Бесплатный фрагмент - The will of the few

Prologue: Shadows of the Past

Fog. Mornings in Novoteria always began with this oppressive shroud, a mantle that draped itself over the city, shielding it from the silent brutality of reality. Thick and impenetrable, the fog clung to the streets as if trying to conceal the horrors and devastation left behind by a world once brimming with life and light. Once, cities had glittered with vibrant energy, but now they lay submerged in a dim twilight. Their streets were lit by flickering lamps, which sputtered like dying stars, casting grim shadows over the thoughts of those who passed beneath them. People hurried along the asphalt, their eyes downcast. Their faces, devoid of expression, resembled masks of extreme indifference. They asked no questions, sought no answers to the anxieties that gnawed at them. They no longer remembered what freedom felt like.

These dark times were the result of a cataclysm that had irrevocably altered the landscape, not only of Novoteria but of the entire continent. Legends of cities engulfed in flames, of volcanoes erupting from the depths of the earth, intertwined with the harsh reality of what had transpired. The Chaotic Era had begun — a time of upheaval when ideals crumbled and society fractured. People lost hope in the madness, and the explosion of possibilities turned into disaster. The cities they had once dreamed of building vanished. Vast expanses were reduced to ruins, and only small groups of survivors managed to endure, forming the isolated state of Novoteria.

And then came the Council.

The Council of Observers, created to maintain order in Novoteria, acted swiftly and ruthlessly. They demolished the ruins, paved the land with concrete, and erased every page that might have told the story of the past. Those who could still hear, read, or remember disappeared into the depths of secrecy. But the shadows of the past could not be entirely destroyed. They lingered in the corners of memory, in the whispers of the wind, in the dreams of those who still dared to yearn for freedom.

In this new order, proclaimed by the Council of Observers, harsh laws reigned. Every old tradition and ideal was consigned to oblivion. Society was divided into castes — some served, others ruled, while the overwhelming majority remained silent, each carrying the scars of the past and the weight of what it meant to exist. The clash between the old and the new gave rise to resistance — a movement of people striving to reclaim what had been lost, fighters for freedom who faced relentless terror. Unseen in their actions, they used whispers and secret gatherings to spread their ideas.

Somewhere in the depths of the abandoned districts, among the remnants of old buildings, fragments of the past endured. Shards of glass, rusted metal frames, scraps of paper with barely legible words. These words, once powerful enough to alter the course of lives, now sat on the shelves of oblivion, symbols of courage and hope weakened by the blows of a bitter reality.

One such forgotten voice was that of Arkady Renn, a young scholar whose words had once captured the spirit of the age. It was there, in one of those ruins, that he had penned his final lines. His name had been erased from history, his works destroyed, but the shadow of his ideas still lingered in the air like a restless ghost.

«Man is not a cog in the machine,» he had written. «He is a creator, a maker, a source of light in a world of darkness. But that light fades when it is locked in a cage of fear and obedience.» These words resonated deeply with those who still remembered what hope felt like, but they were brutally suppressed.

Over time, these ideas found their way into the hands of a young boy who stumbled upon them among the debris. He saw them as a riddle, not fully grasping their meaning, but his soul responded to the undercurrent of anxiety and hope they carried. He brought the scrap of paper to his father, who paled as if seeing a ghost from a bygone era and immediately threw it into the fire. But it was too late — the words had already begun to spread like a virus, eating away at the foundations of the new world.

Now, decades later, Novoteria appeared peaceful on the surface. The cities had been rebuilt, everyone worked and obeyed, and life seemed to resemble a silent existence of order and stability. Yet beneath this facade, cracks were forming. Echoes of the old world.

Somewhere in this bleak world, among the gray walls and faceless crowds, there was a girl who would one day find what had been lost. Her name was Elira Valtorn. She did not yet realize that her fate was already intertwined with the shadows of the past, or that she would soon become part of a resurgence of ideas that would change everything.

The fog thickened. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of machinery echoed, and the lamps flickered once more. But this time, one of them went out forever.

