The announcement came without warning.
No horns.No alarms.No buildup.
A single clear command echoed across the training grounds just after noon.
"All active defenders report immediately. Mandatory evaluation."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the yard erupted.
"What evaluation?""Now?""During this?"
Kael froze mid-step, the wooden practice sword still in his hand. Around him, conversations died and restarted in sharp bursts. Wardens moved quickly, forcing people into rough lines before confusion could turn into panic.
Tavian appeared at Kael's side, breath already shallow.
"That's not routine," Tavian said.
Kael nodded slowly. "It's judgment."
They were herded toward the central grounds, where temporary platforms had already been erected. That alone was unsettling. These structures hadn't been there that morning.
Someone had planned this.
Ronas stood elevated above them, flanked by Wardens and two unfamiliar officers Kael had never seen before. Their armor was darker. Plainer. No insignia.
That worried Kael more than anything else.
"This evaluation is not a punishment," Ronas said, his voice carrying easily.
No one believed him.
"With the recent changes in sea behavior," Ronas continued, "we can no longer rely on assumptions about readiness."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"Every active defender will be evaluated."
The yard went quiet.
"Combat ability," Ronas said."Coordination.""Judgment under pressure."
A murmur spread.
"Results will determine deployment."
That mattered.
Frontline duty meant respect.Demotion meant shame.Removal meant being labeled a liability.
"And," Ronas added calmly, "some of you will be removed from active defense."
Silence.
Kael felt Lyra stiffen somewhere behind him.
Rask smiled.
Finally.
"This favors the strong," Rask said loudly, not bothering to hide his satisfaction.
Ronas looked directly at him. "It favors the prepared."
Kael didn't miss the difference.
They were divided into groups almost immediately.
Kael's group was small.
Too small.
Rask.Mira.Two Shields Kael barely recognized—young, tense, trying not to show it.
No Tavian.
Kael searched the yard until he found him across the field, already being pulled toward a different section by a Warden.
Tavian caught his eye and mouthed a word.
Written.
Kael frowned.
A Warden stepped forward in Kael's section.
"First phase," he announced. "Simulated breach."
The ground beneath their feet shifted.
Panels slid open. Weighted gates dropped. Targets rose from concealed slots in the stone.
No explanation.No walkthrough.
"You respond as you would on the wall," the Warden said. "Begin."
A horn sounded.
Chaos.
Rask moved first, resonance flaring as he charged straight ahead, smashing through the nearest target with brute force. Mira split off to the right, fast and precise, covering angles instinctively.
One of the Shields froze.
Kael saw it instantly.
The boy's eyes were locked on a moving target, body refusing to follow.
A weighted strike swung down.
Kael moved without thinking.
He grabbed the Shield and dragged him sideways just as the weight slammed into the stone where the boy had been standing. The impact cracked the surface.
"Move!" Kael shouted.
The Shield stumbled, shaking.
Rask turned sharply. "Stay out of my way!"
Kael ignored him and pivoted, intercepting a second target before it could reach the inner line. He struck at the joint, redirecting momentum rather than overpowering it.
The Warden's eyes followed him.
Too closely.
The test ended as abruptly as it began.
"Enough," the Warden called.
The mechanisms locked into place. Targets froze mid-motion.
"No scores announced," the Warden said. "Proceed to the next station."
Kael's chest burned. Not from exertion alone, but from something tighter.
Mira leaned close as they moved. "You shouldn't have saved him."
Kael looked at her sharply. "Why?"
She didn't answer.
The second station was worse.
A narrow course. Elevated platforms. Moving sections.
"Coordination trial," another Warden announced. "You will cross as a unit."
Rask scoffed. "Slow us down, why don't you."
The course activated.
Platforms shifted unpredictably. One wrong step meant a fall into the net below—automatic failure.
Rask surged ahead, jumping without waiting.
Mira hesitated, then followed.
The Shields struggled.
Kael slowed.
"Wait," he said. "Move together."
Rask laughed as he landed on the final platform. "That's not how survival works."
A platform shifted.
One Shield slipped.
Kael caught him by the arm, straining as the platform tilted.
The Warden watched.
Kael pulled the Shield up just in time.
They crossed last.
Rask had already finished.
The look he gave Kael was pure contempt.
Between stations, Kael finally spotted Tavian again.
He was surrounded by officers, arguing animatedly while pointing at a large slate covered in symbols and diagrams.
Tavian noticed Kael watching and grimaced.
Problem, he mouthed.
Before Kael could react, Ronas's voice carried across the grounds.
"Final phase begins at dusk."
The yard stilled.
"This phase," Ronas said, "cannot be passed through strength alone."
His eyes swept the groups.
Then, very briefly, they stopped on Kael.
The field was rearranged as the sun lowered.
Markers were placed. Lines drawn. Symbols etched into the ground.
Kael's unease grew.
This wasn't a physical test.
This was something else.
"You will be given a scenario," the Warden explained. "Incomplete information. Limited resources."
"You will choose."
"Your decision will be evaluated."
Rask cracked his neck. "Finally."
Kael's pulse quickened.
This wasn't about winning.
It was about judgment.
The scenario began.
A simulated breach.Multiple false signals.Conflicting orders shouted by different Wardens.
"Hold position!""Advance!""Fallback!"
The noise was deliberate.
Rask charged toward the loudest threat.
Mira hesitated, torn.
The Shields panicked.
Kael took a breath and scanned the field.
Something didn't add up.
The real threat wasn't where the noise was.
It was where there was nothing.
Kael turned.
"Inner line," he said sharply. "Now."
No one listened.
A weighted gate slammed open behind them.
The Shield screamed as the mechanism dropped.
Kael moved.
Too late.
The horn sounded.
"Stop."
The field froze.
The Shield lay shaking, unhurt but flagged.
Failure.
The Warden turned toward Kael.
"You gave an order," he said.
"Yes."
"They did not follow it."
Kael swallowed. "That doesn't make it wrong."
The Warden didn't respond.
Rask smiled.
As dusk deepened, the evaluations continued across the grounds.
People failed.
People succeeded.
People were quietly pulled aside and not returned.
Kael stood at the edge of the field, hands clenched.
This wasn't about strength.
This was about who they trusted.
And Kael realized something chilling.
They weren't testing who could fight.
They were testing who would break, who would obey, and who would think when disobedience was required.
Ronas watched everything.
Unblinking.
The final horn sounded.
"Results will be announced tomorrow," Ronas said.
Relief and dread mixed in the air.
As the groups dispersed, a Warden stopped Kael.
"You," he said. "Remain."
Kael's stomach tightened.
Rask glanced back, surprised.
Mira frowned.
Kael stepped forward.
The Warden lowered his voice.
"Your evaluation is… incomplete."
Kael met his gaze. "Meaning?"
"It means," the Warden said, "you'll be tested again."
Alone.