Shadows of Valthera

The alley greeted them with a sting of cold metal and the faint sting of wet iron. Silas and Ayla emerged from the tunnel into a city not yet awake, the first blush of morning barely illuminating Valthera's steel horizon. Above them, towers loomed like sleeping giants, their glass skins catching the silver dawn. The street here, tucked between forgotten walls, felt frozen in time—silent, damp, and eerily still.

Silas's eyes scanned the street, alert and calculating. Silas kept his hand close to his sidearm, not pulling it, but ready just in case. "We can't stay here," he said, his voice low and rough. "They'll sweep this zone the second they realize we slipped."

Ayla gave a single nod, brushing wet strands from her forehead. Exhaustion clung to her features, but behind it, her eyes were lit with sharp, guarded focus. "Where are we headed?"

"There's a contact nearby," Silas said. "She keeps off the radar. Trustworthy—and discreet. We can regroup there."

They moved swiftly, ducking through unlit corridors and slipping between service paths that twisted like veins beneath the city's skin. Surveillance eyes blinked high above, but they avoided the open roads. As the

architecture around them changed—steel towers crumbling into rusted balconies and dim shopfronts—Ayla felt the city shift. She was seeing a version of Valthera that didn't appear on postcards or corporate reports: broken,

breathing, and bitterly alive.

Nearly an hour later, they stopped in front of a squat building half-consumed by ivy and time. The shutters were welded shut, the paint flaked away in long, curling strips. Silas crouched by the doorframe and tapped a quick sequence into a hidden panel. A second later, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open with a rusty groan.

The room smelled like old machine oil and burnt wiring. Itwas small, cluttered with tools, half-built gadgets, and power cells humming softly beneath crowded workbenches. A woman looked up from behind a stack of papers, her face marked with a streak of grease. Her eyes narrowed beneath short, streaked hair that was equal parts steel and defiance. "You look like you wrestled a freight train."

Silas let out a breath of dry amusement. "Feels about right. We need to stay out of sight—just for a while."

Lex gave Ayla a once-over before nodding. "Fine. But don't bring heat to my doorstep."

The safe house was more workshop than home—wires snaked across tables, screens blinked with data streams, and the faint hum of a backup

generator buzzed overhead. Lex led them into a narrow back room—plain and dusty, with a wall lamp flickering overhead. In the corner sat a rough cot, its metal frame bent, the canvas sagging from long years of wear.

"Not much," she said, lifting an eyebrow. "But no one's tracking this place. You'll be invisible here."

Ayla sank onto the cot, wincing as tension left her shoulders. Silas pulled the flash drive from his jacket and set it on the table. "We need to know what's on this. It could be everything."

Lex's brows rose. "That why Wellington's hunting you?"

Silas nodded. "Ashur's on standby. We're cracking it today."

Hours passed in a blur. Lex connected the drive to her secure terminal and looped Ashur into an encrypted channel. Onscreen, Ashur's face appeared—haggard but alert.

"I've been expecting you," he said. "You're lucky. If this drive is what I think it is, Wellington's empire might finally bleed."

The decryption process was slow. Layers of protection—some standard, some custom-coded—resisted every move they made. Ayla sat beside

Silas, watching as lines of code scrolled across the screen. Her leg bounced

nervously.

"This is taking too long," she muttered.

Ashur glanced at her through the screen. "It's not just data. There's a virus embedded here—likely meant to corrupt the files or track whoever opens it."

Lex's fingers danced over the keyboard. "I can isolate it. But I need time."

While the program ran, Ayla stepped outside onto a narrow balcony. The city looked different from here—less imposing. Beneath the steel

and circuitry, it breathed like a wounded beast. Silas joined her, the silence

between them settling comfortably.

"You're not just doing this for your father," he said quietly.

She looked at him, lips parting slightly. "No," she admitted. "He was the beginning. But now... now I want to know the truth. About him. About all of this."

Silas nodded. "I get it."

Before either could say more, Lex burst through the door. "We're in."

Back inside, the screen filled with decrypted files—documents, schematics, names. One stood out immediately: Project Vanir –

Genomic Integration Trial: Phase III.

Ayla leaned in, her breath catching. "That's my father's signature."

Ashur began to read aloud, eyes narrowing. "Human trials. Unauthorized. Under the Nexus Biotech shell. All leads point to Wellington."

Lex cursed under her breath. "He's experimenting on people."

Silas clenched his fists. "We need to expose this. Publicly. Before he disappears it all."

Just then, the building's warning system chimed—three short beeps. Lex froze.

"Motion sensors tripped. Someone's outside."

Silas was already moving, gun in hand. Ayla followed, heart thudding.

From the shadows beyond the hallway, faint footsteps echoed. Then—silence.

Lex checked a monitor. "One heat signature. Could be a scout."

"Could be bait," Silas said. He gestured toward Ayla. "Stay close."

They moved through the inner rooms with quiet steps, their figures brushing past towers of old tech and dim consoles. The warehouse swallowed them in its quiet, a lull in the chaos that hung by a thread. Silas checked the corners, his mind racing. If Wellington had tracked them here, they had minutes—maybe seconds.

The chapter ends as the door creaks open, a silhouette appearing in the frame, backlit by the gray dawn.

Silas raised his weapon. "Who the hell are you?"

The figure stepped forward slowly—hands raised. A familiar voice cut through the tension.

"It's Zayn."

Silas lowered his gun in disbelief. "Zayn?"

But Zayn's face was grave. "You're both in deeper than you know. And we don't have much time."