The minotaur nodded slowly. "Fragments. I remember leading my clan. Remember the wasteland on Twenty-Three. Remember..." Its expression darkened. "Being hunted. Herded like prey toward a killing field. Then Master's blade, and darkness."
"And after?" Rhys pressed. "What's it like being bound?"
"Strange," the Alpha admitted. "I know what I was. Clan leader, warrior, survivor of hundreds of battles. But those memories feel distant, like they happened to someone else. What's clear, what's absolute, is my purpose now. Master's will is my will. His commands are my reality."
It paused, then added, "But Master has given me to you. Which means your survival is now my purpose. Your commands carry his authority."
Rhys glanced at Jack, who nodded confirmation. "He'll follow your orders as if they were mine within reason. If you tell him to attack me, that's not going to work. But for everything else? He's yours."
