It was a dark Thursday evening, and Zev had just turned twenty-two. He rode in the back of a military-grade utility truck used by the Theria Guild for transport, keeping his attention fixed on his squadmates and the mission at hand. Their four-man team was en route to the open lands bordering Thuka Province, near the steel barrier that divided their territory from the Wild Lands.
Guardian intelligence had identified a likely ghost wraith attack on a weak point in the barrier. The nearby villages, already under close watch, needed the Guild’s protection.
Simba Recon was stationed in the area but had requested backup from Swala Oasis, hoping to prevent civilian casualties. Swala’s forces often supported Simba Recon during major ghost wraith outbreaks.
“Squad Leader Mablevi, Sergeant Nkoba, and Sergeant Bala,” the team leader called out.
“Sir,” Zev answered, with Saul and Noah echoing him.
Zev glanced at the man in charge of their four-person squad, known only as Hunter. It was customary for recruits to adopt new names upon joining the Theria Guild. It was a way to leave the past behind. Zev had refused to change his name, holding fast to a connection he would not abandon, so that if Amare was out there somewhere, she might still find him.
“They call it a ‘suspected attack,’ but we know better,” Hunter said. “Ghost wraiths don’t come to play. Keep your eyes open, your heads down, and don’t let yourselves get eaten.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Check weapons,” Hunter ordered.
Zev’s hand fell to the long blade1 sheathed at his right hip. Close combat was his strength, and he trusted the blade more than anything else. Still, he carried two modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols2, each holstered on a thigh. He double-checked his ammo clips, each loaded with liquid-steel bullets designed to burn through a ghost wraith’s green blood like acid. Speed and accurate aim were key. One well-placed shot to the head could end the threat permanently. If that failed, a swift beheading with the blade was standard procedure.
Satisfied with his gear, Zev gripped the hilt of his sword and gave Hunter a quick nod. There was little need for words before a mission; Guardians understood they lived and died by each other’s trust.
Their transport lurched to a stop. A crackling voice blared through the truck’s intercom.
“Strike Force Commander reports a confirmed sighting,” came the driver’s clipped voice. “Three packs of approximately ten ghost wraiths each are stalking the village at midpoint. Simba Recon has deployed to the east. Swala’s units will cover the west. I’ve brought you as close to the border as I can.”
“Roger,” Hunter said, hitting the button to release the doors.
He leaped out first, helmet locked in place, pistol ready. Zev followed, his own helmet sealing with a soft hiss, and behind him came Saul and Noah. Five other Swala units spilled out around them.
They found themselves in front of a dense forest. A narrow road led toward the village, but ghost wraiths rarely took roads, preferring shadowy undergrowth for cover while hunting. With a curt nod to the team leaders on either side, Hunter signaled for everyone to move into the thick greenery.
Zev inhaled the moist, earthy air, keenly aware that his helmet had already begun recording every second.
“Proximity: four hundred meters,” announced the AI’s measured voice, echoing in Zev’s earpiece.
He left his blade sheathed for the moment, opting for his pistols. Their first shots would give away their position, so every trigger pull had to count.
“Two hundred meters,” the AI announced a heartbeat later.
Zev slowed, muscles tense. He could hear the rustling of something large moving through the brush. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins. He chanced a glance at Hunter’s black cloak, which marked him as a higher grade. If Zev could survive enough missions, log enough successful battles, he could eventually earn that black cloak, and perhaps catch the eye of the elite Strike Force Squad. Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.
Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.
Hunter crouched low, weapon raised, and Zev did the same. Beyond them, he spotted the roving pack of ghost wraiths. Some prowled the ground; others leaped from branch to branch with sinuous ease, their dark skin glistening under stray moonbeams. Each creature had a spiked, porcupine-like tail and a jaw lined with rows of sharp, lethal teeth, fully capable of tearing a man apart in seconds.
A memory flashed of two such beasts devouring Gen, and Zev shuddered.
“Focus,” Hunter’s voice cut into his earpiece.
Zev steadied his breath, pushing aside the haunting image.
“Fire in five,” Hunter said quietly, counting down. “Four. Three. Two. One. Mark.”
Zev aligned his sights on the closest ghost wraith, squeezed the trigger, and watched his bullet find its mark near the creature’s head. It dropped to the ground. Around him, the rest of the squad fired in near-unison, felling several wraiths. With their numbers reduced, the remaining wraiths charged the Guardians in a frenzy.
Zev holstered both pistols, drew his long blade, and braced for the clash. Lightning carved the sky, thunder close behind, and an unearthly chorus of roars and screams filled the forest.
The blade’s handle was etched with symbols: a flame to represent the Theria Guild, and short lines beneath it for every battle Zev had survived. He had fought eighteen so far; two more would qualify him for a chance to ascend the ranks, and bring him closer to discovering Amare’s fate.
“Proximity: two meters,” the AI announced just before the first wraith lunged.
Zev swung the blade in a brutal arc, connecting with the creature’s neck. Its head hit the ground in a splatter of iridescent green blood. He sprang out of reach of another wraith’s jaws, driving his blade into its forehead when it staggered. Faster than he’d imagined, he was locked in a deadly dance, slashing, shooting, and sidestepping gnashing fangs and lashing tails.
Overhead, thunder rumbled in a punishing staccato, matched by the sickening crunch of steel slicing into flesh. Zev fought on, determined to outlast the storm.
