Page 88 of The Monster's Daughter
No signature. But I know the cadence. The rhythm of caution wrapped in grit. It's Shira, one of my old Alliance field contacts. She doesn’t do pleasantries or sentiment. Just facts with teeth.
I read the message three times. Then again, slower. Each word is a weight in my chest.
Kage finds me in the kitchen, still gripping the datapad like it might bite me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice gravel-soft.
I slide the pad across the table.
He scans it, jaw clenching. “They’re still out there,” he mutters, the edges of his voice fraying into something feral.
“Yeah,” I say, pushing hair out of my face. “Just… splinters. Leftovers. But enough to make trouble.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “We hunt them.”
I blink at him.
“No second chances,” he growls. “No rehabilitation. No reform. Just ash.”
Part of me agrees. That part still trembles at the memory of Natalie limp in his arms, her eyes glowing with something that was never her. That part of me wants fire, wants ruin.
But the other part—the one that has grown roots in quiet mornings and laughter shared under low-lit ceilings—speaks up.
“No,” I whisper.
Kage’s brow furrows. “Bella?—”
“We’re not them,” I say. “We don’t burn just because we’re afraid.”
He stares at me, his gaze hard. “They tried to turn our daughter into a goddamn hive puppet.”
“And they failed. Because we didn’t give in to hate.”
For a long beat, neither of us moves. Then he exhales, nostrils flaring.
“What are you thinking?” he asks cautiously.
I tap the side of my head. “I’m thinking we show them the truth.”
Kage raises a brow.
“I’ve got footage,” I say. “From the Hive Cathedral. From the ship. From inside Natalie. The things Nulegion said. The lies it told. I’ve got the code records, the degradation logs. And our story.”
“You want to talk them down,” he says flatly.
“No,” I say. “I want to drag their delusions into the sun and see what’s left standing.”
It takes three days to stitch the footage together. I use my old editing interface—clunky, slow—but it works. I add audio overlays, transcripts, timestamped logs. I don’t sugarcoat a damn thing.
Natalie watches some of it with me. At one point, she says quietly, “That voice… it’s still scary.”
I nod. “Yeah. That’s why we share it. So people know what real fear looks like.”
When it’s done, I send it through the Holonet using encrypted public drops. No credits. No tags. Just truth, open-source and raw.
Kage thinks I’m wasting time.
Until the replies start rolling in.
