The sky over the Echelon Academy shimmered with a lattice of floating sigils and anti-drone shields, painting the upper atmosphere in geometric light. The towered halls of the most prestigious institution on Earth stood like monuments to order, dominance, and legacy. Here, the sons and daughters of the elite were molded—into officers, politicians, executioners.
Clarenzo Descovinio walked through the arched gates in full daylight, no mask, no cloak, his shoulders squared beneath a formal academy blazer. Cain remained hidden, embedded in the internal sheath sewn into his coat's spine.
Students stared. Some nodded. Others whispered. The return of a Descovinio heir was cause for attention—especially one absent for years, now walking back like nothing had changed.
He scanned the crowd for potential threats, subtle tells, familiar faces. His posture was perfect, his face unreadable. But then he heard the voice.
"Enzo!"
A blur of movement followed by a slap to the back made him tense—but it was only one person who'd do that without flinching.
Tavien Rhys.
The broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed cadet grinned as he clapped Enzo on the back and pulled him into a one-armed hug.
"You bastard. You really came back."
"Tav."
Tavien's expression softened. "Wasn't sure if you survived that 'retreat' your father sent you on. Thought you'd gone off-grid for good."
Enzo offered a half-smile. "Guess I just needed space. Perspective."
"Well, you picked a hell of a cycle to re-enroll. Everyone's watching. The Senate Council's auditing the academy next month. Plus…" Tavien leaned in, voice low. "There's rumors about a rebel strike in Novar."
Enzo's pulse skipped. "And?"
"They say someone saved a bunch of civilians. Masked figure. Blade that blinked through walls. Sounds like a myth, right?"
He kept his tone casual. "People will believe anything if you package it well."
Tavien laughed. "Still a smartass. Good. I'm applying for precinct advancement this term—Polaris Track. I want to be real law, not just family lapdogs. Not all of us are born into thrones, y'know?"
"I know," Enzo said, and meant it.
They walked together through the plaza, catching stares and parting the crowd. Tavien was well-liked, loud but righteous, and undeniably loyal. The kind of person who believed in justice, but hadn't yet seen the cost of it.
And he didn't know Enzo's secret.
Not yet.
---
Inside the academy's North Atrium, marble floors reflected the chandelier light above. Glass walls revealed training chambers on either side—combat simulation arenas, command decks, and memory-theater rooms.
Then, she appeared.
Across the lobby, walking with measured steps and her head held high, was Lyra Vex, clad in the dark uniform of an Echelon strategist. Her silver-black hair was tied neatly, her eyes sharp as glass. Even without turning, she noticed him.
Her gaze caught his across the room—and for a moment, the past tugged hard.
They hadn't spoken in over a year. Not since Enzo left without warning. No message. No explanation.
She walked over slowly, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"So," she said. "The prodigal returns."
"Didn't expect a warm welcome," Enzo said.
"You don't deserve one."
Silence.
Then—just faintly—her tone softened. "But I'm glad you're alive."
He gave a slight nod. "You've risen fast."
"Some of us didn't get the luxury of disappearing."
Tavien cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two to… whatever this is."
As he walked off with a knowing smirk, Lyra sighed.
"I thought you were dead," she said more quietly.
"I had to disappear. It was the only way."
"You didn't even say goodbye."
He looked at her—really looked—and saw it: the flicker of pain beneath her practiced armor.
"I couldn't risk dragging you into it."
"I could've handled it."
"You shouldn't have had to."
She held his gaze a moment longer. There was so much unspoken between them. So many days shared in silence, under starlit studies, in hidden sparring chambers. They had never called it love. But something had been growing—something both of them had buried.
"Are you here to stay?" she asked finally.
"For now."
"I hope you brought armor. Things here aren't what they were."
"I never expected them to be."
---
Later that evening, Enzo stood on his assigned balcony, overlooking the lower campus. The stars above were dim through the academy's shield, but the wind was cool and clean.
Cain rested in its hidden sheath along his spine. Still.
He'd played the part well. Worn the smile. Shook the hands. Listened to the old instructors speak about legacy and honor while thinking about ruin and rebellion.
He had re-entered the system.
Now, he had to unravel it.
He thought of Tavien—so full of belief. Of Lyra—so full of questions. Both unknowingly standing beside the very thing they might one day be ordered to destroy.
And he thought of Bell.
His sister still had no idea who Zero was. She still lived among the family Enzo now plotted against. One wrong move, and she would be dragged into the crossfire.
The rebellion wasn't waiting. It never had been. But neither was the regime.
And here, at the heart of both worlds, Enzo would walk the line—until it broke.
Tomorrow, the lectures would begin.
But tonight, Cain hummed in the dark.
And Zero planned.