RACHEL

The air is quiet, thick with tension. We're huddled behind a car in the parking lot just outside the dilapidated airport hangar. The place looks like it hasn't seen a coat of paint or maintenance in decades. The buildings surrounding us are crumbling, their once-bright facades faded and peeling. Most of the lights are burned out, leaving us in near total darkness, save for the faint glow of a few distant lamps, barely enough to cut through the heavy night.

The wind kicks up a bit of dust, swirling it around in the air, adding to the worn-out atmosphere. Even the pavement is cracked and uneven beneath us.

Jake is next to me, his jaw tight, scanning the area with practiced vigilance. Ax is off to the side, morphed into a human for the moment. Cassie is helping him button up a crisp white shirt, her hands patient and precise as she works around his awkward movements. He keeps whipping his head back and forth, his body swaying slightly as he tries to stay balanced. He's disoriented, clearly uncomfortable without his extra eyes and legs. His jerky movements remind me of a puppet with tangled strings, his posture shifting as though he's not entirely sure where his feet are. Cassie steps back, tilting her head critically as she adjusts his tie.

"Better," she says softly, smoothing the fabric.

Ax frowns, pulling at the tie like it's a leash. "This attire is inefficient for battle. I cannot maneuver properly. Lee. Prop. Er. Lee."

"It's not for battle," Cassie replies with a small smile, adjusting his collar. "It's for blending in. Just… not to play with your words, okay?"

Ax nods stiffly, still swaying slightly, and Jake shoots him a sharp glance before turning his focus back to the perimeter.

Marco paces a little, his usual swagger replaced by an edge of nervous energy. I can feel him glancing in my direction more often than I'd like. I can barely focus on anything but the mission. This mission is too big to let anything else in.

His gaze lingers a little too long, and I quickly turn my eyes away. Easier that way.

Tobias's voice cuts through the silence, a soft whisper in my mind. [It's coming in. I see it now.]

I squint into the dark, trying to see anything, but all I can make out are the distant lights of the small airport and the dark silhouette of the hangar ahead. Tobias doesn't have that problem. His hawk vision is far sharper than ours even in the dark.

[It's cloaked] he continues, his voice tinged with amusement. [You guys are really missing out down there. You can't see it, but I can. Mostly. It's a shimmering distortion in the air. Bet you're all wishing you had hawk eyes right now.]

Marco snorts, but there's a slight edge to his voice. "Thanks for rubbing it in, Tobias."

Jake doesn't crack a smile. He's too focused on the task at hand. "Any sign of guards?"

[A few humans in the hangar. They're armed, but they look pretty relaxed. Not expecting trouble.] He pauses for a moment. [Okay, if you look toward the runway nearest you, you may be able to see it. It's landing now.]

I look in the direction he mentioned, trying to catch any movement, but at first, there's nothing. Then, I notice a subtle change in the air—a slight ripple. The wind stirs, pushing some leaves and weeds around, and I catch a glimpse of something. A faint shimmer in the distance, as though something is pulling the darkness around it. Slowly, the ship begins to emerge from the distortion, its large shape slowly coming into focus.

The ship looms ahead, its sleek, shiny blue-grey surface gleaming faintly under the dim airport lights. Its body is a long flattened teardrop, wider at the back and narrowing as it tapers toward the front. The surface, though reflective, is marred by scorch marks, dents, and scratches—evidence of countless rough landings and dangerous encounters. Despite the wear and tear, the ship radiates an air of alien efficiency, as if it's been through hell and back but refuses to fall apart.

At the very front of the teardrop, perched just above the rounded tip, sits the cockpit. It juts out slightly, a bulbous, domed structure that gives it a panoramic view of the ship's surroundings. The dark, seamless windows wrap around the cockpit, making it look like the compound eye of an insect.

A wide hatch is open on the ship's left side, near its widest point, revealing a sturdy ramp that stretches down to the cracked pavement below. The ramp looks as beaten as the ship itself, with scuffed, ribbed metal designed for hauling heavy cargo. Inside, the dim glow of overhead lights casts long shadows on the cavernous interior, hinting at the vast storage space within.

The ship feels functional to its core, designed for practicality over aesthetics. Yet, its alien craftsmanship—smooth curves, seamless panels, and glowing etchings along its edges—makes it clear this is no ordinary cargo hauler. It's a vessel built for both endurance and efficiency, a workhorse of the stars, repurposed now by the Yeerks for their own grim purposes.

