“The accelerated healing appears to be a result of biochemical interaction between your blood and Vultor tissue. It is... not entirely unexpected.”
“Not entirely unexpected?” His voice held an edge. “You knew about this?”
“I was aware of certain anomalies in Liora’s genetic profile. The specific manifestation you observed has not previously been documented, but it aligns with projected possibilities.”
“What anomalies?”
Another pause. She felt the familiar walls of the tower press in around her—not physically, but in some deeper way. The same walls that had kept her safe. The same walls that had kept her trapped.
“That information is classified.”
“Classified from who?” She heard her voice rise and didn’t try to control it. “From me? It’s my blood, Ari. My body. You’ve been monitoring every aspect of my health since I was a child, and you never thought to mention that I might have—what? Healing abilities? Some kind of regenerative compound in my bloodstream?”
“The information was withheld for your protection. Premature knowledge of certain genetic traits could have influenced your psychological development in negative ways.”
“What kind of negative ways?”
“Feelings of isolation. Alienation from normal human experience. Potential exploitation if the information reached outside parties.”
“Normal human experience? When the hell have I ever had a normal human experience?” She stood abruptly, her hands trembling. “You kept me isolated in this tower for twenty-one years, telling me the outside was too dangerous, and you never once mentioned that there might be something in me that people would find valuable?”
“I mentioned it earlier this evening.”
“You mentioned ‘genetic anomalies.’ You didn’t tell me I could heal people with my blood.”
The silence that followed was deafening. She stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard, feeling the foundations of her understanding crumble beneath her feet.
“Liora,” Baylin said gently. “Sit down. Breathe.”
“I don’t want to sit down. I want answers.”
“And you’ll get them. But not if you hyperventilate first.”
She turned to look at him, this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere and turned her world upside down in a matter of hours. He was watching her with an expression that held something she didn’t quite recognize—something warm and steady and entirely unfamiliar.
Concern,she realized.He’s concerned about me.
The realization startled her. Ari expressed concern constantly about her sleep patterns, her nutritional intake, and her psychological state. But it was algorithmic concern, programmed responses triggered by deviation from optimal parameters. This was different. This was a person, looking at her and seeing her distress and caring about it.
“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice came out shaky. “I just... I need to understand. If my blood can do this—if there’s something in me that accelerates healing—then why wouldn’t Ari tell me? Why keep it secret?”
“Because knowledge is power,” he said quietly. “And power can be dangerous.”
“Dangerous to whom?”
He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes said enough.
She sank back into her chair, feeling suddenly exhausted. The events of the day pressed down on her like a physical weight—the first visitor in her life, the revelations about her captivity, and now this. Her blood could heal. Her blood was valuable. Her blood was the reason someone had built a tower in the middle of nowhere and locked her inside it.
“I spent twenty-one years thinking I was ordinary,” she said softly. “Thinking the only unusual thing about me was my isolation. And all along...”
“You’re not ordinary.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “I don’t think you ever were.”
She looked at him—at the wound that was now nothing more than a faint pink line on his skin. Evidence of the impossible. Evidence of what she was.
“What does this mean?” she asked. “For me? For... everything?”
“I don’t know.” He met her gaze steadily. “But I think it means your life is about to change.”
