Page 33

As we resume training, the butterfly remains nearby, drifting between flowers with delicate purpose. I find my eyes drawn to it repeatedly, this creature that transformed completely from one life to another, emerging stronger and more beautiful than before.

Just like me.

The rest of the training session takes on a different quality after the butterfly moment, less instructor and student, more equals exploring the limits of what our modified bodies can accomplish.

Vex pushes me harder than usual, testing my speed, strength, and adaptability in ways that leave me breathless but exhilarated.

"Your reflexes are improving," he comments as I dodge a lightning-fast strike. "But you're still thinking like a Sentinel, all regulation movements. Your responses are too calculated."

"And how should I think instead?" I ask, circling him warily.

"Like a predator," he says, then demonstrates with a series of movements so fluid they seem almost impossible, leaping, twisting, changing direction mid-air with feline grace. "Stop following rules that were designed to limit you."

I try to mimic his movements, and to my surprise, my body responds more readily than expected, as if it's been waiting for permission to move this way, to fully embrace what the modifications make possible.

"There you go, Flutterby," Vex says, approval evident in his voice. "Let your body lead. It knows what to do."

The nickname sends another ripple of warmth through me, creating a strange intimacy between us, something I haven't felt with anyone since leaving Unity. Not even with Trent, despite our years of partnership and the lingering connection that refuses to die completely.

By the time we head back toward Haven's Edge, the sun has begun its descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees. We walk rather than run, both of us pleasantly fatigued from the intense training session.

"There's going to be a settlement council meeting tonight," Vex says as the outbuildings come into view. "About the Haven children situation."

"No one mentioned that to me," I note, surprised.

"They wouldn't." His tone turns slightly harder. "Some members believe you're still too connected to Unity to be included in strategic planning."

"And what do you believe?"

He glances at me, amber eyes reflecting the late afternoon sunlight. "I believe you're neither Unity nor traditional Splinter. You're something new." A pause. "Something necessary."

"For what?"

"Survival." He stops walking, turning to face me fully.

"The climate is still deteriorating. Unity's arcologies are resource-intensive and ultimately unsustainable.

Traditional Splinter adaptations are effective but often come with severe limitations or side effects.

Neither path leads to long-term human viability. "

"And I'm supposed to be the magical solution?" I ask skeptically.

"Not alone," he says. "But what your mother designed—controlled adaptive modification without the drawbacks of forced change—might be."

The thought that my existence might actually serve a larger purpose—not just as a political bridge between factions but as a genuine path forward for human survival—settles strangely in my chest. It's simultaneously a burden and a possibility.

"So you're on board with my mother's grand plan?" I ask.

His brows knit together in thought. "I'm on board with survival. With adaptation. With evolution." He studies me for a long moment. "Your mother's methods were controversial, but her vision wasn't wrong."

"And what about my choice in all this?" I press. "Everyone seems to have plans for what I represent, but what about what I want?"

"What do you want, Flutterby?" he asks, the nickname softening the serious question.

I open my mouth to respond, then realize I don't have an answer.

What do I want? For most of my life, my wants were shaped by Unity—to be the perfect Sentinel, to protect the arcology, to eliminate threats.

Since discovering my true nature, I've been reacting rather than choosing, fleeing Unity, adapting to my changing body, trying to understand what I'm becoming.

"I don't know yet," I admit finally.

Vex nods as if this is an acceptable answer. "Then maybe that's your first real choice, to take time to decide, rather than letting anyone else decide for you."

As we resume walking toward the settlement, I find myself thinking about the butterfly—its complete transformation from crawling caterpillar to chrysalis to winged creature soaring above the ground.

Maybe that's where I am now—emerged from my chrysalis but still testing my wings, discovering what this new form makes possible.

We're nearly at the main gates when I spot a familiar figure waiting—Trent, his posture rigid even in casual clothes, eyes tracking our approach with careful neutrality that doesn't quite mask the tension beneath.

"Your watchdog is waiting," Vex comments, low enough that only enhanced hearing would catch it.

"He's not my anything," I reply automatically.

Vex makes a noncommittal sound that might be disbelief. "The council meeting is at sundown in the main hall. Whether you're invited or not, I think you should be there."

"Planning to sneak me in?" I ask, half-joking .

His smile turns predatory. "I rarely follow rules I don't agree with. Another lesson you might want to consider, Flutterby."

With that, he peels away, heading toward what I've learned is the security sector of the settlement, leaving me to approach Trent alone.

"Productive training?" Trent asks as I reach him, his tone carefully neutral.

"Very," I answer. "Vex mentioned a council meeting tonight about the Haven children."

Trent's expression tightens slightly. "Yes. I was just coming to inform you."

"Let me guess—I'm not invited."

"Not officially," he confirms. "But I advocated for your inclusion, given that you're the only successfully transitioned Haven child we have access to."

The fact that he argued for my involvement doesn't surprise me as much as it might have a week ago. Whatever his flaws, Trent has a strong sense of fairness.

"Vex thinks I should attend regardless of the official invitation," I say, watching Trent's reaction.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "For once, we agree on something."

"Will wonders never cease," I mutter.

Trent's eyes narrow slightly as he studies me. "You seem...different."

"Different how?"

"More settled. Less angry." He hesitates. "What happened out there?"

For some reason, I don't want to share the butterfly moment with him. It feels private somehow, a connection between me and Vex that would lose something in the retelling.

"Just gaining better control of the modifications," I say instead. "Learning to work with them rather than against them."

Trent nods, accepting this partial truth. "The council will primarily be discussing extraction options for the other Haven children. Your insight would be valuable, whether they officially want it or not."

"Then I'll be there," I decide. "Officially invited or not."

He gives me a faint smile. "I expected nothing less."

As we walk toward the main settlement buildings, I find myself caught in a strange space between the two men who now dominate my life in different ways—Trent with our complicated history and broken trust that somehow hasn't severed the connection entirely, and Vex with his wild intensity and unexpected moments of insight that challenge everything I thought I knew.

Unity versus Splinter. Control versus adaptation. Past versus future.

And me, somewhere in the middle, still discovering what I'm truly capable of becoming.

The butterfly's image stays with me as we walk—delicate yet strong, transformed completely from its original form into something new and beautiful. Not Unity. Not Splinter. Something else entirely.

Maybe that's not such a bad thing to be.