Chapter 668: Heavenly Demon (5)
The third day brought a breakthrough that would change everything.
I’d arrived at Subject Zero’s containnt chamber earlier than usual, carrying another small gift—a children’s book about gardens that I’d convinced Sereth was “educational material for pattern recognition studies.” The excuse was wearing thin, but my Cardinal authority still carried enough weight to override questions.
The child was sitting by her small window, the purple butterfly toy clutched in her hands as she stared out at the facility’s courtyard. It wasn’t much of a view—concrete walls and guard towers—but she seed fascinated by the small patch of sky visible above the barriers.
“Good morning,” I said, settling into my usual chair.
“Arthur,” she said, turning to face with sothing that might have been a smile. “You ca back.”
“I promised I would.” I held up the book. “I brought you sothing new today.”
Her eyes lit up with genuine excitent, though she quickly tried to hide it. The conditioning ran deep, but I was starting to see cracks in the facade they’d built around her natural personality.
“What is it?” she asked, moving closer but still maintaining careful distance.
“A story about the most beautiful garden in the world. With pictures.” I opened the book to reveal colorful illustrations of flowers, trees, and yes—butterflies. “I thought you might like to see what the real ones look like.”
She stared at the pages with wonder, her small fingers hovering just above the illustrations as if afraid touching them might make them disappear. “They’re so bright,” she whispered. “And there are so many different kinds.”
“Each type has its own na,” I explained, pointing to different flowers in the pictures. “Roses, daisies, sunflowers, lilacs… and each butterfly species has a na too.”
“Nas,” she repeated thoughtfully. “Like Arthur instead of Cardinal Matthias.”
‘There’s my opening.’ “Speaking of nas, have you given any more thought to what you might like to be called?”
She was quiet for a long mont, studying a page that showed a night garden illuminated by moonlight. The picture was particularly beautiful—silver flowers glowing in the darkness, with pale butterflies dancing among them like living starlight.
“Luna,” she said finally, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.
“Luna?”
“Like the moon in the picture. She looks so peaceful, watching over all the flowers.” She looked up at with those dark eyes that held far too much pain for her age. “Do you think… do you think Luna is a good na?”
‘Well, isn’t that interesting,’ Luna’s amused voice echoed in my mind. ‘Another Luna. Should I be flattered or concerned that you’re developing a pattern?’
Perfect. “I think Luna is a beautiful na. It suits you.”
“Really?” The hope in her voice was heartbreaking.
“Really. Luna it is, then.”
For the first ti since I’d t her, she gave a genuine smile—not the careful, controlled expression she’d been trained to display, but the bright, unguarded joy of a child who had just received sothing precious.
“Thank you, Arthur. For giving a na. For the butterfly. For…” She struggled with the words. “For making feel like a person.”
‘That’s exactly what you are.’ “Luna, can I ask you sothing?”
She nodded eagerly.
“Do you rember anything from before this place? From when you were very small?”
Her expression grew thoughtful. “Sotis I have dreams. There’s a woman with kind eyes who used to sing to . But the Doctor says those aren’t real mories—just neural misfirings from the enhancent process.”
The Doctor. Cardinal Akasha, almost certainly. “What do you think?”
“I think the Doctor is wrong about a lot of things,” Luna said with a maturity that should have been impossible at her age. “She says I don’t have feelings, but I do. She says I don’t need things like nas or toys, but I want them anyway.”
Smart girl. She was developing critical thinking despite their best efforts to suppress it. That would be both an asset and a danger as we moved forward.
“Luna, I need to ask you sothing important, and I need you to think carefully before you answer.”
She straightened, giving her full attention.
“If there was a way—and I’m not saying there is, but if there was—would you want to leave this place? To see real gardens and real butterflies?”
Her reaction was imdiate and intense. She clutched the butterfly toy to her chest and stared at with wide eyes. “Is that possible?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m trying to find out.”
“The implants,” she said quietly, her hand moving unconsciously to touch the back of her neck where I knew the neural interfaces were located. “They told the implants would hurt anyone who tried to take away. That they would hurt too.”
‘She knows about the termination protocol.’ “Did they tell you anything else about the implants?”
“The Doctor said they keep safe. That without them, my power would grow too fast and burn up from the inside.” She looked down at her hands. “But sotis, when I’m sleeping, I can feel them. Like little spiders in my head.”
Neural implants with explosive components, disguised as dical necessity. It was cleverly designed—the child would resist removal because she’d been convinced it would kill her anyway.
“Luna, what if I told you that might not be true? What if the implants weren’t protecting you, but controlling you?”
“You an the Doctor lied to ?”
“I think the Doctor has told you a lot of things that aren’t true.”
She was quiet for several minutes, processing this information. When she spoke again, her voice was small but determined.
“If you found a way to take away from here, would you? Even if it was dangerous?”
‘There it is.’ The question I’d been hoping she would ask, the confirmation that she wanted to be saved despite everything they’d done to break her spirit.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I would do everything in my power to get you sowhere safe.”
‘Look at you, getting all paternal,’ Luna comnted with obvious amusent. ‘Next thing you know, you’ll be teaching her how to ride a bike and giving boys ‘the talk.”
‘Not helping, Luna.’
“Why?” she asked, echoing the sa question from our first real conversation. “I’m just a weapon. Why would you risk yourself for a weapon?”
“Because you’re not just a weapon, Luna. You’re a little girl who likes butterflies and garden stories and purple stuffed animals. You’re soone who deserves to choose her own na and make her own decisions about what she wants to do with her life.”
Tears began forming in her eyes again. “But what if they’re right? What if I am dangerous? What if trying to save hurts people?”
‘The fear they’ve instilled in her runs deep.’ “Luna, do you want to hurt people?”
“No! Never!”
“Then you won’t. Having power doesn’t make you dangerous—using that power to harm innocent people makes you dangerous. And I don’t think that’s who you are.”
She wiped her eyes and looked at with a determination that was startling in soone so young. “If you can find a way, I want to leave. I want to see real butterflies. I want to choose what I do with my power instead of having it chosen for .”
‘That’s my girl. ‘”Then we’ll find a way. I promise.”
‘Another promise to another Luna,’ the qilin observed with fond exasperation. ‘You really do have a type, don’t you?’
We spent the rest of the morning reading the garden book together, with Luna asking countless questions about each flower and butterfly. Her curiosity was insatiable—she wanted to know how flowers grew, what butterflies ate, whether different colors ant different things.
‘This is who she really is,’ I realized as I watched her excitent over learning new things. ‘Not the weapon they’ve tried to create, but a bright, curious child who’s been starved of normal experiences.’
As I prepared to leave for the day, Luna called out to one more ti.
“Arthur? When you were my age, did you have a real na that people called you? Not a made-up one?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And you got to choose what you wanted to do when you grew up?”
‘That’s a more complicated question than she realizes.’ “More or less, yes.”
“I want that too,” she said firmly. “I want to choose.”
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