Part I: A World Without Faces

Chapter 1: The Nameless City

Elira Valtorn was a woman who didn’t stand out in a crowd. Her appearance was ordinary, yet there was something subtly striking about her that drew attention. Her dark, slightly curly hair was always neatly tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of her way while she worked. Her eyes, gray and cold like the skies of Novoteria, held a depth few could discern. Her figure was slender but not fragile — years of labor as an engineer had toughened her body, making it strong and resilient.

She was a creature of habit, strict in her routines. Every morning, she woke up precisely at 6:00, did a short set of exercises to get her blood flowing, and headed to work. By the age of 24, her days were meticulously scheduled, and she rarely deviated from her plan. Elira loved order; it was her shield, her comfort. But deep within her soul lurked a shadow of chaos, a dark whisper she tried in vain to suppress.

Yet, despite her efforts to maintain the illusion of a calm and orderly life, Elira couldn’t shake the flashes of memory from her past. She couldn’t recall her parents’ faces, their smiles, or their voices. These fragments were hazy and elusive, like shadows retreating step by step from the light. Her life had begun in an orphanage in Novoteria, under horrific conditions that would have broken anyone else. She remembered only fragments — cold nights on hard beds, whispers and screams mingling with childish laughter and animalistic fear.

The orphanage offered no care, no love. Cruelty reigned there, masked by ruthless discipline. The caretakers, pressured by the Council of Observers, were merciless, like exterminators targeting every child. Elira remembered how some children vanished — emaciated, blending into the gray shadows. She never understood where they were taken, but each disappearance left a heavy mark on her heart. Every factor — systemic lobbying, persecution of gatherings, the screams — didn’t kill hope but instead strengthened her will to survive.

She learned to hide her emotions because showing them came at a cost. Her childhood wasn’t filled with toys and laughter but with constant struggle. She sought her own salvation, and it was this desire that once led her to dream of becoming an engineer. Every incident at the orphanage — whether it was the sting of mockery or a slap that left marks not only on her body but on her soul — added to her resolve to escape that place.

Elira succeeded. Later, she learned that her ticket out had been the opportunity to study, granted to her by the strict rules and distant lessons far removed from the orphanage. She studied relentlessly, spending days in the library surrounded by books that became her only solace. Technology and engineering became more than just subjects to her — they were her path to freedom. Every formula, every blueprint gave her a sense of control she had always lacked. Knowledge was her weapon against loss and fear.

Elira was observant. She noticed the little things others ignored. She saw how people’s hearts broke when they thought no one was watching, how fear stiffened their movements, how they tried to remain invisible. And she knew she was no different. But for her, it wasn’t just survival — it was a game. A game where she was both the player and the pawn.

Her talents and achievements didn’t go unnoticed. Channeling her passion and determination, Elira mastered the intricacies of engineering and honed her skills, becoming part of the system she once despised. But the system oppressed her endlessly, stripping away the last remnants of her humanity and individuality, turning her into just another cog in a machine that knew nothing of freedom.

Elira’s inner contradictions only fueled her drive. She dreamed of a world where order wasn’t tied to cruelty, where ignorance didn’t envelop people in its cold fog. And perhaps that was why she continued to play this dangerous game, ready to face the truth — the truth that had tried to consume her several times before.

She walked down a street that had no name. Like all streets in this city, it was designated only by numbers: Sector 7—12, Line 3. The city she lived in had no name either. It was simply called the «Central Region,» though it was far from central in any geographical sense. But in Novoteria, everything followed a logic that required no explanation. A logic that dictated names were superfluous and individuality was dangerous.

The air was thick and heavy, as always. The sky, perpetually shrouded in gray clouds, blocked out the sunlight. Elira was used to it. She couldn’t even remember what the sun looked like. Its image survived only in old books and archives, accessible to a select few. She had seen them once when, as one of the top engineers, she was granted access to the General Archive’s technological database. That was the first time she wondered if the world could have been different. But such thoughts were quickly suppressed. Thinking about the past was forbidden. Thinking about the future was forbidden too. The only thing that mattered was the present. And the present was gray.

