Yellow Jacket

When Vaeliyan finally got to sleep, the night gave him no rest. His dreams twisted into endless loops, each one dragging him deeper into a mire of exhaustion. He relived horrors he thought he had buried: the bathroom dripping with shadows, the echo of violence that he had once left unfinished. This time, at least, it was complete, whatever it was not dead, gone, dissolved into memory. The stairs returned too, each climb grinding pain into his legs and chest, every step dragging like he was carrying a mountain. At least he reached the top, bruised but standing. But the vents… the vents were worse. There was no end to them. He crawled, slid, and stumbled, lost in the dark maze, his mind unraveling as he chased phantom paws. He went mad in that hollow space, the sound of his own breath clawing at his ears until he jolted awake.

He woke feeling like he hadn't rested in weeks, his body aching, his skull packed with lead. Every joint protested, but reality slapped him hard: he had slept, because Jurpat and the rest of the 90th were already in his room. They stood there fully dressed, glaring down at him like a squad seconds from deserting their commander. Their eyes accused him of making them late. None of them could afford to waste a single moment. Even half-awake, he understood the pressure. The Citadel wouldn't forgive excuses. He could feel the weight of the failure pressing on his chest as heavily as their stares, reminding him that he needed to spend every second taking everything the citadel had to offer.

Their stares weighed on him, the silence sharp, broken only by Fenn's impatient foot tapping and Lessa's exasperated sigh. Elian folded his arms and scowled like he'd been waiting to lecture him. Xera leaned against the wall with that thin, smug grin she carried whenever she thought she knew more than everyone else. For a moment, Vaeliyan wanted to roll back under the sheets and ignore them all, but he knew better. That wasn't an option. Not anymore. Not with everything riding on them.

Vaeliyan shot upright, rage bubbling as he shoved them out. He kicked them from the room with no care for bruises. Fenn became an unwilling battering ram, his shoulders crashing into Elian to clear a path to the closet. Metal rattled, curses flew, and Vaeliyan ignored it all. He ripped clothes from hangers, pulling on his uniform with sharp, irritable motions. The fabric bit at his skin, cold and stiff, but he barely noticed. He tightened his belt like a man arming for war, his breathing heavy, his jaw clenched as though even the act of dressing was another battle. He tugged on boots with unnecessary force, laces biting tight across his ankles until the leather creaked. His reflection in the mirror showed nothing but a soldier already on edge, eyes red-rimmed but burning.

When he emerged, dressed and burning with impatience, the rest of the 90th had regrouped at the long table in his dining hall, their faces lit by the pale glow of morning filtering through the high windows. The space was pristine as always, every line perfect, every surface clean, but their presence made it feel crowded, chaotic. The perfect balance of his estate felt strained beneath the reality of thirty-odd cadets crammed into one room, each carrying their exhaustion and tempers like weapons waiting to go off.

Breakfast was efficient, bowls half-filled and quickly emptied, mugs drained with barely a word spoken. They ate quickly because time was tight and discipline pressed on every second. The clatter of utensils echoed unnaturally loud against the silence, each sound another reminder of how tense the air had become. Ramis and the twins had arrived earlier in the morning, apparently someone had messaged them to gather before departure. He didn't ask who.

Xera sat with her chin propped on one hand, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing smirk that told him exactly who had spread the word. He didn't call her on it. Not today. Across the table, Sylen slumped over her plate, poking at scraps like she was sleep deprived. Jurpat leaned back in his chair, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion, watching everyone like he was measuring how far each of them could be pushed before they snapped. Chime muttered to Lessa about how stupid it was to be awake this early, and Ramis laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than humor.

The rest of the class looked as ragged as he felt, though they wore their exhaustion with different shades of irritation, laughter, or silence. Some snapped at each other, others buried their focus in mugs, while a few like Xera seemed far too amused by the situation. Every scrape of spoon against bowl sounded too loud, every swallow carried a quiet edge of desperation. They weren't just tired; they were frayed, nerves stretched thin from nights of chaos and days of endless drills. This was how soldiers looked before battle, not fresh cadets heading into a classroom.

"I guess it's time for class. Whatever this class is," Vaeliyan muttered, stabbing the last bite of food from his plate. His tone was flat, but the words carried, and every head lifted as though they had all been waiting for him to give voice to the inevitable. The air seemed to tighten with his statement, all of them silently acknowledging what came next.

