Forge left at dawn.

  The morning was gray, mist hanging heavy over the swamp like wet wool. Jake and Kandis stood in the tower's entrance watching him check his pack one final time. Rope, preserved food, water skins, his hunting knife, a small hatchet.

  "Five days," Forge said, shouldering the weight. "Two there, overnight in Hawth, two back."

  Kandis crossed her arms. "Get real news. I need to know how they're holding up. Not just 'everyone's fine.'"

  "I'll get details." Forge adjusted the straps. Looked at Jake. "Anything you need?"

  "Another test subject when you get back," Jake said. "Something different. Smaller. Different brain structure than the pig."

  Forge raised an eyebrow. "Another pig?"

  "No. Something else. You're the ranger. The hunter. The swamp stalker." Jake gestured vaguely at the surrounding wetlands. "Whatever it is you actually do for a living. Can you trap something alive?"

  "Probably. What kind of something?"

  "Doesn't matter. Just small. Mammal preferably. Different neurology than what I've been working with."

  Forge considered. "I'll see what I can do."

  He started down the path. Stopped. Turned back.

  "Don't kill each other while I'm gone."

  Kandis almost smiled. "We'll try."

  "And Jake? Keep making progress. We need you ready when I get back."

  "I will be."

  Forge nodded. Then disappeared into the mist.

  - - -

  Jake spent the morning with the pig.

  The routine was familiar now, but the execution was still difficult. Juice up the Life magic before departure. Exit completely. Crawl across the laboratory floor. Enter the pig. Then the hard part.

  Copying instead of consuming.

  It went against every instinct. Every fiber of his parasitic nature screamed to just TAKE. Consume the neural tissue. Absorb the memories and abilities in one gluttonous feast. Fast. Easy. Complete.

  But that killed the host.

  So instead, Jake did it the hard way.

  He positioned himself carefully in the pig's brain. Found the olfactory processing centers. Studied the neural pathways. The way scent molecules triggered specific receptor patterns. How the pig's brain translated chemical signals into spatial awareness.

  Water sources. The pig could smell them from hundreds of feet away. Complex processing combining humidity detection, mineral scent identification, temperature gradients.

  Jake didn't consume the tissue.

  He copied the pattern.

  Mimicking the neural architecture onto himself. Tracing the pathways. Replicating the connections. Building a mirror of the pig's ability inside his own consciousness without destroying the original.

  It was exhausting.

  And the hunger was constant. Overwhelming. The tissue was RIGHT THERE. Available. Easy to take. His nature demanded it. Screamed for it. The urge to just bite down and feast was nearly irresistible.

  Just one bite. Just a little. The pig wouldn't miss it. You'd get the information so much faster. So much easier.

  Jake forced himself to stay still. To copy. To resist.

  Hours to replicate what he could have consumed in thirty seconds.

  When he finally exited, he was shaking. The pig grunted, shook itself, and went back to eating.

  Unharmed. Brain intact. Traumatized by the intrusion but alive.

  Hours later, Jake returned to Jonas's body trembling with effort and denied hunger.

  Kandis was watching from the doorway.

  "Better," she said when Jake opened Jonas's eyes.

  "Doesn't feel better. Feels like torture."

  "It seemed much smoother this time around. Like you're not fighting yourself as much. And the pig barely reacted."

  "I'm fighting myself constantly," Jake corrected. "Every second I'm in there, I want to consume. To feast. To take everything. Copying is... it's unnatural. Against every instinct I have."

  "But you're doing it anyway."

  "Yes. Because consuming kills. And I need this pig alive for practice."

  Kandis moved into the laboratory properly. "Can't tell if that's progress or pragmatism."

  "Both. Probably." Jake stood on shaking legs. "I got the olfactory processing. Water detection. The pig's scent discrimination abilities. But it took hours of active resistance to copy what I could have consumed in seconds."

  "Will it get easier?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe it'll always be this hard." Jake looked at his hands. Still trembling slightly. "The technique works. I can copy without consuming. But it's a constant battle against my nature. Every single time."

