The wind carried the stink of charred asphalt and wet rot as Kade slowed her pace at the edge of what remained of the University of Southern Maine. A rusted placard clung to the outer gate, its letters scorched and blackened but still readable through the soot and grime. Department of Humanities. Fitting.

  Behind her, Lawson gave a silent hand signal, and the six marines adjusted formation, spreading out into a loose wedge. They had been crossing the city on foot for the better part of two hours, moving through skeletal buildings and ruptured streets where the ground still gave off a low, bitter heat. The fires had mostly died out, but the scorched concrete still radiated like it hadn’t let go of the violence.

  They had fought four times since leaving the Tidebound Front's perimeter. One attack came from rodentia, which appeared to be fleeing from something else. One was a troll that tried its best to crush the squad before they dropped it. The other two had been undead. Not just the usual shamblers. These moved in coordination, a mix of skeletons and walking corpses that worked together well enough to suggest orders. Not smart, but not aimless either.

  Kade didn’t know if that was average for a patrol, if they had just pulled a dangerous route, or if the world event had kicked up the number of undead wandering around in the city ruins already. She didn't have enough data yet to say for sure. The Tidebound Front liked to act like they did, but maps and theories Burrell had meant little when the terrain kept shifting and the enemy didn’t follow rules.

  Every block had represented a decision. Every alley had been a potential mistake. Now the city opened up ahead, the ruin giving way to something that looked like it belonged to the living. Not safe, but built with intent.

  The Ebonwake Conclave’s walls rose ahead, solid and sharp against the backdrop of smoke and ruin.

  She studied the Ebonwake Conclave’s fortifications through narrowed eyes. Reinforced palisades. Strategic watch towers Actual joinery. Not Tidebound’s chaos-theory barricades lashed together from car doors and hope. If the Front had built their defense like a drunken raccoon with access to a scrapyard, the Conclave had at least consulted a civil engineer. Or a particularly anal-retentive carpenter. The only thing the Tidebound Front had going for it was the inclusion of cannons in their defenses. Looking around, Kade couldn't see any sort of artillery.

  So what’s that make the Restoration Council’s fortress? She thought, brow quirking. House of bricks? Doubt it. More likely a house of permits and paperwork.

  Lawson stepped in beside her, pike pole resting across his shoulder. “Movement from the top of the palisades and a couple on nearby roofs,” he said, voice low. “I thought this was supposed to be college kids and dusty researchers? These folks are more organized than anything we've seen so far.”

  “They look like they learned fast,” Kade said. “Or they didn’t have time not to.”

  They stepped onto the cleared margin between the ruins and the ramparts. The ground was open with nothing to break the line of sight. Every step forward felt like it might draw fire. Kade let her hand drift near her belt, not on her cutlass, but close enough to matter. Her boots scraped across cracked pavement, the sound loud against the quiet. That was intentional.

  She wanted to be heard.

  At the gate, six guards waited behind a barricade of timber and construction barricades. Most wore fitted armor over what looked like old ROTC fatigues. One had an embossed book of some type strapped to her thigh in place of a sidearm or blade. Concerning.

  None looked older than twenty-five.

  At least the pre-Cataclysm construction boom was good for something, Kade thought. Plenty of concrete barricades lying around, already halfway to being fortifications.

  The oldest figure stood at the center. A woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun and a clipboard clutched to her chest like a breastplate. She looked like an administrator just by the way she held herself. Academic authority with no softness in sight. The type of woman who had never missed a committee meeting, even with the apocalypse kicking in the door.

  "Approach and identify," the woman commanded with a voice that could rival any drill instructor Kade had ever known. Not afraid, just efficient.

  Kade stepped forward. “Lieutenant Kade of the Horizon Talon. This is Second Lieutenant Lawson and Marine Squad One.”

  The woman’s gaze took them in. “Purpose?”

  “We’re here on recommendation from Callan of the Restoration Council. Our primary objective is to investigate several cemeteries tied to the recent world event. He suggested we coordinate with your team, since you've been doing research on the Simulation. We're also looking to exchange intel on current conditions across the northeastern seaboard. And frankly, to see if you’re still alive.”