"Yeah, I think it is," Torman said, his deep voice cutting through the clatter of plates. He shoved his chair back and started toward the door, his long stride setting the pace. The sound of his boots rang through the dining hall, sharp and commanding. The others fell into motion, some groaning, some smirking, all of them resigned to the grind waiting outside. Their boots thudded across the polished floor in uneven rhythm, a half-awake parade of cadets stumbling toward their fate. No one needed to say it aloud, they were all thinking the same thing: this was only the beginning.

Vaeliyan trailed after them, his voice slicing through the noise as he asked House to lock up. "No one gets in. And if Isol's still sleeping, open the roof and set it to rain." House chimed acknowledgment, polite but cool. A ripple of laughter passed through the group, though it was edged with nerves.

Vaeliyan stepped out. A sudden cry echoed from the upper deck, sharp and half-complaint, immediately recognizable. Vaeliyan tilted his head back, smirk breaking through the weight of exhaustion. The sound was proof that his request had landed exactly how he wanted it to. He let the smile linger as he walked forward, the rest of the 90th falling into step around him. They adjusted their collars, shouldered packs, tightened belts. The chatter picked up, nervous laughter mixing with muttered curses, the sharp edge of anticipation threading through every word.

Together they moved toward Vaeliyan's pad. The path was smooth, perfect, without flaw, just as the estate itself was. they simply followed their commander toward the pad that would throw them into whatever nightmare the Citadel had planned next.

And then they were off.

They entered Alorna's Forest. The canopy stretched overhead, thick with branches and shadows, each tree rising like a pillar of green stone. The air carried the faint damp of soil and leaves, heavy with the scent of moss and growth. Vines hung low, brushing against armor as they walked, and the faint calls of hidden creatures echoed from the underbrush. It was a place alive with danger, yet perfectly still, as though holding its breath in anticipation. Every step sank slightly into the earth, the ground softened by years of fallen leaves and forgotten storms. Despite the forest's name, Alorna herself was nowhere to be seen. Instead, they were greeted by Deck, Gwen, and Jim, standing in a small clearing that seemed almost prepared for the moment. Everyone knew Alorna had to be nearby, though, she was never far when her forest was involved. Her presence was in the silence, in the weight of the branches, in the sense that eyes were watching from all directions, her judgment hidden in every root and stone.

Deck stepped forward, a sly grin cutting across his face. "Welcome to your new class: Hunt and Don't Die." His voice carried an almost theatrical weight, drawing their attention, daring them to question it. The words echoed through the clearing, bouncing off trunks as if the forest itself approved of the ominous announcement.

"That's an ominous name," Elian muttered, his tone sharp with suspicion. He shifted his lance against his shoulder, his frown deepening, though his gaze stayed fixed on Deck. A few others nodded subtly, their hands tightening on their weapons as though preparing already.

"Well, it was either that or Tactical Group Cheating Lance and Bricks," Deck replied with a shrug. "Terrible name. This was the only one we came up with that made sense, so we went with it. Practical, memorable, a little terrifying, checks all the boxes. And admit it, you'll remember this one ten years from now." His grin widened as though proud of the chaos he'd sown with a single title.

Gwen rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm, her gauntlet clanking softly against his sleeve. "Shut up. Okay, so here's how this works. This class is basically a fusion survival course. We're going to set you loose in Alorna's Forest, and you'll have to hunt something as a group or be hunted by something. You'll have lances, as always, but the rest is on you. You can do whatever you want to win."

The cadets glanced at each other, the weight of her words hanging in the air. The forest seemed to lean closer, the leaves shifting overhead as though curious about their reaction. The light filtered through branches in jagged lines, striping their uniforms and making them look half in shadow, half in flame. No one spoke at first, but tension rippled through the group. They knew this wasn't going to be simple practice, it was a test of instincts, of trust, of whether or not they could survive together when everything turned hostile. Even the air felt heavier, as if every breath might cost them more than they could afford.

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Jim stepped in with his usual grin, breaking the moment. "Improvise, have fun, make Alorna proud. And maybe, just maybe, if she's proud enough, I'll finally get a date." He winked up into the branches, as if she might be perched above. A few cadets groaned, already predicting the disaster that would follow.

