I should have been thinking about my answers.

  Instead, I keep thinking about pressure.

  Pressure rising from below.

  Pressure pushing upward.

  Pressure that people ignore because it is easier to look up than down.

  Selene adjusts my collar before I leave.

  “Do not rush your words,” she says. “Confidence is quiet.”

  “I know.”

  She studies my face like she is checking for cracks. “You are ready.”

  I nod, even if I am not sure that is true.

  Kael leans in the doorway. “Try not to start a political war on stage.”

  Myron hands me updated transport numbers. “Flow from Zone 10 and 13 dropped again. If they ask about stability, do not oversimplify.”

  “I will not,” I say.

  He gives me a look like he is measuring whether that is true.

  Outside, Zone 8 looks calm. Too calm.

  The Civic Hall plaza is busy, families dressed well, students pretending not to be nervous. The stone buildings glow under the late sun. Banners hang clean and proud.

  I spot Lioran first.

  “You look like you are going to trial,” he says.

  “Feels like it.”

  “Good. Fear keeps you sharp.”

  We walk toward the hall together.

  Near the fountain stand Cirellan and her brothers.

  Ardent looks composed as always, talking smoothly with a sponsor. Solmere scans the crowd like he does not trust anything fully. Cirellan stands between them, quiet but steady.

  Lucien joins a moment later, smiling like tonight already belongs to him.

  Then someone steps beside Cirellan.

  A girl I have not really spoken to before.

  Dark hair tied up fast. Sharp eyes. Restless energy.

  Cirellan nods toward her. “This is Nysera.”

  Nysera gives me a short look. “Good luck.”

  “You too,” I say automatically.

  She smirks. “I am not on stage.”

  We head inside.

  The Civic Hall is wide and bright. Stone pillars, high ceiling, council table raised at the front. Cameras mounted near the arches. It feels important.

  The forum begins like every formal event begins. Speeches. Applause. Polite nods.

  Lucien answers first. Smooth. Clean. Controlled.

  When it is my turn, I stand and speak about instability. About pressure. About what happens when one zone cracks.

  Some people shift when I mention Zone 13.

  Cirellan speaks next and talks about flawed models and human behavior under stress.

  She is calm, but her words hit harder than mine.

  The council nods thoughtfully.

  It feels like a real competition.

  It feels like everything we have worked toward is finally here.

  Then the scream cuts through the hall.

  At first, it sounds like someone dropped something.

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  Then it rises. High. Sharp. Panicked.

  Everyone freezes.

  The side door rattles.

  A guard moves toward it, hand on his baton.

  The door shakes again.

  Harder.

  Someone in the audience laughs nervously. “Probably a fight outside.”

  The door bursts inward.

  A man stumbles in.

  He is covered in blood.

  Not a little.

  His shirt is soaked dark. His hands are slick. His face is pale except for the red around his mouth.

  He takes two uneven steps and collapses onto the floor.

  For a second, nobody moves.

  Then a woman rushes forward. “Sir? Sir!”

  She kneels beside him.

  His head jerks up.

  His eyes are not right.

  He grabs her wrist with shocking force.

  And then he bites into her neck.

  There is no hesitation.

  No warning.

  Just teeth sinking into skin.

  The sound is wet and violent. Her scream rips through the hall.

  Blood spills across the polished stone.

  People stare like they are watching a play.

  Then he tears away a piece of her throat.

  She chokes. Her hands slap weakly against him.

  He keeps biting.

  Someone finally screams.

  Chairs scrape. People stand. The room explodes into movement.

  More figures stumble through the broken door.

  They move slowly. Stiff. Unsteady.

  But they do not stop.

  One lunges forward and slams into a guard.

  The guard swings his baton at its head.

  It barely reacts.

  It grabs the guard and bites into his shoulder.

  The guard screams.

  The thing bites again.

  I cannot breathe.

  My brain refuses to accept what I am seeing.

  Then Lioran is in front of me.

  “Rafa! Move!”

  The woman on the floor stops struggling.

  Her body goes still.

  For one second.

  Then her fingers twitch.

  Her head lifts slowly.

  Her eyes are cloudy.

  She turns toward the nearest person and lunges.

  Immediate.

  No delay.

  The boy she grabs does not even have time to scream properly before her teeth sink into his cheek.

  The hall erupts.

  “Run!” someone yells.

  People shove toward the main doors.

  But more of them are pushing inside.

  Slow.

