Papers rustled. A pen clicked against them, once, twice, too hard. Ashe’s stomach tightened. He held his breath as time slowed to a point that he could almost hear. “You passed…” The first words were all Ashe heard. For the first time, his heart felt unencumbered by the fear that he would be rejected and sent back to Australia.

  His mind ran in circles, but his body remained still. Despite passing, he knew he had failed multiple areas of the test. There was no way he’d passed the running or swimming sections. He doubted he had a high enough VO2 max, or that he’d even cleared enough of the obstacle course.

  When Danny’s words finally stopped, the low hum of the air conditioning filled the gap. Ashe tilted his head and spoke. “Can I have the files on my tests? I’d like to revisit them, see what I need to improve.” The words came out calculated, despite the fact that he was only now realising how much he still had to work on. Had he only passed because of the fight? It was the question that remained. He needed to find out. If that was the case, he needed to become stronger.

  Danny’s words came out dry, almost bored. “I’m afraid procedure doesn’t allow it.”

  Ashe knew he needed access. “I don’t need your comments, or any information that might risk me knowing too much of the testing criteria.” He paused for a second. A sharp exhale cut across the table. Ashe rushed into his next words. “I just want the raw data points, something I can use to measure my improvement. You do want me to get better, don’t you?”

  He could tell Danny was weighing his response. With a sigh, he spoke. “Fine, but you’re going to have to see the information in our lab. You won’t be able to take it with you, and we will redact some of the information.” He paused before he spoke again. “And we will be watching what you access.”

  Ashe swallowed. He sat there for a second, but no better ideas came to him. “Fine.” Despite his flat tone, adrenaline rushed in, and he felt a small win, the first in a while.

  A quick escort steered him into a new room. The room was cold and smelled faintly of plastic and cheese puffs. He shivered under the air conditioning as he moved the mouse. But that wasn’t going to stop him. He shifted the mouse beneath his fingers as a soft voice guided him. Then a quiet click sounded in his headphones when he pressed down. They’d been able to download his reading app onto the computer. But the tingle at the back of his neck never left, the feeling of being watched constant, even after the footsteps faded. The door slammed shut, and a click echoed through the room. He froze. It sounded locked. Procedure? Or just proof that he wasn’t completely free to look? But if he moved now, if he got up, it might give them a reason to remove him.

  Ashe bit down, clenching his jaw as he refocused on the information before him. When the audio began to play through his headphones, awkward silences highlighted that there were missing words. Redacted.

  “Subject: … displays no extraordinary physical attributes… VO2 Max 52… Swim score 12/100… Obstacle course score 6/100.”

  He shifted in his seat and rewound, listening more carefully. He knew a little about VO2 max. Fifty-two for his age was excellent, but for a herald it could be considered low. He kept going, trying to remember it so he could write it down later.

  The first part of the file was mainly filled with numbers that only highlighted why he shouldn’t have passed. He replayed the segment trying to glean any reason, any angle that this would have led to him passing. But there was nothing.

  He opened the next file. “Combat Score: Test Portal.”

  The first portion of the file was redacted. Only silence filled his ears, despite double-checking that the program was still running as it should. When the words finally began, he jumped slightly, then paused it and rewound because he hadn’t been ready.

  “Subject displays a curious ability to sense incoming danger. Reminiscent of a spidey-sense.” Ashe almost chuckled, unprepared for that comparison, even if he’d thought it a few times. “His movements remain awkward, stiff. But despite this, his rapid reactions and control of his weapon allow him to display substantial combat ability.”

  He didn’t feel like he looked awkward or stiff, but he couldn’t see himself. Still, he had his answer. It had been his combat ability.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Further observation of the shared….” The next words were redacted. He could tell it was important. He tried to rewind and listen for anything that bled through, but there was nothing. What could he share? And with who?

  “What if the file was only redacted on the audio? What if he could still control-F, search for words, and find a few of the missing ones?” The thought hung in the air as he mumbled under his breath. He found the keys and pressed down. The search bar clicked open, and he began.

  His mind raced, and the tingle ran up his spine as he realised he’d spoken out loud. His fingers brushed over the keys as he tried words he thought might have appeared. “Ashe: Not found.” “Blind: Not found.” “Precognition: Not found.”