  "Can't tell if that's me improving or the pig giving up."

  "Probably both." Kandis moved into the laboratory properly. Looking around with the critical eye of someone assessing a workspace. "You're learning control. The pig's learning acceptance. Progress either way."

  Jake stood. Stretched Jonas's body. The troll regeneration kept the muscles from atrophying despite irregular use, but the body still felt strange sometimes. Borrowed. Temporary.

  "I need to be better than this," he said. "The representative won't be as forgiving as a pig."

  "Then keep practicing."

  "I am. But I need to understand the rest of it too." Jake gestured at the laboratory. Jonas's equipment. The careful organization of tools and reagents. "The magic. How it actually works. Jonas knew things that I can’t even see much less understand."

  Kandis was quiet for a moment. Then: "Show me what you can do. The magic. I've seen bits and pieces but nothing systematic."

  "Why?"

  "Because I need to understand what we're working with. What you're capable of." She pulled over a stool. Sat. "And because I'm bored. Forge took all the interesting conversation with him."

  Despite himself, Jake smiled. "I'm not interesting?"

  "You're fascinating. Also disturbing. But definitely not boring."

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "You should."

  Jake started with the basics.

  He held out his hand. Focused. Drew on the ambient magic and his connection to the concept. Felt it respond. Flow. Concentrate in his palm.

  A small flame appeared. Blue-white. Hot enough to feel from two feet away.

  "Fire magic," Jake said. "Straightforward. Generate heat. Manifest flame. Jonas wasn't particularly skilled at this, his affinity was very low. He preferred… other applications anyway."

  He closed his fist. The flame died.

  "Air magic." He gestured. A cup on the nearby table slid three inches. "Moving objects by manipulating air pressure. Creating currents. Push and pull. Jonas used this constantly. Small adjustments. Precision work. But again, he lacked in talent."

  The cup slid back to its original position.

  "Life magic." Jake placed his hand on a dead plant in a pot. Something that had died weeks ago from neglect. He pushed energy into it. Carefully. Felt the cellular structures respond.

  Nothing dramatic happened. The plant stayed dead. But Jake could feel the potential there. The pathways. If it had been recently dead, if there had been anything left to work with, he could have coaxed it back.

  "Well, I can’t raise the dead yet! But that's what I use to keep Jonas's body running," he said. "Life magic sustaining dead tissue. Constant maintenance. It drains mental resources but it works."

  Kandis was watching intently. "And the necromancy? The zombies in the basement?"

  Jake's expression changed. Became guarded. "That's different."

  "How?"

  "Come on. I'll show you."

  They descended to the basement.

  The two remaining zombies stood exactly where they'd been for weeks. Months, possibly. However long Jonas had been maintaining them.

  Kandis stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Wouldn't go closer.

  "They still creep me out," she admitted.

  "They should. They're unnatural." Jake approached one. Studied it. "After experiencing Jonas's thoughts on all the necromantic work, I'll probably stay away from this concept entirely. The knowledge is still kind of there. I could access it through his gut-brain fragments. And the affinity is very strong inside me as well. Jonas was skilled. But it's not what you think it is."

  "What do you mean?"

  Jake turned to face her. "It's not death magic. There's no such thing as death magic. Just like there's no ice magic."

  Kandis frowned. "But Jonas could freeze water in the summertime. I’ve seen him do it. Before we kicked the freak out of town."

  "Void. He used Void magic wrapped around Fire."

  "I don't understand."

  Jake settled against the workbench. Teaching mode. Explaining something complex in simple terms.

  "Void isn't a force itself. It's a filter. An inversion. It takes conceptual forces and flips them to their opposites."

  He held up his hand. Counted on fingers.

  "Air magic moves air. Creates wind. Pressure. Wrap Void around it? Vacuum. Absence of air. The opposite of movement."

  Second finger.

  "Fire magic generates heat. Flame. Energy. Add Void? Cold. Ice. Absence of heat. The opposite of warmth."