Elira stopped at the entrance to the Engineering Corps — a massive concrete and glass structure towering over the other buildings. Its design was stark and functional, devoid of any ornamentation. Everything in Novoteria was like that: practical, faceless, stripped of individuality. Even the people.

She passed through the scanner that checked her identification chip embedded under the skin of her wrist. A green light flashed, and the doors slid open. Inside, the usual bustle greeted her. Engineers in identical gray jumpsuits hurried through the corridors, ignoring one another. No one greeted anyone. No one smiled. It wasn’t the custom.

Elira took the elevator to the 14th floor, where her office was located. The room was small and cozy, if such a word could even be applied to anything in this world. On her desk stood a holographic projector she used for work, alongside a stack of blueprints and calculations. She sat down and activated the projector. A three-dimensional model of a new city appeared before her — a city meant to house thousands of people relocated from the ruined regions.

She stared at the model, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Lately, she had been plagued by strange sensations. She caught herself asking questions she wasn’t supposed to ask. Why did everything have to be so gray? Why couldn’t people choose where and how to live? Why did they have to obey rules no one had established?

Elira knew such thoughts were dangerous. She had seen what happened to those who asked too many questions. They were taken away. They disappeared. And no one ever heard from them again. But she couldn’t stop. Her mind, like her designs, pushed beyond the permitted boundaries.

She sighed and returned to her work. She needed to finish the calculations for the new energy supply system. The city had to be completely autonomous, independent of external energy sources. This was crucial. Novoteria couldn’t afford dependence on anything. Independence was paramount.

A few hours later, a chime at the door interrupted her. She pressed a button, and the door slid open. Cain Dronov stood in the doorway.

«Elira,» he said, smiling. «Are you busy?»

She nodded but gestured for him to come in. Cain was her friend. No, not a friend. In Novoteria, there were no friends. He was her colleague. But with him, she could speak more freely than with others. He was like her — talented, intelligent, but cautious. He knew how to survive in this world.

«What’s wrong?» she asked.

«Nothing,» he replied, sitting down across from her. «Just wanted to check on you. You look tired.»

«I’m fine,» she said, though she knew he wouldn’t believe her.

Cain glanced at the holographic model.

«New project?» he asked.

«Yes,» she replied. «A city for the relocated. They want it ready by the end of the year.»

«Can you manage?»

«I hope so,» she said, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

Cain was silent for a moment, then said, «Elira, you know I’m always here to help. If you need anything, just say the word.»

She looked at him. His eyes were warm, but there was a strange shadow in them. She couldn’t quite place it. But she knew Cain was the only person she could trust. At least, that’s what she thought.

«Thank you,» she said. «I know.»

He nodded and stood up.

«Alright, I’ll get going. Don’t forget to rest. You’re not a machine.»

He smiled and left. Elira stared at the closed door, feeling a strange unease. She couldn’t pinpoint its source, but it was there, deep inside, like a worm gnawing at her.

She returned to her work but couldn’t focus. Her thoughts kept circling back to the questions she had no answers for. Why? Why did it have to be this way? Who decided everything should be like this?

She sighed and turned off the projector. She couldn’t work anymore today. She stood and walked to the window. Outside was the same gray world. People, like shadows, walked the streets with their heads down. Cars, just as gray and faceless, drove along the roads. Everything was the same. Everything was predictable.

But Elira believed that somewhere beyond this city, beyond Novoteria, there was another world. A world she had never seen but felt in her dreams. A world where people smiled and spoke their minds openly. A world where one could be oneself.

She closed her eyes and imagined it. But when she opened them, the gray, nameless city was still there. The city she was helping to build. The city that had become her prison.

She turned and left the office. She needed to go home. But home was just another place where she was alone. Alone with her thoughts. Alone with her questions.

Elira walked down the street, lost in thought. She had just left the Engineering Corps after spending long hours working on the new city project. Her head was heavy with numbers, calculations, and the endless demands of the Council. She felt her mind, trapped in a vise, trying to break free from the permitted boundaries. But to where? There were more questions than answers.

