. Establish performance requirements he cannot satisfy through brute force."

Vorthan leaned forward.

Now she had his attention.

"He must maintain a minimum survival threshold," she continued. "If he drives them too aggressively and loses too many, he fails."

Another condition appeared.

"At the same time, require one squad under his supervision to place among the top ten in the training rankings."

Vorthan's grin slowly returned.

The assistant continued.

"If he protects them too much, they remain weak and he fails."

"If he pushes them too hard..."

"They die."

"And he fails."

"Exactly."

Vorthan tapped one claw against his throne.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then his grin widened.

"Clever."

The assistant inclined her head.

"He wants to rule Zorvaks."

Vorthan looked toward the holographic Earth.

"Let him first prove he can manage humans."

He rose from the throne.

"Set the survival threshold high enough that he cannot simply throw bodies at every problem. At least one squad must finish among the top ten."

"And if he fails?"

"He receives another human cohort."

The assistant raised an eyebrow.

"And if he fails again?"

"Another."

A cruel amusement entered Vorthan's eyes.

"He will repeat the assignment until he learns patience or dies of boredom."

"I suspect he will consider those equally terrible outcomes."

"Good."

Vorthan walked toward the projection.

"There is another advantage."

"My Lord?"

"Vorash needs followers."

The assistant remained silent.

"Not flatterers. Not nobles hoping proximity to my blood will improve their position. Followers."

Vorthan studied the streams of human candidates.

"If any of the humans distinguish themselves, let him choose from them."

"For his personal retinue?"

"If they are worthy."

Vorthan's eyes narrowed.

"A ruler requires subordinates who are loyal to him, not merely frightened of his father."

The assistant dismissed the projection.

"I'll draft the order."

"Make the conditions explicit."

"Of course."

"And tell Vorash that if he complains—"

"You'll assign him more humans?"

Vorthan looked at her.

She looked back.

A slow grin crossed his face.

"You're becoming predictable."

"I've had considerable practice."

She turned toward the exit.

Vorthan settled back onto his throne.

"Oh, and one more thing."

She stopped.

"Yes, my Lord?"

Vorthan's amber eyes gleamed in the darkness.

"Don't tell him this was your idea."

For the first time, the assistant smiled.

"Naturally."

The next month disappeared faster than Ryan wanted to admit.

Thirty days had sounded like enough when Lieutenant Walker first announced it.

It wasn't.

Ryan tried to make every one of them count.

He spent entire nights gaming with Jax and Jessica until someone fell asleep with their headset still on. He ate dinner with his mother whenever their schedules allowed. He helped Sarah with chores without complaining nearly as much as usual, which immediately made her suspicious that he had been replaced by an alien.

They watched movies.

Argued over food.

Fought over the bathroom.

Did all the ordinary things Ryan had never considered important before.

Now they were.

Because every ordinary moment carried an expiration date.

And no matter how desperately Ryan wanted the month to slow down, departure day arrived anyway.

The local spaceport was packed.

Hundreds of families crowded the enormous terminal beneath towering departure screens and glowing Exclipse insignias. Boarding announcements echoed from overhead speakers while Vanguard personnel directed streams of cadets toward security checkpoints.

Everywhere Ryan looked, someone was saying goodbye.

Parents clung to their children.

Brothers and sisters cried.

Some families tried to laugh through it.

Others didn't even bother pretending.

These weren't kids leaving for college.

They were fifteen-year-olds leaving the planet.

And everyone knew why.

"Are you absolutely sure you have everything?"

Ryan looked at his mother.

"Yes."

Malisa adjusted his jacket.

"Your identification?"

"Yes."

"Transit clearance?"

"It's built into my ID."

"Emergency contact information?"

"Mom."

"Did you check?"

"Three times."

"Check again."

Ryan laughed softly.

Malisa didn't.

Her eyes were red.

She had obviously tried to hide it, but Ryan knew she'd been crying before they arrived.

He gently caught her hands before she could adjust his collar for the fifth time.

"Mom."

She looked at him.

"I have everything."

"You barely packed anything."

"Because they told us not to."

"They couldn't possibly have everything you need."

"They literally have a space station."

"That doesn't mean they remembered socks."

Ryan stared at her.

For half a second, Malisa stared back.

Then both of them laughed.

It didn't last long.

Ryan squeezed her hands.

