The warmth did not disappear after that night.
It changed.
For the first time, Kel could feel it even when he wasn't fighting.
Not constantly.
Not clearly.
But sometimes—
when he woke before sunrise.
When he tightened his fists.
When he slowed his breathing.
Something deep inside his body answered.
A faint current.
A pulse beneath muscle and bone.
Weak.
Unstable.
But there.
The weeks that followed did not pass.
They ground.
Time in Frontier Patrol Unit 7 moved like stone dragged across bone—slow, heavy, and merciless.
Muscle tore and healed just enough to tear again.
Skin split beneath calluses that never softened.
Orders rained down from men who rarely bothered to remember names.
Kel and Luno were pushed constantly.
The lowest Guard detail carried the work no one else wanted.
They cleaned latrines until the stench soaked into their clothes.
They repaired fences along outer roads where wood splintered beneath the first real wind.
They hauled water from wells so far beyond Durnfield that the sun climbed halfway across the sky before the buckets were full.
They escorted half-empty carts.
Patrolled abandoned roads.
Carried supplies for better units.
Buried what those units left behind.
There was always more work.
And never enough people.
Supply lines were failing.
Everyone knew it.
Every missing wagon meant another village tightening its rations.
Every delayed delivery meant another merchant raising prices.
Every empty crate meant another family wondering what they would eat when winter winds finally reached the Badlands.
The Guards talked about it quietly.
Behind barracks.
Over ration bowls.
During late-night watches.
"Third caravan this month."
"Southern route got hit again."
"Command says they're sending reinforcements."
"Command always says that."
Kel listened.
He always listened.
Their uniforms never fully dried.
Sleep came in fragments.
Thin, brittle things that shattered the moment pain reminded them they were still alive.
Kel never complained.
When Luno struggled beneath the weight of two water buckets, Kel shifted closer without saying a word and took one.
Luno immediately frowned.
"I can carry it."
Kel kept walking.
"Didn't say you couldn't."
"You took it."
"You were slow."
"I am getting stronger."
Kel glanced sideways.
Luno's arms shook beneath the remaining bucket.
"Very slowly."
Luno puffed his cheeks.
"Still counts."
Kel almost smiled.
They continued through the dust-choked road.
After several steps, Luno looked over.
"Kel."
"What?"
"You're going to collapse if you keep doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Taking everybody else's weight."
Kel adjusted the bucket on his shoulder.
"Just yours."
"That doesn't make it better."
Kel looked ahead.
"Then get stronger."
Luno narrowed his eyes.
"You said that before."
"Still true."
For a moment—
they laughed.
The sound echoed between Durnfield's broken buildings.
Then died beneath the cold looks of passing Guards.
One spat into the dirt.
Another muttered something about orphans trying too hard.
Kel didn't respond.
Attention was dangerous.
Invisible was safer.
Invisible meant surviving long enough to matter.
But after the outpost raid—
invisible was becoming harder.
People had seen him fight.
People had seen Luno turn handfuls of stones into openings.
And people were starting to remember their names.
---
When night fell, most of Unit 7 collapsed the moment their heads touched straw.
Kel didn't.
Long after the lanterns dimmed and the barracks filled with snoring bodies, he slipped outside into the courtyard.
The Badlands sky stretched above him.
Black.
Endless.
Cold compared to the furnace of the day.
Kel stood alone in the cracked training yard.
Then raised his fists.
He started slowly.
Jab.
Step.
Cross.
Pivot.
Reset.
Again.
Punches.
Kicks.
Footwork.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing anyone had taught him properly.
Just movements gathered from years of watching travelers, Guards, street fights, and anyone who looked like they knew how to survive.
His feet scraped across the dirt.
His breathing settled.
In.
Out.
Strike.
Step.
Pivot.
Strike again.
His muscles burned.
Sweat slid down his back.
His injured shoulder still complained whenever he extended too far.
But beneath the pain—
the current appeared.
Kel stopped.
It disappeared.
He frowned.
Raised his fists again.
Breathed.
Moved.
One step.
Nothing.
Another.
Still nothing.
Kel punched.
His stance shifted slightly.
His heel planted.
His hips turned.
His shoulder followed.
And—
there.
A faint warmth traveled through him.
Not exploding like during the first alley fight.
Not surging uncontrollably like during the raid.