She turned onto Line 9, one of the oldest streets in the Central Region. Here, some buildings from before the Catastrophe still stood. Their once-grand facades were now cracked and coated with layers of gray paint, regularly applied to «refresh» them. These buildings stood as silent witnesses to a past no one dared remember. Elira often passed them, but today something made her slow her pace.

She stopped in front of one building. It was taller than the others, with massive columns at the entrance that had once likely been imposing but now resembled broken teeth. Above the door hung a sign with barely legible text: «Archive No. 17.» Elira frowned. She had never noticed this building before, though she had walked this route hundreds of times. It was as if it had appeared out of nowhere.

Her attention was drawn to the door. It was slightly ajar, which was strange in itself. In Novoteria, all doors were supposed to be locked. Unsecured spaces were a violation of the rules, and violations were punished. Elira glanced around. The street was empty. Even the surveillance cameras, which usually monitored every movement, seemed to be off. Their red lights, which always blinked like ominous eyes, were dark.

A chill ran down her spine. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. Her heart raced, and conflicting thoughts flooded her mind. On one hand, curiosity urged her to step inside, to find out what lay beyond that door. On the other, fear held her back. Fear of the Council of Observers, of the Citadel of Silence, of being caught breaking the rules. She knew even the smallest mistake could lead to disappearance — vanishing without a trace, without explanation, without a chance of salvation.

She glanced around again. The street was empty, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t being watched. Cameras could be hidden in the shadows, or agents of the Council could be following her, invisible as shadows themselves. Elira clenched her fists and took a step back. No, she couldn’t risk it. Not now. Not here.

She walked away quickly, resisting the urge to look back. Her pace quickened, almost to a run. She felt fear tightening her throat, as if an invisible presence was tracking her every move. She knew it was paranoia, but in Novoteria, paranoia was the only way to survive. Every step, every word, every glance could be used against you.

Elira turned onto Line 5, where her apartment building stood. It was a standard residential structure, as gray and faceless as everything else. She took the elevator to the 12th floor and entered her apartment. The room was small, with minimal furniture: a bed, a desk, a chair, a closet. Nothing extra. Nothing that could reveal her individuality. Even the walls were bare, devoid of pictures, photos, or decorations. Everything was as it should be.

She sat on the bed and closed her eyes. Her mind was overwhelmed with thoughts she couldn’t silence. Archive No. 17. What was it? Why had she never noticed it before? And why was the door open? It could be a trap. Or a test. The Council loved testing its citizens, especially those in prominent positions. Elira knew her status as a top engineer made her vulnerable. Her successes drew attention, and attention in Novoteria was dangerous.

She sighed and stood up. She needed to distract herself, but her thoughts kept returning to that building. To that door. To what might lie inside.

Chapter 2: Blueprints and Defiance

Elira Valtorn sat at her desk, surrounded by holographic projections and stacks of blueprints. Her fingers moved swiftly, making adjustments to the schematic of the new city. The project was progressing slowly, but she knew this wasn’t the limit of her abilities. Designing infrastructure for the relocated population was an important task, yet she felt her talent could be used for something greater. However, access to significant projects that could alter the course of history was tightly controlled. The Council of Observers strictly monitored who worked on what, and despite her skills, Elira wasn’t part of the inner circle.

In her free time, when she was alone in her apartment, Elira worked on what truly inspired her. On a small table in the corner of the room lay the blueprints she had been developing in secret. It was a project she called the «Regulator.» The idea had come to her one night as she pondered how to improve energy distribution in Novoteria’s cities. The Regulator was meant to be a compact yet powerful device capable of redistributing energy between systems, minimizing losses and increasing efficiency. For now, it was just a hobby, but Elira sensed that one day her invention could become the key to something significant.

She carefully folded the blueprints and hid them in a concealed drawer of her desk. Thoughts of the Regulator distracted her from the monotony of her daily routine, but now she needed to focus on her official work.

The next morning, as soon as she entered the Engineering Corps, Elira received a message on her terminal: «Elira Valtorn, you are required to report to the department head’s office at 10:00. Do not be late.»