  Third finger.

  "Life magic heals. Grows. Sustains. Apply Void? Death. Undeath. Absence of life. The opposite of vitality."

  Kandis stared at the zombies with new horror. "So necromancy is just..."

  "Life magic run through a Void filter." Jake gestured at the standing corpses. "Jonas wasn't channeling death. He was channeling life and inverting it. These zombies are sustained by inverted life force. Void-wrapped vitality keeping dead tissue animated."

  "That's..." Kandis struggled for words. "That's somehow worse than I imagined."

  "It's elegant in a horrifying way." Jake's voice was flat. "Jonas understood the mechanics perfectly. He could have been an incredible healer. The Life magic mastery alone would have made him valuable. Instead, he chose to invert everything. To pervert natural forces into their opposites."

  "Can you do it? The Void wrapping?"

  "Theoretically. But I don’t have Jonas's understanding. I have his muscle memory for the technique." Jake looked at his hands. Jonas's hands. "But Void feels wrong. Like reaching for something that shouldn't be touched. Every time I brush against those memories, I feel Jonas's satisfaction in the inversion. His joy in perverting life into death. That's not a power I want to claim."

  "The gut-brain fragments."

  "Exactly. The knowledge is there. But taking it means risking becoming the person who enjoyed using it that way. That’s the only enjoyable part of being in the pig. I get to be free of him." Jake pushed off the workbench. "But no. I won't do it. Won't pursue necromancy. The temptation to consume those fragments is strong but the cost is too high."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Kandis was quiet for a moment. Then: "What about the zombies? Can we... release them? Put them to rest?"

  "We could. Severing the Void-wrapped Life connection would let them become corpses again." Jake looked at the two motionless figures. "But we need to keep them."

  "What? Why?"

  "In case the Snake Fuckers do an inspection."

  Kandis blinked. "The...?"

  "Pantathians. But doesn’t Snake Fuckers feel more honest?"

  Despite the horror of their surroundings, Kandis smiled. "You can't call them that to their faces."

  "I know. I'll be very respectful. 'Honored Representative' and all that." Jake's tone was dry. "But seriously. Jonas had active experiments. If they check the tower and find nothing, it looks suspicious. Empty basement raises questions. Two zombies in various states of experimental decay? Normal Jonas behavior."

  "You've thought this through."

  "I'm trying to. Jonas's memories show the representatives were thorough when they visited. They'd notice changes. Alterations to routine. Empty basement equals questions we don't want to answer." Jake started toward the stairs. "The zombies stay. Evidence of ongoing work. Part of the cover."

  Kandis followed him up. Away from the preserved dead. Back to the slightly less disturbing upper levels.

  "Show me anyway," she said when they reached the laboratory. "The Void thing. Just a little. I need to understand what we're working with."

  Jake hesitated. "You sure?"

  "Yes."

  He filled a cup with water from the pitcher. Set it on the table between them.

  "Fire magic first," he said.

  He held his hand over the cup. Concentrated. The water began to steam. Gentle heat. Controlled. The surface rippled slightly.

  "Now I add Void."

  Something shifted. The air felt different. Colder. Wrong.

  The steam stopped. The water's surface began to frost. Ice crystals forming at the edges. Spreading. Not frozen solid but definitely cold. Unnaturally cold.

  Jake released the magic. The ice began to melt immediately.

  "That's Void over Fire," he said. "Inversion of heat. I can do it, but it feels slippery. Like the magic wants to go further than I intend. Jonas had decades of practice controlling the inversion. I don't."

  Kandis watched the ice melt. "Could you do the Life inversion? The necromancy?"

  "Probably. But the Void requires a certain... detachment. A willingness to invert natural forces. Jonas loved that perversion. I can feel it in the memories lingering in him. He refuses to die, and although I can respect that particular view, that's not who I want to be."

  "Good." Kandis stood. "Because those zombies down there are enough nightmare fuel. I don't need you making more."

  "Agreed."

