The Campus Grounds: 0700 Hours

  The war did not begin with a bang. It began with a beep.

  Amari stood in front of the West Hall Cafeteria. The morning rush was heavy; hundreds of students streamed past him, their datapads glowing, their laughter mixing with the smell of brewing coffee and synthetic bacon.

  Amari stepped up to the turnstile. He tapped his wrist against the scanner.

  Beep.

  The light didn't turn green. It turned a flat, unblinking red.

  [ERROR 403: SUSPENDED STATUS]

  [ACCESS: DENIED]

  [REASON: PENDING ADMINISTRATIVE REVIEW]

  The turnstile remained locked. The student behind him—a Second Year Wind Mage—sighed impatiently.

  "Move it, F-Class," the mage muttered.

  Amari stepped aside. He didn't argue. He didn't try to force the bar. He just watched the mage tap his wrist, get the green light, and walk into the warmth of the food hall.

  Amari’s stomach tightened. The Void Engine was idling, but the fuel gauge was flashing. He hadn't eaten since the apple in the workshop.

  He walked to the vending kiosk in the hallway. He selected a nutrient bar.

  Beep. Red light.

  [INSUFFICIENT PRIVILEGES]

  He walked to the water fountain. It worked. Water was free. But water didn't fuel a Stage 2 physique.

  This isn't punishment, Amari realized, wiping his mouth. It’s a siege.

  He walked toward the library. The automatic doors sensed his approach. They usually slid open.

  Today, they stayed shut.

  Through the glass, he saw the librarian look up, see him, and look back down at her screen.

  Amari turned away.

  He walked the perimeter of the quad. A security drone hovered twenty feet above his head. It didn't track anyone else. It just stayed there, its camera lens fixed on the back of his neck.

  A chime echoed across the campus speakers. It was a pleasant, synthetic voice.

  "Attention Students. Due to a localized infrastructure anomaly in the Artificer District, temporary operational verification measures have been implemented for student safety. Please have your IDs ready for random integrity scans."

  It sounded routine. Boring, even.

  But Amari saw the truth.

  Two Campus Enforcers stood at the entrance to the F-Class dorms. They weren't stopping everyone. They were stopping anyone who looked like they didn't belong.

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  Suspended students weren’t confined yet—only flagged. The cage wasn’t closed. Not yet.

  They were building it. And they were doing it so quietly that no one inside realized they were trapped.

  The Boiler Room: 1200 Hours

  The mood in the boiler room was suffocating.

  Kian sat on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest. He was watching a feed on his datapad.

  "They're scrubbing the logs," Kian whispered. "The Artificer Guild just issued a patch for the server breach. They're calling it a 'power surge caused by unauthorized equipment.'"

  "They're blaming it on us," Bronson rumbled from the corner. The big Tank was pacing, his massive frame making the small room feel even smaller. "Rumor in the Warrior dorms is that the 'Glitch' tried to sabotage the grid out of spite."

  "Caelum," Amari said. He was sitting on a crate, perfectly still.

  "He's smart," Niko said from the shadows. "He doesn't accuse you of treason. He accuses you of vandalism. It's petty. It's believable."

  "It's a trap," Amari corrected. "He wants me to react. He wants me to break a lock, steal food, or hurt a guard. The moment I do, the suspension becomes an arrest."

  Elara sat on the cot, cycling her breath. She looked healthier, her mana stable, but her eyes were fearful.

  "What do we do?" she asked.

  Idris turned from the furnace. He shoveled a load of coal into the fire. The flames roared, drowning out the hum of the ventilation fans.

  "You cannot stay here," Idris said. His voice was gravel and ash.

  He looked at Amari.

  "They have cut your food. They have cut your movement. Next, they will cut your air."

  "If I leave," Amari said, "I'm a deserter. The Guilds will put a bounty on my head."

  "If you stay," Idris countered, leaning on his shovel, "they bury you in paperwork until you disappear. A quiet trial. A quiet cell. A quiet accident."

  Idris looked at the empty shelves in the corner.

  "I cannot even feed you," Idris admitted. "The supply droids weigh the inventory hourly. If a ration bar goes missing, the audit flags Security automatically."

  "Walls don't kill you," Idris finished, looking back at Amari. "They make you wait long enough for someone else to."

  Amari looked at his team.

  He looked at Elara. She was the anchor. She needed time to master the Breath without the pressure of combat.

  He looked at Bronson. He was the muscle. He needed to deprogram three years of bad muscle memory.

  He looked at Kian. He was the eyes. He needed to stay inside the network to track the Yield.

  "We split," Amari said.

  The room went silent.

  "Elara, Bronson, Kian," Amari ordered. "You stay. You're the Inside Cell. Keep your heads down. Attend classes. Let them think you're falling back in line."

  "And you?" Elara asked.

  "Niko and I are the Outside Cell," Amari said. "We go to the Scorchlands."

  The word hung in the air like smoke.

  "That's suicide," Bronson grunted. "The Scorchlands are a dead zone."

  Idris didn't agree. He met Amari’s eyes. A flicker of understanding passed between them—the old custodian knew exactly who was hiding in the ash.

  Idris gave a single, slow nod.

  "It's the only place the Academy can't look," Amari finished. "And we have to move before the review becomes a detention order."

  Suddenly, every datapad in the room chimed at once.

  Ping.

  Amari looked at his wrist.

  [URGENT NOTIFICATION]

  [TO: CADET AMARI]

  [SUBJECT: MANDATORY ADMINISTRATIVE REVIEW]

  [ORDER: REPORT TO SECURITY HUB A AT 0800 HOURS TOMORROW FOR QUESTIONING REGARDING INFRASTRUCTURE DAMAGE.]

  [FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE DETAINMENT.]

  Amari stared at the screen.

  It wasn't an invitation. It was a warrant with a twenty-hour timer.

  "They aren't waiting for a mistake," Niko whispered. "They're manufacturing one."

  Amari stood up.

  "0800 hours," Amari said. "That gives us until midnight."

  "You can't leave," Kian said. "The gates are manned."

  "We aren't using the gates," Amari said. "We leave tonight."

  He looked at Idris. The old man nodded slowly.

  "Take what you can carry," Idris said. "Do not say goodbye. Do not look back."

  Amari grabbed his pack—light. No food. No weapons. Just the clothes on his back and the Void Engine in his chest.

  "Elara," Amari said.

  She stood up. She didn't cry. She locked her breathing into the Cycle and nodded.

  "Hold the line," Amari told her.

  "I will," she promised.

  Amari looked at Bronson. The big Tank offered a hand. Amari took it. It was like gripping a stone.

  "Watch their backs," Amari said.

  "They won't get past me," Bronson swore.

  Amari turned to the door. Niko was already there, melting into the hallway shadows.

  Amari stepped out of the boiler room. He looked down the long, empty corridor of the F-Class dorms.

  The lights flickered. The drone outside the window hummed.

  The Academy had not declared war.

  It had simply closed the doors.