She frowned. The department head, Garrick Torren, rarely summoned anyone personally. He usually limited himself to general meetings and issuing directives. Elira felt a flicker of unease. Had someone noticed her? Had someone seen her blueprints? Or worse, had they discovered her interest in forbidden ideas?

At exactly 10:00, she stood before the heavy door to Torren’s office. It slid open automatically, and Elira stepped inside.

The office was spacious but devoid of any warmth. Diagrams of cities and graphs adorned the walls, while a holographic projector on the desk displayed the department’s current projects. Garrick Torren sat behind the desk, his expression unreadable. His pale face, short haircut, and colorless eyes seemed to blend perfectly with the gray, sterile walls of the office.

«Elira,» he said, gesturing for her to sit. «Thank you for coming.»

She sat down, trying to remain composed.

«You wanted to see me?» she asked, striving to sound confident.

Torren nodded.

«Yes. I wanted to discuss your current project. You’re working on the new city for the relocated, correct?»

«Yes,» Elira replied. «We’ve completed the primary calculations and are now in the infrastructure design phase.»

«Good,» Torren said, his voice even but with a faint undercurrent of tension. «The Council of Observers is pleased with your work. However, they have some… concerns.»

Elira’s heart began to race.

«What kind of concerns?» she asked, trying not to betray her anxiety.

Torren leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

«They believe your project is too… ambitious. You’re proposing solutions that go beyond standard requirements. This attracts attention.»

Elira felt her palms grow damp.

«I just wanted to make the city more efficient,» she said, striving to sound convincing. «If we can minimize energy loss, it will benefit everyone.»

Torren studied her as if weighing her words.

«I understand your intentions,» he said finally. «But you must remember that in Novoteria, everything must remain within established norms. Individual initiatives are not encouraged.»

Elira nodded, trying to mask her disappointment.

«I understand.»

«Good,» Torren said, leaning back in his chair. «I trust you, Elira. You’re one of our best engineers. But be careful. The Council of Observers is watching everyone.»

He said it like a warning. Elira felt a chill run down her spine.

«I’ll be careful,» she said, standing up.

«Excellent,» Torren replied, his tone neutral again. «You may go.»

Elira left the office, her thoughts in turmoil. She understood she had been warned. But about what? Her project? Or something bigger?

She returned to her desk but couldn’t focus on her work. Her mind kept circling back to the Regulator. She knew her invention could change many things, but for now, it was just a hobby. Yet, if she could complete it…

Elira sighed and opened the drawer where her blueprints were hidden. She stared at them, feeling a fire ignite within her. She couldn’t stop. Even if it was dangerous.

Because somewhere beyond the gray, nameless city, another world might exist. And she knew that one day, her invention could be the key to reaching it.

The next day, Elira returned to Line 9. She couldn’t shake her thoughts about Archive No. 17. She knew it was a risk, but her curiosity outweighed her fear. She walked slowly, trying not to draw attention. The street was as deserted as the day before. The cameras were still offline.

When she reached the building, her heart raced again. The door was closed. Elira hesitated, unsure whether to approach. She glanced around, but no one was in sight. Finally, she took a step forward and cautiously pulled the handle. The door didn’t budge. It was locked.

Elira felt a mix of disappointment and relief. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps she shouldn’t meddle where she wasn’t invited. She was about to leave when she noticed something on the ground near the door. It was a small piece of paper, almost imperceptible. She bent down and picked it up.

On the paper was a single word: «Renn.»

Elira froze. Her hands trembled. She knew that name. It had appeared in old records she had once seen while accessing the General Archive’s databases. Arkady Renn. Philosopher, scientist, inventor. His works were banned, his name erased from history. But she remembered. She remembered he had spoken of freedom, of the value of the human mind, of how people shouldn’t be mere cogs in a machine.

She quickly tucked the paper into her pocket and glanced around. The street was still empty, but she felt as though she was being watched. She walked away quickly, resisting the urge to run. Her mind was flooded with questions. Who had left this note? Why here? And what did it mean?

