No, not a full on mutant, but at least a deviation of the standard genetic template that was common for humans. Considering that all three of these people had the same kind of mutation, it was safe to assume a majority of the local populace would also possess this minor change in biology.

But… perhaps the change was deeper beneath the surface? If Lance truly possessed no bionics, then perhaps her skeletal structure was different from standard humans? Thicker bones perhaps? If so, then wouldn’t her limbs be broader than that? Lance and these men didn’t seem any wider than a normal person, in fact, they seemed marginally thinner, more lean.

“This construct here saved my life.” Lance explained to the guards “I deem it safe for its entry if it wishes it.”

The guards looked to one another, sharing a concerned look before turning their attention back to Lance “As the watcher says, their life on the line.” One of them said, then they both stepped to the side, holding their spears tall.

Lance merely nodded at the words and passed through the open gate wordlessly, with Hoplite following right behind her. The guards eyes followed him as he walked through the gate behind Lance, and he could see them turning their heads to stare at his back. If they knew he could still see them would they have still done that? Probably. Why would Lance's life be on the line? Perhaps it was a sort of warning for these watchers; that if they brought in a malignant stranger they would be punished. Hoplite would keep that in mind moving forward.

As they passed into the forest, Hoplite could see the gate re-lower from his rear camera, aided by the prehensile roots. Did they somehow manage to train this creature to do that? How does one domesticate something like this? Would that really keep out the fiends? If they were determined enough, they could likely scale the wall, aided by the many grooves afforded them by the dozens of roots making up its surface… that is unless this wall was capable of repelling climbers. If the roots could drink up a whole gate, why not suck in invaders attempting to climb it? Crushing their bones or whipping them from its surface with its tendrils?

“The Harkhall will be at the ilum tree in the center, we’ll get there quicker if we run. Just ignore anyone who stares, we don’t get a lot of visitors with a watcher's blessing. Even less so when that visitor is a construct.” Lance said, breaking into a run “Not that we’ll see a lot of folk out tonight, we elves prefer a daytime schedule… Though the falling star is sure to have stirred a few.”

Hoplite followed suit, easily keeping her pace as they moved through the woods. Is that what these colonists called themselves? Elves? That was a fictional species wasn’t it? Hoplite distinctly remembered reading a book when he was but a child years before his conscription that had a plethora of fantasy creatures in it, including elves. He hadn’t thought about that book in years… he couldn’t quite place a name to it anymore… it had to have been over two-hundred years since he had read it.

As he remembered it, elves had pointed ears and lean frames, much like Lance and those guards had. Perhaps they had access to that novel and decided to name their branch of humanity after the elves? It wasn’t the most ridiculous name he’d seen branches come up with. This colony had to have been lost before first contact with the Final Kind, based on Lance’s initial reaction to him talking about them. She had seemed completely ignorant of what the Final Kind were… perhaps she had misheard him earlier?

“Have your people made any contact with the Final Kind yet?” Hoplite asked her.

“I know not what you speak of.” She replied.

That pretty much confirmed it. There was a chance that just Lance herself was ignorant of their existence, but that was slim. A lost colony from before the first contact era… these people had to have been alone for over five-hundred years at least. Yet they still kept with the Jynesian standard, the language hadn't deviated since losing contact with Terna.

During their entire sprint to reach the Harkhall, they had passed several dozen moving trees, some of which seemed to actually move out of their path as Lance and Hoplite approached. There were some elves that had been awakened by news of this ‘falling star’ all gawking at him wide-eyed as he followed Lance. They were dressed in fine clothing, looking the furthest thing from destitute but not appearing pompous. His earlier hypothesis was confirmed as he saw that all these people bore pointed ears. Unlike Lance, these other elves seemed to have bright blonde hair, so much so they almost seemed to be white. Thankfully none of them tried to stop them as they made way for this ‘ilum tree’.

At some point he would need to clarify to Lance that this ‘falling star’ was nothing more than his escape shuttle. For them to call it such was… odd. Why not immediately assume it was a meteorite? It was primitive to think that a star could fall. Perhaps these people had regressed further than he initially thought.

Further and further they went, passing the occasional elf or moving tree, the landscape otherwise unchanging save for the thick roots jutting up from the earth. As they drew closer to the ilum tree, Hoplite noticed these massive roots rising up from the earth in patches, all seemingly leading toward the center. The most notable thing about them being that they bore that very same green glow as the root wall.