A ball of mud slammed into his head, splattering across his hair and dripping down his nose. The muck streaked his cheek and slid into his collar, and he sputtered, wiping at his eyes. From a branch above dangled a stick figure drawing, The caricature pointed an accusing finger, with the word Idiot scrawled beneath in jagged strokes. The drawing fluttered in the breeze for a moment, then vanished, scattered into the leaves as if it had never existed. Alorna's presence was absolute in her silence, and somehow that wordless figure spoke louder than any reprimand could.

"You are an idiot," Deck muttered, shaking his head, though his smirk betrayed his amusement.

"So are you," Gwen shot back, smirking herself as Jim tried in vain to clean his face. A few cadets chuckled under their breath, though no one dared say anything louder with the forest listening.

The cadets shifted uneasily, some snickering, others glancing around nervously. The rules, or rather, the lack of them, were already clear. The forest itself was going to be their enemy. Every shadow felt deeper now, every rustle of leaf or twig crack a possible warning. Some shifted their grips on their lances, others adjusted their footing, as though already bracing for what was to come.

Vaeliyan raised a brow, his voice cutting through the chatter. "So, this class is just going to be chaos."

"We have Lessa for that," he added dryly, lips quirking at the corner.

"I resent that," Lessa said, crossing her arms with a glare. Her cheeks burned as a few around her smirked.

Sylen smirked, her voice light and teasing. "You resemble that." She looked around expectantly, waiting for laughter to follow.

No one laughed. The silence stretched, awkward and heavy. Sylen glanced around, deflating, shoulders sinking. "Come on, that was funny. Okay it was funnier in my head…" Her words hung there, and though no one responded, the discomfort softened slightly into amusement.

The others exchanged glances, the forest rustling above them as though laughing in her place. A gust pushed through the canopy, scattering leaves like confetti, and the creak of boughs overhead felt almost like a chuckle. The lesson had only just begun, and already Alorna's Forest felt alive, waiting for them to take their first step into its game. The ground before them stretched into shadow and light, every corner promising challenge, every whisper daring them forward. It was more than training, it was initiation into a living test, one that would strip them bare and reveal exactly what they were made of.

"So, for today's hunt, we'll be hunting you. So run," Gwen said, her voice cutting across the clearing like a blade. "Every time you're caught, one of your limbs will be roped. If you end up getting hit in the chest or head, you're dead. Only one of you needs to survive, and you don't even need to be whole. Good luck."

Her smile widened with wicked amusement. "Also, we're going to be using shock-lances with suppression round, so that should be fun."

Before anyone could even process her words, Gwen snapped her lance to her shoulder and fired. The flechette streaked across the clearing, striking Fenn square in the chest. His body convulsed violently, his arms and legs jerking as he collapsed backward with a strangled cry. He hit the ground hard, twitching from the surge of electricity. Gwen lowered her weapon, voice casual, as if she had swatted a fly. "He's out."

For one stretched heartbeat, the entire 90th stood frozen, staring at Fenn's slumped body. Then panic hit like a hammer. The cadets erupted into chaos, scattering in every direction. Shouts, curses, and the pounding of boots broke the silence of the forest. Branches snapped as bodies crashed through underbrush, lances swung wild in the scramble to get away. Some tripped and rolled, others vaulted over roots and rocks, the scramble more like prey scattering than a squad moving with discipline.

"That's bullshit!" Fenn screamed, his voice cracking with fury as he rolled behind a tree and struggled to stand. He whipped his head around, eyes wide with adrenaline and fear, as if expecting the next shot to be his. His face was flushed; teeth gritted against the aftershocks still twitching through his muscles.

"There are no rules!" Gwen shouted after them, her voice carrying a wild, gleeful edge. She grinned wide enough to bare teeth as she shouldered her lance again. "But okay, you're still in. Now run!"

She fired another blast into the trees, the crack of the shot echoing through the clearing. Sparks exploded against a trunk, showering bark and smoke. The cadets screamed and surged forward harder, crashing deeper into the forest. The sound of their retreat was a cacophony: heavy breathing, snapping branches, shouted orders that were drowned out almost instantly by more gunfire.

Lessa tripped over a root and rolled, barely avoiding the snap of a shot that scorched the dirt where she had been. Elian shoved past her, cursing under his breath, before dragging her back to her feet with a sharp yank. His voice was harsh, urgent, though his words blurred into the chaos. Jurpat barreled through low branches like a battering ram, snapping limbs as he plowed a path for whoever could keep up behind him. His movements were heavy and certain, as if daring anyone to try and stop him. Sylen darted between shadows, movements sharp and precise, her eyes wide but focused, already adapting to the rhythm of the hunt.

