Elias took a winding route back toward the safehouse, doubling back twice to confirm he wasn't followed.
Standard counter-surveillance technique, executed with the practiced precision of a career operative.
The rain had lessened to a fine mist, hanging in the air like suspended time.
Pre-dawn Warsaw was a ghost city of empty streets and shuttered storefronts.
The perfect backdrop for a clandestine meeting between two people who officially didn't exist.
His interface pulsed softly as he rounded the corner onto Mokotowska Street.
[PROXIMITY ALERT: OPERATIVE NIGHTSHADE DETECTED]
[APPROACH WITH CAUTION]
[SUGGESTED PROTOCOL: VERIFICATION SEQUENCE]
He slowed his pace, scanning the shadows of the narrow street.
A figure emerged from the recessed doorway of a closed bakery, posture relaxed but alert.
The woman from the storage facility.
Nightshade.
She wore civilian clothes now—dark jeans, weathered leather jacket, boots suited for both combat and quick urban movement.
Nothing that would draw attention.
Nothing that would betray her as something more than human.
Elias maintained distance, hand near his concealed weapon.
"Verification," he said quietly.
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Prague sequence or standard EIDOLON?"
"Prague."
The fact that she recognized the distinction was telling.
She nodded. "Vanguard, Echo, Indigo, Labyrinth."
The first letters spelled VEIL—no coincidence, he was certain.
"Your turn," she said. "Callsign and final Prague transmission."
Elias felt a cold weight settle in his stomach.
No one outside the operation should know that information.
"Veil," he replied. "Final transmission: 'Target secured. Something's wrong. Get us out—'"
"'—now,'" she finished. "The transmission cut off there. Three minutes later, the research facility was destroyed."
She stepped closer, her right eye catching the faint streetlight with that subtle luminescence he'd noticed earlier.
"We should move," she said. "Two blocks east. There's a café that opens early for the factory workers."
Elias checked his watch. 0412.
Less than two hours until his extraction.
His interface pulsed:
[TRUST ASSESSMENT: INDETERMINATE]
[RECOMMEND CONTINUED ENGAGEMENT WITH CAUTION]
[OPERATIONAL SECURITY COMPROMISED: 28%]
"After you," he said.
The café was little more than a hole in the wall, its windows steamed over from the constant production of coffee and basic breakfast foods.
Four workers in factory uniforms occupied a corner table, their conversation a low murmur beneath Eastern European pop music playing from an ancient radio.
The woman led him to a table at the back, positioned with clear sightlines to both the entrance and the rear exit.
An operative's choice.
She ordered coffee in flawless Polish when the half-asleep server approached.
Elias did the same, adding a request for pastries they'd never eat.
Window dressing.
Normalcy as camouflage.
When the server retreated, Elias studied the woman across from him.
The scars on her face followed patterns he recognized—neural feedback burns from a Shimmerskin interface that had overloaded.
Supposedly fatal at that severity.
"You have questions," she said, wrapping her hands around the chipped mug of black coffee.
"Let's start with a name."
She considered him for a moment. "You can call me Ash."
"Just Ash?"
"For now." She sipped her coffee. "No different than your 'Nighthawk' or 'Veil.'"
Elias leaned back slightly. "Ex-CIA?"
Another faint smile. "Among other things."
The calculated vagueness of someone who'd worked in the shadows so long they'd forgotten how to step into the light.
He recognized it because he saw it in the mirror every day.
"I need proof you're what you claim to be," he said. "Anyone could learn verification codes with the right access."
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Ash set down her coffee cup and locked eyes with him.
Slowly, deliberately, she blinked.
When her eyes opened, her right iris expanded, the pupil contracting to a pinpoint of darkness in a field of luminous amber.
And around that eye, visible only to him, a HUD materialized.
Not projected onto her retina like his.
Integrated into her vision.
More complex than his interface.
More evolved.
[LEVEL 4 – OPERATIVE]
[AWARENESS: 17]
[TACTICS: 21]
[PERCEPTION: 14]
[SYSTEM COMPATIBILITY: 83%]
Additional metrics scrolled beside her head—skill trees he didn't have, permissions he couldn't access.
