Page 150 of Broken Sentinel

"What's the catch?" I ask bluntly. "There's always a catch."

Naomi's mismatched eyes meet mine directly. "The strain on the Haven children participating in the protocol. Particularly without the complete circle. The resonance network draws directly from our modified genetics, using our bodies as conduits for the adaptive pattern. The process is...taxing."

"How taxing?"

She hesitates before answering. "We don't know for certain. The original design with all twelve participants distributed the load equally. With eleven...some may not survive the process."

And there it is.

The truth behind all the careful terminology and scientific explanations. This final protocol might kill some of us—perhaps even all of us—to offer its evolutionary gift to humanity.

I look around the circle at the other Haven children, men and women I barely know, yet connected to me through the work of parents most of us never really knew. All standing ready despite knowing the risks.

"And if I say no?" I ask.

"Then we evacuate," Naomi says simply. "Scatter the Haven children across the wasteland, hope enough survive Unity's hunt to try again someday. But the chance we have now—eleven of the twelve together, the resonance network at near-full capacity—may never come again."

The choice settles on me with crushing weight. Participate in a potentially fatal protocol designed by a mother I barely remember, or run again, condemning these people to Unity's relentless pursuit.

Some choice.

"I need a minute," I say, stepping away from the circle. "Before I decide."

Naomi nods. "Of course. But time is limited. Unity forces?—"

"I know," I interrupt. "Just...one minute."

I move to the chamber's edge, needing space to think clearly. The implications overwhelm me, not just for my own survival, but for everything this final protocol represents.

My mother's vision.

Unity's fear.

The future of human adaptation itself.

A future I was literally designed to help create, without ever being given a choice in the matter.

Haven versus Unity. Both sides decided what I should be, what purpose I should serve, without asking what I wanted. The bitter irony isn't lost on me.

As I struggle with the decision, the chamber door opens. Trent enters, concern evident in his expression as he approaches.

"Naomi told me what they're planning," he says quietly, coming to stand beside me. "This final protocol."

"And its risks," I add.

He nods. "The defense teams are prepared to buy you time for evacuation if that's your choice."

I study him, this man who has stood beside me through everything, who lied to protect me and risked everything to help me escape. Who knows me better than anyone else ever has.

"What would you do?" I ask.

His gray eyes hold mine steadily. "It doesn't matter what I would do. This is your choice, Zara. Not Unity's. Not Haven's. Yours."

The simple statement hits me with unexpected force. My choice. Perhaps the first truly free choice I've been able to make since discovering what I am.

"People might die if I say yes," I whisper. "Imight die."

"People will definitely die if Unity captures the Haven children," he counters. "And their vision for human evolution isn't one of choice."

---