Ace bolted through the dim corridors of the Academy, clutching the blinking cube in his hand. The signal was still black—life-threatening. He had to get to Violet Schneider.
The Research & Engineering Facility might've been his second home, but navigating the administration wing was always a headache. He skidded to a halt in front of Violet's office, only to find two guards blocking the heavy wooden door. Inside, beyond that barrier, lay a trove of mission data, communications logs, and classified reports—possibly the only place that could help him locate Luis, Desmond, and Derek.
He caught his breath. "I need to speak to Violet. Now."
One of the guards crossed his arms. "Miss Schneider is busy."
Ace didn't have time for this.
He slowly raised his hands. "Okay. Fine. I get it."
Then—with a sudden flick—he pulled two small pistols from his tool pouch and aimed them at the guards.
"Step aside."
The guards narrowed their eyes. "Really? You're gonna shoot us, kid?"
PSSHHHT!
Streams of water blasted them right in the face.
The guards flinched back, caught off guard and sputtering as the cold spray hit their eyes.
Ace darted forward. While they wiped their faces and cursed, he casually grabbed the handle and slipped into the office, shutting the door behind him with a bang.
The office was dimly lit, lined wall to wall with cabinets, papers, maps, mission logs, and overflowing data charts. At the center stood Violet Schneider, tall and sharp-eyed, dressed in a deep navy coat with golden trim and silver pins of rank. Her blonde hair was braided back, framing intense dark eyes and a composed expression—even in surprise.
At her side stood her assistant—Anya Vess, a soft-spoken woman in her late twenties with round spectacles and Dark hair tied into a neat bun. Timid and agreeable, Anya rarely spoke unless spoken to and followed Violet's instructions like clockwork.
Violet turned, eyes narrowing at the intruder. "Ace?"
The doors burst open as the guards stormed in, eyes locked on Ace. But before they could speak, Violet raised a single hand.
A sharp silence followed.
With nothing more than a glance, she dismissed them.
No words. Just authority.
"I'm sorry," he panted, holding up the blinking cube. "The device. Light's off. They're in trouble."
Violet raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Ace took a breath. "Desmond's Squad. They're the ones assigned to this signal group. I calibrated it myself before the mission."
Her sharp gaze dropped to the blinking signal.
Violet's brow furrowed. Her posture stiffened as she stared at the cube, no light painting her face in brief, pulsing shadows.
She didn't speak right away.
Instead, her mind raced through possibilities—the jungle terrain, enemy encounters, injuries, ambushes. What went wrong? Had they been targeted or simply unlucky?
Her eyes flicked back up to Ace.
"Do you also get to know where they are?" she asked quietly.
Ace shook his head.
She looked at him hard. "What is your proposal?"
Ace stepped closer. "We need to send a team to retrieve them. You can appoint me to a team and a medical aether user."
Violet's jaw tensed. "Even if I were to do that—we don't know their location. Or if they're even alive."
Ace didn't back down. "If we ever catch an intruder, what do we do?"
"…We keep them alive. For investigation."
"Then there's a chance. Our best bet is that at least one of them is alive." He looked at the maps behind her. "If I can see the details of the mission…"
Violet gave a small nod.
"Anya," she said firmly. "Bring me the mission files."
Anya nodded and opened a large folder marked CONFIDENTIAL. She spread a map across the table—an aged parchment-style world map. Four locations were circled in red. Two were in Stovia. Two were far across the sea.
Ace studied them.
"Calculating how long they've been on the mission… how long they've been on foot… It has to be these two." He pointed to the inland circle and the northern coast. "This one's deep inland—dense terrain, overgrowth, almost zero visibility. That's our jungle."
He tapped the second one. "And that's the port. Fast entry, fast exit. But too exposed. If they were captured or injured there, they would have received emergency treatment and been brought to the medical facility, especially with so many fishermen and traders passing through."
Violet folded her arms. "Which means the jungle is more likely."
Ace nodded. "They're not trying to escape. If they were captured, injured, or worse… they'd be left somewhere hard to notice."
Violet's eyes darkened. "Then we better find them."
Violet muttered under her breath, "Getting approval this fast… and assembling people on such short notice…" Her fingers tapped against the edge of the desk. "It'll be tight."
Anya, quiet as ever, waited by her side with a soft blink.
Violet glanced at her. "Ready a Squad B. I want them prepped and outfitted within the hour. Include medical aether users. No more delays."
Anya nodded, already flipping through personnel logs as she moved to the communicator panel.
Within the next half hour, a small, eclectic group had gathered in the central mission briefing room. Most of them had never worked together before. Some had barely spoken to each other.
Ace Richards stood at the edge—silent, sharp-eyed, and almost twitchy with anticipation. Over the years, he'd watched team after team get deployed, names get called—names that weren't his. Missions passed him by.
Sometimes, it was his own hesitation, that gnawing self-doubt that told him he didn't belong. Other times, it was Cedric Proctor's flat rejection: "You're not built for this. Leave the real work to the strong ones."
But more often, it was something unspoken—an invisible barrier. He wasn't an aether user. No energy to bend, no power to unleash. Just a mind that ran faster than most and a heart that hadn't given up.
