Page 19 of The Mountain Man's Curvy Trick-or-Treat

“Rook,” I whisper, lowering my shield. “It’s me. Stand down.”

The swarm wavers. A few units twitch mid-air, waiting for the hierarchy to settle. Rook’s light falters, steadies again—an agony of decision written in code.

“Override attempt registered.”

“You can choose,” I tell him. “You’ve done it once alread—hesitated. That’s how free will begins.”

Mother Tree’s harmonics pulse through the clearing, a low vibration that ripples the moss beneath my boots. I catch it, harness it, feed it into the cradle’s open circuits. The field expands, a living resonance net that sweeps through the swarm.

The lesser drones freeze mid-flight, their optics dimming one by one. Only Rook remains aloft, trembling in the halo of light.

I reach up, palm open. “Come back to me.”

He lands lightly against my wrist, still humming with conflicted code. I open the panel beneath his thorax, sever his uplink to Command, and route him through the Tree’s frequency instead. The scent of ozone thickens as metal and root entwine.

The effort drains me. Without the regulator’s modulation, the resonance surges unchecked, and the edges of my vision swim. I lean into the Tree’s field until the static eases, the bark humming like a pulse under my hands.

“You’re not a hunter anymore,” I murmur. “You’re a shield.”

Rook’s wings twitch. His optic flickers once, twice, then steadies. The field hum aligns with my own, a soft echo of trust.

Through the shared resonance, memories slip from me into him: her laughter, her light, the feel of her breath against mine. For a moment, his mind reflects it back—confused, awed, almosthuman.

The hum steadies. The machine knows who she is now.

Not a target. A treasure.

“Even programmed creations can evolve toward empathy,” I whisper.

Maybe that’s what Command feared all along … that love could rewrite code better than they ever could.

Rook rises, wings unfolding with the faint chime of crystal.

I watch as he lifts into the air, a single ember vanishing into the trees, bound for the woman who changed everything.

Then, I reach for the relay module and open a narrow channel—not to Command, but to the only one who ever questioned them aloud.

“Torin,” I whisper. “It’s Everett.”

A pause, then a low growl layered with static. “You shouldn’t be using this line. They’ll trace it.”

“Then let them trace it,” I say. “I’m a dead man anyway.”

“The disturbance last night?”

“Yeah. Regulator’s gone. The resonance—” I falter. “It bonded me to a human.”

Silence stretches across the distance. Then, quietly, “Her name?”

“Eden.”

“She’s your tether now,” he says, voice rough but certain. “Protect her. The others won’t understand yet, but they will … eventually.”

The comm sputters and dies before I can respond.

I stare at the dark module in my palm, the wordtetherechoing through my mind like prophecy.

The forest hums around me, the tree’s roots glowing faintly beneath my feet.