Page 71

Story: Broken Sentinel

My enhanced senses catalog everything automatically now—the subtle shifts in air current, the varied calls of birds,the complex network of scents from vegetation and soil and animals. What once would have overwhelmed me now feels natural, my brain processing the flood of information without conscious effort.

"No matter what, I hope you know how well you’re adapting to all of this," Vex comments as we run. "Most take months to integrate enhanced perception."

"Apparently I was designed for quick adaptation," I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

"Does it bother you?" he asks. "Being designed rather than naturally evolved?"

"Wouldn't it bother you?"

He considers this as we navigate a fallen tree, both clearing it in a single fluid leap. "My modifications were forced on me through violence," he says finally. "If I could have been born with them instead, integrated perfectly as yours were..." He shrugs. "Seems preferable."

"But they weren't my choice," I argue. "My entire existence was planned by someone else."

"Welcome to humanity, Thorne," Vex says with unexpected wryness. "None of us choose to exist. We just decide what to do with the existence we're given."

His perspective catches me off guard. Before I can respond, he changes direction, leading us down a path I haven't traveled before.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Somewhere special," is all he says.

The training session with Vex takes us farther from Haven's Edge than usual, into a small valley where wildflowers grow in chaotic patches among the ruins of pre-collapse structures. My enhanced senses catalog everything automatically now—the shifting air currents, the subtle variations in soil composition, the distant sounds of creatures I can't identify, the various smells of the flowers.

It’s stunning in its raw, haphazard beauty.

"This place was a botanical research station," Vex says, leading me through waist-high grasses that whisper against my legs. "They were developing plant species that could survive the changing climate."

I trail my fingers through the tall stems. "Guess they succeeded."

"Nature usually finds a way." He stops at a clearing where sunlight pools on a flat rock. "This is where we'll practice sensory filtering today."

I've been getting better at controlling my enhanced perception, learning to dial specific senses up or down as needed. Still, sometimes the sheer volume of input overwhelms me—too many scents, sounds, visual details all demanding attention at once.

"Sit," Vex instructs, gesturing to the sun-warmed stone.

I obey, crossing my legs and adjusting to the rough texture beneath me. Vex remains standing, his tall form casting a partial shadow across the rock.

"Close your eyes," he says. "Focus only on sound. Filter everything else out."

I let my eyelids fall, concentrating on my hearing. The world expands in auditory detail—the whisper of grass in the breeze, Vex's steady heartbeat, the calls of unfamiliar birds in the distance, the soft rustle of something small moving through undergrowth twenty meters away.

"Good," Vex murmurs, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate directly through my bones. "Now switch to scent. Nothing else exists."

I shift my focus, allowing sounds to fade as I concentrate on the olfactory information flooding my enhanced senses. The sharp green smell of crushed vegetation, the earthy richness of soil warmed by sunlight, the distinctive metallic-wild scent that is uniquely Vex, something sweet and floral nearby that I can't identify.

"Now touch," he continues. "Just the sensations against your skin."

The sun's heat on my face, the gentle pressure of the breeze, the rough stone beneath my legs, the subtle vibration of the earth itself.

"Now bring them all back into balance," Vex instructs. "All senses equally weighted."

I let my awareness expand, carefully balancing each input stream. When I feel centered, I open my eyes.

And freeze.

A creature hovers inches from my face—delicate, impossible, mesmerizing. Tissue-thin wings in vibrant blue pulse slowly in the air, attached to a slender body that seems too fragile to exist in this harsh world. It floats there as if examining me, entirely unafraid.

"What is—" I whisper, barely moving my lips.