"They're supplying our uniforms, gear, equipment, terminals—everything. All I'm supposed to bring is myself."

Malisa's smile trembled.

"That's the part I'm worried about."

Ryan's chest tightened.

He didn't know what to say to that.

So he looked toward Sarah.

She stood a few feet away with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Her eyes were fixed on the floor.

Ryan tilted his head.

"What's with the face?"

Sarah didn't answer.

Ryan leaned sideways until his head entered her line of sight.

"Are you actually going to miss me?"

"No."

"Wow. Immediate answer. That hurts."

She glared at him.

Ryan placed a hand dramatically against his chest.

"After everything I've done for you."

"You annoy me for free."

"Exactly. Do you know how expensive professional entertainment is?"

Sarah rolled her eyes.

Ryan grinned.

"Or are you upset because you finally realized you're doing trash duty alone?"

That earned him a shove.

"You're my only brother, idiot."

Ryan staggered backward dramatically.

"Violence? In front of Mom?"

"Unfortunately, she's still not going to save you."

Malisa managed a weak smile.

Sarah crossed her arms again.

"I'm not going to miss you."

"Of course not."

"I'm serious."

"Totally."

"The second your shuttle leaves, I'm taking your stuff."

Ryan's eyes widened.

"My stuff?"

"Your half of the room is mine now."

"Absolutely not."

"Already decided."

Ryan pointed accusingly at her.

"Sarah."

She finally smiled.

"I'm throwing away your Darkstar posters first."

Ryan gasped.

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me."

"Those are limited edition!"

"Not anymore."

Ryan clutched his chest.

"If I come back and find one scratch on those posters, I'm taking everything you own."

"Good luck, space boy."

Ryan narrowed his eyes.

"Besides..."

He leaned closer.

"Who's going to sneak you extra dessert when Mom isn't looking?"

Sarah scoffed.

"I can get my own dessert."

"You are losing a high-tier asset today."

"I'll survive."

"I give you two weeks."

"Three days before I forget you exist."

Ryan smiled.

Sarah tried to do the same.

Then her expression broke.

One tear escaped.

She immediately wiped it away.

Ryan's smile disappeared.

Sarah looked down.

"I hate you."

Ryan stepped forward.

"I know."

"You suck."

"Also know."

"You better come back."

That one hurt.

Ryan wrapped his arms around her.

Sarah buried her face against his chest and grabbed the back of his jacket with both hands.

The teasing vanished.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Ryan held her tighter.

He wanted to tell her five years would pass quickly.

He wanted to tell her nothing would happen to him.

He wanted to promise that everything would be exactly the same when he returned.

But for once, Ryan understood that some promises were too big to make.

So he gave her one he intended to keep.

"I'll call whenever they let me."

Sarah sniffed.

"You better."

"I will."

"And don't become some annoying famous streamer and pretend you don't know me."

Ryan pulled back.

"Are you kidding? You're going straight into my content."

"What?"

"'My Annoying Little Sister Reacts to Alien Food.' Easy million views."

Sarah punched him.

Ryan laughed.

When they separated, he wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"Take care of Mom for me."

Sarah's expression became serious.

"You take care of yourself."

"I can do both."

"Ryan."

He stopped smiling.

Sarah stared directly into his eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Ryan considered pointing out that this was an unreasonable request.

He decided against it.

"I'll try."

"That's not reassuring."

"It's the best you're getting."

Sarah shook her head.

Ryan turned toward his mother.

That was harder.

Malisa didn't say anything.

She simply pulled him into her arms.

Ryan hugged her back.

For a moment, he felt like a little kid again.

Not a cadet.

Not an Awakened candidate.

Just her son.

Malisa held him tightly.

"Be safe."

Her voice cracked against his shoulder.

Ryan closed his eyes.

"I will."

"Promise me."

He swallowed.

"I promise."

The boarding announcement sounded overhead.

"Orbital Transport 17-A. Final boarding call. All assigned cadets report immediately."

Ryan opened his eyes.

Time.

Malisa slowly released him.

Ryan stepped backward.

His mother wiped her eyes.

Sarah stood beside her, trying very hard not to cry again.

Ryan raised a hand.

"See you guys."

Malisa smiled through her tears.

"We love you."

Ryan's throat tightened.

"Love you too."

He turned before either of them could see his expression break.

Then he joined the boarding line.

One step.

Then another.

He resisted the urge to look back.

He made it five steps.

