They had their code now.
Next, they'd learn what happened when someone broke it.
"Bring the accused forward," Cael said.
The bunker doors opened. Two of his new officers entered, flanking a young man in worn clothes and a too-clean shirt. His chin was lifted. His eyes flicked around the room, trying to look bored and landing somewhere around brittle.
Talia watched the way people reacted to him. Surprise from some. Recognition from others. A few of the younger cluster stiffened, looking suddenly ill.
"Why's he here?" someone whispered. "What did he do?"
"Is that why the guards were so tense this morning?"
The officers stopped the accused in front of the table.
"You stand before the Deepway Council," Cael said, voice even. "Charged with theft of Clan resources, deliberate manipulation of Clan members for destabilisation, and attempted interference with the Territory Keystone."
The word Keystone hissed through the room like a drawn breath. Everyone knew it existed. Not everyone had realised it could be endangered.
"Did he really—?"
"Interfere with the Lord's stone?"
Cael didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"During the storm," he said, "this man encouraged a group of young adults to question leadership. That alone is not a crime. Questioning is healthy. But he also instructed them to consider attacking the Keystone to 'test the Lord's control'. When they refused, he attempted to turn their fear into resentment. When that failed, he accepted a temporary shift in the resource storage station… and stole Beast Shards from the Clan inventory."
The accused snorted softly. "You make it sound so dramatic."
Collie stepped from the side, shoulders squared. "Three separate witnesses saw you remove the shards," he said. "Plus the rotation records, the missing inventory tallies, and the space pocket on your hand you didn't have before leaving the meadow of arrival."
Eyes dropped immediately to the gold ring.
His jaw tightened. "Someone had to test you," he said. His tone was cool, almost lecturing. "You hand out power to family, call it a Clan, and expect everyone to just nod and smile? I wanted to see if leadership would stay honest when challenged."
"You tried to get someone to damage the Keystone," Cael said. "That isn't a test. That's an attempted crippling of the territory."
"Maybe if you'd explained what it actually did," The young man shot back, "people wouldn't be so scared of it. But no. Secrets. Whispers. Only the special few get to touch the shiny rock."
Talia held his gaze. "You're not angry about secrecy," she said. "You're angry you weren't invited."
A flicker—there and gone.
In the rows behind him, one of the young men that the agitator had targeted swallowed hard. "Were we just tools to you?" he asked, voice shaking. "All that talk about 'we deserve to know'—that was just bait?"
The accused scoffed. "You wanted someone to say what you were already thinking."
Cael lifted a hand, and the low rumbling of anger in the room stilled.
"Intent is proven by action," he said. "Not excuses. You wanted Shards. You went straight for them. You wanted control. You went straight for the Keystone. You didn't bring concerns to the council. You didn't ask for transparency. You tried to break trust in the dark."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating.
People's faces shifted as they traced back their conversations with the accused over the past weeks. The little comments. The almost-jokes. The "I'm nobody, they don't care what I think" lines that had seemed harmless.
Now they tasted sour.
One of the teen girls who he had hovered around wrapped her arms around herself. "We defended you," she whispered. "We thought you were just… brave. Speaking up."
"You bowed your heads like sheep," He snapped back, a crack slipping into his coolness. "Someone had to push back. You want to pretend this is a Clan? Clans fall when no one questions the leaders."
"Clans fall faster," Theo said quietly, "when sabotage is dressed up as 'testing'."
The accused sneered. "You can't rule me."
"No," Cael agreed. "We can't. Deepway only rules those who choose to stand inside it. You chose otherwise when you stole from the Clan and tried to weaponise the Keystone." He turned to the council table. "Council of Deepway. You've heard the charges and the evidence. Verdict?"
One by one, each member gave a single word.
"Exile," Grandma said, eyes like flint.
"Evan," Evan murmured, mouth tight, holding back his words.
"Exile," Mum whispered, fingers laced together.
Dav's jaw clenched. "Exile."
Theo met the accused's gaze. "Exile."