The moving trees didn’t bear this glowing green glow in their roots… were these glowing roots running all the way back to the root wall? What had Lance called it? The Bastion? They then entered a clearing at long last, bare of any trees but gently writhing with glowing green roots. If these were coming from the center, then that must mean that-

The largest tree Hoplite had ever seen came into view, easily towering over the highest skyscraper. Had there been any clouds in the sky, he doubted he’d be able to see the huge branches high above, their leaves casting a massive shadow on the tiny forest below. For a moment, he slowed his stride, taking in the immensity of this impossible creature. This tree had to be as large- no, larger than the Sparrow. How- how was it even possible that he didn’t see this on entry? How didn’t he see it from the Sparrow itself high in orbit? Perhaps it simply hadn't been quite that large, but still.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Lance asked “I’m sure even a construct could appreciate the majesty of the Ilum Tree.”

“You said it was a big tree.” Hoplite told her, still marveling at the thing.

“Did I lie?” Lance asked, a tinge of sarcasm in her tone.

“No.” Hoplite replied.

How did this creature not destroy all other plant life around it? For a creature of such size to exist here, the surrounding wilderness should be a barren wasteland. How nutrient dense was this soil? Was it an adult version of those moving trees he saw earlier? Were those its young? The questions whirled through his mind uncontrollably, frustrating him until he turned his focus back to the task at hand.

“How do we reach the Harkhall?”

“It should have happened already…” She said, slowing to a brisk walk “We still haven’t been taken.”

“What do you mean-”

In a single millisecond everything around them suddenly vanished. The dark night outside had instantly changed into a large brightly lit circular chamber of gnarled brown wood. Shocked, he immediately raised his shotgun, aiming it at the dozens of elves suddenly surrounding his position above him.

They were all seated in benches that had seemingly been grown from the wood beneath their feet, sitting high above Lance and Hoplite. A glowing yellow crystalline structure pulsed above in the center of the ceiling, suspended by glowing green roots that seemed too thin to hold up the tank-sized crystals weight.

It had to be around a hundred feet up from where Hoplite stood. If it fell then it would crush him and Lance both.

“It’s okay!” Lance shouted, trying and failing to push the barrel of his gun downward “We’re here, this is the Harkhall!"

Hoplite wouldn’t remove his finger from the trigger or lower his gun until he was certain that nothing in this chamber was of any immediate danger to him.

The ten elves in the high seats seemed to not care about the weapon Hoplite aimed at them. They were as stony-faced as he himself was, though none would be able to see it. The golden glow of the crystal illuminated their well-dressed forms, each wearing well-made wool or clinging silks. Hoplite hoped that his shock didn’t show through his body language… certainly he had just been teleported.

And teleportation was supposed to be impossible, even for the Final Kind. What could these people be capable of if they could do something so utterly unfeasible? He would need to confiscate that equipment, whatever it was, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, it could change the tide in the war.

A war they had already lost? He internally berated himself for the thought. Hoplite was still alive, and so were the humans that escaped the Sparrow. As long as even a few of them remained, the war was still ongoing. He turned his attention from his thoughts to the situation at hand.

A circular wall penned Hoplite and Lance below the elves, who continued to stare down at them disapprovingly. There were ten sets of eyes there, all looking expectant. He then noticed that those disapproving glares were directed at Lance, not himself.

Lance stared up at him pleadingly, still trying to bring the barrel of the gun down "Please!" She whispered loudly.

Hesitantly, he complied, remembering the words those gate guards had spoken to her earlier. Hoplite did not lower his guard though, ready to bring up his shotgun to blast the instant something went awry.

She nodded thankfully and turned her gaze toward the elves above.

"I as a watcher of the wood have come to deliver important news." She announced loudly.

"Out with it then Lancela." A matriarchal elf woman said coldly.

Matriarchal, but she bore no wrinkles to show as much. It was those bright green eyes that conveyed the impression, showing wisdom beyond her years. Perhaps elves could live longer than normal humans as in that book he had read as a child? She had horrendously long blonde hair that fell around her seat in waves, spilling over to brush the bare wood beneath her feet. Hoplite couldn't even imagine the hassle of caring for a tenth of that mop, why had this woman grown it out so long? She then looked from Lance to him, her pale green eyes seeming to glow as they took him in from head to foot. She really was a gorgeous woman he supposed… Those thick curves, that perfect symmetrical face, that pale supple skin...truly the most beautiful woman he had ever-

Hoplite felt frozen for a millisecond before he was able to finally tear his eyes away from that bright gaze. What on earth was he thinking of? Where did those thoughts come from? He would need to submit himself for re-indoctrination if these base urges returned. A Hoplite... should not feel that way! The woman seemed taken aback for the briefest of instants before her face resumed that cool stony calm, looking quickly from Hoplite to Lance.

None of the others spoke.