  The administrator didn’t respond right away. She scribbled something on her clipboard, turned without a word, and walked toward the guardhouse.

  Kade watched her go but didn’t follow. The woman stepped inside and closed the door behind her. A moment later, a steady voice began speaking from within. The words were too muffled to understand, but the rhythm was sharp and controlled. It was clearly not a casual conversation but something one would expect to hear a subordinate talk to a superior.

  How they were talking greatly interested Kade, though. Probably talking into some kind of magical relay, Kade thought. If it works over long distances, she wanted to get her hands on some of it. The lack of communication with any teams on patrol or scouting was only going to become more problematic.

  "Death by bureaucracy," Lawson whispered.

  None of the guards moved. The one with the book on her thigh shifted her position slightly and gave Kade a quick look. It wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t hostile either. Just cautious.

  A minute later, the administrator stepped back out of the guardhouse with the same calm expression she had worn before.

  “You’re cleared,” she said. “Elara will escort you to intake.”

  The guard with the book broke formation and walked forward. She didn’t say a word, only motioned for them to follow.

  The gates opened with a slow, mechanical grind to expose the interior. The courtyard beyond had once been a college quad. Raised planters were packed with leafy greens and herbs. Someone repurposed the walkways into patrol routes. Watch stations overlooked the area, built from scrap metal and logs combined into functional towers.

  The Conclave had turned academia into a working fortress.

  Kade gave the space a once-over as they moved inside. It had overlapping fields of view, redundant guard posts, and fallback positions where defenders could funnel any attackers into a choke point . Someone had thought through more than just survival here. They’d planned to hold this ground.

  Elara said nothing, just motioned for them to follow and set off across the quad at a steady pace.

  Kade fell in behind her, Lawson to her right, the Marines spreading out into a traveling column that kept their flanks loose. They crossed between planters and under the watchful eyes of students-turned-sentries until Elara turned toward one building near the far side of the courtyard and pushed through the double doors.

  Inside, the change in atmosphere was immediate.

  The hallway stretched long and narrow, lined with reinforced windows and ironwood doors. The floor was clean. Not spotless, but cared for in a way that suggested routine rather than urgency. Along the walls, diagrams and etched formulas hung beside old academic signage. Magic, or something close to it, lay out like a science waiting to be proven.

  "It's like West Point for wizards," Kade heard one marine joke to another.

  She couldn't disagree.

  Kade studied one as they passed. Circles and symbols arranged with too much care to be decorative, but not enough to look finished. Half of the meaning went over her head, but she recognized the intent. They weren’t just casting here. They were trying to understand why casting worked at all.

  Tidebound Front fortification had been noise, shouting, the constant shuffle of armed workers trying to look like a functioning outpost. The Conclave moved differently. People walked with purpose, voices low, faces alert but not panicked. It felt more like a monastery preparing for a siege than a military command.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The building had once been some kind of science hall. Its interior showed signs of adaptation. Whiteboards held tactical sketches and magical theory written in a careful, practiced hand. Faded vinyl letters clung to the walls, warped and half-melted from fires that had torn through the city days earlier. Scorch marks climbed one of the support columns, patched over but still visible. It looked like the Ebonwake Conclave had fought to keep this place when everything fell apart.

  They passed a study group seated on the floor in a loose semicircle around an open book. An unlit candle sat at the center. One by one, the students took turns trying to light it with magic. About half managed it on their first attempt. A few more got there on the second.

  Kade slowed just enough to watch. No guidance from an instructor. Just repetition, concentration, and quiet determination. It looked like the type of training the Talon's mages could use.

  Elara remained silent, glancing back only once to make sure they were still following. Kade kept pace easily, counting turns and noting which doors had extra wards etched above them.

  Lawson walked beside her in silence. She could tell he was running the same calculations she was. Hallway layout, exit strategy, number of potential combatants. The six marines followed in a tight formation, weapons stowed but within reach. She didn’t expect trouble, but if it came to a fight, getting out of the building would be hard. Getting out of the compound would be damn near impossible.

