Chapter 20: Preparations
After the brutal encounter with the Graven, the squad dispersed quietly, each retreating into their dorms to lick wounds that no Crownlight could quite reach. Centralis felt colder than usual. It wasn't the weather—it was like the shadows from the training ring hadn't lifted. Like something still lingered in the walls.
Kael hadn't spoken since the moment that voice had slithered through his thoughts — the Graven's shriek, not of fear but of exaltation. It had screamed like it had won. That stuck with him. That twisted something.
He didn't sleep that night. Just lay on his cot, stiff and blank, watching the crack lines in the ceiling. He kept counting them, losing count, starting again. His Crownlight pulsed unevenly through his limbs — like it was waiting. Coiling.
Veyna limped down the corridor that evening, her Voltarm still cracked at the hilt. She had refused the full-body restoration. Said she didn't want to forget the pain too fast. There was something jagged in her posture now — sharper than before. Quieter. Like she'd seen the edge of the map and realized it kept going.
Sol hadn't spoken either. He had lay on his bunk staring at the ceiling, his breath shallow. His Crown hadn't fully withdrawn — oily shadows still flickered along his wrists. Whatever he'd summoned, it hadn't left clean. He looked hollow. Stripped.
Even Soahc hadn't joked.
Previously the healers came. The faculty offered recovery rooms, enchanted steam pods. None of them took it. No one wanted to admit how close they'd come.
No one wanted to be seen afraid.
The next day crawled in, slow and grey. Cold. The Deathzone Trial was now less than a day away.
Before midday, a chime whispered through every Crownband, their communication devices:
"All Last year squads report to the Grand Convergence Hall. Mandatory attendance. No exceptions."
Kael dressed without a word. His uniform felt heavier today, like it was bracing for something. They walked the halls together in silence.
The Convergence Hall was packed.
More than a hundred students. Every final-year squad. Some familiar. Some strangers. The atmosphere felt tight very tight almost pressurized.
Professor Ulreth stood at the centre dais, flanked by Verdan — the Crowned Coordinator — and a line of silent shield-guards. Enchanted runes pulsed around their boots. The instructors behind them weren't smiling. Most weren't even blinking.
Ulreth stepped forward.
When he spoke, the runes beneath him hummed and amplified his voice — deep, cold, unmistakably final.
"The Deathzone Trial begins tomorrow at dawn. So let me make this clear from the start."
"This is not a test to tell the truth."
"This is a culling."
A ripple spread through the hall — not outrage, not surprise. Just breath. Short, sudden, like a collective inhalation that couldn't fully finish.
Ulreth didn't wait.
"Many of you will not return. Those of you who do, will not return unchanged. That is not dramatization. That is design of this expedition."
"For fifty kilometres, you will cross a designated corridor of hostile Deathzone terrain. It is considered relatively stable by current Veil standards."
A voice muttered in the back — "Stable?" — but no one laughed.
Ulreth continued, his tone unwavering.
"There are thirteen Crown Bases within the zone. Each has limited access to restorative arrays, shield wards, and recharge stations. They will not appear to you as gifts. You will fight for them and you will bleed for them."
"If your squad secures one — you may hold it. Defend it. Use it to recover."
"If your base is taken and your squad marked, only two of your original members need remain alive for your score to be recognized."
"You may lose people. You may abandon people. That choice, like the cost, is yours."
Kael's sighed. Abandonment wasn't a what-if — it was written into the rules.
Beside him, Veyna's fingers flexed. She didn't like this kind of talk — where pain was phrased like policy.
Verdan now stepped forward, her silver voice cutting like frost.
"This is not a solo trial. This is a conflict simulation. As of this morning, each squad has been randomly assigned Dominion Sigils. These may be used to seize other groups."
Gasps. Whispers. A pause.
"If you are marked by a Sigil and your base is overtaken, your status changes. You are now theirs — until rescued, or overridden."
Kael scanned the room. Something had shifted. This wasn't a hall of students anymore — it was a room of predators.
"Be warned," Ulreth added sharply, reclaiming the floor. "This system is not theoretical. We have had deaths in prior years. Disappearances. Even Graven possession."
That word landed hard.
Ulreth let the silence breathe, then stabbed forward again:
"Each squad is expected to neutralize at least sixteen Graven. Four per member if less then 4 in a squad the 16 threshold still needs to be met so 8 for 2 people if necessary."
Kael's stomach tightened instantly.
Veyna went still.
Sol's eyes closed.
"They will not be like the one you faced with your fathers and uncles," Ulreth said. "Some will be worse. Some may whisper. Some may beg."
"Do not listen. Do not hesitate."
A few squads — the dark ones Kael hadn't seen before — smiled faintly. The kind of smile that meant they'd already chosen who to hunt.
"And if matters escalate beyond your comprehension," Verdan said, "know that Trynarchs will be operating within the region. They are pursuing classified objectives. Do not approach them. Do not expect aid."
Kael felt it now. That dreadful understanding.
This wasn't just a trial. This was filtering. Thinning the herd before real war.
"Those who fall will be mourned, but not rescued."
"Those who survive… will know why the Crowned rule."
A long pause.
Then, Ulreth raised a hand.
"Armor racks are being distributed. Deathzone suits. Reinforced. Signature-bound. You will modify them according to your Crown."
"You have one day."
"No further aid will be granted."
The hall stood frozen for a long second — not because they were unsure what to do. But because the mask had fully dropped. Centralis had always prepared them for war. But now?
Now war was walking up to shake their hand.