Page 54 of The Bleak Beginning

Sly forces a smile. “Just speculating. You know anything?”

Cam settles beside us, reaching for a bottle of his own. “You know how they are; everything is so hush-hush.”

So basically, he was saying he knew nothing. Which wasn’t surprising, I know my mother hasn’t said much, same with Sly’s dad and Cam’s mom, but what could they really say? They had been forced to surrender.

“Maybe that’s the point,” Sly muses, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. “To see how we handle the pressures of the unknown. You know they’ve already been gauging us in our classes. Sizing us up in preparation.”

Cam takes a long swig from the bottle, wincing slightly as the liquid burns down his throat. “Or to see which of us breaks first.”

“It won’t be any of us,” I say darkly, sure of my friends and future teammates abilities.

A sudden gust of wind whips through our area, causing the fire to flicker and dance. I pull my jacket tighter around me, suppressing a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold.

“You’re right.” Sly nods. “Whatever they throw at us, we can handle it.”

Cam’s eyes narrow, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Even if it means going up against each other?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. We’ve always been a team. But previous Altair games have been notorious for pitting friends against each other, testing loyalties and pushing ethical boundaries.

“Whatever they throw at us,” Sly says, his voice sure and determined, “we stick together.”

Cam nods, passing a fresh drink to me. “Agreed. No matter what.”

I take another swig, the alcohol warming my insides. “To the bitter end,” I add, raising the bottle in a mock toast before setting it down.

The fire pops loudly, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky. For a moment, we’re all silent, lost in our own thoughts.

“Wanna do something fun?” Sly asks suddenly. “We haven’t done anything fun in a long time.”

I raised an eyebrow at him because he wasn’t wrong, we’d spent last year prepping, and then this year Prescott had been thrown at us, so we haven’t had a lot of down time. “Define fun. Last time you said that, I ended up having to pay a few freshmen to scrub the training room floors for a week after the mess you created.”

Sly grins, his eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight. “Come on. That was ages ago. I’ve matured since then.”

Cam and I exchange a skeptical glance, but I can feel my resolve weakening. The alcohol buzzing through my system certainly isn’t helping my judgment.

“Alright,” I concede. “What do you have in mind?”

Sly glances around, then lowers his voice. “I overheard some of the staff talking about a restricted area in the old wing. My bet is that it’s where the Altair games trophy is stored. I say we go and take a sneak peek. You know, as motivation for our future win.”

Cam’s tone grows hesitant. “Sly, if we get caught—”

“—we’re fucked,” I finish for him, but I can feel a familiar thrill of excitement coursing through me. “But we won’t get caught, will we?”

Sly’s grin widens. “Not if we’re careful. Come on, guys. When’s the last time we did something truly wild?”

I take another swig from the bottle, liquid courage burning down my throat as I finish it off. “Alright, I’m in. Cam?”

He hesitates, his face a mix of concern and temptation. Finally, he sighs. “Fine. But if I end up picking up trash with Atlas every weekend for the rest of the year, I’m blaming you two.”

“Noted,” Sly says with a dip of his chin.

We don’t bother extinguishing the fire, ditching the party and making our way across the darkened campus, sticking to the shadows. The old wing of Altair’s main building looms before us, a hulking silhouette against the star-studded sky. As we approach, I can feel my heartrate pick up speed, a mix of adrenaline and alcohol fueling my reckless courage. Sly leads the way, his footsteps surprisingly silent on the cobblestone path. Cam follows close behind, his nervous energy palpable in the night air.

We reach the side entrance to the old wing, a weathered wooden door that’s seen better days.

Sly pulls a small metal tool from his pocket. “Stand watch,” he whispers to Cam and me as he begins to work on the lock.

I scan the area, my eyes straining in the dim light. The campus is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the thick trees in the night breeze. Cam shifts nervously beside me, his breath coming in short, anxious puffs.

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