Chapter 2 — The Rift Gate
The transport ship hummed beneath our boots, a dull vibration that made my teeth buzz. Rows of benches lined the gray cabin walls, straps swaying overhead. I sat near the window, watching the Great Wall slide past like a slow tide of metal. Beyond it, the wastelands stretched in broken scars, jagged with ruins and twisted trees.
Beside me, Mara leaned forward, her hood shadowing her eyes. "You're too calm," she muttered. "Most of the orphans look like they're on their way to their own graves."
I shrugged, forcing a grin. "Maybe I am. But I can't stop thinking about it, Mara. What it'll feel like to have a Trait. To stand in front of the Tower doors and know they have to let me in. For the first time in my life, I'll belong somewhere."
She gave me a flat look, but I caught the faintest twitch of her lips. Hope was dangerous, but I needed it like air.
The ship shuddered as more passengers boarded at the next checkpoint. The mood shifted instantly. Perfume and polished boots entered with them—the nobles. They didn't sit among us. They claimed the benches as if they were thrones, laughter echoing too loud in the tight cabin.
One of them, a tall boy with golden hair tied back in a neat band, scanned the rows until his gaze landed on me. His coat carried the sigil of a great family—an iron crest shaped like a hawk's wing. His mouth curved into a slow smile that made my stomach tighten.
"Well, well," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Didn't know they were letting the rats ride in the same ship as us."
A few nobles chuckled. His friends leaned closer, waiting for his next words.
I kept my eyes on him. "I'm not a rat. My name's Avon Standfeild."
He laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. "Names don't matter when you're already dead. Nobody expects one of you rats to make it back. You'll be beast food before the first day is done."
Mara shifted beside me, ready to snap, but I shook my head. This was mine.
I straightened. "You're wrong. The Crucible isn't just about bloodlines or where you sleep. It's about what's in your head. If you go in thinking you'll die, you will. If you go in determined to live, you fight harder. That's the difference."
For a heartbeat, silence hung in the cabin. Some of the tower-born kids glanced between us nervously. Then the noble boy's friends broke into laughter, slapping their knees like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.
"Did you hear that?" one sneered. "The rat thinks mind frame matters."
"Careful," another said, mock-whispering, "or he'll stare the beasts into submission."
Their laughter filled the transport, bouncing off the metal walls.
And then a new voice cut through.
"I think he's right."
Every head turned. A girl in a deep green coat had spoken, her long braid glinting copper in the light. She sat among the nobles, but her voice carried no mockery. Her eyes—sharp, clear, unafraid—were fixed on me.
It took me a moment to realize who she was. The mayor's daughter. A noble, but not one of the old blood families. Her family governed the lower two hundred floors.
She folded her arms. "Attitude matters. Fear kills faster than claws. I'd rather fight beside someone determined than a coward who thinks money makes him invincible."
The golden-haired boy's smile shattered. His face darkened as the chuckles around him died awkwardly. He leaned closer, voice dripping venom. "Careful, Lira. You're defending trash. People might start thinking you belong with them."
Lira didn't flinch. "Truth doesn't care who says it."
The boy's hand tightened on the rail, knuckles white. His friends shifted uncomfortably, unsure if they should laugh or stay quiet. The air in the cabin had changed—tense, brittle.
I felt something burn in my chest, hotter than fear. Not hope. Not pride. Something older. Hatred, maybe. Not just for him, but for all of them—their laughter, their certainty that we were less than them, already corpses in their eyes.
I leaned back, keeping my voice calm. "Guess we'll see in the Rift, won't we? Whether it's rats or hawks that survive."
His jaw clenched, and for the first time, he didn't laugh.
The transport lurched, saving us from what might have come next. Through the small window, the Rift platform came into view—a ring of scaffolds and pylons encircling a shimmering wall of light. It rippled like water under invisible wind, bending the air around it.
The overseers shouted orders, herding us into lines as the ship docked. Five hundred of us. Ten orphans. One hundred nobles. The rest tower-born.
The noble boy's eyes never left mine as he passed, his hawk crest gleaming in the cold light. He didn't need to say anything. I already knew.
This was only the beginning.
And as the Rift shimmered ahead, I swore I'd prove every one of them wrong.