****
By morning, Zev stood in the shower stall of his quarters at Swala Oasis, hot water pounding against his sore muscles. Days like this felt surreal. As a child, he never imagined becoming a guardian. That dream had belonged to his younger brother, Grey. But after Grey and Silas died, and Amare went missing, the Guild had offered Zev the only outlet for his raging grief.
He rubbed at a knot of tension under his shoulder, remembering how Amare would wait for him outside his class with a ready smile and a small bag of sugarcane. The memory stabbed him like a dull blade. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool tiled wall, forcing himself to breathe until the pain dulled. Wherever she was, he prayed she was alive, that she would find a way back to him, or he to her.
Taking deep breaths, Zev slapped the shower button off and grabbed a towel from the shower-stall rail. He dried fast and stepped out, grabbing the second towel on the rack to dry his short locs.
Barefoot, he walked to the sink and peered into the mirror above it. He pulled the towel off his head and leaned in to look at the fine line on his neck.
Tonight’s mistake, he thought, running his index finger over the fine cut.
A ghost wraith managed to dislodge his helmet at the thickest moment of the fight. One of its claws scraped his skin as he fought to get free from beneath it.
Zev opened the medicine cabinet hidden behind the mirror and retrieved a large tube. He smeared on a dab of the Guild-issued medicinal cream and felt the sting recede.
His hair was cut short on the sides, with his locs growing long on the top of his head. He let them grow because of his sister, Amare. Ignoring the fact that his locs were still damp, Zev picked up a leather tie from the counter and secured them in a tight ponytail.
He dressed quickly in a T-shirt and shorts, depositing his damp towels in the laundry bin.
When he stepped into the main room, his two best friends, Noah and Saul, were already there. Noah lounged on Zev’s bed, the glass screen on the far wall playing cartoons at low volume, while Saul perched at the reading desk, feet propped up, tapping at a video game on his phone.
“Squad Leader sure likes to take his time in the shower,” Noah teased, tossing the remote onto the bed and rotating to face Zev. “Did the green goop3 clog your locs?”
“Shut up.” Zev managed a small grin. “Why are you guys here this early?”
“We wanted to check on you,” Saul said, rising from the desk and crossing the room. He gently lifted Zev’s chin, examining the cut on his neck.
“You almost got eaten out there,” Noah added, scooting upright.
“Your head looks best right where it is,” Saul said, dropping his hand. “Try not to lose it.”
Zev let out a breath. He appreciated their concern. The night’s battle had cost three Guardians their lives. Hunter would oversee their final rites. The Theria Guild would manage the funerals, and Guardian Command would notify the families.
Zev hated to imagine how his own parents would react if ever faced with that dreaded knock on the door. Not that he had heard from them in the last four years. His father had stopped sending him messages on his birthday.
Zev rubbed his forehead. Still, he didn’t want to put his parents through more pain, so he needed to train harder.
Saul cleared his throat. “Because we lost three, we’ll be getting two new recruits from the qualifiers in the fourth squad.”
Zev stifled a groan. He knew what that meant: more responsibilities for him, Noah, and Saul. Their four-man team was ranked first among the cadets in Swala, which always earned them the task of training newcomers.
“Give them a copy of the new training schedule,” Zev said, dragging himself to a shabby couch and sinking onto the cushions. He rested his head back, closing his eyes for a moment.
“We also came by because there’s news from the main office,” Saul said, folding his arms.
“What kind of news?” Zev asked, sounding more indifferent than he felt.
“There is a Strike Force commander in-house,” Noah said. “He stopped here on his way to the capital city, Kirit. He wanted information about last night’s mission.”
Zev sat up fast. He had waited so long for a chance at the Strike Force.
“We can try to meet him in the mess hall,” Saul said. “We can ask him how to join the Strike Force. Either that or how to move to Sokwe Recon in the capital. We each have one more battle left before we strike twenty. We’ll be qualified to move up the ranks.”
A spark of excitement flared in Zev’s chest. He had been working toward the Strike Force for years. If this commander had taken note of their squad’s performance, it might be the break Zev, Noah, and Saul needed.
Black tattoos decorated his arms from his wrists to his elbows. Black chevrons4 to count the number of battles he had survived. Just like his sword, the chevrons reminded him of the number of times he returned alive from battle. He was two chevrons away from reaching twenty battles.
After last night’s battle, he needed to add one more chevron on his right arm today, making them nineteen. This meant he only needed one more battle, and he would be at twenty.
Twenty was a qualifying number to shift squads. Sokwe Recon would take him, Noah, and Saul. Then they could find a way to get into the Strike Force.
Zev sat up straight. “It’s nearly seven,” he said, nodding at the clock on the screen. “Breakfast. Let’s head to the mess hall. If the Strike Force commander’s still around, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Wearing his socks and boots, he led the way.
Behind him, Noah and Saul fell in step, their camaraderie as steadfast as the bonds of any true family, and for Zev, it might be the only family he could really trust until he found Amare again.
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Footnotes:
- Long blade – This is a specialized close-combat weapon used by Guardians of the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. ↩︎
- A hyper-comp pistol is a specialized firearm developed and modified by Santi Corp for use by Guardians in the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. They are referred to as modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols. The pistols have a compact black slide and silver barrels. They utilize specialized ammunition known as liquid-steel bullets. The technology for these bullets is calibrated by Santi Corp. ↩︎
- Green goop refers to the ghost wraith’s green blood. ↩︎
- Black Chevron tattoos -The chevrons are used to count the number of battles cadets have survived. They are pictured below. ↩︎
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