Page 153 of Broken Sentinel

"Two minutes!"

Another Haven child collapses, leaving just six of us connected. The strain is becoming unbearable, like trying to channel a river through a straw. My cells scream in protest, modifications working frantically to adapt to demands they were never designed to handle.

I think of Trent and Vex watching this unfold, powerless to help as the protocol slowly kills us. I think of my mother designing me for this moment, never knowing if her daughter would survive the purpose she was created to fulfill.

"One minute! Hold on!"

I can't. I know it with sudden certainty. My body has reached its absolute limit. Even with my mother's perfectly designed modifications, I cannot maintain this connection for another sixty seconds.

As my vision darkens and my legs begin to buckle, something unexpected happens. A new presence enters the network—a twelfth signature, familiar yet different, filling the void left by the missing Haven child.

Not identical, but compatible. Not perfectly matched, butsufficient to complete the circle. The resonance field stabilizes instantly, the crushing pressure easing just enough to keep me conscious.

"Thirty seconds!"

I force my eyes open, trying to identify the source of this unexpected salvation. Through blurred vision, I see someone standing at the previously empty pedestal, hand pressed against a crystal that shouldn't be there.

Adrian Lin.

Naomi's brother. The man who betrayed Haven to Unity, who sold us out for access to their research. Now somehow here, completing our circle at the most desperate moment.

"Ten seconds!"

Questions flood my mind, but there's no strength to voice them. The resonance field pulses one final time, a massive surge of energy that marks the completion of the protocol. The adaptive offer fully extended, the choice now available to anyone who wishes to accept it.

"Transmission complete," Naomi announces, voice weak but triumphant. "Protocol successful."

As one, we collapse—all twelve of us, our bodies finally surrendering to the strain they've endured. My hand slides from the crystal as darkness claims me completely.

The last thing I hear before consciousness fades entirely is Trent's voice calling my name, and quick footsteps rushing toward me.

Then nothing.

Nothing but a sense of completion, of purpose fulfilled, of a bridge finally built between worlds that never needed to be separate at all.

I wonder if my mother knew it would end this way. I wonder if she would consider the price worth paying.

I wonder if I'll ever wake up to find out.

CHAPTER 31

Darkness.

Then pain.

Then blinding light as my eyes flutter open.

My first coherent thought is surprise that I'm thinking at all. The strain of the final protocol had been so intense, so consuming, that survival seemed unlikely at best. Yet here I am, awake and alive, every cell in my body aching with the memory of channeling power far beyond my designed capacity.

"She's conscious," someone says nearby.

I blink, clearing away the fog that clouds my vision. I'm in what appears to be a makeshift medical facility, not Resonance's well-equipped central chamber but something hastily assembled. Portable equipment hums softly around me, and the walls look like canvas or some other temporary material.

Where the hell am I?

A face appears above me—familiar, concerned. Dr. Reid, looking decades older than when I last saw him.

"Zara," he says, relief evident in his voice. "Can you understand me?"

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