Jake glances toward the ship and then back to us. "Okay, it's time. Get ready."

I watch as Cassie, Marco, and Jake give each other a quick nod. There's no hesitation between them. They're used to this, the morphing, the stealth, the quick, practiced execution of whatever comes next. Marco's eyes flick to me for a brief second, his usual confident smirk gone, replaced by something more focused. He gives me a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, and then the three of them step back into the shadows.

The air seems to thrum with their energy as their bodies begin to shrink and distort. Marco goes first—his body ripples, his tight morphing clothes dissolving into the folds of his skin as his arms and legs shrink rapidly, his back arching as his wings sprout, bursting free from his body with a sharp, sudden movement. It's disgusting, honestly. Then his mostly fly body rapidly shrinks until I can barely see him in the dark. In seconds, he's a tiny, buzzing fly, dark wings shimmering in the moonlight.

Jake follows, morphing smoothly. His body shrinks first, almost like a "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids"-kind of situation. His skin darkens as his arms pull in, and soon, he's a second fly—identical to Marco. His wings buzz as they catch the wind, and he hovers in place, ready to join Marco.

Cassie morphs last, her movements fluid and practiced. Her body shrinks, her form flickering between human and fly, and her wings beginning to hum as they take shape. I watch as she rapidly becomes a tiny fly too, her small, delicate body vibrating slightly as she hovers beside Jake. The three of them are now just dots in the air, darting around in near perfect synchrony, their wings creating a faint hum as they prepare to go.

They hover for a moment, adjusting to their new forms. It's like watching three small, black darts zipping through the air—quick and precise, no wasted movement.

I stand still, forcing myself not to swat at one of them as it flits around me. The instinct is strong, but I know better. One of the flies lands gently on top of my head. The other two land on Ax's hair, his human form still looking out of place, but he's trying to act like he belongs.

They're ready for the ride. Now, hopefully, Ax and I can convince whoever's on that ship that we're just regular Controllers here for an inventory check.

Ax shifts uncomfortably beside me, his human form still a little shaky, but he's holding it together. We're both dressed as professionals, office attire, sensible shoes, clipboards. I can see him adjusting, gripping the clipboard with a little too much tension, like he's still trying to figure out how to make it look natural. But it's not easy. Not for him.

I give him a small, reassuring glance, trying to convey confidence, then turn my attention back toward the ship. Everything's in motion now. All we have to do is keep our heads in the game and trust that the team knows what they're doing.

Ax and I walk toward the ship, our steps deliberate, every movement calculated to keep up the illusion of confidence. The air is cool, the chill of night settling in, but the buzz of nervous energy crackles under my skin. Every step feels like it takes a little more effort, but I can't afford to show it. Not now.

The ship looms ahead, its sleek, grey-blue surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. A giant hatch has been opened on the narrow backside of the rectangular craft, resembling a massive three-story garage door, and a wide, intimidating ramp stretches down to the ground. Two Hork-Bajir stand nearby, their reptilian bodies stiff and alert, speaking in their hissing, clipped language. Their long arms move in sharp, deliberate gestures, blade-like hands twitching with every motion, ready to strike at any threat.

They're towering over us, and the gleaming blades on their arms look as if they could cut through steel with a single swipe. Their posture is rigid, military-like, and their eyes never leave the ramp. They stand like sentinels, the last line of defense before anyone can board, their attention laser-focused. It's clear they're not just here for show; they're waiting, watching, ready for anything that might come their way.

Around them, the scene is a mix of quiet industry and tension. A few human controllers, their faces drawn with fatigue, are moving boxes and trailers, preparing for whatever's about to be unloaded. Their movements are slow, as if they don't care much for the urgency that's supposed to be here. The whole place has an air of neglect, like a once-bustling operation that's been left to rot in the middle of nowhere. The building behind us, with its cracked windows and peeling paint, adds to the dismal mood.

Ax and I approach the ramp, and a woman—probably in her late forties—looks up from where she's overseeing the human workers. She's got a clipboard in her hands and a tired expression on her face, but the way she eyes us as we approach tells me she's not used to seeing unfamiliar faces here. She steps forward, blocking our path for a moment.

"Can I help you?" she asks, her voice cautious. She looks us over and doesn't look too convinced, but she's not about to make a scene—yet.

I make sure my voice is firm as I respond. "We're here for a final inventory check. The Visser's orders." I let the weight of his title hang in the air, hoping it'll do the trick.

