Chapter 3: Unraveling the Veil I

Elys shifted uneasily as he stood on the command deck, the low hum of the Ark's engines thrumming through his bones. All around him, screens flickered with the steady flow of data: atmospheric readings, ship diagnostics, security reports. Everything felt strangely routine. Too routine. As if nothing had changed. As if tomorrow wouldn't be the most dangerous day of his life.

The launch was only hours away.

It had been chaos since the announcement of the Exile Mission. The selected 300 had been pulled from their cells, their work shifts, and the shadowed corners they'd hidden in to survive. Some were criminals—thieves, fighters, troublemakers. Others, like Elys, were simply unwanted, people who didn't fit neatly into the rigid hierarchies of the Ark's society.

But one thing united them all: they were disposable.

"Are you even listening, Cain?" Rena's sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

Elys turned to face the Exile Commander. Rena Hale stood a few feet away, dressed in the black-and-silver uniform of the Ark's Elite Guard. Short, cropped auburn hair framed a face that was sharp and unyielding, her pale skin marked by the faint scars of past battles. Her amber eyes were intense, always watching, always calculating. At twenty-four, she was one of the youngest commanders in the Ark's history, and one of the deadliest.

"Sorry, what was that?" Elys said lightly, letting a lazy grin spread across his face.

Rena sighed, shaking her head. "I asked if you were ready. This isn't going to be like those skirmishes in the lower decks. We're going into the unknown—no support, no backup. You screw up down there, and you're dead. Got it?"

Elys gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am. Completely, one hundred percent ready to go die for our beloved Council."

A flicker of irritation crossed her face, but she didn't take the bait. "This isn't a joke, Cain. If we don't get a foothold established, the rest of the Ark will never follow. And then we're all stuck up here, waiting to suffocate."

She said it so matter-of-factly, without emotion, that it took Elys a moment to realize what she'd said.

"Wait, what? Suffocate?" he repeated, his grin fading.

Rena's expression hardened. "You didn't know? Of course not. Typical Council secrecy. They've got you all thinking this is just another mission, a chance to get rid of the problem children." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "The Ark's systems are failing, Cain. The CO₂ scrubbers—the tech that keeps us breathing up here? It's breaking down. If we don't find a place to settle, a way to produce oxygen down there… everyone on the Ark will be dead within the year."

Elys stared at her, shock freezing him in place. It was one thing to know they were being sent down as pawns, a way for the Council to test the ground. It was another to realize that the Ark itself—their home, the last refuge of humanity—was on the brink of collapse.

"Why—why wouldn't they tell us?" he stammered.

Rena's eyes were dark. "Because the Council would rather control the story. They need us motivated, desperate. If people knew just how bad things were… it would be chaos."

Chaos, Elys thought bitterly. That was putting it lightly.

Above them, deep within the Ark's Central Command, the Council convened in their private chamber. Twelve figures sat in a semi-circle, their faces obscured by the shadows cast by the dim, sterile lighting. At the center of the room stood Prime Minister Lenox Ravelle, tall and commanding, his gaze sweeping over the assembly.

"Is everything in place?" he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yes, Prime Minister," replied Councilor Elara Kim, her face expressionless. The dark-haired geneticist's features were sharp and severe, framed by the silver streaks that marked her age and experience. "The Exile Unit is prepped for deployment. The drop is scheduled for 0600 hours. With any luck, they'll be able to establish a temporary outpost within a few weeks."

"And the true purpose of this mission?" Ravelle's gaze shifted to Councilor Amadi Nyong, the tall, broad-shouldered diplomat whose calm demeanor hid a ruthless ambition. His deep-set eyes were thoughtful as he leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him.

"They have no idea," Amadi murmured. "To them, it's just another punishment. A way to clear out the unwanted while gathering information on Earth's viability. Only four of the Exiles know the truth—and they've been instructed to say nothing until the time is right."

Ravelle nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Very good."

The Ark's fate hung by a thread. The fuel reserves were nearly depleted, and the CO₂ scrubbers—the technology that had sustained them for over a century—were deteriorating faster than anyone had anticipated. It was only a matter of time before the entire system failed.

The Council had known for years. They had tried everything: patching up systems, rationing supplies, even sacrificing entire sectors to preserve power. But it wasn't enough. There was only one option left.

Earth.

If the Exiles succeeded in establishing a foothold, it would mean salvation. A chance to send the rest of the Ark's population down and start anew. But if they failed… then the Council would simply leave them behind and keep searching, drifting through the void until every last survivor's lungs burned with the poison of their own breath.

Not everyone aboard the Ark would make it to the surface.

Back in the hangar, Elys and Rena joined the other members of the Exile Unit, each wearing expressions ranging from nervous excitement to grim determination. A few steps away, Kai Mendoza, one of the chosen guards, stood adjusting his armor. His copper-brown skin gleamed under the fluorescent lights, his dark eyes flickering with a mix of anxiety and focus. Kai was one of the few born into the Ark's military caste, his strength and combat skills setting him apart from the others.

Next to him, Yasmin Abdul, a lithe young woman with tightly curled hair and dark skin, tapped her fingers against the hilt of her stun baton. Her hazel eyes were narrowed, calculating. Yasmin's father was a Councilor, but she had been a rebel—a firebrand with a quick temper and a penchant for bending rules. How she ended up among the Exiles was anyone's guess, but her presence here could only mean one thing: she knew something she wasn't supposed to.

"Ready to save humanity, Elys?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elys forced a smile. "If by 'save,' you mean 'be the first to die horribly,' then yeah, I'm all set."

Yasmin laughed softly, shaking her head. "Just try to keep up, Earthborn. We wouldn't want to lose our precious anomaly on the first day."

And as they boarded the dropships—three hulking metal beasts crammed with nervous bodies—Elys couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

He glanced around at the faces of his fellow Exiles—each of them chosen, each of them condemned—and knew one thing for certain:

Tomorrow, they would fall. And nothing would ever be the same again.