Reassignment

Kaela stood just outside the scout barracks, her hand resting on the iron latch of the door.

The first snow had yet to fall, but winter was already settling in like rot beneath the skin. The wind whistled past the training yard behind her, dry leaves scraping along stone like whispered threats. Frost clung to the corners of the barrack windows, and the chill in the air bit straight through her cloak. Still, she didn't shiver.

Not from cold, anyway.

Her grip tightened on the handle. The door creaked open, iron scraping against rusted hinges.

Inside, the meeting hall was dimly lit. The central brazier glowed low with orange coals, casting flickering shadows that clung to stone walls. A few oil lanterns lined the far wall, giving off more smoke than light. The long tables were mostly cleared, stacked with weapons, maps, and half-mended gear.

The scent of oiled leather, smoke, and old steel clung to everything.

Half the elite unit was already gathered—leaning against walls, squatting on benches, arms folded or sprawled out like they had better places to be. No one looked up when she entered.

That wasn't coldness.

That was protocol.

No greetings. No questions. Not unless someone walked in trailing blood, or carrying a corpse.

Keep your problems to yourself. Everyone else has enough of their own.

Kaela made her way to the side of the room, boots echoing quietly across the stone floor. She paused just long enough to scan the crowd—counting heads, logging faces.

It was reflex by now.

Team B:

Tyren was slouched across a bench like he owned it. His coat hung open, and a long scratch was visible across his collarbone, half-healed. His crooked nose bent slightly to the left—again. Kaela had lost track of how many times he'd broken it. Rank 6. Loud. Repetitive. Liked to punch first and forget the rest.

Sitting next to him, silent and perfectly upright, was Isha. Her skin gleamed bronze in the firelight, dark braids pulled back tight against her head. She ran a small whetstone across her dagger, rhythmically. Always cleaning that blade, even when it didn't need it. Rank 7. Quiet as ash. When she smiled, something usually died a few seconds later.

Team C:

Riven leaned against the wall like a shadow that had gotten bored of sticking to the floor. White hair fell in front of his eyes, nearly colorless brows creased in something like thought—or sleep. Hard to tell with him. Rank 8. He rarely spoke. Even more rarely missed.

Next to him was Junie.

She stood like she was ready to fight the door for opening too slow. Broad-shouldered, arms crossed, flame-red hair messily chopped short around her chin. Her freckled face was set in a frown that never really left. Rank 5. Loud, stubborn, unpredictable. She'd punched a beast to death once—Kaela had watched it. It wasn't bragging if it was true.

Kaela exhaled and forced her attention to the front of the room.

Vin stood near the far wall, arms folded, gaze fixed on the empty hearth behind the commander's platform. He hadn't looked at her since she'd walked in.

She hadn't expected him to.

The silence between them had stretched since that night outside the jail. When she'd collapsed in his arms without saying a word, and he'd said even less. Since then, nothing.

Just silence. And space. And the weight of something they weren't ready to name.

The door creaked again.

The commander entered, boots sharp on stone.

He didn't wear insignias. Didn't need to. His presence filled the room more than rank ever could. Tall, lean, with graying hair and sharp eyes that had seen too many winters. His coat was plain. His voice was not.

"All mission deployments are suspended until further notice," he said, eyes sweeping the room. "The beasts are migrating early. We've had two patrols report contact within a kilometer of the wall. One loss."

Kaela saw shoulders tense.

"We'll hold the wall. But not with what we have."

He moved toward the brazier, resting a hand near the flame, then turning back to them.

"No more hunting squads. No more scouting runs. Winter prep is the new priority. We're reassigning the elite unit."

Murmurs passed between the squads.

"Each of you will oversee combat training for standard unit members. We're accelerating their readiness curve. If they're not capable, they die. And then we do."

Simple. Effective.

Kaela nodded.

Someone grunted behind her. Tyren, probably.

"Additionally," the commander said, gesturing to the door. "We'll be trialing three new candidates for elite promotion."

That got attention.

Heads turned as the door opened again.