The woman blinks, her expression flickering from cautious to confused. "Inventory check?" She takes a step back, her eyes narrowing. "I wasn't told about another check. The unload crew is already getting prepped. We're behind as it is."

Ax stands a little taller beside me, his expression calm and assured. "The order came directly from the Visser himself," he says smoothly, his voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that commands respect. "None of us want to be responsible for any delays that might make him… upset."

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line as she processes the words. I can see her considering the implications of crossing a higher-up, and it only takes her a second to decide it's not worth the risk.

She shakes her head and shrugs, the tension draining from her shoulders as she steps aside. "Well, then," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "Not my problem if we're off schedule. I'll be inside." Her voice carries a bit of frustration, but more than that, it's the exhaustion of someone who's had too many late nights, too many half-baked orders. "Just let me know when my crew needs to start. It's not like they're going anywhere."

With that, she turns and heads toward the building, her footsteps echoing in the quiet night. The low hum of the ship and the soft rustling of the wind through the weeds are the only sounds that follow.

Ax and I exchange a glance, the gravity of the mission heavy between us. We've made it this far, but the hardest part still lies ahead. There's no turning back now. Every step matters. Every second counts.

The ramp beneath us feels solid, each footfall sending a faint metallic echo into the still night. The air is cool, crisp, and charged with anticipation. This is what I live for—the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the sharp focus that only comes when everything's on the line. It's not fear; it's excitement. This is who we are. This is what we do.

Inside, the ship's warehouse stretches out before us, vast and eerily quiet. Rows of large crates and containers line the walls, their contents obscured beneath thick lids. Smaller stacks are scattered across the floor. The dim glow from overhead lights casts long, shifting shadows, making the space feel endless.

"Begin searching," Ax says, already moving toward the nearest stack of crates, his voice calm but urgent.

I nod and get to work, prying open smaller containers near the entrance. Inside, I find alien devices—glowing cylinders, odd tools with serrated edges, machinery that hums faintly even while dormant. None of it matches Ax's description of the cloaking generators.

A sudden voice in my head makes me jump.

[If there's no one around] Jake says, [Marco, Cassie, and I will demorph and help look.]

I was so focused I almost forgot the others were with us.

I glance back at the open hatch, the ramp still extended to the ground. "Hold on," I whisper, moving to the edge.

Outside, the Hork-Bajir guards remain at their post, engaged in quiet, hissing conversation. The human-Controllers have disappeared into the airport. No one is looking our way.

"We're clear," I report. "The Hork-Bajir are still there, but they're not paying attention. No sign of the humans."

[Good] Jake says. [Cassie and Marco, let's do this.]

[Oh, joy] Marco's sarcastic tone cuts through the tension. [I was just getting comfy. Hey, Ax, might want to check that dandruff situation.]

I suppress an eye roll, shaking my head.

Moments later, they fly down from their perches and land on the cold, polished floor. The faint, familiar sound of demorphing fills the air as they shift back into their human forms.

Once they're fully demorphed, Jake takes charge. "Spread out. Let's move fast."

We fan out, combing the warehouse. Crates are opened and searched; shelves are scanned. But as the minutes pass, frustration grows.

"Nothing," Marco mutters, shutting another container.

Cassie frowns. "Could they be somewhere else on the ship?"

Ax straightens from examining a crate, his expression thoughtful. "It is possible. Items of higher importance may be stored in a more secure location."

Jake hesitates, weighing the risks. Exploring further into the ship means pushing our luck, but leaving empty-handed isn't an option. Not when we're this close.

"Alright," he says at last. "We'll check the rest of the ship. Quick in and out. If we don't find anything in ten minutes, we bail."

I catch Marco's gaze. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes speaks volumes. This mission isn't just about winning another battle—it's about finding a way to protect his mom, to save her from the Yeerks. I can see the weight of it on him, a quiet urgency that keeps him moving even when the stakes feel impossibly high.

I want to reach out, to hold his hand, to tell him it'll be okay, but there's no time. We have to stay sharp.

We move toward the far end of the warehouse, where a massive door looms. Its surface is covered in alien symbols—codes or warnings, I can't tell. Ax approaches and taps a control panel. The door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing a narrow corridor beyond.

The hallway is quiet, lined with doors on either side, each marked with unfamiliar symbols. The dim lighting casts a sterile glow, and though everything seems still, a prickle of unease crawls up my spine.

With that, we step deeper into the ship, every sense on high alert.

Jake glances at Ax. "Ax, demorph. Hopefully we don't need your tail, but I'd feel better to have it around."