"You're seeing it," she said. Not a question.
Elias felt his mouth go dry. "How long?"
"Since Prague. Five years, two months, eighteen days."
The server returned with a plate of pastries, forcing a pause in the conversation.
When they were alone again, Elias pushed the untouched food aside.
"What is it?" he asked. "A neural interface? Some kind of implanted tech?"
Ash's expression hardened. "That's your EIDOLON training talking. Always looking for technology, weapons, assets to control."
She tapped her temple. "This isn't a game, Vale. It's not a weapon system or a tactical advantage to be exploited."
"Then what?"
"A protocol. A paradigm shift." She leaned forward. "And no one chose us for it. The protocol picked you, like it picked me and the others."
Elias processed this, testing it against what he knew.
"Others?"
"Twelve that I'm aware of. Seven still active. Three gone dark. Two confirmed dead."
Her clinical tone couldn't hide the weight behind those numbers.
"Is your suit real Shimmerskin?" she asked, abruptly changing direction. "The SMR-001 prototype?"
Elias didn't answer, maintaining his operational security despite everything.
Ash nodded as if his silence confirmed something.
"It's why you were selected. The neural interface capacity of the suit creates... apertures. Opportunities for connection."
"Connection to what?"
Her eyes—one natural, one luminous—held his gaze.
"We call it the Veil."
The interface in his vision pulsed at the name, as if recognizing itself.
"Not EIDOLON's designation," she continued. "That's what those of us who've been through it call the interface."
"Why 'the Veil'?"
"Because it sits between realities. Between what is and what could be."
She gestured vaguely toward his temple, where she somehow knew his HUD was positioned.
"What you're seeing is just the surface. The game-like structure is how our minds interpret something far more complex."
Elias felt a flicker of anger. "You're not giving me answers. You're speaking in riddles."
"Because the full truth would sound insane." Ash's voice remained calm. "What's your current level?"
"One."
"Compatibility?"
"Thirty-seven percent."
She nodded. "It'll increase. Faster than you expect. The integration accelerates once it gains a foothold."
"Integration with what?"
"A system that wasn't meant for humans to access." She sipped her coffee, grimacing at its bitterness.
"The Veil has been dormant for years. Mostly inactive since Prague. But it's been waking up since the orbital strike three days ago."
Elias stiffened. "What orbital strike?"
The interface expanded in his vision, as if responding to his sudden interest:
[INFORMATION RESTRICTED: LEVEL 3 CLEARANCE REQUIRED]
[CLASSIFIED DATA: ORBITAL ANOMALY DETECTED]
[ACCESS DENIED]
Ash watched his reaction, reading something in his expression.
"They didn't tell you. Of course not." Bitterness crept into her voice. "Three days ago, something impacted in the upper atmosphere over the Pacific. Official story is a meteor that broke up before reaching the surface."
"And the unofficial story?"
"An object of unknown origin that emitted a specific frequency burst before disintegrating."
She tapped her temple again. "The same frequency the Veil operates on."
Elias thought back to the airfield mission—the extraction in the rain, the Shimmerskin malfunction.
The first appearance of the interface.
Three days ago.
"That can't be coincidence," he said.
"There are no coincidences with the Veil." Ash checked her watch. "How long until extraction?"
"Less than two hours."
She nodded. "You have a choice to make."
"You mentioned people trying to control it. Who?"
"EIDOLON, for one. But they're just middlemen." She leaned closer. "There are organizations that have been aware of the Veil for decades. The more they try to harness it, weaponize it, the worse it reacts."
"Reacts how?"
"Increased instability in the affected regions. Accelerated degradation in compatible hosts." She gestured toward him. "Like you."
Elias's interface pulsed with new information:
[WARNING: NEURAL DEGRADATION RATE INCREASED]
[ESTIMATED FUNCTIONALITY: 42 DAYS, 6 HOURS]
The timeline had shortened again.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, keeping his voice steady despite the growing alarm.
"Your help." Ash's expression softened slightly. "And to help you in return."
"Why would you help me?"
