She didn't fully know what she was looking at.
In retrospect, it made sense. All of Sector 3 had been gated. A massive border wrapped the entire slum on three sides—only breaking in the direction of the wasteland. The wasteland that'd been rumored to host the Eclipse.
The checkpoint was military, unmoving, and yet not as alien to her as it felt. A squared bulge jutted from the intersection of the northern and western walls, its structure cold and clinical—an unmarked authority. At its center, a vertical slit cut through the barricade, dividing two enormous panels.
Metal beams crossed the opening in threes. Idle flood lamps buzzed above. A ring of sensors pulsed along the outer columns—red, then green, then static. Surveillance cameras rotated at the corners, scanning in steady, mechanical arcs.
Elara watched as a man in a dark overcoat approached the desk. After a few quiet words with the stationed officers, he flashed a few belongings. A moment later, a low hum sounded above. Something responded beneath the floor with a hiss, and he passed through.
Others followed. Not all spoke, nor did they take the same path. But one by one, they slipped into the inner sector. The crowd wasn't large by any regard, but it was constant.
Elara wasn't standing idle. She was still moving.
Her pulse hadn't slowed since the news she'd been told. Rage kept it climbing—high enough that she barely felt the ache in her feet. Her mind hadn't caught up. She didn't know what waited past the gate. Only that she needed to continue beyond it.
She stepped forward.
Head down. Eyes low. She didn't want a conversation. Didn't want anyone to look her in the face, to see the pure rage, the murderous intent she'd been boasting. Her cloak still clung to her—white, dirt-stained, unmistakably uniform. But it was so familiar she'd forgotten what it meant.
She walked a direct line toward the checkpoint.
That's when the voice cracked across the clearing—sharp, male, and absolutely certain.
"Hey!"
She didn't slow. She wasn't interested in whatever drama was happening around her.
"You know good and damn well you're not allowed through here."
The voice echoed—bounced off steel and stone and the spaces in between. It was the kind of voice that didn't like being ignored.
Bootsteps followed. Heavy. Confident. The man approached like her presence had insulted him.
Elara kept her arms loose at her sides, confused more than anything. Her mind was still catching up.
Just my luck. All these people, and of course I'm the one you stop.
The guard stepped into view—taller than her by a full head, armored in dull gray plating. Visor raised. His hair was buzzed close to the scalp, and a deep crease ran through his brow.
He stopped a few feet from her. Let his eyes move down her frame—not leering, just scanning. Clocking the robes. The boots. The tag on her collar.
"Kynenn," he said flatly, like it was a slur.
Elara opened her mouth. Closed it. She had nothing to offer. The wrong lie could get her dropped where she stood.
Dammit. I was so used to wearing this cloak… I forgot we were the only ones who wore it.
The guard grabbed her wrist and twisted her arms down, locking them just above her waist. Cold metal snapped over her skin. She heard the buzz before she felt it, a soft magnetic pulse threading along the inner spine.
The pressure felt wrong, foreign. Like it was meant to short-circuit something inside her.
Nothing happened.
Of course.
The guard didn't notice. Or didn't care. He adjusted her stance with a grunt and started walking her back toward the structure.
"Elara," he read, glancing at the tag stitched beneath her collarbone. Then, louder—almost proud, "I'll see her back to where she belongs. Myself."
Another voice rang out from across the barricade. "You sure you wanna go alone? I heard Kynenn are trained for nothing but war."
"I'll be fine," the first guard called back, barking a low laugh. "I cuffed her with damp-steel. It's not like she can use her powers or anything. What's one little girl supposed to do to me?"
"Suit yourself. Let me know if you run into trouble."
"Yeah, yeah."
The first guard gave her shoulder a sharp tug.
Elara stumbled forward, wrists swaying in the cuffs—but she didn't feel particularly bound.
The guard didn't speak again—not to her, not to anyone. He walked fast, like the sooner she was off his checklist, the better. Elara kept pace, silent, matching his steps just enough to avoid getting yanked. The muscles in her arms burned slightly from the way they were twisted in front of her.
They crossed a narrow footbridge—bare steel stretched over a channel of drainage runoff. Below, the water shimmered dull green. She could hear other guards in the distance, but no one else joined them.
He really is going alone. Must be thinner than they let on.
The Foundation was only a few blocks away—tucked into a hill behind two utility stations and what looked like a former processing plant.
Her eyes shifted ahead. That dull ache behind her ribs returned. She let the pain harden her spine.
They turned a corner. The guard loosened his grip just slightly as they stepped into a narrow alley between two administrative buildings—shortcutting the main road.
She moved first.
Elara leaned in and drove her shoulder into his ribs. Enough to shift his balance.
He grunted, staggered half a step. Not much.
But enough.
The motion itself twisted her body sideways, her cuffed hands raked past the base of his coat.
He retaliated, pushing her off of him and stomping down into her thigh.
She began to spin, tensing to keep her hands as tightly together as possible and clobbered the guard across the shoulder.
Completely ignoring the strike, the guard ducked low, wrapping his arms around her waist and spearing her to the ground. He smacked her across the cheek. Once, but hard.
"You serious?" he spat, tightening his grip again while yanking her off the ground. "Try that again, I'll break your kneecaps."
Elara didn't answer.
He kept walking. Pulled her forward.
Well I guess I can't just force my way past him. Not like this anyway.
The guard continued to walk. Now holding his shoulder, likely contused from impact. They reached the hill shortly after.
For her second time seeing the building's new state, Elara was even more surprised than before. From a distance, it didn't look real. The damage was too absolute.
The main gate had been blown off completely. One half lay twisted in the dirt, the other still hanging sideways from a single hinge. Walls, bars, even some of the ground itself had been mauled by elements. There were burns, and cracks in everything, the building looked as if it'd been both hit by a tornado, and a thunderstorm simultaneously.
If what that girl said about the man taking over was true, I would bet my 'classmates' did this in a revenge fit once they felt any freedom.
The guard stopped.
For the first time since grabbing her, he didn't look annoyed. Just… confused.
"What the hell," he muttered.