Page 65 of Stormbreaker

He gestures to the beds on the far side of the room. “Life as a Storm Guard means standing out on the towers, where you will often be exposed to Spark. Some of you simply won’t be cut out for Guard life due to your inherent vulnerability. Some will have high natural resistance, while others will have none at all. Your first test, then, is to determine which. Those of you with low tolerance to Spark will have the opportunity to join other divisions in the Tempestade, such as the research and development team, intelligence, or training, among other things.”

A ripple of worried comments circles through the room as Henry raises a hand.

“Every role in the Tempestade is important and vital to the protection of New Manhattan. Failure to qualify for the Storm Guard isn’t a failure at all, but a new opportunity.”

I can tell no one believes that, and neither do I, but this is one area where I’m sure I’ll be fine.

“Those with a natural tolerance will go on to cadet training,” Henry continues, “and there you’ll be exposed to small charges under close supervision as your resistance slowly builds over the next few months and throughout your careers.”

A hand rises. I recognize Melyssa from House Fiama.

“Will it hurt?” she asks.

Henry nods. “Absolutely.” Well, I guess there’s no sugarcoating it. “And it might kill a few of you. We almost always lose at least one.”

A collective intake of heightened breath echoes around the room.

“However, it’s a necessary casualty. Only the strongest can stand out on those towers.”

Melyssa nods, though her pallor has turned ashen, much like most of the faces in the room.

“And of course . . .” A smile curves one corner of Henry’s mouth. “Those of you who demonstrate the highest tolerance to Spark, who are the strongest and finish at the top of your class”—he spreads his arms wide to include Brooklyn and Chandler—“will be invited to join our most elite force and train to become Storm Breakers.”

Everyone erupts into excited whispers at that. A flare of warmth spreads through my chest as I consider the prospect.

“If you’re accepted into the Breaker program, you’ll learn how to use a Spark wand. As I’m sure many of you know, this device is constructed with a core of galvanic energy, and it will be your job to catch and neutralize Spark. Make no mistake, if you miss, you’ll be hit. This is why we can only accept the best.”

More nervous whispers circle around the room.

Skies, this is so badass.

“Once your wand is hit, you’ll transfer the energy it collects into your respective Storm Tower so that it can be grounded into the earth, thus helping to protect the people of the city. It isn’t foolproof, but it’s the best defense we have.”

There is no higher honor in the Storm Guard, and this has been my goal for as long as I can remember. I was burdened with the secret of what I am when I was seven years old, but I can use it to do something good. Stand on those towers and shield the people I love. Be more than just Knox’s wife.

“First, you must build up your muscle mass,” Henry continues. “That means long hours in the gym and specialized nutrition to optimize performance and tissue growth. Early mornings and late nights, in addition to your regular class load.”

He pauses as if waiting for an objection. When none comes, he continues.

“And finally, though your main role is to protect the city from storms, your position on the outskirts exposes you to the dangers of what lives out there.” He gestures to some vague spot in the distance. “We are under the constant threat of attack from those beyond our borders—those who want to come and take what you have for themselves. You must learn to protect yourselves, too. That means combat training. Hand-to-hand with an arsenal of weapons. Your work in the gym will help.”

He pauses again, letting those words sink in. If any of this is meant to deter me, it’s only making me want to join more than ever.

“Your training will also include simulations inside a controlled environment, intended to re-create what it’s like being caught in a storm.”

He goes on to speak about a few more exercises we can expect, and my stomach tightens with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

“Finally, once you’ve completed first-year training, you’ll be tested,” Henry says. “A final trial will challenge everything you learn in here.” He thumbs behind him. “If you pass, you’ll be admitted into the second-year cadet program.”

He stops talking while we all wait silently. “Any questions?”

I have about a million, but I bite my tongue. I don’t think he wants to be peppered with my worries and fears. There will be time later.

Nervous whispers fill the room as several people in lab coats arrive, all holding tablets.

“I’m Dr. Eze,” says a woman with ebony skin and long black braids woven with strands of purple. Her lapel is pinned with the crest of House Aria. “As Lieutenant Crawford shared, we’ll start by testing your resistance and tolerance against a dose of Spark. The level of your resistance is a part of the same evolutionary process that creates Keepers. However, it stalls out in ninety-nine percent of the population before they reach any meaningful level of immunity.”

More looks are shared around the room, and my gaze snags on Rook’s. He’s watching me with a set of arched brows and a knowing look, but I can’t tell what he knows.