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The woman—my mother—looks directly at where I'm sitting, as if she could see me across the decades.

As if she can see me through time itself.

"Zara," she begins, her formal tone softening. "If you're watching this, then several things must be true: you've survived, your modifications have begun activating, and you've found your way to our people."

She smiles, and the expression transforms her face from authoritative to luminous. "First, know that sending you away was the hardest thing I've ever done. Your father and I created you not just as a scientific achievement, but as our daughter, our greatest love."

The hologram shifts as she moves, pacing as she speaks.

"Second, you must understand that what's happening to your body isn't random or dangerous.

Your genetic modifications were designed specifically for you , based on your natural genetic potential.

Unlike Unity's mechanical enhancements or the first-generation adaptations that produced unstable results, yours represent the pinnacle of our work, fully integrated modifications that become part of your natural development. "

She stops pacing, her expression turning serious.

"The key difference is that your modifications aren't static.

They're adaptive, responding to environmental conditions and evolving as needed.

Unity sees this as a threat because they can't control it.

Their entire system is built on the premise that humanity must remain unchanged to survive.

Our research proved the opposite, that continual adaptation is humanity's greatest strength. "

I listen, transfixed by this woman who shares my features but whose confidence and certainty seem alien to me. My whole life has been about following rules, maintaining protocols. Elara Thorne radiates a different kind of power, the authority of someone who makes the rules rather than follows them.

"Your specific modifications include enhanced sensory processing, accelerated neural pathways, and a unique cellular regeneration system that allows for physical adaptation to environmental changes," she continues.

"As they fully activate, you'll experience capabilities beyond standard human parameters, some similar to other Splinter adaptations, others entirely unique to your design. "

Design. That word again, reminding me that to her, I was partly an experiment.

"But most importantly," Elara leans closer to the recording device, her voice dropping as if sharing a secret, "you were created to bridge worlds.

Your modifications appear Splinter-like but function on principles Unity could eventually accept.

You represent a path forward, not Unity's static perfection or the wasteland's extreme adaptations, but a balanced approach that honors human potential without sacrificing human identity. "

She straightens, something like pride filling her expression. "You were hidden in Unity not just for your safety, but because someday, when the time is right, you could help them see what we've always known—that adaptation isn't contamination. It's survival. It's the future."

The hologram flickers, and Elara's expression softens again.

"I don't know what life you've lived, what person you've become.

But I hope somewhere beneath Unity's conditioning, you've kept the curiosity, the determination, the fierce heart I saw in you even as a child.

" She smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"You were quite the handful, even at four. "

Her image begins to fade. "There are more messages, more information when you're ready. But for now, know this: whatever Unity told you about who and what you are—you're more. So much more. "

The hologram disappears, leaving the room in silence except for my ragged breathing.

I don't know what to feel. Relief at finally having answers? Anger at being designed and deployed like some kind of science experiment? Grief for parents I barely remember? It all swirls together in a storm I can't even begin to think through.

"She loved you," Nora says softly. "Beyond the science, beyond the cause—Elara loved you desperately. I watched her record that message seven times because she kept breaking down."

I nod, not trusting my voice right now.

"We understand this is a lot to process," Reid says. "You've both had an exhausting journey. Perhaps rest would be beneficial before we continue?"

Rest sounds impossible, but my body feels suddenly leaden, the day's events catching up all at once.

"There are quarters prepared," Nora offers. "Nothing luxurious like Unity's Upper Levels, but comfortable. And private."

The way she says "private" while glancing between Trent and me suggests that our connection hasn't gone unnoticed. Outside Unity's rigid protocols, apparently, such things are accepted rather than forbidden.

"Thank you," Trent says, speaking for both of us when I remain silent. "That would be appreciated."

Lyra stands to escort us. "I'll show you the way."

As we rise to follow her, Reid steps forward. "One more thing, Zara. Now that your modifications are actively expressing, the process will continue to accelerate. You may experience discomfort as your systems recalibrate. If symptoms become overwhelming, our medical facility is equipped to help."

"And if I don't want these modifications?" The question bursts from me. "If I want to stop them? "

The Elders exchange glances again.

"That would be like trying to stop yourself from growing taller during adolescence," Nora explains gently. "These changes aren't external additions like Unity's enhancements. They're expressions of what's already in your genetic code, just amplified."

"What she means," Reid clarifies, "is that they can't be removed without fundamentally altering who you are. They're part of you, Zara. They always have been."

The knowledge settles heavily. No going back. No return to the comfortable certainty of who I thought I was.

Just forward, into whatever I'm becoming.

The quarters they've given us are in a smaller structure connected to the main building. The room is simple but surprisingly comfortable—a bedroom with an adjoining washing facility that uses actual water rather than Unity's sonic cleaning systems.

"Conserve hot water if you can," Lyra advises as she shows us in. "Our heating system runs on solar, and the collectors need cleaning after yesterday's dust storm."

"Thank you for your help," Trent says formally. I notice how he's scanning the room, assessing it with Sentinel thoroughness despite our changed circumstances.

"Food in the storage unit there," Lyra points to a small cabinet. "Nothing fancy, but it'll tide you over till morning. Someone will come fetch you for breakfast and further discussion."

She hesitates at the door. "There's only one sleeping platform. I can arrange for separate accommodations if you prefer. "

"This is fine," I say quickly, avoiding Trent's eyes. After everything we've been through today, the thought of being separated from him feels unbearable.

Lyra nods, a knowing look passing over her face. "Sleep well, then. You're safe here."

I hope I can trust that

The door closes behind her, leaving Trent and me truly alone for the first time since our desperate escape. The silence stretches between us, filled with all the things we haven't had time to process.

"You should take the platform," Trent says finally, practical as always. "Your body needs rest to handle the changes you're experiencing."

I look at the sleeping platform, wider than our maintenance quarters' bed had been, but not exactly spacious. "There's room for both of us."

His eyes flick to mine, something dark and hungry flashing through them before he masters it. "Zara?—"

"Don't." I step closer to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "Don't pretend this is still about Sentinel protocols or professional boundaries. We're not Sentinels anymore, Trent."

His jaw tightens. "That doesn't change?—"

"It changes everything." I reach up, touching his face the way I've wanted to for three years.

His stubble is rough against my palm, his skin warm.

"I found out today that my entire existence is basically an experiment.

That I was designed for some grand purpose I never asked for.

The only real thing in my life right now is you. "

Trent remains perfectly still under my touch, but I can feel the tension thrumming through him. "You've had a traumatic day. You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking more clearly than I have in years," I counter. "We nearly died today. We've abandoned everything we know. And tomorrow, god knows what other bombshells these people will drop on us. So right now, I need something real. Something I actually chose."

His hand comes up to cover mine where it rests against his cheek. "And what is it you're choosing, Zara?"

"You," I say simply. "Us. Whatever this is between us that we've been fighting for three years."

His eyes search mine, as if looking for uncertainty or confusion he can use as an excuse to maintain distance.

He won't find it. If nothing else, today has taught me that life is too unpredictable, too fragile for hesitation.

I step closer, my hand resting lightly against his chest. "Trent?—"

He covers my hand with his, halting me. "Before anything happens between us, there's something you need to know."

The seriousness in his voice makes me pause. "What is it?"

Trent takes a deep breath, his fingers tightening slightly around mine. "When I was first assigned as your training supervisor, it wasn't random. I specifically requested the position."

I frown, not understanding. "Why?"