“Tree-climbers. A kind of primate, covered in dark fur. They come out at dusk to feed on the fruit in the canopy.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Not unless you threaten their young. Then they can be vicious, and they have teeth like razors.”
She nodded, storing the information away. He could practically see her filing it in whatever mental catalog she maintained.
“What about those lights?” She pointed towards a cluster of faint bioluminescence deeper in the jungle. “I’ve seen them from the walkway, but I never knew what caused them.”
“Fungi. They grow on decaying wood and give off that glow as part of their reproductive cycle. They’re completely harmless and can actually be useful if you need to navigate at night.”
“Reproductive cycle,” she repeated thoughtfully. “The glow attracts other organisms?”
“Insects, mostly. They spread the spores when they feed.”
“Fascinating.” She was quiet for a moment, watching the lights pulse and flicker. “What’s the most dangerous thing in the jungle?”
He considered the question. He’d encountered plenty of threats during his journey here—predators, poisonous plants, treacherous terrain—but those weren’t the most dangerous things.
“Other people,” he said finally. “Human or Vultor. Animals kill for food or defense. The jungle itself is just following its nature. But people...” He shook his head. “People can be cruel for no reason. They can hurt you just because they want to. That’s the most dangerous thing anywhere.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Is that what happened to you? With your pack? People being cruel?”
“Yes—I’ve seen what people can do when they stop caring about anything but themselves.” Lysara had branded that lesson into his skin.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But I’m still sorry you experienced it.” She reached out and touched his arm—a brief, light contact that nevertheless sent electricity racing through his veins. “You deserved better.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t even know if he believed it was true.
“Do the stairs go all the way to the ground level?” she asked suddenly.
“Yes. That’s how I got out this morning.”
“I’ve never gone past the storage level.” He followed her as she headed slowly for the stairs. “Ari always told me the lowest level was unsafe. Structural damage, unstable footing.”
Baylin’s attention sharpened. “And you believed it?”
“I had no reason not to. Why would Ari lie to me?”
Because the AI’s job is to keep you here,he thought.And lies are just another kind of cage.
“Try it,” he said, moving to stand behind her. “See how far you can go.”
She glanced back at him, uncertainty flickering across her features. She moved slowly down past the workshop to the storage level. She hesitated for a moment, then she squared her shoulders and took the first step down towards the lowest level.
One step. Two. Three.
On the fourth step, she stopped.
“Liora.” ARIS’s voice emerged from concealed speakers, calm and measured as always. “The stairs below this level are not safe for transit. Please return to the upper levels.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “The steps feel solid.”
“Safety assessments indicate a 78% probability of structural failure in the lower sections. I cannot allow you to proceed.”