It moved.
Leg.
Hip.
Core.
Shoulder.
Fist.
Kel's eyes widened.
He punched again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
He reset.
Slowed his breathing.
Thought about the feeling.
Not the heat.
The path.
Foot.
Leg.
Core.
Arm.
He struck.
The warmth moved again.
For half a second—
the punch felt almost weightless.
Then his fist struck the practice post.
THUD.
Kel stepped back.
He stared at his hand.
No pain.
Not much, anyway.
Normally the old wood rattled his knuckles.
This time the impact had traveled differently.
Through his entire body.
Just like when he had pulled Luno from the bridge.
Just like when he had struck the raider.
Kel looked down at his feet.
"So that's what you're doing."
The warmth disappeared.
Kel frowned.
"Come back."
Nothing.
He clenched his fists.
Still nothing.
Kel sighed.
"You're annoying."
A voice answered from behind him.
"Who are you talking to?"
Kel spun.
Luno sat on the low wall at the edge of the yard.
The jar rested beside him.
Kel lowered his hands.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to know you're arguing with yourself."
"I wasn't."
"You told your hand to come back."
Kel stared at him.
Luno smiled.
Kel looked toward the jar.
Several ants crawled across Luno's fingers.
Not trapped inside anymore.
Kel's expression changed.
"You took them out?"
Luno looked down.
"Only some."
"They'll run away."
"They don't."
Kel walked closer.
An ant moved across the back of Luno's hand.
Another climbed along his wrist.
A beetle rested near his thumb.
None tried to leave.
Kel frowned.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Luno lifted his hand slowly.
The ants moved with the shift.
Not startled.
Not scattering.
"They've been doing it more."
"Doing what?"
"Listening."
Kel's eyes narrowed.
"Insects don't listen."
Luno looked at him.
"You keep saying things like that."
"Because they're true."
Luno held one finger out.
The beetle crawled onto it.
"Watch."
He moved his finger left.
The beetle turned.
Right.
It turned again.
Kel stared.
Luno's smile disappeared.
"I didn't teach it that."
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Kel looked around the dark courtyard.
"Put them back."
"Why?"
"Because if Brask sees that, he'll crush them just to annoy you."
Luno's jaw tightened.
He carefully returned the insects to the jar.
Kel looked back toward the training post.
Luno studied him.
"You ever feel strange when you fight?"
Kel didn't answer immediately.
Luno continued.
"Like something moves through you."
Kel's eyes shifted toward him.
Luno watched an ant crawl across the glass.
"Ants do it when something threatens the colony."
"They stop acting like individuals."
"They move together."
Kel looked at his own hand.
"And?"
Luno shrugged.
"Maybe your body does that."
Kel frowned.
"My body isn't a colony."
"It's made of lots of parts."
"That is not the same thing."
"Kind of is."
Kel shook his head.
"You spend too much time with bugs."
Luno smiled.
"You spend too much time getting punched."
Kel almost laughed.
Then he looked back at the post.
His expression became serious.
"When it happens…"
Luno waited.
Kel flexed his fingers.
"It feels like everything connects."
His legs.
His core.
His shoulders.
His arms.
For the first time, he said it aloud.
"Like my whole body moves together."
Luno's eyes sharpened.
"Like the ants."
Kel sighed.
"Don't make this about ants."
"I'm just saying."
Kel raised his fists again.
Luno leaned forward.
"Try breathing slower."
Kel looked over.
"What?"
"You always breathe differently right before it happens."
Kel stared at him.
Luno shrugged.
"I watch."
Of course he did.
Kel turned back toward the post.
He inhaled.
Slowly.
Exhaled.
Then moved.
---
Over the next several nights—
they experimented.
Kel moved.
Luno watched.
"Too tense."
Kel punched again.
"You lifted your shoulder first."
Again.
"Your back foot moved."
Again.
"Better."
Kel struck the post.
THUD.
Warmth flickered through his arm.
Kel stopped.
"You saw that?"
"No."
Luno pointed at his feet.
"But you planted differently."
Again.
Hours passed.
The current never stayed long.
Sometimes it didn't appear at all.
Sometimes it came for a single movement.
Sometimes Kel felt it start in his chest only to vanish before reaching his fist.
But slowly—
patterns emerged.
