The sea broke its silence at dawn.
Not with a roar.
With movement.
Kael was already awake when the Watcher horn sounded—short, sharp, urgent. He was on his feet before the echo faded, sword in hand, boots barely tied as he ran.
Outside, the island was already moving.
Shadows raced along the walls. Lanterns flared to life. Orders were shouted from tower to tower.
"Contact near the southern rocks!"
"Multiple signatures!"
"Low depth—fast movement!"
Drifters.
Kael reached the wall just as the first shape surfaced.
Small. Sleek. Too fast.
It skimmed across the water like it wasn't bound by waves at all.
"Shields forward!" a Warden shouted.
Shields took position along the lower platforms, blades raised. Strikers moved behind them, waiting for an opening.
Kael stood with the reserves.
Waiting.
The first Drifter lunged.
Steel rang.
The Shield line held.
Another Drifter followed. Then another.
"They're probing," someone muttered.
Kael's eyes tracked the water. Something felt wrong.
They weren't attacking together.
They were spacing themselves.
"Watch the flank!" Kael shouted.
Too late.
A Drifter slipped through a gap between platforms, skimming low and fast toward the eastern steps.
"Reserve!" a Warden barked.
Kael moved.
He sprinted down the wet stone, boots slipping. He struck as the creature leapt.
The blade cut clean—but shallow.
The Drifter twisted midair and slammed into him.
They hit the ground hard.
Kael rolled, pain flaring through his shoulder. He forced himself up just as the creature lunged again.
A second blade struck it from the side.
Mira.
She didn't slow. "Don't let it turn!"
Kael nodded and pressed in. Together, they drove the creature back toward the rocks, striking where plates overlapped.
It shrieked—a sharp, grating sound that cut through the air.
Then it fell still.
No time to breathe.
Another horn blast.
"Left side breached!"
Kael turned.
Someone was down.
Olek lay near the edge of the platform.
Not moving.
Blood spread dark across the stone beneath him.
A Drifter stood over him, limbs twitching.
Rask charged first.
Too fast. Too angry.
The creature twisted and slashed. Rask barely blocked, stumbling back.
Kael didn't think.
He moved.
The strike was clean this time.
The Drifter collapsed.
Silence fell slowly.
Too slowly.
Someone knelt beside Olek.
"Medic!"
"Get a medic!"
Kael knelt too.
Olek's eyes were open.
But unfocused.
His chest rose shallowly.
Kael pressed his hand against the wound, trying to slow the blood.
"You're fine," Kael said, even though he knew it wasn't true. "Just stay with us."
Olek tried to speak.
No sound came out.
A medic arrived moments later, pushing Kael aside.
"Move!"
Kael stumbled back, chest tight.
They carried Olek away on a stretcher.
No one followed.
The fight wasn't over.
The Drifters retreated soon after.
As suddenly as they came.
The sea calmed again.
The damage remained.
When the horn finally sounded the all-clear, no one cheered.
People stood where they were, weapons hanging heavy in their hands.
Rhen walked the line once.
Slow.
Measured.
When he reached Kael, he stopped.
"You broke formation," Rhen said.
"Yes, sir," Kael replied.
"You acted without command."
"Yes, sir."
Rhen looked toward where Olek had fallen.
Then back at Kael.
"You saved others," Rhen said.
Kael didn't answer.
Rhen turned away.
The yard filled later.
Everyone.
Trainees. Wardens. Watchers. Shields. Strikers.
Olek lay nearby, covered.
Rhen stood before them.
"This morning," he said, "we lost one of our own."
No one spoke.
"Olek held his position," Rhen continued. "He followed orders. He trusted the line."
Rask clenched his fists.
Rhen's voice hardened. "That didn't save him."
A ripple moved through the crowd.
"This is not failure," Rhen said. "This is reality."
His gaze swept the yard.
"You will learn from it," he said. "Or more names will be added."
Someone broke down quietly near the back.
Rhen didn't stop.
"Dismissed."
Later, Kael sat alone near the barracks steps.
His hands still smelled like blood.
Tavian approached slowly and sat beside him.
"He didn't die immediately," Tavian said. "They're still trying."
Kael nodded.
Tavian hesitated. "People are talking."
"About what."
"About you."
Kael looked up.
"They say you move when others freeze," Tavian continued. "That you don't wait."
Kael swallowed. "Someone still got hurt."
"Yes," Tavian said softly. "But not as many."
Kael stared at the ground.
That didn't feel like comfort.
Rhen found him at dusk.
"You want to know why you weren't punished," Rhen said.
Kael stood. "Yes, sir."
Rhen's voice dropped.
"This isn't enlistment," he said quietly.
"This is just island duty. The real oath comes later—if you're chosen."
Kael's breath caught.
Rhen straightened. "Until then, you obey."
"Yes, sir," Kael said.
Rhen walked away.
Kael stood still long after.
That night, the island mourned quietly.
No ceremony.
No speeches.
Just empty beds and lowered voices.
Kael stood on the wall, watching the sea.
Drifters were supposed to be scouts.
Testers.
Weak.
So why did they move like that?
Why did they space themselves?
Why retreat once the damage was done?
The questions had no answers.
Yet.
Far beneath the surface, currents shifted.
Patterns adjusted.
One loss recorded.
Response evaluated.
The island had proven something.
And so had Kael.
By morning, the calm returned.
But it no longer felt empty.
It felt expectant.