Essil leaned back in his chair, his lean frame encased in a sharply tailored suit of dark charcoal, the fabric catching the faint ambient light of the room. His hair, a smooth cascade of silver and black streaks, was meticulously styled, framing a face marked by angular features and piercing, ice-blue eyes that seemed to assess everything and reveal nothing. A neatly trimmed beard added to his air of calculated authority, complementing the smooth, composed lines of his expression. His every movement was deliberate, betraying a man who thrived on control and precision. the subtle hum of the holo-screens around him filling the silence of his private office. The room, perched high within one of Entho Industries’ sleekest towers, was a testament to controlled opulence. Bioluminescent vines coiled in artful arrangements across the walls, glowing faintly in shades of emerald and violet. Below, the city sprawled endlessly, a chaotic web of lights and motion, dwarfed by the serenity of Essil’s domain.
He turned his attention to the projected figures spinning in midair before him. Currency flows, acquisition reports, and market trends flickered like constellations in his private galaxy of information. Essil’s sharp eyes moved over the data, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of his chair. A single tap activated a detailed breakdown of Katari Logistics’ recent activity. Their moves were bold, desperate even. Exactly as expected.
“Sir, the projections for the Rynkel merger have just updated,” came the calm voice of Arlow, his personal assistant, through the room’s comms. “Would you like them sent to your interface?”
“Not yet,” Essil replied smoothly. His voice carried the weight of quiet authority. “Give me the summary.”
“Profits from the merger are expected to undercut Katari’s logistics revenue by approximately 12% this quarter. However, there are… rumors that Katari may be pivoting to a new alliance with MillenTech to stabilize their holdings.”
Essil’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Rumors. Begin funneling resources to the Entho-Lysel acquisition. Emmaline will want to see something solid by the board meeting.”
“Understood, sir.”
The comms went silent, leaving Essil to his thoughts. He leaned forward, his hands steepled beneath his chin. The chessboard of Novus Etá was vast, and every piece moved to his rhythm. Katari’s blunders were merely opportunities. Where they saw chaos, he saw balance waiting to be tipped.
A soft chime broke the silence. Essil swiped a finger through the air, and the projection shifted to reveal Emmaline Entho herself. Her image, poised and commanding, filled the space with an aura as formidable as her title.
“Essil,” she began without preamble. “The Rynkel merger must close within the week. If Katari Logistics pushes their alliances any further, they may shift the market against us. We cannot afford to hesitate.”
Essil inclined his head. “Consider it handled. The Lysel deal will reinforce our position before Katari has time to counter.”
Emmaline’s eyes narrowed slightly, though a hint of approval played at the corners of her lips. “I trust your judgment, Essil. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Never, Ms. Entho,” he replied with calm confidence. The projection flickered out, leaving Essil alone once more.
He exhaled softly, leaning back into his chair as his thoughts turned toward other matters. His gaze lingered on a framed holo-image atop his desk. It depicted a serene vista of Entho’s primary research facility, a beacon of technological progress. The image served as both inspiration and a reminder of the stakes.
“Arlow,” Essil said, breaking the silence.
“Yes, sir?” the assistant replied instantly.
“Begin preparations for the currency devaluation strategy. Ensure our moves remain untraceable. I want Katari scrambling to explain their losses before the board even realizes what’s happening.”
“It will be done, sir.”
The comms chimed again, and this time Arlow’s tone was more guarded. “Sir, Lieutenant Valsar is here for the debrief.”
Essil’s fingers froze mid-tap before he leaned back with a measured breath. “Send him in.”
The office doors parted with a quiet hiss, revealing a man in black tactical gear, his face hardened by years of combat. Lieutenant Valsar stepped inside, saluting sharply before standing at attention. The faint scent of sweat and ozone clung to him—evidence of a mission freshly concluded.
“Lieutenant,” Essil said, his tone calm but expectant. “Report.”
“The Suidine liquidation was carried out as instructed," Valsar began, his voice clipped and efficient. "The assets have been neutralized."
Valsar hesitated briefly before adding, "If I may, sir, was there anything personal about the hit? The liquidation seemed inevitable without our interference."
Essil’s sharp gaze fixed on Valsar. "Lieutenant," he began, his tone calm but laced with subtle authority, "your orders were clear. The family heads were a critical piece. Without them, Katari will absorb the company entirely, making them vulnerable to external pressures. That is all you need to understand."
Valsar’s brow furrowed slightly, but he gave a curt nod. "Understood, sir."
Essil’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "Good. Confusion serves you well, Lieutenant. Your business is not to know my machinations, only to execute them flawlessly."”
Essil nodded slowly, his fingers still steepled. Rising from his chair, he moved to the massive floor-to-ceiling window that dominated one wall of his office. The city of Novus Etá sprawled out below him, a chaotic web of light and motion. From this height, the towers of the wealthy pierced the artificial haze like shards of crystal, their illuminated edges casting faint halos over the lower levels.