  Eventually, Elara pushed open a double door with one shoulder and motioned them inside. The room beyond had been a lecture hall. Now, it was something else entirely.

  Someone had ripped out the benches and replaced them with lab tables. Some held equipment that looked salvaged from biotech facilities. Others hosted open spellbooks, crystal lattices, and instruments Kade didn’t even have names for. Red string stretched from corner to corner of an old chalkboard, binding together post-it notes, diagrams, and glowing sigils. Circles of runes shimmered faintly on the tile floor, like echoes waiting to be stepped on.

  At the center of it all stood a woman in a threadbare lab coat, her hand resting lightly on the open page of a large volume.

  Elara stopped just inside the door. “Dr. Solt, these are the folks the gate called you about. Sarah Kade and group from the Horizon Talon.”

  The woman looked up, eyes sharp behind a pair of smudged lenses. Her lab coat was worn, but she maintained it, with leather patches in places suggesting fieldwork. She had pulled her dark hair back in a tight coil, and she studied them with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew more than she planned to say.

  “Ah, yes. The ship that came into the harbor the other day,” she said, voice dry but not unkind. “What brings you to our humble university in the middle of the cataclysm?”

  Kade stepped forward. “I'm sure you saw the notification regarding the world event. We are on our way to investigate two nearby cemeteries.”

  “Callan said you’ve been researching the Simulation. He thought some field data might help fill in some blanks regarding the world event,” Kade said. “We’re hoping for collaboration. Maybe some coordination.”

  Mireya gave a slight nod. “Reasonable. Though not where our immediate efforts have been focused.” She moved to a nearby whiteboard to point out several locations on the map of the region. “We’ve been documenting dungeons and their role in the Simulation. Most of it still makes no sense.”

  Lawson tilted his head slightly. “You’re assuming there’s logic behind any of it.”

  “Oh, there’s logic,” Mireya said. “It’s just not human logic.”

  She turned the whiteboard so they could see. “We’ve been tracking overflow behavior in minor dungeons. If left untouched too long, they eject excess monsters. Sometimes in clusters. The phenomenon’s poorly understood.”

  Kade studied the map, then met Mireya’s eyes. “You’re talking about letting monsters loose just to get your data.”

  Mireya smiled faintly. “We’re not letting them loose. We’re documenting the conditions under which the Simulation decides to do it for us.”

  She stepped back from the board and folded her arms. “Besides, any real scientific leap requires a tension between risk and reward.”

  Lawson let out a slow breath, then muttered, “This is how science fiction horror starts.”

  Kade didn’t smile, but she shared a glance with him that said she was thinking the same thing.

  Mireya seemed entirely unbothered. “However, Callan is correct for once. We should investigate this world event as it is a fresh development. Now if only those idiots in the Tidebound Front and Restoration Council would get off their collective asses and establish a safe zone so we can get access to the Dataforge.”

  Kade gave her a long look. “Are you capable of defending yourself?”

  “I'll be bringing Elara,” Mireya replied. as if that explained everything.

  The mage still stood near the door, one hand resting lightly on the book at her hip.

  Kade nodded once.

  She didn’t like it. Not the academic herself and certainly not the idea of dragging a civilian into a field op that could go sideways fast. But Callan was right about one thing. If they were going to make sense of this Simulation, someone from a group like the Conclave had to see it up close.

  She just hoped Mireya could keep up.

  Because Kade didn’t have time to babysit.

  “I’ll meet you at the main gate in twenty minutes,” Mireya said, already turning back toward her notes. “Assuming no one’s rearranged my kit.”

  Kade rolled her eyes at the clear dismissal, then motioned for the team to follow Elara as she turned to head back out the way they came.

  The sky was still heavy with low cloud when they reached the main gate of the Ebonwake Conclave. The air had changed little since they’d come through, still held that sharp, ozone bite that lingered after several students cast fire spells. Elara walked a step ahead, her armor rustling just enough to be heard beneath the steady sound of boots on pavement.

