The air within the base smelled of metal, sweat, and far-off firing range smoke.
Ellie held her brother's hand tighter as she trailed behind Vance across the dusty yard. Everywhere, ragtag-uniformed soldiers roared orders, lifted crates, practiced room-fighting. Others cleaned rifles or polished blades. It wasn't chaos, but it wasn't neat military. It was something in between — lived-in, savage, functional.
Eyes followed them — suspicious, questioning, hostile. A youngish merc with a scar bisecting his eyebrow stopped halfway through his retort to scowl. Another, polishing a scope, sneered at Kian like he was paper.
"Round up children, Vance?" Ava's snap came from the back, still husky with incredulity.
The woman was like a stone wall in a tank top, grey hair tied in a shabby bun and a cigarette clutched between teeth. Her voice was sharp enough to cut metal.
Vance did not curve. He didn't even look at her.
" Again they're not kids," he said coldly, eyes straight ahead. His voice had changed flat, without any warmth. Like a switch that had been flipped.
Ellie's eyes widened in shock. Just twenty minutes prior, he'd grinned at them like a scoundrel bodyguard. Now? She hadn't the slightest idea what he was.
Kian's hand contracted.
Ava snorted but didn't remark further. Just turned her head and stalked off toward the weapons rack, muttering to herself.
They passed by a round pit where two mercenaries practiced with blunt swords, grunting and cursing. One of them — tall and thin, and wearing a half-mask — nodded furtively in Kian's direction. His partner smiled softly.
"Don't look at them," Ellie whispered. "Just walk."
Vance led them to a long metal structure at the edge of the camp. Chain-link fences creaked in the wind. There was a cookfire in the back of the building, its smoke drifting into the air. A black dog uttered one bark from an unknown position but no one gave it attention.
The inside of the building was dark and tidy. There were concrete walls, a water tank in the corner, two scratchy-covered bunks, a tiny desk with a pinned-to-the-wall map.
Vance indicated towards the beds. "This one's yours."
Ellie took in her surroundings. "No lock?"
"If anyone is desperate to kill you here, no lock will be any use for it."
Kian swallowed. "Reassuring."
Vance smiled properly.
There was silence for a while. Vance leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. He looked like he had something to say but wasn't quite ready to say it.
Then Ellie spoke first.
"What is this place, exactly? A camp? A bunker? A. war zone?"
Vance tilted his head. "This is the South Bastion. One of the last standing mercenary outposts not under direct government control."
"So. you're not soldiers?" Kian asked.
"No. We do what soldiers don't. We go where they won't. We hunt what they can't."
Ellie's eyebrows wrinkled. "Wraiths?"
Vance nodded once. " YEA among other things."
She took a half-step forward. "So why bring us here? You don't even know us."
"You're right," he said, cutting. "I don't. But I know what I saw."
Kian dropped his gaze.
Ellie shifted. "And what did you see?"
Vance looked at her for a second. And then shrugged — a slight, casual movement that appeared to be intentional.
"Survivors," he said. "Nothing more. Nothing less."
The door interrupting them.
A woman with glasses stood in the doorway. "Sorry — briefing hall. Vice Vance the commander wants him."
She looked to Vance. Didn't even notice Kian or Ellie.
"Got it," Vance said. He pushed away from the wall and looked at the siblings one last time. "Stay put. Don't wander. Don't answer questions. Most of them don't like strangers."
Ellie crossed her arms. "What a lovely welcome."
Vance half-smiled, then left.
Silence in the room lingered. Kian sat on one of the beds, unlacing his boots. Ellie stood, looking around as if waiting for the walls to change.
"So." Kian said. "We're in some sort of. monster hunting fort?"
"I guess so," Ellie muttered. "With psychopaths in every corner."
Kian gave a tired laugh. "At least it's not a cellar."
Ellie looked at him, her expression softening. She walked over and sat beside him.
"You okay?"
He paused. "I don't know. It's a lot."
She nodded, brushing his hair back gently.
"We're alive," she whispered. "That's enough for now."
A burst of laughter suddenly from outside, then the clanging of metal. Ellie stood up and peered through the dirty window.
She saw the training yard again. Ava O'Conor was back, screaming orders at a line of recruits. One of them botched a knife. She smacked him on the back of his head.
Kian rolled over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "She's intense."
"Yeah, think so?" Ellie complained. "She'd eat us alive if we answered back."
Kian grinned tiredly. "I'd wager she'd already chosen the seasoning."