Beneath them, the mid-tier districts pulsed with flickering neon, advertisements for everything from genetic enhancements to nutrient packs playing on endless loops. And further below still, in the shadowed depths of the city, the faintest glimmers of life moved through the alleys and makeshift tenements. The contrast was stark—order and chaos, opulence and despair, all coexisting within the same teeming mass.
Essil’s gaze lingered on the lights of a distant industrial zone, where smokestacks belched faintly glowing plumes into the air, visible even from this height. To most, the sight would be a sign of life—industry thriving, the city’s heart beating. To Essil, it was a chessboard, each light a piece he moved with precision. “And the aftermath? Any risk of exposure?”
Valsar shook his head. “None, sir. Katari soldiers were engaged as intended. The collateral damage was indistinguishable from standard operational fallout. Their forces will shoulder the blame.”
Essil’s expression remained neutral, though there was a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. “And the intended ripple effect?”
“Already taking root,” Valsar replied. “Katari has begun to consolidate resources in response. Their markets show early signs of destabilization.”
“Excellent,” Essil murmured, settling back into his chair. “Let them burn their resources cleaning the mess of their own greed.”
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“Is there anything else, sir?”
Essil paused, studying the man for a moment. “No. Return to your unit and remain prepared for follow-up directives. Discretion, as always, is paramount.”
Valsar saluted crisply. “Understood, sir.”
As the door sealed shut behind the lieutenant, Essil’s fingers tapped a deliberate rhythm against his desk. The game was progressing perfectly, every move calculated to shift the board in Entho’s favor. The faint hum of the tower around him seemed to echo his thoughts, a quiet symphony of power consolidating in the shadows.
The stillness was interrupted by a sharp tone from Essil’s glowing lens HUD. He frowned slightly, answering the call. The logo of a local medical center blinked into sight, followed by a sterile voice.
“Mr. Radvarin, this is Meridian Health Services. We’re contacting you regarding an urgent matter involving a listed next-of-kin, Irintia Farvald. She was admitted earlier today by a Mr. Bakari Eros, and a Ms. Rae Belvia was declared DOA upon arrival. Mr. Eros insisted we contact you regarding costs for disposal and medical care.”
Essil’s gaze sharpened, the weight of the news visibly settling on his usually composed demeanor. His voice, though steady, carried an unmistakable edge of sorrow. “Rae… This is tragic beyond measure. Ensure that Irintia receives the best care available. Spare no expense. She’s been through too much already.”
The voice on the other end remained detached. “And the body of Ms. Belvia? Shall we proceed with standard disposal protocols?”
“No,” Essil said firmly, his tone carrying an edge of finality. “Hold on disposal until I can see her myself. I’ll arrange the visit personally. Hold all family at bay until I've arrived.”
“Understood, Mr. Radvarin. Processing will commence immediately for the medical care. Disposal arrangements have been paused.” The call ended with a sterile beep, leaving Essil alone in his office.
He leaned back, exhaling slowly, the weight of the moment pressing against him. Even in a world driven by precision and control, this call was a reminder of the raw, human costs that rippled beneath the surface of every decision. With a sharp inhale, he straightened, his composure returning in an instant.
He swiped through his lens HUD, setting his office to out-of-office mode with a smooth sequence of gestures. The room dimmed slightly, its operational hum fading to a low standby setting.
"Arlow," he said sharply, activating the comms.
"Yes, sir?" the assistant replied immediately.
"Arrange immediate transport to Meridian Health Services. Notify the driver to be ready within five minutes."
"Understood, sir."
Essil rose from his chair, his gaze briefly flicking to the cityscape beyond the window. Then, with purposeful steps, he exited the office, the weight of his concern for Irintia propelling him forward.
***
Irintia curled herself in Bakari's arms, her face buried against his chest. His broad frame enveloped her completely, offering a sense of safety that contrasted starkly with the sterile, impersonal waiting room around them. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, sterile glow that only deepened the weight of their grief. Bakari held her tightly, his arms a silent reassurance, his hand occasionally brushing her hair in soothing motions.
She didn’t speak, her breathing shallow and uneven, her tears soaking into his shirt. Bakari’s jaw tightened, his own emotions carefully buried under a mask of calm. He rested his chin lightly atop her head, speaking softly. “Iri, you don’t have to talk. Just breathe. I’m here.”
Her hands tightened their grip on his shirt, but she remained silent, her face pressed into his chest. Bakari let the quiet stretch, understanding better than to push her too soon. Finally, he spoke again, his voice low and steady. “She mattered to me too, Iri. I just want you to know that.”
Irintia’s breath hitched, and she pulled back slightly, her red-rimmed eyes glaring up at him. “Then why aren’t you angry?” she hissed. “Why aren’t you ready to tear this place apart? She was one of us. You loved her too. Why won’t you show me you’re angry?”
Bakari hesitated, his face creasing with quiet pain. “I want to be. I want to burn the city for her. But it’s not going to solve anything, Iri. You know that. Deep down, you know that.”
