As I gaze out the train window, the sky is painted with warm, vibrant hues-bright blues, radiant yellows, and soft oranges. The sun shines brightly, casting a warm glow over the city, a reminder that we haven't been gone for too long. The tests only took three hours, and now we're finally heading home.

"How did you do it?" Tonya's voice cuts through my thoughts. She's sitting back, arms crossed, a frown shadowing her face.

I glance at her, raising an eyebrow.

She scoffs, her hands moving as though she's reenacting some imaginary scene. "Your second try was flawless. Flawless. Ten out of ten bullseyes. That range is brutal. Even I couldn't score all ten with a second try, and I know I'm better than you with guns so how did you do it?"

I suppress a smile. "Does it matter, anway? Like West says, there are no second chances in the Chamber. Doesn't count at all."

Tonya rolls her eyes. "Still impressive though." She leans back against her seat. "You saw them, right? All ten rounds, dead center, no hesitation. Every. Single. Time."

I stiffen slightly, but I keep my face neutral. "Who were the Protectors' heirs?"

I ask because I need to know my enemies strengths.

She freezes mid-gesture and stares at me, mouth agape. "Wait-you don't know who the Protectors' heirs of the Veilborne are?"

I shrug, pretending disinterest, though I'm suddenly wary. "Not really."

Tonya huffs, leaning forward as if she's about to reveal a secret. The Protectors are the highest-ranked fighters in the Veilborne. They're in charge of the soldiers, but it's more than that. They're the ones who go on the most dangerous missions-retrieving supplies, raiding enemy caches, recovering weapons. They're practically legends.

"That Veilborne boy that was staring you down at the end of the second test?" Tonya leans in, her voice low. "He's a Protector's heir. The second highest ranked in their ranks."

"He pushed me over. Tried to knock me out during the second test, can you believe it? He's pretty lucky I didn't punch him in the face," I spit.

She gives me an incredulous look. "He tried to eliminate you?"

I nod as the memory surfaces-his sharp gaze boring into mine, his movements deliberate. Tonya leans closer, her voice dropping as if sharing a scandalous secret. "If he could do that infront of everyone, I can only imagine what he's capable of when no one is watching."

Her words linger in the air, pressing down on me. I stare out the window, hiding my reaction. One of their Protectors' sons. It makes sense now, his obnoxious exterior and the cold way he moved. It wasn't just arrogance-it was training, years of it.

"And what about the boy he was always around. The boy with dark brown eyes, tousled black hair and a bit of a tan to his skin?"

Tonya's eyes narrow thoughtfully, as if piecing together a puzzle. She tilts her head, her expression knowing. “You mean Kael?”

I blink, surprised she knows exactly who I’m talking about. “Kael?” I echo, testing the name.

She leans back slightly, her tone dropping even lower, like she’s unveiling the final piece of a well-kept secret. “Kael Ardin—the highest-ranked Protector’s son. The one and only.”

I remember stealing a glance at the candidates that passed after our final test. He was there, but he seemed like he was in another world while his friends chatted and laughed. He barely expressed any emotion, his face a calm mask, unreadable. Then our eyes met. For a moment, I braced myself for the usual cold disdain that Veilborne reserved for Ironclad. But instead, his gaze wasn’t hard or cruel—it was steady, almost searching. As if, for a brief second, I wasn’t just another number to him. Then, just as quickly, his attention shifted, leaving me wondering if I’d imagined the whole thing.

“He doesn’t act like it,” I mutter.

Tonya snorts softly. “That’s what makes him worse. An enemy that doesn't act like an enemy is a venomous snake that strikes when you least expect it to."

Her words send a chill through me. I look back out the window, but it’s not the city I see. It’s the Veilborne candidates.

When I pull myself back to the present, I notice Tonya studying me with a curious tilt of her head. Her gaze lingers, sharp and observant, and I can feel the question forming before she even speaks.

"Alright, I have to ask," she begins, leaning forward. "What's the deal with the scarf? You've been wearing it the whole time, even during the tests."

I glance at her briefly, my fingers instinctively brushing the edge of the fabric covering the lower half of my face. "It's nothing," I say casually, shifting in my seat to look out the window.

"It's not nothing," she presses, smirking like she's caught me in a lie. "I mean, it's hot out today, and no one else is walking around wrapped up like that. What, you got a scar you're hiding?"

I shrug, forcing a smirk of my own. "It's a habit I got from my mother but deep down I think I just wanted to take my test by intimidating everyone around me. You know, give them a little mystery."

"That's why you almost got eliminated by a Protector's heir," Tonya jokes.

We share a few more giggles before the train pulls into the Ironclad district station. As the train doors slide open, the warm, dusty air of the Ironclad district rushes in. The platform is bustling with people, voices blending into a chaotic hum. Tonya steps out first, her boots clinking against the metal flooring as she turns to me with a crooked grin.

"Well, this is where we part ways," she says, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow morning at the public ceremony."

"Yeah," I agree. "See you soon."