Then looked anyway.

They were still there.

His mother had one arm around Sarah.

Both were watching him.

Ryan raised his hand again.

Sarah raised hers.

Then the crowd swallowed him.

The transport waiting beyond the security checkpoint was enormous.

Ryan slowed as he entered the boarding gantry.

He'd seen shuttles overhead thousands of times, but standing beside one made him appreciate the scale.

The vessel was a matte-black armored behemoth, built more like a flying fortress than a passenger craft. Heavy plating covered the hull, broken only by maneuvering thrusters, sensor arrays, and the white insignia of the Exclipse.

Vanguard logistics officers lined the gantry.

"Keep moving."

"Identification ready."

"Follow your assigned boarding group."

"Do not stop inside the hatch."

Ryan joined the flow.

The pressurized doors swallowed him.

Inside, there was nothing luxurious about the shuttle.

Rows of high-density seats filled the passenger deck, each equipped with a five-point restraint harness. Reinforced hull plating replaced windows, while cold blue strips provided most of the illumination.

Ryan glanced around.

No Jax.

No Jessica.

Still no Leo.

He pushed that thought aside.

A logistics officer checked the tablet in his hand.

"Lowell. Row Fourteen. Seat B."

Ryan nodded.

"Thanks."

"Move."

"Right."

He found Row Fourteen.

A nervous-looking boy already occupied the seat beside him.

The kid had both hands wrapped around his harness buckles so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

Ryan dropped into his seat.

"Hey."

No response.

Ryan started fastening his harness.

"Pretty sure those buckles didn't do anything to you."

The boy looked over.

"What?"

"If you squeeze them any harder, they're going to file a complaint."

The boy stared at him.

Then released a shaky breath.

"Sorry."

He loosened his grip.

"Never been off-world before."

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"You're saying that like the rest of us commute to Mars every weekend."

The boy laughed despite himself.

"My stomach's been doing backflips since five this morning."

"Ryan."

He extended a hand as far as the restraints allowed.

"Sector Four."

The boy shook it.

"Marcus. Sector Nine. Lower district."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Ryan settled against the headrest.

"Just remember, if something goes wrong, we're surrounded by trained Vanguard personnel."

Marcus nodded.

"That's actually reassuring."

"And if they start panicking..."

Ryan shrugged.

"...then we're completely screwed."

Marcus stared at him.

Ryan grinned.

Marcus burst out laughing.

"Man, you're terrible at this."

"I helped for like three seconds."

A girl in the row ahead turned around.

"Ignore him. He's probably more terrified than you are."

Ryan placed a hand against his chest.

"Slander."

"Your hands are shaking."

Ryan immediately looked down.

They weren't.

The girl laughed.

"Made you look."

Ryan narrowed his eyes.

"Okay. We're enemies now."

The laughter spread to a couple of nearby cadets.

For a few moments, the tension inside the shuttle eased.

Marcus leaned closer.

"So what power are you hoping for?"

That got Ryan's attention.

"Something offensive."

"Obviously."

"I'm serious. Something with range would be nice. Energy projection, elemental abilities..."

"Shadow powers?"

Ryan glanced at him.

Marcus shrugged.

"Everyone watches Darkstar."

Ryan smiled.

"I wouldn't complain."

"What about you?" Ryan asked.

Marcus leaned back.

"Support."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Give me healing, repair, barriers, enhancement—anything that lets me stand fifty feet behind people like you."

Ryan laughed.

"Smart."

"I enjoy being alive."

"Fair."

Marcus pointed at him.

"You keep the monsters away from me, I'll keep your armor together."

Ryan extended his fist.

"Deal."

Marcus bumped it.

A sharp chime interrupted them.

Red lights illuminated along the ceiling.

The entire passenger deck fell quiet.

A voice sounded through the intercom.

"All cadets, prepare for departure."

Ryan's smile faded.

This was it.

"Inertial dampeners online."

A mechanical hum traveled through the floor.

Ryan tightened his harness.

"Primary thrusters engaging in three..."

His heart started pounding.

"Two..."

He thought of his mother.

Sarah.

Home.

"One."

The shuttle moved.

Ryan expected violence.

Crushing acceleration.

His stomach dropping through the floor.

Instead, a gentle pressure pushed him deeper into his seat.

That was all.

He blinked.

"We're moving?"

Marcus looked equally confused.

"I think so."

