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He doesn't flinch from the accusation. "I was following orders, yes. But I also believed premature knowledge would trigger activation before you were ready."

"So you made the choice for me."

"I did." No excuses, no justifications. Just acknowledgment. "I can't change that now."

The honesty in his response disarms me slightly.

I study him—the man I thought I knew better than anyone.

His dark hair has grown longer since we left Unity, no longer maintained at regulation length.

The perpetual tension in his shoulders remains, but there's something different about him here, outside Unity's rigid structure. Something more authentic.

"If you could do it again," I ask, "would you make the same choice?"

He considers the question with characteristic thoroughness. "No," he says finally. "I would have found another way."

It's not the answer I expected, and I'm not sure what to do with it. Three years of partnership created habits that are hard to break—the instinct to trust him, to believe in his judgment, to depend on his strength alongside mine.

"I need to go," I say finally. "Vex is waiting."

Trent nods once, his expression carefully neutral. "Be careful with him, Zara. His agenda may not align with your best interests."

"Unlike yours?" I can't resist the jab.

"I deserved that," he acknowledges. "But the warning stands. Vex sees your modifications as an advantage for the Splinter cause. Don't let anyone else define what you're becoming."

With that, he walks away, leaving me with the uncomfortable feeling that despite everything, he still understands me better than I sometimes understand myself.

Vex is indeed waiting at the eastern gate, leaning casually against the wooden structure.

He wears his usual dark clothes—fitted pants and a sleeveless shirt that reveals arms corded with lean muscle and marked with intricate tattoos.

He reminds me of a large cat, like the old footage of panthers that once existed.

"Took your time, Thorne," he comments as I approach. "Reid show you the research?"

"You knew about that?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "I know about most things that happen here." He straightens, scanning me with those unsettling amber eyes. "How does it feel, discovering you were designed to save humanity?"

"Like a cosmic joke," I respond dryly. "I spent years hunting Splinters, and now I'm supposed to be the bridge between worlds?"

Vex's mouth quirks in what might almost be a smile. "Life does enjoy its ironies." He gestures toward the path leading into the forest. "Today we're going to test your sensory adaptation in variable environments."

We set off at an easy pace, though "easy" with our enhanced capabilities means covering ground at what would be a sprint for normal humans.

The forest around Haven's Edge is nothing like Unity's carefully cultivated parks—wild, overgrown, with species that have adapted to the changed climate in strange and beautiful ways.

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.

"Butterfly," Vex says softly, crouching beside me with unusual gentleness. "A Blue Morpho. They were nearly extinct before the collapse. Now they thrive here."

The butterfly—Blue Morpho—drifts closer, then delicately settles on my shoulder. I hold perfectly still, afraid even my breathing might damage it.

"I've never seen anything like this in Unity," I admit, watching as the wings slowly open and close, revealing iridescent blue that seems to shift with the light. "Nothing so..."

"Wild? Beautiful? Unnecessary?" Vex suggests, his voice unusually soft.

"Free," I decide.

Something in Vex's expression changes, the usual hardness giving way to a warmth I've rarely glimpsed. "They're perfect examples of adaptation. Complete transformation from one form to another, entirely different life stages. Caterpillar to chrysalis to this. "

"Transformation," I echo, thinking of my own metamorphosis from loyal Sentinel to whatever I'm becoming.

"The ancients had many names for them," Vex continues, his voice taking on a storytelling quality I haven't heard before. "My grandmother used to call them 'flutterbys' when she told me stories. Said they carried souls between worlds."

"Flutterbys," I repeat, smiling at the childlike reversal of the syllables.

The butterfly's wings pulse once more, then it lifts into the air, circling us before drifting toward a patch of flowers.

"You remind me of them," Vex says, his amber eyes holding mine with unexpected intensity. "Transformation. Adaptation. Beauty emerging from change."

The compliment catches me off guard, so different from his usual challenging remarks or practical instructions. Something warm unfurls in my chest, dangerous and compelling.

"I was in a chrysalis my whole life," I say quietly. "Never knowing what I really was."

Vex reaches out, his calloused fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from my face. "And now you're emerging, Flutterby."

The nickname should sound ridiculous, especially coming from Vex’s mouth. Instead, it sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the breeze and everything to do with the man before me, wild, uncontained, modified…everything Unity taught me to fear.

"Is that what I am to you? A curiosity? A pretty insect?" I mean it to sound challenging, but my voice betrays me, emerging softer than intended.

"No." His hand drops away, but his gaze remains, intense and unreadable. "You're the most dangerous kind of beautiful—the kind that makes people question everything they believe."

Before I can respond, he stands in one fluid movement. " Break's over. Let's see if those reflexes are as quick as your wit."