Page 21

Haven's Edge smells nothing like Unity.

That's my first coherent thought as Lyra leads us through the settlement's main building.

Where Unity is all sterile surfaces and recycled air, this place is.

..alive. The walls are made of something organic—actual wood, I think—and the air carries a dozen scents my enhanced senses struggle to catalog: herbs hanging in bunches from the ceiling, unfamiliar spices, soil, and something metallic that might be the modified genetics of the people themselves.

"The Elders are waiting," Lyra says, guiding us down a corridor lit by fixtures that emit a warmer light than Unity's harsh illumination. "They don't usually convene at this hour, but..." She glances back at me, eyes lingering on my face. "When I mentioned your name, they made an exception."

My stomach twists into knots. After years of believing I was just another orphaned Unity citizen, the possibility that I might have a history—a real history, connected to this place—feels too enormous to process.

"What exactly do these Elders want with us?" Trent asks, his voice steady but his body positioned slightly ahead of mine, protective, as always .

"Answers, mainly," Lyra replies. "And to determine if you're who I think you might be." Another glance at me.

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. Her skin 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, a creation .

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. "Chief Medical 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.

"Your memory is correct," Reid confirms, leaning forward. "I was there the night Unity forces discovered Haven. I helped Elara hide you among a group of Unity refugees we were treating at our facility."

"You smuggled me into Unity," I say, the pieces finally clicking. "Made me look like an orphaned citizen."

Reid nods, his expression haunted. "It was Elara's contingency plan. If Haven fell, you and the other children would be hidden in the last place Unity would look—inside their perfect society."

"Other children?" Trent speaks up for the first time since entering the chamber. "How many?"

"Twelve in total," answers a third Elder, a woman with dark skin and silver hair coiled in intricate braids.

"Each carrying different modification patterns designed by their parents.

Yours, Zara, were perhaps the most sophisticated, designed specifically to remain dormant until triggered by certain conditions. "

"What conditions?" I demand.

"Age was the primary factor," Reid explains. "The modifications needed your body to reach full maturity. But proximity to others with active genetic adaptations could accelerate the process. And certain environmental factors?—"

"Like being near Eden," I interrupt. "She said she could smell it on me. That my patterns were 'waking up.'"

Reid nods. "The child's assessment was accurate. Your interactions with Splinters during your Sentinel duties likely began the activation sequence, but extended contact with someone whose modifications are fully expressed would significantly accelerate the process."

I look at Trent, wondering if he's connecting the same dots I am. The increased Splinter infiltration. None of it feels coincidental anymore.

"Was I sent back to find the other children?" I ask. "Is that why Eden was in Unity?"

Nora shakes her head. "Eden's presence in the arcology was unrelated to you, at least directly. She was sent to locate someone else, another member of our community who's been working undercover in Unity for years."

I process this, still struggling to reconcile the idea that I was placed in Unity deliberately, that my entire life has been built on a foundation of carefully constructed lies.

"My parents," I say, voice thick with emotion I can't quite name. "My Unity records listed them as Elias and Mira Thorne. Were they real?"

"No," Reid admits gently. "Those identities were fabricated to establish your cover. Your true parents were Dr. Elara Thorne and Dr. David Kraine, both founding researchers at Haven."

My father's name unlocks another memory fragment—a man with dark eyes like mine, laughing as he lifts me high above his head in a sunlit room.

"What happened to them?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

Reid's expression confirms my fears before he speaks.

"Your father died defending the north wing of the facility, buying time for evacuations.

Your mother..." He hesitates. "She remained behind to destroy research that would have been dangerous in Unity's hands.

She activated the facility's emergency protocols, which triggered a contained implosion. "

She sacrificed herself.

To protect her work…

To protect me.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel the wetness on my cheeks. Tears I didn't know I had in me for parents I barely remember.

"Zara." Trent's voice is low, just for me. His hand finds mine, warm and solid and real amid this whirlwind of revelations.

I cling to his fingers like they're the only steady thing in a world that keeps shifting beneath my feet.

"I know this is overwhelming," Nora says, her amber eyes full of sympathy. "But there's more you need to understand. About your modifications and why Elara designed them the way she did."

"Tell me," I say, squeezing Trent's hand once before releasing it. I need to face this on my own, even with him beside me.

Reid stands, moving to a wall panel that slides away to reveal what appears to be a data terminal. "Perhaps it's better if Elara tells you herself."

My heart stutters. "She's alive?"

"No," Reid says gently. "But she left messages for you, in case you ever found your way back to us."

The terminal illuminates, and a holographic image forms in the center of the room, a woman with dark hair pulled back from a face that strikes me with its familiarity. I've seen those cheekbones, that determined jawline, in my own reflection countless times without realizing their significance.

"Recording date: August 17, 2094," the hologram announces in a crisp, clear voice. "Contingency message for subject ZT-Seven, in the event of successful extraction from Unity placement."