She shoved herself out of his arms, her movements sharp and abrupt. “You don’t get it!” she snapped, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled over her cheeks. “You weren’t there, Bakari. You didn’t see it. He tore her throat out in front of me! I had to watch him—watch him rip her apart—and you’re telling me to calm down? You don’t know anything!”
Bakari straightened, his voice soft but unwavering. “You’re right. I wasn’t there. I didn’t see it. But I see you now. And I know you, Iri. I know you’ll let this eat you alive if I don’t stand with you.”
Her fists trembled at her sides, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts. “I don’t care. He deserves to suffer. I’ll hold him down myself. I’ll watch as I slowly drain the life from him. I can't let her go, knowing I did nothing for her.”
Bakari’s eyes softened, his hands twitching slightly as if he wanted to reach for her again. “I know you want justice. But this isn’t what Rae would have wanted. She always disagreed with your reckless side. She'd want you safe, Iri.”
Irintia turned away sharply, her arms wrapping around herself as she sank back into the chair, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Bakari stepped back, his gaze lingering on her, his own helplessness written in the tight lines of his face.
The door to the waiting room opened, and both of them looked up. Essil Radvarin stepped in, his composed expression softening as his eyes met Irintia’s. He wore a tailored suit, though the slight dishevelment of his tie and cuffs hinted at the urgency of his arrival.
“Irintia,” he said gently, his voice carrying the warmth of a father figure. “Bakari.”
Bakari hesitated, glancing at Irintia, before reluctantly moving to one side. “I’ll… be outside,” he said, his voice strained. He cast one last look at Irintia before stepping out, leaving her alone with Essil.
Essil sat in the chair Bakari had vacated, his movements slow and deliberate. He studied Irintia for a moment, his eyes filled with concern. “I came as soon as I heard. I… I’m so sorry, Irintia.”
She didn’t respond, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared at the floor. Essil sighed softly, leaning forward.
“I’ve taken care of all the costs,” he began. “The medical expenses, everything. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” Irintia said flatly, her voice thick with suppressed anger.
Essil nodded, accepting her defiance without protest. “I know. But I wanted to. You mean a great deal to me, Irintia. And I hope, when you feel ready, we can have dinner. There are things I’d like to discuss. Your future. Perhaps coming to work with me, where I can protect you.”
She looked up at him sharply. “Protect me? Essil, it was a Katari, Marshal Katari that did this. That sick slab of slag killed Rae." Her head shaking in disbeliefe. "You have the power to do something about this. Help me, Please, Help me do something!”
Essil sighed in response. “I know, my dear. But you also know that going after him now would mean open war between Entho and Katari. It’s not just about us, Irintia. Thousands would die. That’s not a cost anyone should be willing to pay.”
Her expression twisted with fury, tears spilling as she hissed through clenched teeth. “No. I can’t accept that. You weren’t there, you didn’t see it. He tore her throat out right in front of me! I had to watch him—watch him rip her apart like she was nothing! And now you’re telling me to to wait?” She shook her head, trembling. “I will make him pay. I will hold him down the life drain through my fingertips. Rae deserves that.”
Essil leaned forward, his voice lowering but firm. “Irintia, listen to me. You don’t have to do this alone. Come work with me. Let me protect you. We’ll find another way—a way that doesn’t get you killed.”
Her fists clenched, and she stepped back, glaring at him. “No. If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will. Someone who doesn’t care about the cost.”
Essil’s gaze softened, a flicker of pain flashing in his eyes. He reached out briefly, then dropped his hand, letting it rest on the arm of the chair. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But this isn’t about not caring. It’s about doing what’s right for the future, not just for now.”
He hesitated before placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "You’re not alone, Irintia. Please remember that."
Essil lingered for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek, black device no larger than his palm. Its surface gleamed faintly under the fluorescent light.
“I want to give you this," he said softly, holding the device out to her. "It’s a black box—a fragment of Rae’s mind. Memories, thoughts, echoes of who she was. Her parents agreed to this, and I made a second copy for you. I thought it might help."
Irintia’s eyes flicked to the device, her hands trembling. "Help?" she whispered, her voice thick with grief. "This isn’t her. This is some shadow, some machine pretending to be Rae!"
Essil’s expression remained calm, though the sadness in his eyes deepened. "I know it’s not the same. It never could be. But it’s something. It’s a way to keep her close when the pain feels unbearable."
Irintia’s gaze lingered on the device, her face twisting with a mix of anger and longing. Finally, she reached out and took it from him, clutching it tightly in her hands as fresh tears welled in her eyes.
Essil stood, his voice gentle but firm. "When you’re ready, we can talk more—about this, about your future. I’ll be here for you, no matter what."
She didn’t respond, her shoulders shaking as she stared down at the black box. Essil watched her for another moment before stepping toward the door. At the threshold, he paused, glancing back at her tear-streaked face. "My condolences," he said quietly before stepping out.
Irintia remained seated, her body trembling as fresh tears fell. The room felt colder, emptier, and she was left alone with the weight of her grief, the cold touch of the black box in her hands and a promise she had made to herself. A promise of vengeance.