  They left the laboratory. Returned to the library where the light was better and the air didn't smell like preservation chemicals.

  "Your control is improving though," Kandis observed. "The fire. The ice. Even just moving objects. You're more precise than you were just a few days ago."

  "Practice helps. And understanding the theory." Jake settled into one of the chairs. "Jonas's knowledge is accessible without consuming it. I can draw on techniques, understand mechanics, apply methods. It's the deeper integration that's dangerous. The personality. The drives. The fundamental nature of who Jonas was."

  "So you take the knowledge and leave the person."

  "That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. It's not always clean. Sometimes the thoughts bleed through. His justifications. His satisfaction in certain applications." Jake's expression darkened. "I have to stay vigilant. Monitor what I'm accessing. Pull back before I take too much."

  Kandis sat across from him. "That sounds exhausting."

  "It is. But it's better than the alternative."

  "Becoming Jonas."

  "Yes. But actually worse. I think I would still be me, but not me. I would be Jonas-Jake. And judging by what happened to me in the swamp, when Forge found me, I wouldn’t even be aware of the change. It would be as natural as I am right now."

  Silence settled over the library. Comfortable. The kind that exists between people who've spent enough time together that not talking doesn't feel awkward.

  "I was fifteen when my father died," Kandis said abruptly. "In the Culling. He was the Mayor of Hawth. The first one they killed."

  Jake looked at her. Waited.

  "He was a good man. Fair. Strong. Everyone looked to him for decisions. For leadership. For direction." Her voice was steady. Factual. But something underneath was raw. "Then he was gone. Executed in the town square while the we all watched. And everyone looked at me. His daughter. Expecting me to... what? Be him? Replace him? I was fifteen years old."

  "But you did it."

  "I didn't have a choice. Someone had to hold things together. Make decisions. Keep people from falling apart completely." Kandis's hands were folded in her lap. Still. Controlled. "So I learned. I watched. I listened. I made mistakes. Lots of mistakes. But slowly people started trusting me. Not because I was my father. Just because I was there. Consistent. Willing to try."

  "Twenty-three years," Jake said quietly.

  "Twenty-three years of leadership I never wanted. Never asked for. Never felt qualified to provide." She looked at him. "And now I'm making the biggest decision of my life. Trusting you. Betting everything on a plan that could fail catastrophically. Risking two hundred lives on a brain-eating parasite who forgot to feed himself."

  "When you put it that way, it sounds insane."

  "It is insane." Kandis smiled slightly. "But it's all we have. So I'm choosing to believe in it. In you. Because the alternative is giving up. And I've never been good at that."

  Jake was quiet for a long moment.

  Then: "I remember everything from my old world. Every detail. Perfect memory means I can recall faces, voices, last words, everything. The carnival. The gremlins. The trolls. Jonas's victims in the basement. All of it stored perfectly in my head forever. Except for the time I lost myself. That’s why this Jonas thing scares the ever living shit out of me. I wasn’t me when I lost my mind to the beasts of the swamp. And I wouldn’t be me if I allowed Jonas to become a part of who I am."

  "That sounds like torture."

  "It is. Hope's curse wasn't just making me survive. It was making sure I remember exactly what I am. What I do. What I leave behind." His voice was flat. "Every person I've destroyed is in here. Permanent. Inescapable. I can't forget even if I wanted to, as long as I stay myself. All I have to do is sacrifice me and it all goes away. But I want to survive. Maybe if I try to do some good then the bitc… Then the great goddess might show me a little mercy."

  "Is that why you're helping? Trying to do some good instead of just surviving?"

  "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just tired of being the monster in everyone's memory. Including my own." Jake looked at his hands. Jonas's hands. "If I can save Hawth, if I can actually help for once, maybe that's one memory that won't make me lose myself. One more reason for me not to let the next beast I have to consume take over completely."

  Kandis reached across the table. Put her hand on his. The gesture was simple. Human. Connection without expectation.