She waves over her shoulder and disappears into the crowd, her brown hair catching the light as she weaves through the throng of people. For a moment, I watch her go before adjusting my scarf and hood, ensuring they're secure before turning in the opposite direction. The main streets are alive with the familiar sights and sounds of Ironclad-the scent of sizzling meat from street vendors, the clang of metal as workers repair old machines, the laughter of children playing games with rusted scraps. But just as familiar are the Veileborne soldiers patrolling the streets in their sleek dark green and silver uniforms. The Veilborne soldiers patrol the streets, a reminder of the false peace they've brought. They stand, statuesque, watching as two merchants bicker over spoiled goods-but they do nothing. It's the same every time. They're here to keep us in line, not to protect us. They are nothing but a show, and we're the ones they step on to keep it up.

They're not here to protect us-they're here to subjugate the Ironclad, making sure we're always beneath their boot. Protection? It's a lie. They're just a symbol of power, and we're nothing but their prey.

I slip into an alleyway---avoiding the main streets---its shadows a comforting cloak. The noise of the crowd fades as I make my way through the quieter paths, my boots crunching softly against the gravel. These hidden routes are second nature to me now, paths my mother and I memorized to avoid attention.

The further I go, the more the buildings thin out, replaced by the sprawling edges of the woods. The dense trees rise like sentinels, their branches arching overhead to form a canopy that shields me from prying eyes. Here, the air smells of earth and pine, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of the district.

As I approach the small, hidden cabin nestled deep in the forest, my pace quickens. The sight of it always brings a rush of relief-a sanctuary carved out of necessity.

I step inside, closing the door behind me. The quiet is immediate, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. The weight of morning settles over me as I pull down the hood and scarf, finally allowing myself to breathe freely.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation that's about to unfold.

"Aria, you're back." My mother welcoms me, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Just in time for lunch."

I take a deep breath, knowing that I have to tell her the truth. "Mom, I have something to tell you," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "I've been taking the tests to enter the Chamber. And guess what? I passed."

My mother's expression changes from concern to shock. "Aria, what are you talking about?" she asks, her voice shaking. "Didn't you go hunting with your uncle?"

I explain everything to her, from the first test to the final one. I tell her about Tonya, and the other candidates. I tell her about the candidate that tried to eliminate me, and how I thought I failed the gun range test but ended up passing. My mother listens intently, her face pale.

When I finish, she looks at me, her eyes filled with worry. "No. You are not entering the Chamber," she says, her voice firm. "And I don't have to explain why because you already why. If anyone finds out your identity, you're as good as dead."

I take a deep breath, trying to explain why this is so important to me. "Mom, I have to do this," I say, my voice passionate. "Dad would have wanted this."

My mother's gaze pierces through me, her voice calm but laden with the weight of truth. "Your father fought for Ironclad because he believed in something greater than himself. But you... you're letting his death consume you. This isn't about Ironclad for you-it's about revenge."
Her words stop me cold, as if she's stripped me bare in a single breath. For a moment, I can't respond.

"I'm not-" I start, but the words catch in my throat. Am I?
Her hand moves to my cheek, gentle but firm, grounding me as her voice softens. "Aria, your father wouldn't want you to carry this burden, this hate. What you're doing-it's dangerous, not just for you, but for everything he stood for."
I shake my head, the argument swirling inside me like a storm. "How can you say that? He's gone because of them! He's gone because no one stood up to fight the Veileborne!"
Her hand drops away, and a shadow crosses her face. "And what will you have left if you keep going like this? Will you even recognize yourself by the time you reach the end?"

The words hit deeper than I want to admit. I clench my fists, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "If I don't fight, then what? Just sit back and watch them destroy everything? You said it yourself-the Veilborne hate us. We're all just pawns to them. But maybe... what if I can be more than that. What if I can break it?"

Her expression tightens, but there's something else there too-a flicker of fear, of sadness. "Breaking the system doesn't mean breaking yourself in the process, Aria."

For a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the wind against the old windows. I look away, unable to meet her eyes, afraid of what she'll see.

"I can't stop, Mom," I finally say, my voice quieter now. "If I stop... then his death really will mean nothing."

Her silence stretches on, heavy and unyielding, before she finally exhales. "Okay then. Promise me one thing," she says.

I glance up, my chest tightening. "What?"

"Promise me you won't lose yourself in this. Promise me you'll remember why you're fighting-not for revenge, but for something better. For the future your father believed in."

The words feel like a challenge, one I'm not sure I can uphold. My father believed in something bigger than Ironclad or Veileborne-a day when the two sides could finally come together. That's what he fought for. That's why Veileborne killed him. He had started to plant a seed of hope in people's hearts, and they feared it would grow into something they couldn't control. So they did what they do best-they silenced him.

I glance into my mother's eyes, brimming with both worry and hope, and I nod. It's a small, hesitant motion, but it's enough for now.

Because deep down, I know this isn't about unity for me. Not anymore. When Ironclad wins, Veileborne will pay for what they did to my father. They've trampled us for too long, treating us like nothing. Under Ironclad's power, we'll take back the dignity they stripped from us.

"Thank you for letting me do this, Mom," I whisper, my voice low but firm.

Her expression softens, the tension in her shoulders easing. Without a word, she steps forward and wraps her arms around me. Her embrace is steady, grounding, and achingly familiar-a silent promise that I'm not alone. In that moment, the world feels just a little lighter, the storm inside me briefly calmed by her warmth.