The ancient temple had fallen silent.
K-10 stood near the stone table, studying the symbol carved into its surface. The circle, the five points, and the eye at its center were identical to the symbol he had seen in the temple where he first awakened in Tarmynia.
Seralyth remained several feet away, still considering Malaki’s request.
“We should restore it.”
K-10 looked at her.
“No.”
Seralyth turned toward him.
“No?”
“The situation is too dangerous.”
For a moment, Seralyth stared at him. Then she laughed, though there was no humor in it.
“When has a situation ever been too dangerous for you?”
“This is different.”
“Different how?”
“The previous circumstances were tactically known.”
Seralyth’s expression hardened.
“You mean you knew what you were facing.”
“Yes.”
“And because you knew what you were facing, you were willing to take the risk?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“You cannot possibly believe that.”
K-10 remained composed.
“We don’t have enough information.”
“We know enough.”
“We don’t know what is inside the temple.”
“We know there is a guardian protecting the seal.”
“That is not enough information to proceed.”
Seralyth folded her arms.
“You have entered situations with far less information than this. You have faced creatures without knowing what they were capable of. You have rushed toward enemies before either of us understood what we were dealing with.”
“That was different.”
Her frustration increased.
“Everything is different with you.”
K-10 did not respond.
Seralyth stepped closer.
“You are always willing to put yourself in danger during a fight. You move toward the enemy without hesitation. Sometimes you don’t even wait for me.”
K-10 regarded her without visible emotion.
“Calm down.”
Seralyth stopped.
Her expression changed.
“What did you just say?”
“I said you should calm down.”
“I heard you.”
The irritation in her voice had become something deeper.
K-10 looked toward the temple entrance and then back at her.
“The Guild contract required us to locate the hunters. We accomplished that objective. We should return to Linden.”
Seralyth stared at him.
“And leave the forest like this?”
“We report the situation to the Guild.”
“And wait for them to investigate?”
“We need intelligence before taking further action.”
“And while they gather intelligence, more people could enter the forest.”
“That is possible.”
“People could die.”
K-10 remained calm.
“We need the Guild’s permission before we proceed.”
Seralyth’s restraint finally began to disappear.
“Permission?”
K-10 said nothing.
“We are standing inside an ancient temple because the forest’s defenses are failing. Malaki has told us that the seal is weakening. Hunters have already entered a forbidden area. Yet you want us to walk away and ask someone else what we should do?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You are selfish.”
K-10 remained motionless.
“You are emotionless.”
He continued to watch her.
Seralyth’s voice became quieter, but the anger behind it remained.
“Just like all human men.”
The words left the chamber silent.
Seralyth looked away.
She hadn’t intended to say it that way.
But the anger had carried something with it that had been buried for a long time.
Memories.
Human men had once taken from her something that could not be returned. They had treated her as though her wishes, her dignity, and her freedom meant nothing.
For years, she had regarded human males with suspicion.
Then K-10 had been different.
He had never tried to possess her. He had never treated her as an object. He had never demanded affection or obedience from her. His emotional distance had been strange at first, but eventually she had found something reassuring in it.
He simply respected her.
Somewhere along the way, without admitting it even to herself, Seralyth had begun to trust him.
K-10 was supposed to be different.
That was why his decision hurt more than she expected.
She turned back toward him.
“You know what is right.”
K-10 said nothing.
“You simply don’t want to make the decision yourself.”
Something in the statement caught his attention.
K-10 looked at her more carefully.
Seralyth continued.
“We don’t need permission to do what is right.”
K-10 remained silent.
The words stayed with him.
Permission.
Orders.
He thought about his life before Tarmynia.
For as long as he could remember, there had always been someone above him. Someone who issued the objective. Someone who determined the mission. Someone who decided what needed to be done.
His responsibility had been simple.
Follow the order.
Execute the mission.
Complete the objective.
He had followed orders regardless of how difficult they were. Some had been necessary. Others had been morally complicated. There had been operations where the outcome was not objectively good, yet he had carried them out because someone else had decided that they needed to be done.
He had never questioned the structure.
An operative received orders.
An operative followed them.
That was his life.
Until now.
Seralyth had not given him an order.
She had challenged him to make a choice.
His choice.
Not the Guild’s.
Not a commanding officer’s.
Not an intelligence director’s.
His.
K-10 looked toward the stone table.
The hunters were evidence of what happened when the forest’s protection failed. If the seal remained weakened, others could enter. The consequences were predictable.
He could leave.
He could report the situation.
He could wait for someone else to decide what happened next.
Or he could decide for himself.
K-10 felt something unfamiliar.
It wasn’t fear.
It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t excitement.
It was something deeper.
Liberation.
Now, the decision belonged entirely to him.
He looked at Seralyth.
“I choose to restore the seal.”
Seralyth’s expression softened.
She understood what had just happened, even if K-10 had not yet fully understood it himself.
He had chosen.
Behind them, Malaki had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.
The Kapre stared at K-10 for several seconds.
Then a faint smile crossed his face.
“Good.”