『"In the eye of the hurricane, there is quiet. Even for just a moment."』
They followed Ethan through corridors that were beginning to blur together in Amara's exhausted mind. He moved, placing a card against scanner after scanner.
Each one blinked green and hissed open with a soft pneumatic sound that reminded Amara of airlock doors in science fiction movies.
Except this wasn't fiction. This was her life now.
They finally arrived at what looked like a supply room. Ethan grabbed a stack of cards and several black smart phone devices from organized compartments, turning to face them.
"ID clearance key cards to get around," he said, distributing them one by one.
Each card had a lanyard attached so they could hang it around their necks if they wanted to. Then he said, "You're all still at Level One, so you can't access every floor."
His eyes landed on Amara specifically when he handed her the card, and she met his gaze directly and held it, the hallway narrowing to just the two of them in that moment.
After a beat, her gaze dropped, breaking the stare to examine the card with a name that read: MURRAY, AMARA | CLEARANCE: LEVEL 1.
"Level One, huh?" Hiro turned his card over in his hands, studying it from every angle before slipping the lanyard around his neck. "And what level are you?"
Ethan simply stared at him and grinned, that infuriating smile that said he knew something they didn't and was enjoying the power imbalance.
It wasn't a reply, but the implication was crystal clear. He definitely wasn't Level One like the rest of them.
What came next was the distribution of the black devices as he placed one in each of their hands with care. "Communication devices. Fully encrypted, Institute network only. They should be used to contact family and help us coordinate with one another."
"They just look like smartphones me."Sophia said as she accepted hers.
Ethan's expression remained neutral. "These are better. Encrypted, impossible to hack." He paused, meeting each of their eyes. "Also monitored. Every call, message, search, Central Command logs everything for security."
He handed one of the devices to Amara and their fingers brushed for just a moment, but she pulled away. Not jerking back, or making a scene, just a subtle withdrawal.
She'd never been uncomfortable around Ethan before. But before, he hadn't been keeping world-ending secrets from her.
Hiro accepted his device with a dry, "That's not creepy at all," already turning it over like he was calculating how to break the encryption. And knowing Hiro, he definitely was going to do that.
"It's necessary," Ethan replied without a trace of apology in his voice.
With that settled, it was time to see their quarters. He led them through more corridors to an elevator with no visible buttons, just a smooth panel that lit up when he placed his card against it.
The descent was silent except for a faint hum. Amara's ears popped once, then again, pressure building in a way that indicated they were going much deeper.
How far down did this place go?
No one spoke during the ride. The silence became uncomfortable, filled with unspoken questions.
When the doors finally slid open, Ethan gestured down a wide hallway lined with identical doors with their names on each. "These will be our quarters. Down the hall is the kitchen. For now, let's get some shut-eye. It's been a really long night."
Understatement of the century.
Raj moved immediately, fatigue evident in his slumped shoulders. He grabbed the handle to the nearest door and read the name on it.
"This is me," he said, already pushing it open with single-minded determination to find a bed and pass out on it.
"That's it?" Hiro said, stopping everyone mid-motion. "Listen, buddy, you've got some questions to answer."
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and he looked tired. "Can we do this tomorrow? We've got a very early morning ahead of us."
"No." Amara stepped forward before she could second-guess herself. "I have to agree with Hiro. For one, if you're also part of the Five, that makes you the Shield, doesn't it?"
She already knew the answer. The force fields he'd been using all night, it all pointed to one conclusion.
Before Ethan could respond, before he could deflect or charm his way out of answering, Sophia cleared her throat loudly and spoke up, "Okay... I barely know any of you guys, and I've got no fucking idea what's happening here, but I'm going into my room before I pass out."
She walked toward the door with her name on it. "This is so weird," she said, looking at her name etched on the door.
She stretched out her keycard to open it but stopped and turned back. "Wait. How's the food situation here? Because if I'm gonna be stuck in some underground bunker, I need carbs. Lots of carbs."
"The food situation is good." He hadn't looked away from Amara once, even as he spoke. "And you can always head to the relaxation center to prepare something yourself if you prefer."
"Sweet." Sophia swiped her card over the door handle, and it blinked green. She disappeared into her room and closed the door, leaving the rest of them standing in the hallway in suddenly awkward silence.
The confrontation was about to escalate, Amara could feel it building like pressure before a storm. But thankfully, Raj stepped in with an emotional intelligence that occasionally broke through his straightforward exterior.
"Look, I know you guys want to grill Ethan and all that. I'm all for it." He yawned so wide his jaw cracked audibly. "But can we do that later? Like he said, it's been a long-ass night."
Amara broke eye contact with Ethan and turned to Raj. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease a fraction, and she offered Raj a small, grateful smile. "I suppose you're right."
Raj had that effect on people. Cutting through tension with simple, honest observations that were hard to argue with.
"Fine." Hiro grumbled, already heading to his door. "But we're talking tomorrow. And I'm gonna need a new inhaler." He swiped his card with unnecessary force and disappeared into his room, muttering something that sounded like "fucking secrets."
Raj yawned again and followed suit. "Night, guys. This is fucking weird." The door clicked shut behind him, and his muffled voice came through: "Like, really weird."
Now it was just Amara and Ethan standing in the hallway.
She stepped to her door and swiped her card, listening to the soft beep and watching the light turn green. The door opened up, revealing darkness beyond.
She stood at the threshold, one foot already inside, caught between staying and going, then stopped when he spoke her name.
"Amara."
She turned back fully, and Ethan had stepped closer, so close that she could see the worry creasing his forehead. He rested his arm against the edge of her doorframe, leaning in with a casualness that still couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders.
