The left armband caught the moonlight, glowing dull and red. A strip of cloth, roughly eight centimeters wide. Red in color. That was the mark of an Eldian. Grife Garger moved slowly down the dormitory corridor, careful not to make a sound. Black hair, cut short, fell across his forehead in a fringe that clung to his skin. Eighteen years old. Lean-framed, but eight years of training had carved his body into something lean and taut. A black jacket covered his chest, and there—that red armband. A small birthmark at his left temple, barely visible in the dim hallway. Shaped like a burn scar, a mark he'd carried since birth. Two hours had passed since lights out, he thought. All the other candidates were asleep. Don't make a sound. Hold your breath. If you're found, there will be trouble. How many times had he slipped out of the Felsen Training Facility now? He opened the back door quietly, and the night air struck his face. Cold. The particular dampness of late autumn—a chill that c