And still, no one saw what he could bring to a mission.
He was backend. He was intel. Never frontlines.
But now? He was going.
Daisy Brook stood nearby, tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear as she checked her satchel of edibles—some wrapped in soft linen, others secured in glass containers. All charged with her subtle, aetherial touch. She offered Ace a small smile, sensing his nerves.
Then came Andrew Sterling, striding in with confident, almost theatrical purpose. His ash-grey hair was held back by a celestial-themed bandana, a handful of crystal rings glittering on his fingers. He held a folded newspaper under one arm and a sniper in the other.
"Well," he announced, "today's a mixed day for Geminis. Precision's high, but danger's… considerable." He tapped his temple like it was gospel. "But I brought the bear. So we're good."
Ace blinked. "You mean the... teddy bear?"
Andrew produced a small, keychain-sized plush from his belt and nodded solemnly. "Protection charm. Sagittarius moon. You wouldn't get it."
"I literally don't," Ace muttered.
Their dynamic was instant friction—logic vs. cosmic.
And then Marie arrived. Slouched shoulders, biting her thumbnail, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Her short blonde hair looked like she'd stressed through brushing it, and her brown eyes darted toward the exits. Twice.
"Oh god," she said under her breath. "What if we get lost? What if we run out of food? What if the signal cube is a trap? What if the trees are sentient and hate intruders? Do I even have the right boots for sentient tree terrain?!"
"You're wearing steel-toe," Ace noted.
Marie gasped. "What if they're magnetic and we're pulled into a naturally charged lightning rock?!"
Daisy gently placed a small cookie in Marie's hand. "Eat this. It'll stabilize your nerves."
Marie sniffled. "If I die on this mission, I want someone to water my succulents. But not too much. They rot easily. Like dreams."
Andrew nodded solemnly. "Watering schedules are very Pisces-coded."
Ace rubbed his forehead. "We're so dead."
Violet entered then, boots echoing sharply across the tile, silencing the room with nothing but presence.
"I shouldn't be sending any of you," she snapped, eyes locking onto each cadet in turn. "You're young. Inexperienced. And frankly, if I had even one more squad of seasoned soldiers, you wouldn't be standing here."
No one dared breathe.
"But we don't have that luxury," she said, voice low but burning. "So you're going. And you will come back."
She pointed to Daisy. "Medical eyes on everyone. If one of them even looks like they're about to collapse, you say it."
Then to Andrew. "I don't care what the stars say—if you hesitate out there, I'll personally ground you until you're eighty."
Looked at Marie. "And you—get your head straight. If you panic, people die. I won't sugarcoat it."
Finally to Ace. "Your call. You lead this one."
Ace stiffened. "Me?"
"You brought the signal. You found the location. You lead."
Ace straightened his spine."Yes Ma'am."
For a second, he couldn't move. He felt butterflies in his stomach—no, a whole storm. Leading? He had never even imagined being trusted, let alone put in charge. But she had said it like it was fact.
He looked around at the people he'd be leading—Daisy, Andrew, Marie. Each of them skilled in their own way, but two of them—Andrew and Marie—were just as inexperienced as he was.
Unlike them, Ace had never even stepped onto a mission field. He'd only ever assisted from the back end, working behind screens and data. Strategy was his world, not real danger. And now he was supposed to lead?
Fear crept in, cold and sharp. What if he let them down? What if someone got hurt because of him?
He straightened his spine. "Yes, Ma'am."
She stepped back, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Her voice softened just a fraction. "I trust you. That's why you're going. So prove me right."
As the door shut behind the cadets, Violet let out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Anya, still quietly sorting mission files, glanced up. "You sure they'll be alright?"
Violet's jaw tightened. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"They better be. Or I'll never forgive myself."
Then she stood abruptly, chair scraping back harshly against the floor.
Anya rubbed her nose, a smile curving her lips, blinked her eyes in frustration. She knew exactly what was coming.
Violet moved toward the large frame on the wall—a painting of an old man placing a medal around a young dark haired woman's neck. Without a second thought, Violet's fist collided with the glass.
It cracked. Wood splintered. The canvas tore in half.
Anya flinched, but only slightly. Of all the things Violet had ever destroyed, this was the one Anya had worked hardest to keep intact.
Violet had always broken things to cope—sometimes bones, sometimes anything that didn't scream back.
Violet pulled her hand free, blood dripping from her knuckles. She let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"All right. What's next on today's agenda?"
The door slammed open. Two guards stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide.
"Commander, is everything—"
The door slammed open. Two guards stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide.
"Commander, is everything—"
Anya's smile was polite, almost too pleasant, as she glanced over at them. "Gentlemen, I'm sure Miss Violet is simply having a moment. I'd suggest you step back before you make her day any more difficult."
The guards exchanged nervous glances. "We—uh, yes, ma'am." They quickly backed out, the door shutting quietly behind them.
Violet didn't even spare them a glance, staring instead at the blood on her hand.
Anya, still with that same calm smile, turned her attention back to Violet. "Now, what was that you asked about, Miss Violet?"
Violet didn't answer, but Anya could feel the tension in the room ease just slightly. For now.