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We reach a set of double doors made of actual, honest-to-god wood, not the synthetic composite Unity uses in its rare decorative elements, but real fucking wood with grain patterns and variations in color and everything. Lyra knocks twice, then pushes them open.

The room beyond is circular, with a domed ceiling where some kind of luminescent plant growth provides soft light. Five people sit in a loose semicircle on cushioned chairs that look more comfortable than anything I've ever seen in Unity. They range in age from maybe fifty to well over seventy, and all show subtle signs of genetic modification: reflective qualities in their eyes, textured patterns on exposed skin, features that hint at specific environmental adaptations.

"Elders of Haven's Edge," Lyra announces formally. "I present Zara Thorne and Trent Vanguard, former Sentinels of Unity East."

The oldest among them, a woman with silver hair and amber eyes similar to Eden's, leans forward. "Thorne, you said? Elara's child?"

"Possibly," Lyra answers. "The age matches, as does the name and physical resemblance. And she's experiencing awakening modifications."

The Elders exchange looks laden with meaning I can't decipher. The silver-haired woman rises, approaching me with movements that seem too fluid for her apparent age.

"May I?" she asks, hand outstretched toward my face.

I hesitate, years of Sentinel training screaming at me to maintain distance. But I didn't come all this way to cling to Unity protocols.

"Yes," I say, and Trent shifts beside me, clearly uncomfortable but respecting my decision.

Her fingers touch my cheek, then trail to my temple. Herskin is warm and slightly textured, like fine sandpaper. Those amber eyes study mine with unsettling intensity.

"The patterns are there," she murmurs. "Dormant until recently, but definitely Elara's work. The neural architecture is unmistakable."

"You knew her," I say.

The woman's expression softens. "I was her closest friend and colleague. Nora Vallen. We built Haven together, before Unity destroyed it."

My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it. "And you think I'm her daughter?"

"I don't think, child. I know." Nora's thumb brushes over my cheekbone. "You have her eyes. Not the color—those you got from your father—but the shape, the way they take everything in. And now that your modifications are awakening..." She shakes her head in wonder. "Elara always said you were her masterpiece. Her hope for the future."

A masterpiece.

Not a person, acreation.

Something cold slides down my spine and I swallow hard.

"What exactly did she do to me?" I ask, stepping back from her touch.

"Perhaps we should begin with proper introductions and explanations," interrupts a man seated among the Elders. His voice carries the clear authority of someone used to being heard. "Our guests have had a traumatic journey."

"Of course, Daniel.” Nora gestures to the empty chairs positioned across from the Elders. "Please, sit. You're safe here."

Safe. What a concept.

I’m not sure I’ll ever feel safe again.

Trent and I take the offered seats, though I notice he positions himself for a clear view of all exits. Some Sentinel habits die hard.

"I'm Dr. Daniel Reid," the man introduces himself. "ChiefMedical Officer of Haven's Edge and one of the few survivors of the original Haven research facility."

Another fragment of my recurring dreams hits me. A man's voice, urgent but controlled: "Zara will be safe."

"I know you," I blurt out. "From...from a memory, I think. You were there, the night of the fire."

Reid's eyes widen slightly. "You remember? You were only four when?—"

"Just fragments. A laboratory. Fire alarms. A woman I think was my mother, saying something about modifications being stable." I press my fingers against my temples, trying to hold onto the slippery memory fragments. "And your voice, saying I would be safe."

The Elders exchange another loaded glance.