  "You're not just a monster," she said. "Monsters don't question themselves. Don't try to be better. Don't choose to help when they could run."

  "I'm still thinking about running."

  "So am I. Every day. About evacuating. About saving who I can and abandoning the rest." She squeezed his hand once. Released it. "But we're both still here. Still trying. That counts for something."

  "Does it?"

  "It has to."

  - - -

  The days settled into rhythm.

  Mornings: pig experiments. Jake's control improving visibly. The extractions smoother. The returns cleaner. The pig's acceptance growing.

  Afternoons: magic practice. Theory discussions. Kandis watching Jake manipulate forces she didn't fully understand but was learning to recognize.

  Evenings: cooking together. Maintaining the tower. Quiet conversations that ranged from tactical planning to personal history to comfortable silence.

  On the second day, the pig actively calmed when Jake entered. Not resignation. Actual calm. Like it recognized the process and understood it wouldn't be harmed.

  "That's progress," Kandis said.

  "Or Stockholm syndrome for livestock."

  "I don’t know what that is, but I choose to take it as Progress," she insisted.

  By day four, Jake stayed in the pig for nearly half the day. Extracting complex navigational patterns. Understanding of terrain. Threat assessment instincts. All without the overwhelming hunger to consume completely.

  When he exited, he was exhausted but successful.

  "I'm getting better at this," he told Kandis. "Actual mastery. Not just survival."

  "How does it feel?"

  "Strange. Like learning I can build things instead of just breaking them."

  - - -

  He arrived in the afternoon.

  Travel-worn and exhausted. His pack looked heavier than when he'd left. Supplies, probably. News. And something else.

  A small cage. Covered with cloth. Something inside chittering softly.

  Kandis was at the door before Forge had fully entered.

  "You're back."

  "I'm back." He set down the pack. Rolled his shoulders. "Five days through the swamp. Remind me why I volunteered for this job."

  "Because you're good at it," Jake said from the stairs. "And someone has to be."

  "Right." Forge pulled out a water skin. Drank deeply. "Carrick says hello. Also says I look like shit. As always."

  "Accurate assessment?" Kandis asked.

  "Probably." Forge gestured at the covered cage. "I found your test subject. Wasn't easy. Had to set canopy traps."

  Kandis moved closer. A slight chittering could be heard. "Is it...?"

  "See for yourself."

  He pulled the cloth away.

  Inside the cage was a Glimmerglider.

  About the size of a small cat. Gray-green fur that looked impossibly soft. Enormous eyes that caught the light. And along its sides, running from neck to hindquarters, were bioluminescent patches. Currently dim in the afternoon light but visible. Pulsing gently. Rhythmically.

  The creature chirped. Curious. Not afraid. Just interested in these large beings staring at it.

  Kandis made a sound Jake had never heard her make before. Soft. Delighted.

  "It's beautiful," she breathed.

  "It's a test subject," Jake said.

  She glared at him. "It can be both."

  The Glimmerglider chirped again. Tilted its head. The bioluminescent spots pulsed a little brighter.

  From the laboratory, the pig grunted. Loud. Offended. Like it recognized competition.

  "Don't be jealous," Jake called to it. "You're still my primary subject."

  The pig grunted again. Unconvinced.

  Forge was watching Kandis. "They're considered vermin in the tree villages. Get into stored food. Chew through containers. But they're harmless otherwise."

  "Where did you find it?" Kandis asked, not taking her eyes off the creature.

  "Set traps in the upper canopy near Hawth the day I arrived. The next morning I had already caught one. And it’s not even injured." Forge pulled more items from his pack. "Figured Jake needed something small and delicate. And this little guy fits that bill exactly."

  "It's perfect," Jake said. "Brain should be similar to a bat. My first host. I know how these work. Small, delicate, flight-adapted neurology."

  "You sound confident."

  "I am. If I can do this without traumatizing something this small, I'll know the technique actually works. That I'm ready."

  Kandis was still staring at the Glimmerglider. "I'm building it a proper cage."

