The next day, the Safehouse buzzed with a tension that felt almost tangible. Word had spread quickly about the night’s mission and the information they’d uncovered. The regime knew about Alina. They weren’t just looking for an oracle; they were hunting her specifically.
Alina stood near a small window, watching the light filter through dust-covered glass, her mind churning. She couldn’t shake the image of the document—the label “Subject 12” burned into her thoughts, a constant reminder that she was no longer invisible.
Jarek approached her, his face set with determination. “We need to talk about what comes next.”
She nodded, bracing herself. She had known from the moment she read that file that things would change. Hiding wasn’t an option anymore; she was a marked target, and every decision from now on could mean the difference between life and death.
“What’s the plan?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.
“There’s a contact we’ve been working with,” Jarek explained. “Someone who operates on the fringes of the regime—close enough to gather information, but not close enough to be implicated. He’s helped us before, smuggling out intel, weapons, whatever we need. If anyone can help us navigate this, it’s him.”
Alina felt a flicker of hope. “Who is he?”
Jarek hesitated, glancing around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “He goes by Malachai. We don’t know much about him, and he likes to keep it that way. But he’s reliable, and he’s our best shot at getting information without exposing ourselves.”
“Why would he help us?” Alina asked, narrowing her eyes. “If he’s working with the regime, wouldn’t it be safer for him to turn us in?”
A shadow crossed Jarek’s face. “Malachai doesn’t work for the regime. He works with them—sometimes. There’s a difference. From what I’ve gathered, he’s got his own agenda, and for now, that aligns with ours.”
Alina processed his words, feeling a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. She knew better than to trust anyone blindly, but if Malachai could provide them with an advantage, it was worth the risk.
“When do we meet him?” she asked.
“Tonight,” Jarek replied, his tone final. “We’re going to the edges of the Industrial Zone. He operates out of an old warehouse there. Just… be ready. Malachai isn’t someone who offers help without a price.”
As the evening approached, Alina found herself growing more apprehensive. She had spent years hiding, avoiding any form of connection or alliance, but now she was stepping directly into a network of rebellion, one that depended on strangers and hidden motives. It was a terrifying thought, but it was also strangely liberating. She was no longer running alone.
When night fell, Jarek led her through the maze of alleyways that wound toward the Industrial Zone. The air grew thicker with smog, the buildings more dilapidated, as they moved deeper into the heart of the city’s forgotten sectors. Rusted machinery and broken pipes littered the area, remnants of a time when this part of the city had thrived.
Finally, they reached an abandoned warehouse, its steel doors hanging askew. Jarek knocked in a specific rhythm, and after a tense moment, the door creaked open to reveal a tall figure cloaked in shadow.
“Jarek,” the man said, his voice smooth but laced with a hint of menace. “And you brought a guest.”
Jarek inclined his head respectfully. “This is Alina. The oracle I told you about.”
Malachai’s gaze shifted to Alina, his eyes sharp and calculating. She met his stare, refusing to flinch under his scrutiny. His features were obscured in the dim light, but there was an aura about him—something that spoke of secrets and danger, as if he held knowledge that few could understand.
“So, the rumors are true,” Malachai murmured, a faint smile curving his lips. “An oracle. I thought your kind were extinct.”
“Almost,” Alina replied, keeping her tone even. “But here I am.”
“Indeed,” he said, stepping back to let them in. “I suppose you’re here to learn how deep the regime’s claws reach.”
The warehouse interior was cluttered with crates and papers, maps strewn across tables, charts pinned to walls with markings that tracked the regime’s movements. Malachai led them to a central table, his fingers tracing a line on one of the maps.
“They know you’re here, Alina,” he began, his tone matter-of-fact. “They’ve known for a while, actually. The only reason you’ve lasted this long is because they weren’t certain.”
Her heart tightened. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because knowledge is power,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “And if you want to survive, you’ll need more than just visions. You’ll need allies, strategies, and—most importantly—a plan.”
Alina’s eyes flicked over the maps, her mind racing. “What kind of plan?”
Malachai’s smile was thin, almost predatory. “The regime has eyes and ears everywhere, but they also have weaknesses. Corruption, fear, factions within their ranks. If you can use that to your advantage, you might just stand a chance.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what do you get out of this?”
He shrugged, leaning back against the table. “Let’s just say I have my own reasons for wanting the regime to lose its grip on this city. As long as our goals align, you have my support. But the moment they don’t…” His eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Consider this an arrangement of convenience, not loyalty.”
Alina nodded, understanding all too well. She couldn’t afford to trust him, not entirely, but she could use him, just as he intended to use her.
Jarek cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Malachai, do you have any information on their plans for the oracles?”
Malachai’s expression darkened. “More than you want to know. The regime fears what it can’t control, and oracles have always been an anomaly—a threat to their carefully constructed order. They’ve been searching for a way to… neutralize your kind for years.”
Alina swallowed, a chill running down her spine. “And what have they found?”
“They’re close,” he said, his voice low. “There’s a project underway—rumors of a device, something that can interfere with an oracle’s visions, maybe even suppress them entirely. They’ve been testing it on other… gifted individuals.”
Alina clenched her fists, anger flaring within her. “Where is this project?”
“Top security,” Malachai replied. “But I have a lead on a facility in the Central District. If you’re serious about fighting back, that’s where you’ll need to go. Find out what they’re building, and stop it.”
She glanced at Jarek, a mix of resolve and fear in her eyes. “Then we go to the Central District.”
Malachai raised an eyebrow, his expression almost amused. “Ambitious. But if you’re going to pull this off, you’ll need more than bravery. The regime won’t go down easily, and they’ll kill to protect their secrets.”
“Then I’ll just have to be smarter than them,” she replied, her voice steely.
Malachai’s smile returned, though it held a hint of respect this time. “Very well. I’ll arrange the details. But remember, Alina… trust is a luxury you can’t afford.”
She nodded, understanding the unspoken warning. She had stepped into a world of alliances and betrayals, a game where each move could be her last. But she was done hiding, done running. Whatever the regime had planned, she would be ready.
As she and Jarek left the warehouse, Alina felt a new sense of purpose settle over her. She had allies now, fragile as they were, and a target. The fear remained, a constant presence in the back of her mind, but it was tempered by something stronger—a fierce determination to fight, to survive, to reclaim the future they had stolen from her.
And as they slipped back into the shadows, she knew one thing with certainty: her war had just begun.