Page 131 of Broken Sentinel

Before she can finish, a bolt of lightning strikes terrifyingly close, momentarily blinding us with its brilliance. In that split-second illumination, I catch clear glimpse of our pursuers.

Not Unity operators.

Three figures in weathered gear designed for wasteland survival. Not moving with military precision but with the fluid adaptability of those born to this harsh environment. And their eyes—catching the lightning's flash with reflective quality I recognize immediately.

"Splinters," I breathe.

"Not just Splinters," Lily says with sudden certainty. "Haven children."

The crystal flares impossibly bright, momentarily overwhelming even my enhanced vision. When I can see again, our pursuers have closed half the distance, moving with incredible speed up the muddy slope.

"They've seen us," Trent warns, dropping into defensive stance.

"Wait," I urge, placing a restraining hand on his arm. "Lily, are you sure?"

She nods, eyes fixed on the approaching figures. "Yes. Their patterns—I can see them clearly now. Like mine, like yours, but different expressions."

"Could be trap," Vex cautions, though he hasn't drawn weapons yet. "Lin's faction working with Unity."

"Only one way to find out," I say.

I step forward, placing myself between my companions and the newcomers. The crystal's light bathes the scene in ethereal blue-green, creating a strange island of visibility amid the storm's chaos.

The lead figure stops a few meters away—tall, lean, with the confident posture of someone completely at home in this hostile environment. A hood conceals most of their features, but I catch the gleam of eyes that shift color like oil on water. Not children at all.

"Zara Thorne," a female voice calls over the storm's fury. "We've been waiting for you."

The simple statement sends chills through me that have nothing to do with the rain soaking my clothes.

"Who are you?" I demand.

The figure pushes back her hood, revealing a woman perhaps a few years older than me, with sharp features and those remarkable color-shifting eyes. "My name is Sara," she responds. "Haven designation EC-Three. Like you, a child of the original project."

Lily steps forward, the crystal now blazing in heroutstretched hand. "You're what it was signaling," she says with certainty. "The resonance pattern I've been feeling."

Sara nods, producing a crystal identical to ours from beneath her weatherproof gear. It pulses in perfect synchronization with Lily's, the two objects somehow communicating across the distance.

"The Haven network is reactivating," she explains. "Each child found strengthens the signal to the others. We've been tracking your approach since you triggered the archive."

"We?" I question.

She gestures to her companions, who lower their hoods to reveal a man and woman with their own distinctive modifications—his skin bearing subtle patterns that shift with his movements, her eyes a deep purple that catches even the storm's dim light.

"Peter and Kara," Evelyn introduces. "Haven children Five and Eight. We've established sanctuary in the Northern Settlements, gathering others as they awaken. Now we've come for you."

Trent steps to my side, protective instincts clearly warring with strategic assessment. "How did you find us in this storm?"

"The crystal network operates on frequencies Unity can't detect," Sara explains. "The storm masks our movements from their patrols, but doesn't interfere with Haven technology."

"Convenient timing," Vex observes skeptically.

"Not convenience. Planning." Sara's shifting eyes assess him briefly before returning to me. "We've been monitoring Unity's containment protocols. When they deployed modified operators to this region, we knew they were hunting Haven children."

"You have safe passage through the perimeter?" I ask, hope rising despite my caution.

She nods. "For now. But the window closes soon. We needto move immediately if we're going to make it through before Unity completes their containment grid."

I exchange glances with my companions—Trent's measured assessment, Vex's predatory wariness, Lily's bright-eyed certainty. The decision, ultimately, falls to me.

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