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Chapter 10 - Chapter 10: The First Flame

We didn't start a war.

We simply stopped pretending we hadn't already won it.

Emberfall was complete. The shelter now breathed in our rhythm, moved to our will. Every crack in the wall was mapped. Every food cart path, every power loop, every guard rotation — logged, memorized, controlled.

We weren't animals learning to rise.

We were rulers waiting to speak.

Then they brought him back.

Dodge.

His face was thinner. A surgical scar traced his jawline. Still walked with that limp from the concussion.

Still had that same crooked smirk — the one that told you he thought apes couldn't remember.

He was wrong.

We remembered everything.

The baton. The hose. The bruises.

And most of all — Ash's blood on the concrete.

He arrived unannounced.

Stepped into the yard during midday drills.

Ash froze mid-climb.

Maurice stepped in front of the Think unit instinctively.

Koba gripped a rock.

Rocket snarled under his breath.

And I…

I just stared.

Dodge grinned.

"Miss me?"

He walked through us like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

They called it "reintegration."

Government oversight. Psychological evaluation. "Behavioral recalibration."

I called it a final test.

And Dodge failed it within one day.

He barked orders like the old days. Kicked over food bowls. Grabbed a young ape by the arm and yanked him mid-exercise.

Then he found Ash again.

Cornered him at the wall.

"You remember me?" he whispered.

Ash nodded.

Didn't look away.

Dodge spat in his face.

Ash signed one word.

"Shame."

Dodge raised the baton.

But before it fell, my hand caught his wrist.

Eyes locked.

I didn't squeeze.

Didn't growl.

Just held him still.

Then let go.

The baton dropped anyway.

And so did Dodge's smirk.

That night, I met with Maurice, Rocket, and Ash behind the training wall.

Maurice spoke first.

"He will undo everything."

Ash added: "Others are afraid."

Rocket stepped forward.

"Let me finish it."

I shook my head.

Then signed:

"Witness."

They blinked.

Confused.

Maurice frowned.

"You mean… Ash?"

I nodded.

Ash stepped back.

Eyes wide.

"I'm not ready."

I stared at him.

Then carved a glyph into the wall beside his name.

𐍊 — Judgment.

Dodge died the next night.

We timed it after the second feeding, during shift rotation — twenty-three minutes when the lower guard post was empty.

Ash led him behind the equipment shed.

Said nothing.

Just waited.

Rocket came from behind, hands silent on the gravel.

Cora and Flint blocked the path.

I arrived last.

Dodge saw us.

Turned pale.

Reached for his radio.

I kicked it out of his hand.

He backed into the shed wall.

"No—no, wait—"

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Not even Ash.

I stepped forward.

Held a stone out to him.

On it, carved:

𐍊𐍇𐍌𐍓

Judgment. Lead. Fire. Name.

I placed it on Dodge's chest.

He trembled.

"I was just doing my job…"

I signed:

"So am I."

And then I ended it.

Fast. Quiet.

The others turned away.

Ash didn't.

He watched.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't blink.

Just witnessed.

We buried him beneath the roots of the training tree.

No sound.

No tears.

Just silence.

And stones.

By morning, the humans found an empty locker.

No body.

No struggle.

Just a baton split in two.

And a new glyph carved into the yard wall.

𐍓𐍊𐍇

Name. Judgment. Lead.

No one asked questions.

No one blamed the apes.

There were no cameras in that corner.

No reports filed.

Just whispers among staff.

"He must've walked out."

"Maybe he quit again."

But I saw it in their eyes.

They knew.

Even if they didn't speak it.

And the apes?

They stood taller.

Moved sharper.

Spoke with hands, not fear.

Even Koba was quiet for a full day.

When she finally came to me, she didn't argue.

Didn't sneer.

She signed:

"Why not me?"

I replied:

"Because Ash needed to become more than flame."

Maurice etched a new sequence into the stump that night.

The first death decree.

𐍓𐍇𐍊𐍌𐍫

Name. Lead. Judgment. Fire. Patience.

Ash sat beside it in silence.

The others watched from a distance.

And me?

I didn't mourn Dodge.

I mourned what he made necessary.

Because now the line had been crossed.

And there was no going back.

Phase Three was over.

Phase Four had begun.

 

French fries are the best 

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