"Because I know what it's like. The headaches. The sensory overload. The feeling that you're losing yourself piece by piece."
She rolled up her sleeve, revealing an arm covered in the same neural feedback scarring that marked her face.
"I was the first. The prototype. Level 1 to Level 4 in eighteen months."
She rolled her sleeve down. "It nearly killed me. Still might."
The haunted look in her eyes held no deception Elias could detect.
"The device I gave you," she continued. "It's not just for accessing the memory artifact. It can help stabilize your integration. Slow the degradation."
Elias felt the weight of the small device in his pocket.
"At what cost?"
"Information. Cooperation. When the time comes."
His interface presented another notification:
[CRITICAL CHOICE AVAILABLE]
[OPTION 1: RETURN TO EIDOLON - MAINTAIN OPERATIONAL PARAMETERS]
[OPTION 2: ACCEPT ASSISTANCE - NEW OPERATIONAL DIRECTIVE]
[CHOOSE WISELY - THIS DECISION WILL SIGNIFICANTLY ALTER YOUR PATH]
Ash seemed to sense his internal conflict.
"You don't have to decide right now. Return to the safehouse. Make your scheduled extraction."
She slid a small metal chip across the table. "But take this. A secure communication protocol. If you decide you want answers—real answers—connect it to any terminal."
Elias picked up the chip, studying its unmarked surface.
"How do I know this isn't some elaborate trap?"
"You don't." Ash stood, tossing euros on the table for their untouched breakfast. "But ask yourself this—if EIDOLON has your best interests at heart, why are they sending you into the field with a failing Shimmerskin?"
She paused, looking down at him. "Why are they risking your life with technology they know is killing you?"
Before he could respond, his interface flashed an urgent alert:
[WARNING: EIDOLON TACTICAL TEAM DETECTED]
[DISTANCE: 400 METERS AND CLOSING]
[RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE EVASION]
Ash noticed his reaction. "They found us."
"How?"
"The Shimmerskin at your safehouse. It's always transmitting, always connected."
She moved toward the rear exit. "They're tracking its signature, and by extension, you."
Elias rose, tension coiling through his body. "Where are you going?"
"To disappear." She paused at the door. "A skill you might want to develop if you decide to seek answers."
Her right eye flared with that internal light. "The Veil is waking up, Vale. And trust me—you want to be on the right side when it fully activates."
With that, she slipped through the door into the pre-dawn darkness.
Elias's interface continued updating:
[EIDOLON TEAM: 350 METERS]
[RECOMMENDED ROUTE TO SAFEHOUSE DISPLAYED]
[TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: RETURN TO EXTRACTION POINT TO AVOID CONFRONTATION]
He had less than ninety minutes until his scheduled extraction.
Just enough time to return to the safehouse, prepare a cover story for his absence, and make the transfer as planned.
Return to EIDOLON.
Return to Dr. Chen and her tests, to Director Marshall and his missions.
To the slow, inevitable degradation that awaited him.
Or he could run.
Follow Ash into the unknown.
Pursue answers about the Veil, about Prague, about what was really happening to him.
The memory artifact in storage unit 342 still waited, untouched.
The answers it contained about Prague, about the origins of whatever was happening to him, remained locked away.
He would need Ash's device to access it safely.
Would need to return to that facility, now likely under EIDOLON surveillance.
The weight of the device and the communication chip felt like anchors in his pockets.
Two paths diverging in the rain-slick streets of Warsaw.
The stabilizer compound in his system was beginning to fade, the familiar bone-deep ache returning.
His interface flickered momentarily, reflecting his deteriorating neural state.
[PHYSICAL STATUS: DECLINING]
[MEDICAL INTERVENTION RECOMMENDED]
[STABILIZER EFFICACY: 22%]
Elias made his choice.
He moved quickly through the café's front entrance, opposite from Ash's exit.
His interface adapted immediately, calculating his chosen route.
The rain had stopped, the eastern sky lightening with the promise of dawn.
And somewhere beyond that lightening sky, something had fallen to Earth.
Something that had awakened the Veil.
Time was running out.
For him.
For everyone.