  Ashe began biting his nails and tapping his leg up and down as he tried to calm his mind. He knew he didn’t have all day, and this might be his only chance to find a few answers. Then it hit him. “Portal heal….” The familiar not found didn’t reach his ears. Instead, a ping sounded, one that told him the words had been found on the page. But then something changed. The words were cut off, and others overlapped them. “Protocol Breach.”

  He moved quickly to delete the words, hide what he’d been doing. With a few keystrokes and quick movements, the error sound was gone. He sat there, letting the silence wash over him. So the portal heals might be distinct to heralds. He knew it was a leap, but it was all he had.

  A few minutes passed. He pushed himself forward again, readying himself to dig deeper. But in that moment, the door swung open. Cool air rushed in, and footsteps appeared at his side. He turned, confused, toward the sound, expecting words. But nothing. No words. Then warm hands wrapped around his arm and pushed him up.

  “What happened?”

  “Danny requested you. Something…” The guard’s words trailed off as a radio burst cut him off mid-sentence. Ashe couldn’t keep his mask in place. He pressed his lips together until they formed a thin line.

  “Just come with me. Danny will explain.” Somehow, despite the coldness in his voice, the words relaxed him. Procedure, not punishment. As the door opened and he left the cold of the computer room, he realised how stiff his fingers had been and the light tremor in his extremities.

  They had only walked a few steps when Ashe realised something had changed. The usually quiet, peaceful corridors were buzzing with movement, alive with the clatter of feet against the floor. Ashe picked up his pace and kept close, making sure he was following the right guard. He was. Vanilla and citrus.

  Ashe opened his mouth, but no words came out. He wanted to ask, desperately, but he knew he would get answers soon. Asking now would only make him look more desperate than he needed to.

  By the time they made it back to the top floor, to Danny’s office, Ashe had expected the chaos to have vanished, or at least decreased enough that he could keep track of the guard. But that had not been the case. If anything, it had thickened. He now felt like he was in Times Square, pushing through crowds. The guard had a hand on his arm, helping to guide him through.

  They pushed through a door and entered the room. He could hear Danny ordering someone across the room, but he couldn’t make out the words. Too many things were happening.

  When Danny saw Ashe, his voice turned lighter, more jovial. “Hello Ashe.”

  “Hello.” The word came out more forced than he’d expected.

  “Please leave us,” Danny said.

  Before Ashe knew it, he was alone, the chaos of the corridor gone. Only the sound of his breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioning.

  “Come sit.” Ashe heard the patting of a chair, leather somewhere in front of him, and he was moving before he’d considered anything. As he slid onto the couch, his focus locked on Danny as he began to speak.

  “It’s not been going well since the cross-species element was introduced. Two heralds have been injured, and we’ve lost a total of 6,725 jumpers and a collective 1.2 million points.” Danny coughed, like the words were poison in his throat. He coughed again, then continued. “But we’ve realised points are allocated in a way that would benefit us if we wait, practice, and perform jumps later. It has been confirmed that points are transferred.”

  Ashe ran a hand through his hair, as he tried not to react to Danny’s words.

  “So assume you have one hundred points and a Draken has 1,260 in an F-rank portal. If you kill the portal and him you will not only gain the one point usually allocated to F-ranks, but will also gain the 1,260 that the Draken had before the portal.”

  Ashe nodded. He’d already assumed this, based on the points he’d received in the last portal. He hadn’t said anything because he thought it was something they already knew, but he didn’t say that now. Instead, he scratched his chin and forced his mouth into a tight line. Thoughtful. “Makes sense.”

  “We are recalling the eight active heralds and will begin preparing for a larger assault force that will attack within a few months, when the points are more concentrated. Hopefully, at that point we will be able to break into a competitive position.” For a second, Danny didn’t speak. Then he took a breath. “We would like for you to join the heralds’ training block. We believe you have an ability that might be beneficial.”

  For a second, Ashe thought it was a joke. He let out a soft chuckle. But Danny didn’t return the favour, and the words hit him like a ton of bricks. He almost tumbled off the couch. His mind scrambled, and yet his mouth moved before he knew it. “I’m in!” The excitement in his own voice almost convinced Ashe that the fear in his body wasn’t there. But it was. It was all he felt.