Ax immediately follows Jake's orders, his limbs reshaping as he demorphs into his Andalite body, his four legs reappearing beneath him and his tail flicking behind him.

I take a breath and move to the first door. I open it cautiously, peering inside. The room is eerily calm, almost otherworldly in its design.

It looks like some kind of living quarters. On the right, a large, spongy platform takes up most of the space. The material is a deep purple and soft, almost like clay or butter, as if it could mold itself to whoever is lying there. It's not a mattress, but something alien—designed to adjust to its user's shape and needs.

To the left, cabinets line the wall, but when I pull open the doors, they're all empty. There's nothing here.

Then, I feel it—a presence behind me. A shadow, lingering in the dim light. I turn quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, but there's nothing there. Just the alien bed and the cabinets, their shapes dark and indistinct in the low light.

My breath catches, and my pulse is racing, but I can't seem to calm it. My eyes flicker around the room, expecting something to move, anything to break the silence, but nothing does. The feeling stays with me, a weight I can't shake.

I step back into the hallway, my heart pounding. Jake just emerges from another room, his face serious, eyes scanning the space.

I move silently across the cold, metallic floor, my steps measured and quick as I make my way over to Jake. He looks up as I approach, his expression sharp and expectant.

"Anything?" he asks, his voice low and tense, a silent weight hanging between us.

I shake my head, frustration creeping in. "Nothing in there."

Jake nods, his jaw tight with determination. He glances over at the others. "We need to keep moving. We're wasting time."

We fall in line, our footsteps echoing through the hallway, though the sound feels muffled beneath the pressure building in my chest. The silence is heavy now, and I can't shake the sense that we're running out of time—something's coming, and I don't know if we'll be ready.

Then, Ax's voice cuts through the tension, sharp and focused: [I found them. It's one of the last doors before the cockpit.]

Without hesitation, Cassie, Marco, Jake, and I rush to catch up with him. The room is smaller than the first warehouse, but it's cramped with narrow aisles lined with shelves, the air still and heavy. The shelves are almost bare, save for a few scattered misshapen crates and containers. A strange, glowing green string—like some kind of alien bike lock—wraps around most of the items, securing them tightly. The green glow pulses faintly, making everything in the room feel unnervingly alive.

Ax moves forward and taps a black box with his hoof. [These are the cloaking generators. They match the description, anyway.]

There are twelve of them, lined nearly in a row. Each one is the size of a tall suitcase, but their smooth surfaces are broken by a panel of buttons and a screen—alien, yet sophisticated. The screens flicker faintly, showing some sort of readout that I can't understand. The buttons are arranged in a pattern I can't decipher either, but I can tell from the design that these are far more complex than anything we've seen before.

Each of the generators is wrapped tightly in the same glowing green string, securing them all to the shelves. The string pulses with a faint, rhythmic light, almost as if it's alive, reinforcing the feeling that whatever's on this ship is not meant to be tampered with.

Jake steps forward, his eyes scanning the locked crate. "Can you unlock it, Ax?" he asks.

Ax shakes his head, a human habit he picked up. [Ido not have the necessary tools.]

Marco, standing nearby, perks up. "Well, if it's locked, we could always go with the brute force method. I mean, we're kinda out of time to be too subtle here."

The tension in the air is palpable. Everyone's on edge, knowing how much depends on this.

Jake exhales, looking at the glowing green string. "Alright, Marco, go gorilla and try to break it or pull them away. But try not to damage the generators. We need those intact."

Before Marco can respond, a sound echoes through the hallway, cutting through the silence. My instincts kick in, my body tensing in response.

Footsteps. Multiple large footsteps, getting closer.

Jake's whisper is low but urgent. "Battle morphs, but stay hidden! Don't reveal yourselves unless it's absolutely necessary."

The tension in the air is thick, palpable. We spread out between the narrow aisles of shelves, making ourselves as hidden as possible.

The space feels even tighter now. Fur, claws, and muscle stretch against the walls as we shift. The air hums with the low growl of Jake's tiger, the rumbles of Marco's gorilla, the quick paws of Cassie's wolf, and the faint scratching of Ax's hooves as he adjusts his Andalite body. It's a cacophony of animal energy, and every inch of space seems to shrink around us, amplifying the tension.

I crouch in the shadows, pressed against the wall near the door. My heart beats faster, my breath coming in short bursts. The familiar, tingling sensation of my grizzly morph takes over. Fur sprouts from my skin, thick and coarse. My muscles stretch and bulge, powerful and strong. I feel the claws extending from my fingers, my teeth sharpening into deadly fangs.

