Page 105

I realize my hands are cold.

Ghar says my name quietly, but I cannot look at him yet.

Rolaev steps closer within the projection, or the projection makes it seem that way. “Anita, you have seen enough to understand the problem. This truth does not merely alter a footnote in ancient history. It attacks emotional infrastructure. It asks ordinary people to survive the possibility that their gods were inheritors, their sacred bonds were engineered, their suffering was never part of a compassionate arc, and their civilizations were built atop managed omissions.”

I shake my head, but the gesture feels weak. “People deserve reality.”

“People deserve survivable reality.”

“That is monstrous.”

“It can become monstrous,” Rolaev agrees. “So can disclosure.”

The fact that she admits the danger of her own position unsettles me more than any sermon would. Fanatics should not acknowledge the blade in their own hands. They should call it holy and wave it around like proof that doubt is for lesser beings. Rolaev does neither. She speaks as if she has spent decades arguing against herself and still arrived here, scarred but certain enough to kill.

That is so much worse.

Brakk scratches at the dried blood near his ear. “So what, we hand over the archive and trust the murder priestess to be responsible?”

Rolaev looks at him. “No. You hand over the archive because you currently possess neither the infrastructure nor the emotional distance to protect anyone from it.”

Brakk bares his teeth. “You took Sira.”

“I removed the one member of your group most likely to understand the spiritual implications quickly enough to help Anita resist me.”

My stomach drops.

Rolaev does not even pretend otherwise.

Ghar’s voice lowers into something lethal. “You admit that.”

“Yes,” Rolaev says. “Manipulation concealed is merely cowardice. Manipulation declared at least allows the target to evaluate the shape of the pressure.”

I laugh once, sharp and sick. “That may be the most deranged ethical argument I’ve ever heard.”

“It is not an ethical argument. It is a practical clarification.”

Ghar steps closer to me, his shoulder nearly brushing mine. This time he does not keep distance. He does not touch me either, but his nearness steadies the spinning corridor around me more than I want to admit.

Rolaev notices.

Her gaze flicks between us.

“The bond has activated,” she says softly.

Ghar raises his weapon another fraction. “Speak carefully.”

Rolaev does not look intimidated. “You are both compromised.”

My anger returns fast enough to taste like copper. “I am so tired of people deciding my feelings are evidence contamination.”

“They are not invalid,” Rolaev says. “They are relevant.”

I hate that distinction.

Rolaev continues, addressing me more than him. “If the archive contains further proof that jalshagar systems predate Precursor stewardship, your personal attachment will influence how you interpret the data. You may cling to emotional significance as compensation for cosmological absurdity. You may also reject the bond too harshly in order to preserve intellectual autonomy. Either reaction can distort judgment.”

Ghar’s voice cuts coldly through the corridor. “Enough.”