Thorne, Vance, and Rielle lounged in a small room they had discovered weeks ago, a hidden nook tucked away in the labyrinthine corridors of the base. The space was clearly once the secret lair of older recruits, as evidenced by the faded scribbles on the walls and the worn furniture scattered about—a few loungers, a table, and some chairs.

It had become their unofficial meeting place, where they sought peace and quiet away from the other recruits. Almost three months had passed since they began their training, and now only 26 recruits remained.

Thorne sat in one of the loungers, tossing a small ball into the air and catching it absentmindedly, his mind drifting. Vance, looking unusually broody, was perched at the desk, nibbling on some sweets he had swiped from another recruit. Meanwhile, Rielle was seated on the floor, meticulously inspecting the arrows for her new bow, a prize she'd earned after winning a particularly brutal challenge.

The silence was broken by the sudden arrival of the newest addition to their group—Rhea, the girl who had sparred with Thorne and managed to land a solid kick on him during their combat training. She burst into the room, glancing over her shoulder to ensure she hadn't been followed, before flashing a wide grin and holding up two bottles of liquor triumphantly.

"Look what I found!" Rhea announced, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Vance's brooding expression vanished instantly, replaced by a look of eager anticipation. "Where the hell did you find those?" he asked, raising his hands for one of the bottles.

Rhea tossed one of the bottles to Vance, who caught it deftly, then flopped down next to Rielle. She uncorked the bottle, took a long swig, and passed it to Rielle, who followed suit, letting out a satisfied sigh that caught Thorne's attention.

"Upstairs," Rhea said with a smirk, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I've been earning my title as the resident daredevil. I flirted with one of the older recruits to get into his room, and while he was distracted, I stole his stash."

Thorne raised an eyebrow teasingly. "And what did you have to do to distract him?"

Rhea blushed, waving her hand dismissively. "Nothing I couldn't handle," she replied, her voice light but tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

Rielle frowned, concern etching her features. "Are you going to be in trouble for this?"

Rhea giggled, her confidence returning. "Trust me, he's not going to be angry. In fact, he'd probably offer me his whole stash if I promised a repeat performance."

The girls shared a giggle, and Thorne couldn't help but chuckle along with them. The tension that had hung in the air dissipated slightly, replaced by a brief moment of levity.

Vance, however, seemed less amused. He took a swig from the bottle and passed it to Thorne, his mood darkening once more. "We sure deserve it," he mumbled, his voice heavy with resignation.

A depressing shroud fell over them, and Thorne was the first to break the silence. "What do you think it will be this time?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted an answer.

Ever since the first month of training ended, their trainers had introduced special tests—each one different, each one designed to break them in new and horrifying ways. The first test had been almost deceptively simple: they were blindfolded, their ears covered, and left to rely only on their sense of smell to find their way out of a labyrinth within the base. It had taken them a full day, but thankfully, everyone made it out.

The second test, however, had been far more sinister. After a grueling week of training, the trainers had surprised them with a feast in their sleeping quarters. After a month of eating scraps, everyone had been too eager to question the unusual generosity. But the celebration quickly turned into a nightmare. The food had been poisoned, and as the recruits began vomiting and collapsing in pain, the trainers announced they had one hour to find the antidote—or die. They lost three recruits that day—only one to the poison. The other two were killed in the frantic scramble for the antidote.

But it was the last challenge that had truly broken Vance. They were each placed in a dark, silent cell for a week—no light, no food, no sounds, no human contact. Just darkness and their own thoughts. The isolation had been harrowing. Thorne still heard the unsettling whispers at night, a lingering effect of the long captivity.

Though no one had died during the test, one girl had been completely shattered. She had been found catatonic, unable to speak or move, and disappeared the next morning without a trace. Vance hadn't fared much better.

For days after, he barely spoke, wandering aimlessly with a haunted look in his eyes. It had taken Thorne and Rhea working together to bring him back, but he was still a shadow of the boy he had once been.

"If it's anything like that last one…" Vance's voice was filled with dread. "I don't think I'll make it."

"Don't talk like that," Rhea said firmly, but it was Rielle who managed to reassure him.

"It won't be," Rielle said with pragmatic confidence. "Each test is different, meant to prepare us for different situations."

Vance looked up at her, hope flickering in his eyes, but Rielle's next words dashed it. "Don't get me wrong. It'll still be horrifying—just a different kind of horrifying."

Vance grumbled, taking another swig from the bottle. "The next time I'm down, please don't be the one to cheer me up."

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Rielle shrugged, muttering, "I'm just telling it how I see it."

*

The next day, the recruits were lined up in the dimly lit chamber, tension thick in the air. A group of older recruits moved among them, tying blindfolds tightly over their eyes. Thorne stood in line, his body rigid with anticipation. He could hear Lock and Talon pacing in front of them, their boots echoing ominously against the stone floor.

"You will be divided into groups," Lock announced, his voice cold and commanding. "Each group will be dumped into a part of the base you don't have access to yet. Every group will be positioned in a different tunnel. Your task is simple: find a glowing crystal and defend it until the time is up. Those who succeed will get to keep the crystal. Those who fail… well, they'll be dead."

A nervous murmur spread through the line of recruits. Thorne's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears. Suddenly, a voice spoke up—a boy's voice, wavering with fear but filled with determination. "What will we be defending against?"

Thorne, now blindfolded, couldn't see Lock's face, but he could feel the chill in the air as the trainer paused before answering. There was a twisted pleasure in his voice when he finally replied, "Oh, that's a surprise."