  "It has a cage," Forge pointed out.

  "A proper cage. With perches. And soft bedding. And space to glide."

  "It's temporary," Jake reminded her. "Just for testing."

  "It deserves proper housing anyway." Kandis finally looked away from the creature. "Where are materials? Wood? Rope? Soft cloth?"

  "Storage room. Second floor." Forge shook his head. "She's nesting."

  "I am not nesting," Kandis said. "I'm being practical."

  "You're definitely nesting."

  She threw a piece of firewood at him.

  - - -

  Forge's report came over dinner.

  Stew made from supplies he'd brought. Fresh bread from Hawth's ovens. The first real food they'd had in days that didn't come from Jonas's preserved stores.

  "Town's holding together," Forge said. "Barely. People are scared. But they're functional."

  "The Conclave?" Kandis asked.

  "Met the night I arrived. Marcus is leading in your absence." Forge tore bread. "He's competent but he's no you. Everyone knows it. There was a dispute about fishing rights that needed your judgment. Minor stuff but it's piling up."

  "And the preparations?"

  "Quiet. Careful. Children and elderly are being positioned to evacuate quickly if needed. Boats ready. Supplies cached. No one's panicking but everyone understands the stakes."

  Kandis was quiet for a moment. "What did the Conclave say? About the plan?"

  "They're out of their league and they know it." Forge met her eyes. "They're leaving the decision to you. Fight or run. If you say fight, they fight. If you say run, they run. Complete trust."

  The weight of that settled over Kandis's shoulders. Visible. Heavy.

  "Then we fight," she said quietly. "With Jake. According to plan."

  "I told them that's what you'd say."

  "What did they respond?"

  "Gregor said if you're betting on this, it must be the best option. Marcus agreed. The others nodded." Forge's voice was gentle. "They trust you, Kandis. Completely. Whatever you decide, they'll support."

  Jake watched this exchange. The burden of leadership. The impossible weight of two hundred lives resting on one person's judgment.

  And Kandis was betting it all on him.

  The responsibility was crushing.

  "I won't let them down," Jake said.

  Both of them looked at him.

  "I'll master the extraction. I'll fool the representative. I'll give you the intelligence you need." His voice was firm. "They're trusting you. You're trusting me. I won't break that chain."

  Kandis held his gaze. "Good. Because if you do, we all die."

  "I know."

  "Then let's make sure you're ready."

  - - -

  After dinner, Kandis disappeared to the storage room.

  Sounds of construction emerged. Wood being cut. Rope being measured. Soft cloth being arranged.

  Jake and Forge cleaned up. Put away food. Settled into comfortable silence.

  "She really wants that Glimmerglider," Forge observed.

  "She does."

  "You going to hurt it?"

  "No. Just extract some navigation patterns. Spatial awareness. Maybe flight instincts. The creature will be fine."

  "Good." Forge dried a bowl. "She's been through enough. Let her have something small and harmless to care about."

  "She cares about you."

  “You think I’m small and harmless?” Forge asked as he broadened his chest and stood a little straighter.

  “Standing against me? Not really. Standing against her? You’re way out of your league.” Jake laughed. “But you care about her too. That’s pretty obvious.”

  "I do. Have for years. Just never..." He trailed off. "The Culling broke something in all of us. Made connection feel dangerous. Temporary. Why build something the Pantathians could destroy?"

  "But you want to anyway."

  "Yes. I want to anyway." Forge set down the bowl. "After the representative. After we know if this works. We promised each other we'd talk. Actually talk. About what we both want."

  "What if it doesn't work? What if I fail?"

  "Then we die before we get the chance. But at least we'll die having tried. Or maybe we escape into the sunset and live on an island for the rest of our days." Forge looked at Jake. "That's more than a lot of people get. Choice. Agency. The possibility of something better."

  From upstairs came the sound of hammering. Kandis building her cage.

  "She's really committed to this," Jake said.

  "When Kandis commits to something, she commits completely. It's what makes her a good leader." Forge smiled slightly. "And occasionally infuriating."

