I glance at my workstation, mentally cataloging what they might have already seen. I’ve been careful to compartmentalize my most sensitive findings about Storm Eagle genetics and my growing suspicions about my own heritage, but I’ve underestimated Haven’s Heart’s surveillance capabilities.
“I’ve been conducting supplementary analysis on Storm Eagle tissue samples,” I say carefully. “Some of my findings didn’t fit established parameters, so I was running verification sequences before submitting official reports.”
“Verification sequences that required military-grade encryption?” One of the officers steps forward, inserting a data key into my terminal. The screen flashes, override codes breaking through my security measures with alarming speed.
My carefully organized research folders appear on screen—including one labeled “SE Genetic Compatibility.” The folder that contains my comparative analysis between Kael’s DNA and my own.
Voss’s mouth forms a thin line as she scans the file names. “We’ve received intelligence suggesting you’ve been withholding critical findings. Now I see why.” She turns to me, her voice sharp. “You’ve been conducting unauthorized genetic comparison studies. With whose authorization?”
“My research mandate includes comprehensive analysis of all Storm Eagle biological material,” I counter, fighting to keep my voice steady. “These studies fall within those parameters.”
“What doesn’t fall within parameters is your failure to report significant findings to Haven’s Heart.” She points to another folder labeled “Storm Magic Neural Pathways.” “Or your apparent decision to hide potentially exploitable weaknesses in Storm Eagle physiology.”
The security officer opens the folder, revealing my detailed analysis of how Storm Eagles channel electrical energy through specialized neural networks—information that could be usedto develop targeted weapons against them. Information I deliberately omitted from my official reports.
“These were preliminary findings,” I say, the excuse sounding hollow even to my own ears. “I needed to verify?—”
“Save it, Doctor.” Voss cuts me off. “Your data timestamps show these analyses were completed over a week ago.” She steps closer, her voice dropping. “What I want to know is why Haven’s Heart’s leading genetic researcher is suddenly protecting the very creatures responsible for dozens of attacks on our settlements.”
I remain silent, aware that anything I say can only worsen my situation. I never expected to be caught between worlds like this—between scientific duty and emerging personal truth, between Haven’s Heart and the Storm Eagles, between my lifelong identity and whatever new self is awakening within me.
Between my people and the man I’m falling in love with.
“Search her quarters,” Voss orders one of the officers. “The other research stations too. I want every bit of data she’s generated in the last month.”
“Director,” I begin, desperately trying to salvage something from this disaster, “my research indicates the Storm Eagles aren’t simply raiding for destruction’s sake. They’re facing severe resource shortages. There may be diplomatic solutions?—”
“Diplomatic solutions?” Voss laughs without humor. “While you’ve been conducting your ‘research,’ they’ve attacked three more supply convoys. Seventeen civilians dead in the last week alone.”
This hits me like a physical blow. Kael had promised their raids would target supplies, not people. “That’s not possible. Their attack patterns?—”
“Have changed,” Voss finishes. “Almost as if someone warned them about our defensive strategies.” Her implication hangs in the air between us. “The Council has authorizedpreemptive action. We’re developing targeted bioweapons based on the limited data you’ve provided. Weapons that would be far more effective if you’d shared all your findings.”
Bioweapons. The word sends ice through my veins. Haven’s Heart plans to unleash genetically targeted plagues against the Storm Eagles—the very outcome I’ve been trying to prevent by withholding my research.
“That’s genocide,” I say quietly.
“That’s survival,” Voss counters. “Though I’m curious why you suddenly care so much about creatures that have killed hundreds of our people.”
Before I can respond, the second officer returns from my quarters, holding a small vial of amber liquid. My blood runs cold. Kael’s blood sample—the one I’ve been analyzing in secret.
“Found this hidden in her personal effects,” he reports. “Appears to be Storm Eagle biological material, secured outside of standard containment protocols.”
Voss takes the vial, examining the golden liquid with narrowed eyes. “Care to explain this, Doctor?”
My mind races. The truth is impossible. A lie might save me, but would jeopardize everything I’ve learned about Storm Eagle genetics—knowledge that could prevent the coming catastrophe.
“It’s a pure sample,” I admit. “Uncontaminated by combat conditions or preservation chemicals. Essential for accurate genetic mapping.”
“And how exactly did you obtain such a ‘pure sample’?” Voss asks, though her expression suggests she already knows the answer.
I remain silent, understanding that my career at Haven’s Heart is effectively over. The only question now is whether I’ll face charges of treason or merely professional disgrace.
Voss sighs, looking almost disappointed. “Dr.Elena Ashford, you are hereby relieved of your duties pending a fullinvestigation into unauthorized research activities and potential collaboration with enemy forces. You will be confined to quarters until transport arrives to return you to Haven’s Heart for formal proceedings.”
The security officers move to flank me. One begins systematically downloading all data from my terminal while the other gestures for me to precede him toward the door.
“Director,” I say, making one last attempt, “the Storm Eagles aren’t what we think they are. Their genetic structure suggests they’re descendants of ancient magical bloodlines thought extinct for centuries. They’re not just another wild clan—they’re living magical conduits. Destroying them could have consequences beyond anything we can predict.”