The vibration deepened.

Ryan couldn't see outside.

That suddenly bothered him.

Somewhere beyond the armored hull, his city was shrinking beneath them.

Then the state.

Then the continent.

Earth itself.

Ryan closed his eyes.

He tried to imagine it.

The blue atmosphere thinning.

The darkness of space swallowing the sky.

The world he'd spent his entire life on becoming a sphere behind him.

A strange pressure formed in his chest that had nothing to do with acceleration.

He was leaving Earth.

Actually leaving.

There was no turning around now.

Several minutes passed.

Then the vibration changed.

The shuttle shuddered once.

CLANG.

Marcus jumped.

Ryan's eyes snapped open.

"That sounded healthy."

Marcus stared at him.

"Please stop helping."

Ryan grinned.

The intercom activated.

"Docking complete. Orbital Station, Bay Twelve."

Ryan froze.

Already?

"Remain seated while pressure equalization completes."

A low hiss traveled through the hull.

Green lights replaced the red ones.

Harness locks released automatically.

"Cadets may now disembark. Follow illuminated pathways to processing. Do not separate from your assigned intake group."

Marcus unclipped himself.

His hands were steady now.

"Guess this is it."

Ryan stood.

"Guess so."

Marcus smiled.

"See you around, front-liner."

Ryan grinned.

"Count on it, support."

They joined the aisle.

Hundreds of cadets filed through the shuttle in orderly columns.

Ryan crossed the airlock.

Then stopped.

The person behind him nearly walked into his back.

"Move, cadet!"

Ryan barely heard the Vanguard officer.

He stared.

The shuttle hadn't docked at some ordinary terminal.

It had entered a cavern.

A man-made cavern in space.

The staging bay stretched so far that Ryan couldn't clearly see the opposite wall. Gigantic support structures rose hundreds of meters overhead, disappearing among suspended walkways, docking cranes, fuel conduits, and glowing traffic lanes.

Black transport shuttles filled the space.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

They hovered between docking platforms or rested in enormous berths while fresh waves of cadets poured from their open hatches.

Ryan finally started walking again.

His gaze moved everywhere at once.

Above him, military vessels drifted through magnetic docking lanes.

Below, enormous concourses carried rivers of people through the station.

Holographic signs floated in the air.

SECTOR 17 INTAKE

SECTOR 31 INTAKE

NORTH AMERICAN PROCESSING

EUROPEAN PROCESSING

ASIA-PACIFIC PROCESSING

AFRICAN PROCESSING

More designations stretched beyond what Ryan could read.

And everywhere—

Cadets.

Thousands within sight.

More arriving every second.

The scale overwhelmed him.

Ryan reached the edge of the elevated catwalk.

His steps slowed.

Below him stretched an ocean of gray uniforms.

Teenagers filled entire concourses.

Lines disappeared through enormous processing gates.

Transport after transport continued unloading.

Ryan had spent the last month thinking about Room 208.

Jax.

Jessica.

Leo.

The forty percent who had passed at his academy.

Some part of him had understood that Recruitment Day happened everywhere.

But understanding a number wasn't the same as seeing it.

This wasn't one school.

It wasn't one city.

It wasn't even one country.

The Exclipse had reached across the entire planet.

Millions of fifteen-year-olds.

Millions of newly ignited cores.

Millions of families had stood in spaceports today and said goodbye.

Ryan stared across the endless station.

For the first time, he understood just how small his own story was inside the machine he'd willingly stepped into.

Then he felt the warmth beneath his sternum.

His core.

Ryan's eyes lifted toward the colossal structures towering above him.

Somewhere inside this station, his real training was waiting.

His abilities.

His future.

Maybe even the path that would eventually lead him to his father.

The fear didn't disappear.

Neither did the excitement.

They existed together now.

Ryan smiled.

Then a Vanguard officer barked from farther down the catwalk.

"New arrivals! Keep moving! Secondary evaluation begins immediately!"

Ryan's smile faded.

Secondary evaluation?

He remembered Lieutenant Walker's briefing.

You have ignited your cores. You are not yet fully Awakened.

Around him, millions of cadets continued marching deeper into the station.

Ryan tightened the strap of his issued bag and followed.

Far beyond Earth, orders bearing Prince Vorash's name were already moving through the same system.

Ryan Lowell had no idea who Vorash was.

Vorash had no idea Ryan existed.

That was about to change.