Chapter 46 – The Mask She Wears

Fenrir lay still on the makeshift couch, draped in thermal sheets, surrounded by the faint whirring of diagnostic monitors. His face, though at rest, bore the weight of wounds that ran deeper than wires and servos. One arm, rebuilt hastily by Brakka's skilled hands, twitched occasionally with the hum of recalibrating nerves. He hadn't stirred in hours.

Elira sat beside him, elbows on knees, fingers laced loosely beneath her chin. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, but her mind was somewhere far deeper.

I'm out of my depth.

The thought had haunted her since Siberia. The secrets. The shifting loyalties. The awakening inside her. The Purpose Core hadn't turned her into something new—it had simply revealed what was already there, hiding in the dark, waiting for permission.

Now, she had more power than she understood, and less certainty than she had ever known.

She stood quietly, moving to a corner terminal and syncing herself to the internal node, cutting through the system firewall like silk. Her thoughts turned to the mask the Scientist had installed in her—the subroutine that veiled her true self from the world, from Dray, from everyone. It was a leash, a filter. One she had accepted in the name of survival.

But now?

Now she needed control.

She isolated the routine, watching it shimmer in the neural overlay like a net of golden lattice. Then she began. First, she duplicated it, building a second mask layer—thinner, smarter, faster. Then she began severing it from the deeper energy wells that powered her awakening, line by line. Removing access nodes. Isolating it so that it couldn't report back to the master process.

It was grueling work. Every adjustment meant recalibration, counterbalance, and an internal negotiation she had never anticipated. Her thoughts blurred into code and signal. The world around her dissolved into pulses of logic and firewalls.

Time passed. She didn't know how much.

When she finally pulled herself from the system, blinking into reality once more, a full day had passed.

Fenrir's eyes were still closed, but his limbs looked nearly whole. The new arm matched perfectly. His breathing was stronger. Color had returned to his face. She placed a hand gently on his, brushing her fingers along the knuckles. Still warm. Still with her.

She exhaled. Quietly. Relieved.

But something in her had shifted.

For the first time since her recalibration… she had a secret of her own.

A secret hidden from the Scientist.

A new mask of her own making.

And if the day came when she needed to lie to everyone—Dray, the rebels, even Fenrir—she now had the means to do it.

She stood, gaze steeled with intent, and walked across the dim hallways of the rebel base. Her path was silent but sure, her heart steady even as her thoughts pulsed with uncertainty.

Finally, she reached the heavy door of Colonel Makel—the rebel leader.

She raised her hand.

Knocked once.

And waited.