Breathing mattered.
Balance mattered.
Relaxation mattered.
And forcing it almost always made it disappear.
Kel hated that part.
Luno found it hilarious.
"You're trying too hard."
Kel glared at him.
"That's stupid."
"Maybe."
Luno tapped the jar.
"But whenever ants get trapped, struggling makes it worse."
Kel stared.
"I'm going to throw that jar one day."
Luno hugged it protectively.
"No, you're not."
He was right.
---
Their first official recovery mission came before dawn.
Captain Harven gathered Unit 7 in the yard.
Everyone looked exhausted.
Nobody complained.
Harven held a folded route map.
"A supply wagon vanished along the northern road yesterday."
Several Guards exchanged looks.
The northern road had a reputation.
Raiders hunted it.
Beasts followed the scent of blood.
And travelers disappeared there often enough that most people preferred adding two days to a journey rather than taking the shortcut.
Harven looked over the group.
"This is a recovery patrol."
"Not a hunt."
"Not revenge."
"Recovery."
His eyes moved across the recruits.
"Stay in formation."
"Follow orders."
"And don't try to be heroes."
A few older Guards laughed quietly.
Harven didn't.
"You're here to learn how to survive."
"Not die."
Luno leaned toward Kel.
"Very comforting speech."
Kel tightened the strap around his forearm.
"Stay close."
Luno rolled his eyes.
"You know I'm going to start saying that to you."
Kel looked at him.
"Don't."
---
The northern road greeted them with silence.
No birds.
No insects.
Even the wind seemed weaker there.
Luno noticed first.
He looked toward the roadside brush.
Kel saw his expression.
"What?"
"Too quiet."
Kel's eyes moved toward the trees.
"You sure?"
Luno nodded.
"They should be everywhere."
Harven heard them.
"Something wrong?"
Luno hesitated.
Kel answered.
"He says there aren't enough insects."
Several Guards laughed.
Harven didn't.
He looked toward Luno.
"And that means?"
Luno swallowed.
"Something scared them away."
The laughter stopped.
Harven stared at him for a moment.
Then lifted one fist.
The patrol slowed.
Kel glanced toward Luno.
Luno gave a tiny shrug.
They continued.
The wagon tracks ended suddenly.
Deep gouges scarred the dirt.
Broken wood littered the roadside.
A torn wheel lay half-buried in the brush.
Then the smell reached them.
Iron.
Rot.
Blood.
They found the wagon near a shallow creek.
Or what remained of it.
Crates shattered.
Cloth torn.
Food scattered into the mud.
Blood had dried dark across the earth.
One guard kicked an empty grain sack.
"Damn."
Another town would tighten its rations.
Harven crouched beside the tracks.
His fingers touched the dirt.
"Ambush site."
Kel scanned the trees.
Luno crouched near a broken crate.
A trail of ants moved across the wood.
He watched them.
His eyes narrowed.
Kel noticed.
"What?"
Luno whispered.
"They're moving away from us."
Kel looked toward the trees.
Then—
"Captain."
Harven's head lifted.
The attack came instantly.
Branches exploded.
Raiders burst from the brush with jagged blades and desperate eyes.
"Contact!"
Veteran Guards formed ranks.
Younger recruits froze.
Steel flashed.
Kel moved beside Luno.
A raider rushed them.
Kel lowered his stance.
The man swung.
Kel slipped the blade.
His breath slowed instinctively.
The current flickered.
Foot.
Leg.
Core.
Shoulder—
Kel's fist drove forward.
CRACK.
The raider's body snapped backward.
He hit the dirt and rolled.
Kel stumbled half a step.
His arm shook.
The current vanished.
But this time—
Kel understood part of what had happened.
He had felt it move.
Luno stared.
"You did it."
Kel breathed hard.
"Not now."
Another raider charged.
Luno dropped low.
His hand scooped stones from the road.
He threw.
Not at the man's face.
At his next step.
The stone struck the dirt.
The raider adjusted.
Kel moved into the opening.
Elbow.
Ribs.
Knee.
The man collapsed.
Another came from the left.
Luno threw again.
Wrist.
The raider's blade shifted.
A Guard spear drove into his shoulder.
Luno's eyes moved faster than his hands.
"Two right!"
Kel turned.
Two figures broke through the brush.
One high.
