Moonlight fell in cold bars across the clearing.
Eshara's black eyes didn't blink as she watched me pull my arms tighter around my chest.
I was still naked, the raw air prickling every nerve.
But what struck me wasn't the cold.
It was the clarity.
Something in the transformation had burned away the noise.
I felt my own heartbeat like a drum in a cave, and behind it—
I could feel the shape of what they never wanted me to see.
"I'm not into wolves," I said suddenly, my voice ragged, like I had to get it out before it ate me alive.
She tilted her head, listening.
"But when you were standing there—" I swallowed. "When you were undressing, when you were transforming…"
I stared at the dirt between my knees, unable to meet her gaze.
"There was something about you that just—"
I took a slow breath.
"My mind was screaming 'beautiful.'"
I looked up, my face hot even in the cold.
"Not like a human," I went on quietly. "More like… the way you look at a perfect fish, or a whale breaching the surface, and you can't believe something that strange and unreal is real—"
I swallowed.
"And you wish everyone could see it for themselves."
Eshara didn't smile. She only nodded once, as if she'd heard this confession many times.
I sat in the dirt, my breath coming shallow, and the words kept spilling out:
"A lot of the core of the population…they're already catching on," I whispered.
"To what the worst of the bad apples desperately tried to hide. How they misshaped the environment, the physical reality…the whole landscape of this civilization."
My voice grew steadier, the clarity blooming like fire in my chest.
"They did it on purpose. Because a disoriented population is easier to control. Easier to misdirect. Easier to prey against."
I looked up at the branches, at the stars flickering between them.
"And the more clarity you have," I said slowly, "the more informed decisions you make. Decisions that benefit the core of the people who are just like you—and don't benefit the ones who've spent generations misusing everything they could get their hands on to dull your perception, dull your attention span, dull your alertness."
Eshara's black eyes gleamed in the dark.
I went on:
"They hijacked government sectors. They misshaped reality itself. They needed you to never see the tangible truths, the bigger picture."
"When you figure it out—"
I drew in a shaking breath.
"And the more you figure it out, the more there's no contest. That's what they fear the most."
She stepped closer, her coat brushing the leaves.
"You're right," Eshara said.
Her voice was low and certain, a sound that seemed to vibrate straight through my bones.
"They were never elites. Never just weapon contractors."
She paused, her gaze steady.
"They are a network of civilizational viruses."
Her fingers flexed at her sides, the tips ending in claws that hadn't fully retracted.
"Their hierarchy is getting noticed more. Which they never wanted. Because their power isn't real power—it's the illusion of concealment."
Her breath steamed in the cold.
"And when too much of the core of the population starts catching on, it becomes about placing new tools."
She looked up at the moon, then back at me.
"Tools they can't destroy. Tools that show who they really are."
I swallowed.
"What kind of tools?"
She studied me for a long moment before answering.
"There is a new open-source ledger and accountability button," she said softly.
Her voice was calm. Certain.
"It's already being moved into place. Quietly. By those who understand."
I frowned.
"An accountability button?"
"To track every currency extraction, those especially in key government positions of power that are supposed to serve the populations output measurably." she said. "To show every transaction they tried to bury. So the core of the population can nullify the power they stole."
My chest tightened.
"So they can't threaten judges. Can't pay off politicians. Can't erase evidence."
Her gaze sharpened.
"They can't do any of it when everyone can see it."
Eshara took a slow breath.
"They will no longer be able to misuse your military. Your military is made of your families," she said.
Her voice dropped lower.
"It was never theirs. It was yours."
The wind stirred the leaves around us.
"They used your own strength against you," she whispered. "Turning you against each other so they could keep extracting, keep destabilizing."
"They displaced millions so they could be easier to traffic, easier to harvest, easier to erase."
I shivered.
"It was never about population versus population," I said.
"No." Her voice was quiet.
"It was always about them—the worst of the worst bad apples—being allowed to run rampant, unchecked."
"And now," Eshara said, "it is time to counterbalance them."
She looked at me—really looked—and in that gaze I felt the weight of every generation that had tried to stand where I was kneeling.
"They are already preparing to flee," she went on. "Hiding in bunkers, stockpiling, bribing, forging plans to escape the planet."
I swallowed.
"Because too many have been catching on," I whispered.
She nodded.
"Because too many credible grown adults from the core of your populations are finally remembering what they came here to do."
Her eyes met mine.
"And it is no longer about the brief bodies you wear," she said.
Her voice was almost tender.
"It never was. It is about what you do with the body while you have it—and what you embody."
She turned her head, listening to something I couldn't hear.
"And it is time," she murmured, "to walk."
I swallowed again, feeling the cold all over me.
"Where are we going?"
Eshara took one step back, into the deeper dark between the trees.
"To the place where others like you have gathered," she said.
Her voice softened.
"There is so much more you will figure out. So much more I will tell you."
She extended her hand, palm open.
"And the faster you catch on, the better."
The wind shifted, bringing the scent of earth and old leaves.
I looked at her hand, then back at the moon.
And I knew there was no going back.
Slowly, I took her hand.
And stepped into the woods.