Three cloaked figures entered, hoods drawn.

Kaela felt the mood in the room shift. Subtle. Like a breeze through coals.

The commander's tone didn't change.

"These three were specially recommended for elite evaluation. They won't be rotating through standard units. If they pass their trials, they join us directly."

He turned to the newcomers.

"Names. Rank. Now."

The first stepped forward, lowering her hood.

A young woman with soft brown curls and warm hazel eyes. Freckles. Open face. Not naïve—but new.

"Sky," she said. "Rank 6."

Calm voice. No nerves.

She stepped back.

The second figure moved next. She drew down her hood.

Inky black hair fell over her shoulders. Pale skin. Sharp cheekbones. Her light blue eyes scanned the room without pause.

"Emi," she said. Her voice was low and deliberate. "Rank 8."

A few eyebrows raised.

She gave a nod and stepped back.

Then the third stepped forward.

Kaela blinked.

She froze.

He pulled his hood down.

Warren.

Her throat closed. Her lungs seemed to forget how to breathe.

He looked different.

Lean, pale, colder. His eyes were still the same shape—but there was something deeper behind them now. Like someone who'd drowned and come back wrong.

"…Warren," he said. "Rank… confidential."

The words landed like a stone in still water.

Kaela's stomach turned.

She hadn't seen him since the cell. Since he screamed at her. Since she left crying.

He didn't look at her.

But she looked at him. Long and hard.

The commander nodded again. "They'll be split among the unit. Trained, evaluated. If they fail, they leave. If they succeed, they stay. Either way—they'll be with you."

Kaela glanced toward Vin. He hadn't moved, but his posture had changed. Subtly. Like a knife unsheathing.

"Training starts tomorrow," the commander continued. "Volunteers?"

Kaela stepped forward. She didn't hesitate.

"I'll take Sky."

The brown-haired girl smiled faintly and nodded.

Riven pushed off the wall lazily.

"Emi."

The pale girl barely acknowledged him.

Just one left.

Warren.

Kaela didn't move. Her heart was hammering, but she stayed silent.

Vin took a step forward.

"I'll take—"

"Why is his rank confidential?"

Junie's voice cut the room in half.

Kaela flinched.

The redhead stepped forward, arms folded, mouth a thin line. Her eyes were locked on the commander.

"You expect us to train someone we don't even have clearance to evaluate?"

"It's been authorized," the commander said.

"By who?"

"Not your concern."

Junie's eyes flicked to Warren, then back. "It is if he's on my squad."

"He's not," Vin said, stepping in. "I'll handle him."

"The hell you will," Junie snapped. "You don't get to hoard the mysterious recruit just because you've got some weird guilt trip going on."

Kaela's eyes widened.

Vin's jaw clenched.

"Not now, Junie."

"It's not about now," she said, eyes sharp. "It's about precedent. If we let you play favorites now, what happens next?"

Kaela watched Warren's face. He hadn't reacted. Not once.

Just standing there. Listening. Watching.

Waiting.

"Enough," the commander said finally. "Split training."

Junie scowled.

Vin frowned.

"You'll alternate days. Junie one day. Vin the next. When not assigned to Warren, you'll be training the regulars."

Neither looked happy.

Junie gave a shrug.

"Fine. I'll train him twice as hard. We'll see what's actually behind those blank eyes."

Vin said nothing.

Kaela finally looked at Warren again.

He met her eyes.

For just a second.

But it was enough.

Whatever warmth had once been there—whatever pain he'd shown in that cell—it was gone.

Replaced with something harder. More focused.

Like a blade held behind the tongue.

The commander clapped his hands once.

"Assignments will be distributed tonight. Dismissed."

The room started to break apart. Voices rose. Junie stormed out. Sky trailed behind Kaela quietly. Riven had already vanished.

Kaela looked back one last time.

Warren hadn't moved.

He stood there, alone in the firelight, like a statue no one remembered building.

And his eyes…

They still burned.

But now?

Not with confusion.

With purpose.

And maybe something more.