At the northern edge of the city, just beyond the tightly packed rows of houses and stretching fields, a military base stood stark and imposing. Rows of barbed wire ran along the outer perimeter, and massive iron gates guarded its entrance, looming under the overcast sky like a fortress from another age. Military trucks were stationed near the hangars, engines idling softly, and teams of soldiers moved briskly through the organised grid of barracks and supply tents.
Inside one of the base's command towers, General Cutlas Henk gazed through the glass at the sprawling grounds below. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, one that spoke of decades spent in unforgiving terrains and under harsh suns. His grey hair was cut short, and a sharp scar ran from his left temple to his jaw—a souvenir from a battle he rarely mentioned. As he stood, arms folded behind his back, his eyes darted from one sector of the base to another, an ever-present tension in his gaze.
Beside him was General Araya Restingam, a slender woman with sharp, hawkish eyes that missed nothing. She wore her dark hair pulled back tightly, emphasising her angular features, and her uniform was as crisp as her demeanour. Known for her intelligence and precision, Araya was the strategist, the one who could see the angles others missed, and she’d earned her rank by planning manoeuvres that had turned impossible odds in their favour more than once. She leaned over a holographic map, scrutinising it as though any detail left unchecked was an invitation to disaster.
Standing a bit farther back was General Will Hayadi, a younger man with a wiry build and an intense, restless energy. His arms were crossed over his chest, his fingers tapping absently against his sleeve. Hayadi was known for his willingness to act swiftly, sometimes too swiftly for the liking of others. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing between Henk and Restingam with a slight impatience, as if itching to be back on the ground rather than stuck in strategy briefings.
“Any news from the front, Araya?” Henk’s voice was gruff, barely louder than a murmur, yet it cut through the room with authority.
Araya didn’t look up from her map. “Nothing promising,” she replied coolly. “The resistance is digging in deeper than we anticipated. Every time we clear one area, they regroup in another. It’s like trying to nail down a shadow.”
Hayadi scoffed, his voice dripping with frustration. “Then maybe it’s time we stopped playing nice. Why waste time clearing them out one corner at a time?”
Henk’s eyes narrowed as he considered Hayadi’s words.
A shadow flickered at the far edge of the room, drawing their attention. A man, cloaked in a long, dark overcoat with a hood pulled low over his face, stepped from the shadows. His presence was abrupt, like a sudden gust of cold air. He moved forward, his steps echoing, stopping only once he was close enough to be fully visible in the dim light.
“General Henk,” the messenger spoke, his voice low and hoarse. His face, half-hidden in the shadow of his hood, gave nothing away. “I bring urgent news.”
Henk straightened, sharing a glance with Restingam and Hayadi. “Speak.”
The messenger bowed his head slightly before he continued, “There’s been a… development. A group of children, hybrids from the residential area. They’ve awakened abilities beyond any we’ve previously observed.”
Restingam’s eyes narrowed, and her hand stopped tapping. “Abilities? What kind of abilities?” Her tone was sharp, demanding details.
The messenger hesitated for a moment, almost as if piecing the words together in his mind. “From what I observed… They can manipulate elements. I saw one with command over lightning, another wielding fire, one who seems to possess unusual strength. And one…” He paused, as though considering how best to explain. “One of them appears to be able to… teleport, bending space itself.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Hayadi let out a low grunt, his eyes flickering with newfound interest. “Teleportation? That’s not just a minor talent. That’s a weapon.”
Henk’s lips curled into a thin smile, his gaze darkening. “And this group—how well do they control these abilities?”
“Barely at all,” replied the messenger, his tone calm but with a hint of urgency. “They’re untrained, inexperienced. They hardly seem to know what they’re capable of.”
A spark of intrigue lit Restingam’s eyes, and she tilted her head. “So they have raw power, ripe for shaping… or for breaking.” She looked back to Henk, her gaze reflecting the same intent that had hardened in his eyes. “If we move quickly, we could have them within reach before they even understand what they are.”
Hayadi nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “If they’ve only just discovered these powers, then there’s no telling how much stronger they’ll become with time. Better we bring them in now than wait and risk losing control of them.”
Henk nodded slowly, his voice a low rumble. “Then it’s decided. We’ll send out our retrieval unit and bring these hybrids back to the base.” He looked to the messenger. “Return and keep an eye on them. I want to know everything they do, every hint of development. Do not let them slip through our grasp.”
The messenger nodded, his dark form dissolving back into the shadows as he left the room, his cloak trailing behind him like a wisp of smoke.
Restingam crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a calculating line. “If they’re as powerful as you say, Henk, it won’t be easy to control them. They’ll resist. They’ll need… conditioning.”
“Then we’ll do whatever’s necessary,” Henk replied, his tone cold and unyielding. “These children represent the edge we need. They don’t yet understand their powers, and that is their greatest weakness. We’ll strike while they’re still uncertain and bring them to heel.”
The four fell silent, plotting their revenge against the humans more meticulously than ever.
~ ~ ~
Jayden slipped silently down the corridor, moving with the practised ease of someone accustomed to shadows. The dim lights overhead cast soft, fractured glows, illuminating patches of the steel-panelled walls but leaving plenty of space for him to disappear when needed. Being a scout had its perks—silent exits were a must—but tonight, Jayden’s mind was far from his usual focus.
He hadn’t been able to shake what he’d witnessed in the woods. Those kids—no, they couldn’t have been older than twelve at most—had unlocked abilities beyond anything he’d expected. Jayden had watched as one boy, with an intense concentration, sparked flames from his hands, lighting up the clearing like a bonfire. Another had raised a palm, and tiny, sharp arcs of electricity jumped from his fingers, each shock met with startled laughter from his friends. But it was the last boy, the one with the dark, almost defiant look in his eyes, who’d surprised him most. In a blink, that boy had vanished from sight, only to reappear a few feet away.
Jayden rubbed his temple, feeling a pang of unease. These kids were hybrids, yes, but no ordinary hybrids. What he’d witnessed was raw, primal energy. The kind of energy that, if controlled, could reshape the future of this war. If unleashed without training… it could burn the world to ashes.
He paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was nearby. The thought of the generals’ plan gnawed at him, turning his stomach. General Henk, with his ruthless drive, would waste no time shaping these young talents into tools, stripping away any ounce of independence. And Araya Restingam? She was no different. To her, those kids were assets to be moulded, nothing more.
Jayden took a steadying breath, feeling the cold bite of the air in the corridor. Somewhere deep down, he wished he could warn those kids—tell them to run and never look back. They were young, barely old enough to understand the world they were caught up in, and yet, here they were, on the edge of becoming pawns in a conflict older than they were.
But no matter how much he wanted to help them, Jayden knew where his loyalty lay. He had joined the military for reasons: to survive, to find purpose. It hadn’t been an easy life, but it had been his choice. As he stood alone in the cold corridor, he wondered if his choice had led him too far down a path he couldn’t return from.