The pressure, the anxiety—all of it melts away. In this form, it's as if I shed everything that's been weighing me down. Grizzly is me. It's who I am at my core. Big, strong, confident. Every time I morph into this creature, it's like I'm stepping into a skin that fits perfectly, a reflection of all the power and force inside of me. There's no hesitation. There's no fear. Only the hunger for action, for the fight.

This is what I was born for. This is where I belong.

I breathe in deeply, feeling the raw energy surge through my veins. The door is just inches away, and the sound of the approaching Hork-Bajir grows louder. My claws flex, and I crouch low, ready to spring.

The Hork-Bajir are getting closer now. One of them peeks its head inside, and its eyes land on me. There's a split second of recognition, and then I'm charging through the tight doorway.

All the stress, all the weight of the mission and what's at stake, it all snaps inside me. I roar, the sound vibrating through the hall as my huge body lunges forward. My claws tear into the floor, and the Hork-Bajir yelps, trying to dodge. But I'm not thinking anymore, not processing. I'm instinct, pure and unfiltered.

I slam into the Hork-Bajir, knocking it off balance, but in the cramped hallway, it's not easy to move. The second Hork-Bajir gets behind me, and I feel the sharp stab of its arm blades sink into my side. The pain is electric, but I don't stop. I lash out, swiping with my claws, roaring as I push forward, letting my instincts take control.

Jake's voice rings out through the chaos. [Ax, go help! We'll stay back and try to get these things.]

Ax charges into the fray, his hooves ringing sharply against the metal floor. His tail swishes, the blade ready. I'm fighting on pure instinct now—no thought, just action. I feel the Hork-Bajir's limbs twist beneath me, my claws raking across its body. I slam it to the ground with a growl, and in the frenzy, I accidentally trample it, the weight of my grizzly form crushing its limbs.

The Hork-Bajir gasps, unable to recover, and is still.

The other Hork-Bajir, now on the defensive, manages to slip away, quickly making a dash toward the cockpit. My instincts scream at me to follow, and I charge after it, but the pain in my side flares with every movement. My head is starting to spin, the blood loss catching up with me, but I force myself to keep going. I can't stop now—not when we're so close.

The Hork-Bajir reaches the cockpit and slams the thick, metal door shut with a heavy, resonating thud, cutting off my path. I throw myself at the door, my body crashing against it in frustration, but it doesn't budge. The adrenaline is pumping, but it's not enough to overpower the growing weakness that's starting to creep in.

Ax's voice cuts through the haze of my rage. [Rachel, stop! You could get hurt—or worse, damage something critical. Allow me.]

It takes a few more seconds for his words to sink in, my mind clouded by adrenaline and fury. Finally, I stagger back, panting, and let him through. He steps forward, his tail blade gleaming in the dim light. With a precise slice, he cuts through the door's locking mechanism. The door hisses open, and Ax rushes into the cockpit.

I stumble after him, still in grizzly form, but my vision is swimming. [Demorph, Rachel] Ax says firmly, his main eyes scanning the controls. [You're losing too much blood.]

I stagger, feeling my form begin to shift, morphing back to human. The strength of the grizzly fades, leaving me shaky, but uninjured at least. I hear the muffled sounds of the Hork-Bajir's fall as Ax knocks it out cold.

Outside, through the cockpit's large windows, I spot movement. Dozens of Controllers are spilling out of the hangar, confused but alert, pointing at the ship.

I shift my gaze to a security screen. My heart pounds as I notice two more Hork-Bajir sprinting up the ramp. They aren't armed, but they don't need weapons to be deadly.

"Watch out, you might have company in a minute!" I yell to the others, my voice sharp with urgency. I hope they can hear me.

[Fall back! We need to abort before they call reinforcements!] Jake's thought-speak cuts through the air, commanding and tense.

I hear him, but the words barely register. The sound of gunfire erupts outside as humans begin shooting at the ship. Sparks fly where bullets and Dracon beams strike the hull. My mind races, panic rising like a wave, but amidst the chaos, one reckless thought takes hold.

"Ax, can you fly the ship?" I demand, my voice tight and hurried.

[Prince Jake said—]

"Forget Jake! Can you fly it or not?" My desperation spills out. "We need this! Who knows what else is on this ship that we can use?"