One low.
Kel ducked the first strike.
The second blade cut across his side.
Pain burned.
Kel grunted.
The current disappeared.
He stumbled.
Luno's expression changed.
"Kel!"
"I'm fine."
The first raider attacked again.
Kel backed up.
Too tense.
His breathing broke.
Nothing answered.
The blade came down.
Kel blocked with his forearm.
Pain exploded.
His body tightened harder.
Still nothing.
Then Luno shouted—
"Breathe!"
Kel heard him.
One word.
Breathe.
Kel inhaled.
The raider swung.
Kel exhaled.
His shoulders loosened.
His foot planted.
Warmth appeared.
Tiny.
Just enough.
Kel twisted.
The current moved from his leg into his torso.
His fist struck beneath the raider's jaw.
CRACK.
The man dropped.
Kel stared at him.
Luno grinned despite the chaos.
"Told you."
Kel glared.
"Shut up."
The guards pushed forward.
Minutes later—
the raiders broke.
They disappeared into the brush as quickly as they had come.
Harven raised his hand.
"Do not chase!"
Nobody moved.
Silence returned.
Kel stood breathing hard.
Blood slid down his side.
His knuckles were split again.
Luno approached.
"You're bleeding."
"So are they."
"That doesn't make yours disappear."
Kel looked toward the fleeing raiders.
Captain Harven walked over.
His gaze moved from the unconscious man at Kel's feet—
to Luno—
then back to Kel.
"Not bad."
Kel nodded once.
Harven looked toward the road.
"You fight like someone who's seen death before."
Kel didn't answer.
In Durnfield—
everyone had.
Harven's eyes dropped briefly toward Kel's fist.
Then toward Luno's handful of stones.
He said nothing.
But once again—
he was measuring them.
---
Whispers followed them back to camp.
"That orphan dropped another raider bare-handed."
"Two."
"Lucky."
"Luck doesn't happen that many times."
"The weird one called the ambush before Harven saw it."
"He listens to bugs."
"That's worse."
Kel ignored them.
Luno did not.
"They called me weird."
Kel sat beside the fire, flexing his bruised fingers.
"You are weird."
Luno stared.
"You're supposed to defend me."
"I defend you from danger."
"Insults are danger."
"No."
"They can hurt emotionally."
Kel looked over.
Luno kept a perfectly serious face.
Kel shook his head.
"You'll survive."
Luno smiled.
A moment later he sat beside him.
For a while they watched the fire.
Sparks floated upward.
The Badlands night stretched endlessly beyond the camp.
Luno broke the silence.
"You're still my hero."
Kel groaned softly.
"You say that a lot."
"Because it's true."
Kel flexed his hand again.
Warmth flickered beneath the skin.
Small.
Responsive.
Growing more familiar.
He still didn't know its name.
But he was beginning to understand its rules.
Don't force it.
Breathe.
Move correctly.
Let the whole body work together.
And every time he used it—
the feeling became a little easier to find.
Across from him, several ants crawled from Luno's sleeve onto the back of his hand.
Luno froze.
Kel noticed.
Neither boy spoke.
The ants moved into a small circle.
Then stopped.
Every tiny head turned toward Luno.
His smile faded.
Kel looked at him.
"You doing that?"
Luno slowly shook his head.
"No."
One ant moved.
Then another.
The circle tightened around his finger.
Luno stared.
For the first time—
he didn't look fascinated.
He looked uncertain.
Kel leaned forward.
"Put them back in the jar."
Luno didn't move immediately.
"Kel…"
"What?"
Luno lifted his hand slightly.
The entire circle moved with him.
Perfectly.
"I think they're starting to understand me."
Kel looked from Luno—
to the insects—
then toward the dark Badlands beyond the fire.
He remembered what Harven had said.
Your body keeps doing things you don't understand.
Maybe that wasn't only true for him.
Kel closed his hand.
The faint warmth inside him pulsed once.
Then settled.
Duty had already changed them.
Pain had changed them.
The Badlands was changing them.
And neither boy yet understood what they were becoming.
Above them, the night stretched without end.
Tomorrow would bring another patrol.
Another order.
Another chance to survive.
But for the first time since joining Unit 7—
survival wasn't the only thing waiting for them.
Something else was growing.
Quietly.
Patiently.
Inside them both