The Sentinel Council continued all with one common word, Talia was last. The weight of the room pressed against her, watching.
"Exile," she said.
Cael faced the bunker again.
"By unanimous vote," he said, "You are hearby exiled from Deepway and you're name will be redacted from Clan records. Your place here ends today."
The word exile landed like a physical thing.
People thought of the storm outside days ago, of the beasts, of watching a lightning lion race along vertical rock and of the way the world itself did not care if they lived.
No one cheered.
Auntie Junia's voice gentled. "Deepway stands for us all," she said. "Those who attempt to break it, leave it."
Cael stepped forward. The young man's defiance drained by degrees as the two officers took position at his sides again.
"Escort him to the tunnel mouth," Cael said. "Return his basic gear."
The young man's footsteps echoed harshly on the wooden planks laid across the bunker floor. No one reached for him. A few turned away. Others watched, faces shuttered, absorbing what exile meant here: no lynching, no beating.
Just separation and consequences.
Auntie Junia waited until the door closed behind them.
"We move forward together," she said softly to the bunker, to the people clutching children, to the youths staring at the floor. "Just as we did when we left the meadow. Deepway was built because we work with each other. That doesn't mean we never disagree, it means we don't break each other to win."
Talia rose only after the murmurs settled—not sharply, not dramatically. Just enough to remind the room she was still there.
"This world is already hard enough," she said, voice carrying without effort. "It does not need us tearing at each other from the inside."
She let her gaze move across the bunker—families, workers, youths, elders.
"Storms don't care about our feelings. Beasts don't care about fairness and the land doesn't care if we're tired. If we, the Clan fracture, we don't just suffer—we become more vulnerable to the world."
Her hands rested on the table. Steady. Grounded.
"If you are angry, confused, afraid, or struggling, you are not wrong for feeling that way. But from today forward, there is a process."
She lifted one finger.
"For concerns about safety, manipulation, or internal tension—go to the Intelligence department. They mediate, investigate, and prevent escalation."
A second finger.
"For emotional strain, grief, burnout, or loss—go to Entertainment and Community Care. They will help you carry it."
A third.
"For deeper distress, trauma, or anything that feels beyond your control—go to Medical. Quietly and without shame."
Her voice softened, but did not weaken.
"Any issue that threatens the Clan will be raised in a department meeting, resolved through structure, and followed by a public notice. No whispers. No shadow justice. This is how we survive—together."
She paused.
"That is the process from today onward."
After a breath, Theo stepped forward, scroll in hand.
"Department formation begins immediately," he said. "Over the next few days, offers will be issued and applications accepted. Leadership roles first. Support roles after."
His eyes swept the room, calculating and calm.
"Within five days, all departments will be operational. Rotations will adjust, training schedules will be released and Contribution rates will be notified through departments."
He nodded once.
"This isn't the end of chaos. It's the beginning of order."
The room breathed out, slow and rough. People began to shift, speak, cling, think, the council stayed to answer questions.
Talia sat very still for a moment, letting it settle inside her.
They were not just survivors anymore.
They'd just proven it.
Over at the tunnel entrance, lantern light flickered over pale stone as the young man was escorted through. The officers stopped at the border of the hunting grounds; the air felt colder there.
They watched him walk into the deeper dark alone.
Neither noticed the shadow that eased away from a tree and slipped after him, silent as a breath, eyes narrowed in thought.
A loose branch shifted underfoot. A root caught where the path narrowed.
The young man stumbled, swore, and went down hard into the undergrowth, the breath punched from his lungs as damp earth and leaves swallowed the sound.
In that brief, chaotic moment of the fall—pain, panic, scrambling hands—a set of fingers brushed his knuckle. Quick, exact and his ring was gone.
By the time he dragged himself upright, coughing and furious, the ring was no longer on his hand, scrabbling frantically he searched in the undergrowth.
The shadow silently watched the young man for a short while more, before putting the ring in his pocket, it would not enter his space pocket and turned back toward the tunnel, task complete.