A shiver ran down Thorne's spine as the older recruits began to lead them away, one by one. They walked for what felt like an eternity, the sound of boots scuffing against stone and the occasional murmur the only indications of the world around him. Thorne tried to map their course, counting steps and listening for familiar sounds, but it wasn't long before he was completely disoriented.

At some point, they passed what Thorne believed was the circular room with the bridges—he could hear the faint echo of footsteps above—but as they continued, the sounds of activity gradually faded into an eerie silence. The air grew colder, and the atmosphere felt increasingly oppressive.

He heard the shuffling of feet as some recruits were pulled away from the group, then another group broke off, and then another, each time leaving the remaining recruits in deeper isolation. Finally, Thorne felt a hand grasp his arm, pulling him to the side. He was led through what he assumed was a doorway and into a room. The hand released him, and a moment later, his blindfold was removed.

Blinking against the dim light, Thorne quickly took in his surroundings. The room was small and bare, with stone walls and a single, low-hanging light casting shadows in every corner. With him were two other recruits—Devon, a tall, lanky guy with a scimitar strapped to his back, and Cassandra, a surly girl with a spear clenched in her hand.

The older recruit who had led them there stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. He nodded toward a small hatch on the floor. "You are to enter the tunnel there," he said simply.

Devon stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped the iron ring on the hatch and pulled it open, revealing a gaping black hole. The three recruits peered into the darkness, a sense of foreboding hanging over them like a shroud.

The older recruit remained by the door, his eyes gleaming with a challenge as he watched them. It was clear he wasn't going to offer any help—or mercy.

Devon looked back at Thorne and Cassandra, his uncertainty clear in his eyes. Cassandra, her patience worn thin, shoved him aside with her bulging arms. "What are you waiting for?" she demanded, her voice harsh. Without another word, she swung her legs over the edge and began to descend, using the iron foot holds that lined the walls of the tunnel.

Devon hesitated for a moment, casting a nervous glance at Thorne before following her down into the darkness. Thorne took a moment to study the older recruit, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "I'm guessing you won't tell me what's down there," he said, his tone half-joking but laced with tension.

The older recruit chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. "Oh, you'll love it," he replied, his smirk widening.

Thorne shook his head, his curiosity piqued but his sense of caution on high alert. Without another word, he followed the other recruits, gripping the iron foot holds as he descended into the abyss. The darkness swallowed him, and as he went deeper, the light from above faded until there was nothing but blackness.

The only sound was the faint scraping of their hands and feet against the metal rungs, echoing in the confined space. Thorne's heart raced as he descended, every instinct screaming to get back up to safety.

After a moment, the trio heard a loud bang above them, and what little light had managed to filter through the opening was extinguished as the older recruit slammed the hatch shut. The darkness became absolute, swallowing them whole. Thorne could hear Devon muttering nervously to himself as they continued their descent.

They climbed down the narrow shaft for what felt like minutes, the iron foot holds cold and slippery beneath their hands. Suddenly, a splash echoed through the tunnel, followed by a string of curses from Cassandra. "We're in the sewers," she informed them, her voice tinged with disgust.

Devon was the next to reach the bottom, his feet splashing into the foul water below. Thorne followed closely behind, and as he dropped down, the stench hit him like a gut-punch—a putrid mix of decay and wetness that made his stomach churn. The water reached up to his knees, thick and slimy as it soaked through his pants. He bumped into Devon, who jolted in fear.

"I can't see a thing," Devon said, his voice faltering with fear.

"Me neither," Cassandra agreed, her tone laced with frustration.

Thorne, with his superior eyesight, could just barely make out the vague outlines of their surroundings. The walls were damp and covered in grime, the narrow tunnel stretching out into the darkness ahead. They were definitely in a sewer, and the thought of wading through this filth for who knew how long didn't sit well with him.

"How are we going to find the stone if we can't see a thing?" Cassandra demanded angrily.

Thorne scanned their surroundings, trying to get a sense of direction, and responded absentmindedly, "I guess that's part of the test."

Cassandra scoffed. "Yeah, like I hadn't thought of that."

Devon, trying to sound more optimistic, added, "I guess… at least it'll be easier to find it with the light and all that."

Cassandra seemed to consider this for a moment before responding with a grudging, "I guess there's that."

"Take my hand," Thorne instructed Devon, his tone firm.

"What?" Devon asked, confused.

"Take my hand, and then take Cassandra's," Thorne repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"What are you on about?" Cassandra asked, her irritation clear.

"Just do as I say," Thorne insisted. "I can make out the way ahead, at least a little."

The other two recruits sounded surprised. "You can?" Cassandra asked, her voice betraying a hint of hope.

"Well, a little," Thorne confessed. "I can see the current of the water. Now do as I say."

Reluctantly, Devon reached out and grabbed Thorne's hand, while Cassandra gripped Devon's other hand. Thorne took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the overwhelming stench, and began to move forward, carefully navigating the murky water.

"This is disgusting," Cassandra muttered, but she followed closely behind, her grip on Devon's hand tightening as they waded through the sewer.

Thorne could feel the faintest shift in the air up ahead, the cold, damp breeze signaling an intersection. His senses were working overtime, trying to piece together the layout of the tunnels. He ignored the branching tunnel to the right, choosing instead to follow the current of the water.

They turned a bend, the water sloshing around their legs, and that was when the attack came.

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