"Fiends have come close to the bastion Harkmother… I swear it on my family and honor, they are no more than a few miles from here." Lance told them, her words slicing through the silence like a razor “We must call the Tongues for aid, even Akan-dar if we must. If the Fiendwall has fallen, the Death Spiral will spread.”

The Harkhall all looked to each other wide-eyed, some even gasping aloud. Those who gasped suddenly put hands to mouths, looking... embarrassed? For what, Hoplite had no idea, but the Harkmother spared a quick withering glance to those who had.

"Also…” She said, drawing their attention back to her “This construct saved my life and brought me here to deliver this news, I ask to allow it sanctuary until it is ready to move on." Lance told them, gesturing to Hoplite.

"He." The Harkmother said, crossing her arms "I know for a certainty that this 'construct' is a human." She said, staring at him "And a strong minded one at that…" She added thoughtfully "My gaze held him no longer than a hand on a slipfish, but the fact it held him at all reveals his true nature. You've brought a human into the Harkhall Lancela, but at no fault of yours." She continued more sympathetically "Unfortunately… This still means that you must be stripped of rank. We will allow you to stay in the Faewood as you wish, but you will never watch again. Forgive me, I do not wish this upon you, but any mistake made by a watcher must be punished by stripping of rank."

Lance went wide-eyed, staring dumbfounded at Hoplite before falling to her knees "That's not fair… w-we allow men into the Faewood and even the Bastion sometimes…" she said, a stutter to her voice as she stared up at the Harkhall. Suddenly, anger flashed in her eyes and seeped into her voice "So why not here!? I didn’t know he was human I swear it!" She shouted desperately.

"I do not doubt you Lancela… It is as Foundation commanded millenia ago. The Harkhall does not question the will of the pillar-gods Lancela. I am sorry… but you are dead to the watchers now." The Harkmother said with a tinge of sadness to her tone "There are other societies you can join, perhaps the tree hunters?" She asked, attempting to sound soothing.

Lance said nothing, merely sitting there and staring up at the gathered members of the Harkhall with disbelief. The other members of the Hall averted their gaze from Lances pleading eyes, shame plain on their faces. Whether it was for Lance’s mistake or for themselves Hoplite was not sure. The Harkmother actually seemed to be genuinely displeased with this outcome, perhaps there could be a way for him to change things.

"What do you intend to do with me?" Hoplite asked in a flat tone.

"You… well, there isn't a specific law for a situation such as this. No human has ever set foot in the Harkhall." She explained "Foundation never told our forefathers a protocol for if this were to happen..." She said, voice trailing off as she placed a finger to her chin, brow furrowed.

"I'm not human." Hoplite told her "So you must restore Lance's rank."

Everyone in the chamber stared at the Harkmother, even Lance, who wore a confused expression.

"My eyes make human men unable to resist my allure, it is how I test… uncertain visitors." She told him "I felt your eyes on me as you felt mine on yours."

"I resisted." He told her. "By your laws I believe that you must restore her rank."

Silence passed between the members of the Harkhall, all seeming to stare deeply into one another's eyes. Why weren’t they saying anything? Another elf; a tall lean fellow with long black hair and smooth features, shot a glance at the Harkmother. They both stared at one another for a long while before finally she smiled.

“While a human of pure blood is not allowed by law within this hall… I suppose that one such as you would not count as a full on human. Geravall tells me you are certainly part man… part something else. By technicality, I rule that Lance keeps her rank as watcher." She said, the relief in her voice seeming genuine.

“This can not be!” Another elf shouted, standing from his bench to glare down at Hoplite.

He was another tall elf, though far more lanky than lean, and with a lower brow than the dark haired fellow and with lighter locks. His angry red eyes stared accusation at Lance. He had never seen that shade of eye-color before on a person, yet another minor mutation to constitute this branch of humanity.

“Even if he possesses the smallest drop of human blood, Foundation has ruled that she must be stripped of rank! You will not bend the rules of our lord Draoi!” He shouted, a vein popping on his forehead from the intensity of his voice.

“You break even the most basic of rules by simply speaking aloud Terlin, do not preach to me about bending rules when you yourself outright break them!” The Harkmother shouted back, a broad vein bulging on her brow.

He opened his mouth again, but the rest of the chamber stared daggers at Terlin. Whatever he had been about to say was stuffed back down his throat with a cough. Terlin's jaw clenched tightly, to the point where Hoplite believed that the elf might just crack a tooth. This one had a temper on him.

Lance stood quickly, bowing to the Harkmother and then quickly turning to beam up at him “Thank you Hoplite, I won’t forget this, truly.” She whispered.

He nodded and looked to the elf man who must have been Geravall. How did he and the Harkmother communicate wordlessly? Did they possess matching communication implants? And more importantly…

How was it that Geravall knew about project CHIMERA?