  The guards from earlier remained at post, though their demeanor had shifted from tense to observant. Recognition didn’t mean trust, but it meant fewer weapons pointing at her squad.

  Kade paused just before the gate before turning to the same administrator from earlier. "Would it be possible to get a runner or courier to take a message back to our ship?"

  "Normally no, but I have someone going that way already. Ten gold and I'll have them carry a message for you," the woman said. "No return message."

  Kade paused, eyeing the administrator for a long second before reaching for her pocket.

  "Fine," she said. "But ten gold for a one-way note better include express service."

  The woman didn’t blink. “Same price we charge the Restoration Council.”

  Of course it was.

  Kade counted out the coins and handed them over. She pulled a folded scrap of field parchment from her pocket, pressed it against the side of the gate’s stone post, and wrote with quick, blocky strokes.

  Mission progressing. Local research asset joining. Cemetery recon remains primary. Will advise.

  She stared at it for half a beat, then flipped it closed without adding more. The brief message wasn't ideal, but Kade was concerned that Captain Voss wouldn't be the only to have read the message by the time it reached his hands. The Tidebound Front and Restoration Council were certainly playing political games, and the brief conversation with Mireya earlier didn't cast the Ebonwake Conclave in as neutral of a stance as Callan had indicated. Unless one thought neutral meant they were out for themselves.

  The administrator took the note and tucked it into a satchel already filled with sealed scrolls and coded tags.

  “It’ll get there,” she said.

  “It better,” Kade replied before joining the rest of the squad.

  Elara stopped by one of the support columns near the gate and leaned against it, watching the street beyond like she could see something Kade couldn’t.

  Mireya arrived two minutes later.

  She wore a light armored coat beneath her field robes, something between labwear and tactical gear. On her belt hung a sidearm similar to what Naomi had used back on Block Island. In her left hand, a small crystalline sphere floated just above the palm, glowing faintly.

  Kade raised an eyebrow. “I take it that’s not decorative.”

  “It’s a research tool,” Mireya replied. “Records sound, image, takes notes. Also provides additional information when using analyze.” She paused, then added, “Also makes coffee, but only badly.”

  Lawson glanced at the orb, then back to Mireya. “You carry it like a weapon.”

  Just a fancy notebook.” She let it drift back to hover near her shoulder, where it stayed suspended in a faint shimmer of blue light.

  They settled into a loose hold pattern near the gate, waiting for Briggs and his detachment to push through the ruins and link up. For now, Kade kept her team inside the Conclave perimeter. Safer that way. Fewer directions to cover.

  Lawson stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes on the gate road. He had spoken little since Mireya had arrived, but she could see the pressure building in the way he kept flexing his jaw, thinking too loud behind his silence.

  Finally, he broke it.

  “I used to laugh at the guys who talked about simulations running our lives,” he said. “Now I check my pulse in the mirror just to be sure I’m still the original me.”

  Kade didn’t answer right away. Something about the words lingered in the space between them. Not fear, exactly. Just the slow erosion of certainty. The kind that crept in after too many unanswered questions.

  If the Simulation is watching everything, she thought, is it rewarding the ones who follow orders? Or the ones who break them?

  She didn’t like the answer that formed next. Mostly because it wasn’t clear.

  Kade glanced over her shoulder at her squad. Professional. Capable. Loyal. Horizon Talon wasn’t just her duty station. It was her home. She had no intention of walking away from it, not even if the Council started showing teeth.

  But they couldn’t afford to be rigid.

  This world didn’t care about protocol. It cared about outcomes. So far, the Talon had done a decent job walking that line. Honor without blindness. Discipline without arrogance.

  "That's a little deep thinking for the middle of a mission," Kade started, "Cogito, erog sum."

  "I think, therefore I am?" Lawson responded.

  "You're still you even though the world you thought you knew was a lie," Kade said.

  In the distance, past the outer barricade, movement stirred along the main access road, interrupting their conversation.

  Lawson saw it too. “Briggs,” he said.

  “About time.”

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