Ellie laughed — not loudly, not freely, but it was something.
The door groaned again, and they both glanced.
Ava.
She walked in, uninvited, a clipboard under one arm. She glanced at them once, then at the beds.
"Hmph. Clean enough."
Neither sibling said anything.
She closed the door behind her with her boot and walked over to the desk, placing the clipboard on it.
"Tomorrow you'll be tested. You don't have to impress anyone. Don't just die."
Ellie furrowed her face. "Test us for what?"
"To see if you're worth anything or not. Or worse, liabilities." Ava cracked her knuckles. "We don't carry dead weight."
"Sweet," Ellie grumbled.
Ava smiled, but there was no kindness. "You talk back like a city kid. That's going to get you hurt here."
Ellie got up. "I've already been hurt."
The two held eyes for a moment. Then Ava nodded — once.
"I'll enjoy watching you try it."
And with that, she turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind her.
Kian let out a long breath. "I liked her better when she wasn't here.".
Ellie sat down slowly. "They really don't want us here."
"Then we'll give them a reason to regret that."
Kian blinked, surprised by the steel in her voice.
Ellie didn't flinch. She looked back toward the open doorway, eyes hard.
"We've survived worse."
Footsteps rang off metal grates and pavement. Ava O'Conor remained silent as she led the Falaen siblings through the middle of the compound.
The foundation was built like a fortress — rusted steel plates, concrete slapped over in a random pattern, and old technology humming in spaces they couldn't even recognize. Dozens observed them. Body-armored mercenaries, practicing with live rounds, fists that were bare-knuckled, and knives so well-worn they glowed like bone. There were no smiles. No smiling faces welcomed them.
Ava didn't break pace.
She was tall, tough-bodied as if she'd survived ten wars too many, and carried a presence that made you feel smaller just by standing next to her. Her gray-streaked braid streamed behind her with every step, and the cigarette stuck behind her ear somehow never fell out.
Kian hung close to Ellie. She was surveying the room, watchful but easy. He was just trying to keep his heart rate in check.
The course wound along the range of fire — rifles detonating in brief volleys. Melee square up next: two knife-fighting men, one on the ground disarmed and bloody, the other sporting a broken grin under his cracked mask.
"Where people grow teeth," Ava said, without turning to him, "or get chomped."
No one laughed. Especially not the twins.
Eyes followed them. Shhh'd remarks. Disapproving glances.
Strays. Outsiders. Dead weight.
Some guy with an eye-patch snarled, "Vance hiring kids now?"
Ava stopped. She shifted her gaze just a little.
"They're not kids," she said coldly. "They're death waiting to happen if they don't get their asses moving. Now close it."
The following silence was colder than the one before.
Ellie tensed. Kian's fists clenched. Neither of them spoke.
They opened a side room with peeling paint and smell of sweat and rust. Ava stopped in front of a metal door and pushed it open.
"Room. Shared. Gear's in there. You've got ten minutes before I drag your asses to orientation."
She dumped two bundles of clothes on the nearest bed — plain grey shirts, black combat trousers, shoes with cracked leather.
Ava turned to leave, then hesitated in the doorway. "This house doesn't owe you anything. You get behind, nobody's gonna wait. Least of all me."
The door slammed behind them.
And suddenly, they were alone.
Kian slowly sat down, breathing for the first time in what felt like forever. "She really hates us."
Ellie shook out one of the shirts. "She doesn't hate us. She doesn't *care.* Big difference."
He let out a mirthless laugh. "That's. reassuring."
They began to change — the uniforms rough, clearly used, maybe even repurposed from old trainees. Kian glared at the scuffs on the boots and hoped the previous guy got out alive.
Ellie snapped the silence again. "You thinking of leaving?"
"I mean…" He hesitated. "We could. Sneak out. Run like before."
To where? The woods? The Wraiths? More charred villages?" She sat down next to him, tightening her boots. "I'm scared too, look. But maybe this is. something. Not safe. Not home. But something."
Kian looked down.
"We don't belong here."
Ellie got to her feet, tightening her belt. "Maybe not yet. But that doesn't mean we never will."
He looked back at her.
For one moment, the metal walls didn't seem so constricting.
Then a blast of a horn was heard somewhere at the base. Shouting filled the air afterward. Training had begun again.
Kian tied his boots. "So… ten minutes then?"
Ellie nodded. "Let's make it nine."
They exited the room together in unison.
Eyes would still follow. Whispers would still spread.
But now — they were walking into it.