  Uncoordinated.

  Relentless.

  One grabs a council member and slams him onto the floor so hard the sound echoes.

  It bites into his face.

  His scream becomes a gurgle.

  Lucien is standing now, face pale but moving.

  “Side corridor!” he shouts.

  Cirellan is frozen for half a second, eyes wide.

  Nysera grabs her arm and yanks her backward. “Cire! Now!”

  Ardent and Solmere push toward them.

  The crowd surges like a wave.

  Someone slams into me.

  I nearly fall.

  Lioran grabs my sleeve and drags me toward the side of the stage.

  The floor is slick.

  I do not look down.

  Behind us, more screaming.

  A woman is trying to crawl away while one of the blood covered figures drags her back by her leg.

  It bites into her calf.

  She kicks.

  Then she stops.

  Then she twists and bites the person beside her.

  Immediate.

  The corridor entrance is clogged with people.

  They are trapped.

  One of the bitten people in the hallway jerks violently.

  Then attacks the person in front of them.

  The hallway becomes a cage.

  “Back!” I shout.

  Lucien looks at me. “We cannot go through that.”

  “There,” I say, pointing behind the stage.

  A smaller door.

  Maintenance.

  We run.

  One of the blood covered figures notices us.

  It moves slowly but directly.

  It reaches out.

  Nysera grabs a metal stand and swings it at its head.

  The impact is loud.

  It barely stumbles.

  It turns toward her.

  She swings again.

  It grabs the stand and yanks it away like it weighs nothing.

  Cirellan shoves it from the side.

  It barely shifts.

  Lucien pulls Nysera back.

  “Rafa!”

  The door is locked.

  My hands shake as I dig into my bag.

  Tool kit.

  Pick.

  Old style lock with modern overlay.

  Behind me, something crashes into the stage.

  I hear flesh tearing.

  I force my breathing steady.

  Click.

  The lock opens.

  “Inside!” I shout.

  We push through and slam the door.

  Something hits the other side almost immediately.

  A heavy thud.

  Again.

  Then scraping.

  We move down the narrow maintenance corridor, breathing hard.

  Lioran laughs shakily. “What was that? What was that?”

  Lucien’s voice is tight. “I do not know.”

  “Yes you do,” Nysera snaps. “They were eating people.”

  Cirellan’s voice is quiet. “And the bitten changed instantly.”

  No one responds.

  We reach the stairwell and climb.

  When we push out into the plaza, it is worse.

  People are running everywhere.

  Some are bleeding.

  Some are chasing.

  A tram sits crooked on the track, doors open. Bodies spill from inside.

  One of the blood covered figures climbs out slowly, dragging one leg.

  It grabs a girl trying to run past and bites her shoulder.

  She screams.

  Then stops.

  Then turns and lunges at the next person.

  Gunshots crack through the air.

  Military trucks roar into the plaza.

  Soldiers jump out, rifles raised.

  “Get down!”

  “Fall back!”

  “Do not let them bite you!”

  A soldier fires into one of the attackers’ chest.

  It jerks but keeps moving.

  He fires again.

  It still moves.

  He aims at the head.

  This time it drops.

  More shots.

  More screams.

  The air smells like smoke and blood.

  A soldier is tackled by one of the blood covered figures. It bites into his neck.

  He screams once.

  Then he goes quiet.

  Then he jerks.

  The soldier next to him hesitates.

  Just for a second.

  Then shoots him in the head.

  I feel something inside me drop.

  This is not contained.

  This is not just the hall.

  Sirens scream from deeper in the zone.

  Smoke rises beyond the main street.

  City wide.

  “Where did this start?” Lioran whispers.

  No one answers.

  Cirellan’s face is pale. “Ardent. Solmere.”

  Nysera grips her hand tightly. “We cannot go back.”

  Lucien swallows. He looks smaller without his calm face. “We stay together.”

  A soldier waves us toward the academy courtyard.

  “Move! Behind the line!”

  We run.

  Inside the courtyard, people are pressed together in fear.

  Medics shout for space.

  A student lies near the fountain.

  At first, he looks unconscious.

  Then I see the bite on his arm.

  Fresh.

  A soldier pushes through the crowd toward him.

  But it is too slow.

  The student’s fingers twitch.

  His body jerks.

  His eyes open.

  Cloudy.

  Wrong.

  He looks at the nearest person.

  And then he moves.

  The scream that follows feels like it splits the sky.