Parallel Memory

"Congratulations," Commander Rurik said, his gravelly voice cutting clean through the murmurs that still floated around the council chamber. He leaned forward slightly from his seat, fingers laced over the long table as a smile tugged at the edge of his otherwise stern face. "You passed."

For a moment, I stood still, uncertain if I’d heard him correctly. Passed? After everything? I blinked, breath catching in my chest. I hadn’t even tagged a single person in the ridiculous game. I thought I’d failed miserably.

I was still recovering from the humiliation of running around the building like a headless chicken, only to realize they’d all been in the main hall the entire time. And now he was saying I passed?

I must have looked utterly lost, because Rurik let out a low chuckle. "Don’t look so surprised. The point wasn’t to win the game."

I raised a brow, wary.

"That letter from the Authority might’ve got you into the room," he continued, "but it doesn’t earn you a seat at this table. We needed to see who you are—not your resume, not your achievements. Just you."

The others nodded. Kaelion had an amused glint in his eyes. Seraphine rested her chin in her palm, watching me like she was evaluating my response. Even Ilyra Voss, who had barely spoken until now, tilted her head with a flicker of approval.

"Some people reach SS rank and start thinking they have to act a certain way," Rurik said, voice steady but firm. "Stoic. Untouchable. They let status go to their heads. We’re not like that."

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he spoke. "Here in the War Council, we deal with real life-or-death situations. We don’t have the luxury to waste time on politics, status games, or formality. That’s the Authority’s job."

I slowly nodded, absorbing his words. It made sense. In truth, I had been bracing myself for that kind of stiff environment—where every conversation was layered with veiled meaning, where everyone played chess with people’s lives. But this? This was... something else. Something more human.

"We’re an autonomous body," Rurik continued. "That means we’re responsible for ourselves and for each other. We believe in freedom—not just in how we fight, but how we live. A caged bird forgets how to fly, and we can’t afford that kind of thinking when we’re standing at the edge of a battlefield."

He smiled again, softer this time. "There’s no perfect way to do anything in a world full of chaos and variables. The test was to see which side you’d pick: the Authority or us."