Ramís scrambled up a low rise and slid down the other side, shouting for others to follow him. Xera laughed as she shoved Wesley behind a tree to use him as cover, then bolted across a patch of open ground with her lance low, every step a gamble. Chime's voice rang high and panicked somewhere to the left, screaming about unfairness even as she kept moving. The forest swallowed their sounds almost instantly, reducing everything to a tangle of rustling, thudding, and Gwen's relentless bursts of laughter.

The clearing was chaos incarnate, and Gwen's voice rang over it all, clear and merciless, a predator's joy at the first taste of blood in the hunt. Her laughter carried like the howl of a beast, echoing through Alorna's Forest, promising that this was only the beginning. The cadets ran harder, knowing with every step that they were no longer students in a lesson, they were prey in a hunt, and survival was the only grade that mattered.

Ramis called out first, his voice booming over the chaos. "Everybody, go to the swamp! They can't shoot us in the swamp!"

Elian whirled on him, shouting in disbelief. "That's not how water works! These are electrified flechettes! Only pure water isn't conductive. They'll absolutely shock the shit out of all of us if we try that!"

Ramis froze mid-stride, blinking as though the obvious had only just landed. "Oh. Okay. I mean, I didn't, okay. Forget the swamp then."

Lessa's voice cut in, sharp and clear, slicing through the noise. "Why aren't we just using our Soul Skills to protect ourselves?"

Every cadet stopped dead in their tracks. The realization hit them all at once like a slap. They looked around at each other, eyes wide, the air thick with silence for a single heartbeat. Even their breathing stilled, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

"Oh shit," Sylen screamed, her voice breaking the tension. "She's right. No rules!"

The forest erupted like a dam bursting. The 90th unleashed everything they had, their Soul Skills tearing into the world around them. Branches snapped like bones, flames licked up trunks until bark exploded, shadows split and twisted into clawed shapes that lashed outward. Bursts of raw force cracked open the ground. What had been a frantic scramble of frightened cadets turned into a storm of unleashed power. The shift was immediate, feral, chaotic, and alive. The air thrummed with energy, vibrating with the intensity of their combined abilities. The cadets were no longer prey, they had become something raw and dangerous, if only for a moment.

Gwen stood at the edge of it all, momentarily taken aback at the ferocity radiating from the group. The bombardment of attacks tore through the clearing, snapping trees, gouging earth, and filling the air with smoke and dust. For a heartbeat, even she had to admire it. Their zeal was wild and uncontrolled, but it was passionate, reckless in a way that almost bordered on inspiring.

Almost.

Because to her, they still weren't dangerous. Not really. She could take them all on without breaking a sweat, and she knew it. Her smirk widened as she lifted her lance again, eyes glittering with something between amusement and challenge.

Then she started shooting.

The first blast slammed Elian, his Soul Skill kicking in as a sudden field of crushing gravity. The air around him warped, dragging downward, the pull enough to tug even the flechettes off course. Light rounds faltered in their paths, bending and slowing as though they were suddenly burdened with weight. But Gwen's shot was merciless, her aim unerring, and even gravity had its limits. The field couldn't stop everything. The flechettes ripped through, smashing into Elian with brutal force. The pressure slammed him into the dirt so hard the ground shook, his body jerking as the electricity coursed through him. He hit and stayed down, pinned and twitching, his Skill collapsing under the onslaught of electricity coursing through his nerves.

"I said run, didn't I?" Gwen's voice rang across the clearing, cutting sharp through the chaos. "And you're not running!"

Her next shot tracked clean and precise. The bolt hammered into Fenn's chest, dropping him for the second time that day. His scream tore from his throat but was cut short as the electricity seized his muscles, choking him silent. He collapsed in a flail of limbs, twitching against the dirt.

Several cadets recoiled in horror, their attacks faltering for a heartbeat. The reality of Gwen's power was undeniable, she wasn't winded, wasn't rattled, wasn't even trying hard yet.

She laughed, the sound sharp and full of cruel delight. Raising her voice, she taunted them all. "Now do as you're told! Run!"

Her words rolled over them like thunder, and the storm of Soul Skills wavered. They broke and bolted deeper into the forest, hearts hammering, lungs burning, the echo of Gwen's laughter chasing them into the shadows.

In their panic, they had forgotten about Deck and Jim, and they had absolutely forgotten about Alorna. The forest was never Gwen's alone.