Ax hesitates, his stalk eyes flicking between me and the controls. […Yes, I can fly it. But I do not know if—]

"Then do it!" I bark, stepping forward, my eyes locked on the alien console. I have no patience for caution. Every second counts.

Without waiting for his response, I start jabbing buttons and flipping switches. A red light flashes. I slam my hand down on it.

[Rachel, stop!] Ax's thought-speak is sharp and urgent, but it's too late. The ship jerks violently, and a shrill alarm blares.

Ax moves swiftly, nudging me aside with a firm but controlled push. [If you continue, you'll endanger everyone on board. Allow me!]

I step back, breathing hard, watching as he moves with precision. His fingers glide over the controls, silencing the alarm. The ship hums to life.

[What's going on up there?!] Jake's thought-speak bursts in, seething with frustration.

I barely hear him. My gaze is drawn to the large windows at the front of the cockpit. Outside, more humans pour from the hangar, scrambling into position. They're shouting, their mouths moving, but I can't hear them. I see the glint of Dracon beams raised, flashes of red light as they strike the ship's hull. The vibration shifts slightly with each hit.

None of it matters.

Because then I see him.

David.

He's there, standing among the Controllers. He's not holding a weapon. He's just… watching. His gaze cuts through the chaos, locking onto mine like a sniper's sight. My breath hitches, and everything inside me freezes.

How? How is he here?

He shouldn't be. He's gone. He's supposed to be gone.

But there he is. His face is calm, almost amused, a faint, mocking smile on his lips. His eyes, dark and unyielding, bore into me.

He knows I see him. He's not hiding. He wants me to know he's here.

Ax's voice filters through the fog, distant and unimportant. [Rachel, I need your assistance. There's a lever over there that will close the warehouse doors. Pull it now, or more will come.]

I can't. I can't move. My hands feel like lead weights at my sides. My feet are cemented to the floor. My mind screams at my body to act, but it's like the connection's been severed.

Fear. Anger. Confusion. They collide inside me, a storm I can't control.

My chest feels tight, each breath harder to pull in. My pulse thunders, but I'm paralyzed.

Why is he here? What does he want?

Memories flood back—seeing him in the park, the way he smiled like he was just another kid. Talking in the attic, his voice low, always knowing the right words to say. His touch, his kisses—deliberate, intoxicating, addicting. The way he manipulated me, twisting everything, making me doubt myself, my friends, my mission.

When he left. When I finally saw him for what he truly was. How far he would go. How dangerous he had become.

And after we captured him…

I shove the thought away, but it lingers, heavy and suffocating, pressing against my chest like a weight I can't shake.

And now, he's here. Staring at me. Smiling.

Cassie's voice crashes through the haze. [Rachel! Ax! We need help back here! Marco's hurt, and we're cornered!]

I hear her. I know what she's saying. I know Marco's in trouble, Cassie and Jake are in trouble, and they need me. But I can't tear myself away. David's face looms in my mind, blotting out everything else. The weight of his stare pins me in place.

He's here. He's here.

And he knows where I am. He sees me.

My hands start to shake. My breath quickens, shallow and ragged. Every muscle in my body is screaming at me to fight, to do something, but I'm frozen. My mind is spinning, searching for answers that aren't there.

Ax's stalk eyes swivel toward me, calm but insistent. [Rachel. Focus. We need you now.]

Focus? How am I supposed to focus when David is standing there?

When the past I thought I buried is staring me in the face?

Still, I don't move. I can't.

Without hesitation, Ax's tail swishes, the blunt side tapping the side of my head—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to snap me out of it. I blink, reality slamming back into place.

"Right," I mutter, shaking off the fog. I lunge for the lever Ax indicated and yank it down. The ramp retracts, and the warehouse doors groan as they begin to close, sealing us off from the outside.

I glance back at the window, but David is gone.

A chill runs through me. Where did he go? Was he even real? My stomach knots, but there's no time to dwell on it.

[Good] Ax says as the doors seal shut. [Now we can—]

[Help!] Cassie's thought-speak interrupts again, frantic.

I shake off the lingering unease and focus. I begin morphing back into my grizzly form. This morph is my armor, my strength. Fur erupts from my skin, muscles swell, and claws extend. The fear and confusion recede, replaced by raw power.

Without hesitation, I charge out of the cockpit. The sounds of battle grow louder—Jake's tiger snarling, Cassie's wolf growling, Marco's gorilla grunting, and the screeches of Hork-Bajir.

There's no room for fear now. No room for doubt.

This is who I am. This is what I do.