"Are we okay?" His voice was quiet, and then he added, "Like, are we good?"
Amara looked at him. Then she looked down at her hand, recalling the weight of the black blade in her grip. The way her entire life had changed in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
Then she tilted her head back to meet Ethan's gaze to answer. "Honestly? I don't know."
The words hung between them, honest and raw.
She took a step deeper into her room, putting distance between them that felt both necessary and painful. "But I hope we can be."
Her hand found the door control and she gave him one last look. "Good night, Ethan."
"Yeah..." He whispered. "Good night."
The door closed shut, and Amara was finally alone for the first time since the sword had appeared in her hand.
***
She stood there for a moment, back pressed against the door, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Then she flipped on the glowing light switch and turned to examine her new living space.
The room was larger than she'd expected. Not ostentatious, but thoughtfully designed. A queen-sized bed dominated one wall, covered in dark blue linens that looked like it would be really soft.
A desk sat beneath a window that showed... nothing. Just darkness. They were underground, she remembered. "Why put windows?" she scoffed, whispering to herself.
By the opposite corner, there was a small sitting space occupied by a chair and lamp. Her eyes swept the space until they landed on what she needed most right now: a bathroom.
Thank God.
Amara moved with purpose, already unbuttoning her shirt, the white fabric now stained with rain and dirt and things she didn't want to think about.
She slid it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then her jeans followed, unbuttoned and pushed down her hips until she could step out of them.
She caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Five-foot-nine and the lean muscle definition of someone who ran track in high school but hadn't kept it up in college.
Then she laid her hands on something imprinted on the side of her torso, right where her ribs were.
Amara froze.
There was a mark on her. Narrow, rectangular, like a single bar tattooed into her skin. Except she'd never gotten a tattoo. Never had any mark there before tonight.
She traced it with her fingers and she gasped. Not from pain because it didn't hurt. Rather from a sudden fragmented memory of someone bleeding out in a field.
"What the hell?" She said, rubbing her hands across her skin. She wasn't certain if that was her or someone else.
Now that she thought about it, Ethan had a similar marking on his arm, except, his were two.
When a second bar appeared months ago and she asked about it, he said he just wanted to get a similar tattoo beneath the first. Another lie that just kept stacking up.
She shook her head. Too tired to even think about it.
On the mirror, her blue eyes looked exhausted, dark circles beneath them, bloodshot around the edges from stress. Her white locs were a tangled mess, still damp from the rain, and she looked like she'd been through a war.
She stretched out her arm, staring at her reflection, and tried to summon her Spirit Weapon. This time doing it on purpose, not out of desperation or fear like when it had first appeared.
"Come on," she whispered to herself.
Energy began to crackle in her palm. The sensation was strange, not painful but not comfortable either.
And suddenly, a longsword took form.
Black blade, constellation patterns swirling across its surface, crossguard like wings.
Angel's Bane. The Sword of Truth.
But as quickly as it came, it dissolved into motes of light that faded like dying embers.
Amara sighed and brushed her hair back from her face. Her fingers moved to unclasp her bra, letting it fall away. She stepped out of her underwear and moved toward the shower, suddenly desperate to wash away the night.
When she turned on the water, it felt like heaven.
The pressure was perfect. Strong enough to work out the knots in her shoulders but not so harsh it hurt. The temperature was also ideal, hot enough to steam but not scalding. Whatever "perfect" was, this was it.
The water cascaded over her, easing fatigue she'd been carrying in muscles she didn't know were tense. She stood there for a long moment, eyes closed, just breathing.
This was still all insane.
The Five. The Institute. The program that would supposedly allow her to continue her studies, while learning what it meant to be an Awakener.
They'd definitely meet more students like them tomorrow... well, not quite like them. Other Awakeners sure, but not burdened by some ancient grand design or whatever.
Normal seemed like a distant memory now.
Amara finally turned off the water and stepped out, feeling energized despite the late hour. Determined even. And if she was being honest with herself, though she'd never admit it to the others, also excited and nervous.
She wrapped a towel around her body and grabbed another for her hair, squeezing out the excess water before reaching for the blow dryer mounted on the wall.
While her hair dried, she spotted the closet and opened it.
Her eyes widened.
"Holy fishsticks."
It wasn't a closet. It was another room entirely, a walk-in space lined with racks of clothing organized by style and function.
Amara thought it was excessive. Gears she'd never use, formal wear she'd never need.
She grabbed the simplest thing—Soft cotton pants in deep navy blue and a matching tank top and wondered who'd stocked this. Who'd guessed her size, her preferences, her... it didn't matter.
She collapsed onto the bed, and it was exactly as soft as it had looked. The kind of mattress that seemed to conform to her body, cradling her in a way that made staying awake feel impossible.
Amara stared at the ceiling, her mind still racing even with her body's exhaustion. Tomorrow she'd start classes. Meet other students, and begin training... whatever that looked like.
Then sleep came in gentle stages. There was the softening of her breathing, then the slow fade of the room until only darkness remained.
She had no idea how many minutes had slipped away before sleep found her. Five? Fifteen?
It felt like seconds.
Then the loud blare of the alarm shattered everything.
An artificial female voice that was infuriatingly cheerful, emerged after from the alarm box: "Zero-six-hundred hours. All new inductees: Report to Transport Zone Alpha. Departure in thirty minutes. Destination: The Machine."
Amara's eyes snapped open.
Saying that murder was on her mind, was an understatement.
She sat up fast, white hair falling into her face, sheets pooling around her waist. For twenty-two years, her mother's voice had been in her head: Ladies don't use that kind of language, Amara. For twenty-two years, she'd listened.
And before she could catch it, the word escaped her lips without any filter.
"Mother-fucker!"