  "I heard that!" Kandis called from upstairs.

  Both of them grinned.

  Two hours later, Kandis emerged carrying something that could no longer be called a simple cage.

  It was a habitat.

  Multi-level. With perches at different heights. Soft cloth bedding in one corner. A water dish. A food dish. Small branches arranged for climbing and gliding. All of it carefully constructed. Fitted together with skill that suggested she'd done this kind of work before.

  "That's not a cage," Forge said.

  "It's proper housing." Kandis smiled and set it down carefully. "The Glimmerglider deserves comfort while it's helping us."

  She transferred the creature from Forge's simple cage to her elaborate construction. The Glimmerglider explored immediately. Chirping with what sounded like approval. Finding the perches. Testing the branches. Settling onto the soft bedding.

  Its bioluminescent stripes began to pulse. Brighter now. Rhythmic. Content.

  "It likes it," Kandis said with satisfaction.

  "You built that in two hours," Jake observed.

  "I'm good with my hands."

  "Clearly."

  The Glimmerglider chirped. Curled up in the bedding. Watching them with those enormous eyes.

  "When do you want to try?" Kandis asked Jake.

  "Tomorrow. Give it tonight to settle. Get comfortable. Then I'll attempt extraction in the morning."

  "And you're confident it won't be harmed?"

  "I'm confident. The brain structure is similar to my first host. I know how to navigate this without causing damage."

  "Then tomorrow." Kandis watched the creature. "And after you're done, it stays here. In this housing. Being treated well."

  "Agreed."

  "Good."

  She stayed there for a while. Just watching the Glimmerglider settle into its new home. The bioluminescent spots pulsing gently. A small, beautiful thing in a tower of death and dark magic.

  Jake understood the appeal. Something innocent. Harmless. A reminder that not everything in the world was threat or survival or impossible choices.

  Sometimes things could just be small and gentle and allowed to exist in peace.

  The Glimmerglider yawned. A tiny sound. Then closed its eyes.

  Kandis smiled.

  - - -

  That night, Jake practiced the Pantathian greeting one more time.

  In Jonas's study. The words flowing perfectly. Every syllable. Every gesture. Every subtle inflection that Jonas's language centers had indicated was proper protocol.

  "Honored Representative, I bring word of Hawth and its continued service to the Empire. The population remains stable and productive. Resources are managed efficiently. Loyalty is maintained without complication."

  Forge leaned against the doorway. "You sound like Jonas swallowed a bug."

  "That's the point."

  "It's still unsettling."

  Jake lowered his hands. "I need to be convincing. Perfect. No mistakes."

  "You will be. You're ready."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I haven’t seen many this focused before. This determined. I don’t think that type of sentiment is something that you’re used to." Forge moved into the room properly. "When I first caught you, you just wanted to survive. Find a better host. Keep existing. Now you're actively trying to save people. That's growth."

  "Or desperation."

  "Maybe both. But it's something."

  Jake was quiet. Then: "What if I fail? What if despite everything, I can't fool them?"

  "Then we improvise. Fight. Run. Do whatever we can." Forge's voice was calm. "But I don't think you'll fail. I think you'll do exactly what you promised. Extract what we need. Give us the intelligence. Help us survive."

  "You have a lot of faith in a parasite."

  "I have faith in someone who's trying to be better than what they were made to be. That's rare. Worth believing in."

  From downstairs came soft chittering. The Glimmerglider in its elaborate cage. Settling for the night.

  "Tomorrow I prove the technique works," Jake said. "Extract from the Glimmerglider without harm. Show that I've actually mastered this."

  "And then?"

  "Then we wait for the representative. And hope I'm good enough."

  "You will be."

  Jake wanted to believe that. Wanted to trust Forge's certainty. But perfect memory meant remembering every time confidence had led to disaster. Every time certainty had collapsed into failure.

  Still.

  He'd try.

  That was all anyone could do.

  - - -

  End of Chapter 44