That evening, Elira sat in her apartment, holding the piece of paper. She examined it as if hoping it would provide answers. But the paper was blank except for that one word. «Renn.» What did it mean? A hint? A warning? Or just a coincidence?

She knew she couldn’t share this with anyone. Not even Cain. He was her friend, but in Novoteria, friends didn’t exist. Trust was a luxury no one could afford. She would have to figure this out on her own.

Elira stood and walked to the window. Outside was the same gray world. People, like shadows, walked the streets with their heads down. Cars, just as gray and faceless, drove along the roads. Everything was the same. Everything was predictable.

The next day, Elira returned to work. She tried to act as usual, but inside, she was seething. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she had found. About what it could mean. She knew she had to be careful, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear.

During lunch, she ran into Cain. He was sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria, as always. Elira approached and sat across from him.

«How are you?» he asked, smiling.

«Fine,» she replied, trying to sound calm. «And you?»

«Same as always. Just work.»

They fell silent. Elira watched him, trying to decide if she could trust him. But she knew she couldn’t. No one could be trusted.

«Elira,» he said, breaking her train of thought. «Are you okay? You seem… tense.»

She nodded.

«Just tired. Lots of work.»

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something more but then simply nodded.

«Alright. If you need anything, I’m here.»

She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. She knew he could be a Council agent. She knew he could report her. But she also knew he was the only person she could talk to.

Chapter 3: The Council of Observers

The Council of Observers. The name itself sounded like a verdict, a shadow looming over every inhabitant of Novoteria. This faceless organization, whose presence was felt in every corner of the world, had become a symbol of fear and oppression. They were everywhere and nowhere at once, like a fog suffocating freedom, blending into the crowd. The all-encompassing system of control pierced society like an invisible web, ensnaring the masses.

The Council of Observers had emerged in the early years following the Catastrophe, when the continent lay in ruins and communities struggled to survive. The Catastrophe, which had engulfed the entire continent, left deep scars on the souls of its people: massive natural disasters, wars over resources, and the collapse of ecosystems led to chaos and devastation. It was during this time that the ruling elite realized that restoring order required not only rebuilding infrastructure but also creating a system of control that would forever prevent the horrors of the past from recurring. People had to become a single entity, stripped of individual desires and ambitions. Fear became the core of their new ideology. The idea of collectivism was established as the foundation of the new society, and the Council of Observers became its ruthless guardian.

Initially, the Council was a small body composed of scientists, philosophers, and engineers who believed control could be maintained through reason and technology alone. However, over time, they lost their ideals, succumbing to their own power. The surveillance system they created utilized the most advanced technologies to analyze the behavior of citizens. Cameras and microphones were hidden in every corner, their sensors eavesdropping on the silence between words. But the true strength of the Council lay not in its visible tools but in its ability to predict and prevent dissent. The Council didn’t just punish violations — it eliminated the very possibility of disobedience.

Over time, the Council grew into a powerful organization controlling not only actions but also the thoughts of the people. Its agents infiltrated every aspect of life: education, medicine, culture, industry. They were teachers, doctors, engineers, and even friends. No one could be sure they weren’t speaking to a Council agent. This created an atmosphere of constant fear and suspicion. Every citizen of Novoteria was a potential traitor, ready to report their neighbor for the slightest deviation from the established rules.

The Council of Observers operated through a network of regional branches, each answering to the Central Architect. The identity of this mysterious leader was hidden from all but the highest ranks of the Council. The Architect was not a person; he embodied order, stability, and immutability — an idea more important than the life of any individual. His decisions were final and not subject to debate. It was said that he could see and hear everything happening in Novoteria. Anyone who dared to question his authority would become a victim of his merciless methods.

The Council’s most monstrous tool was the Citadel of Silence — a grim prison located near the remnants of the old world, on the outskirts of Novoteria. It had become a symbol of absolute control and suppression. Rumors circulated that those who entered never returned. Their identities were erased, their memories destroyed, and their bodies used for horrific experiments. Terrifying stories of torture within the Citadel spread like wildfire. There was talk of «Oblivion,» a method used on those who displayed dissent. First, the prisoner was injected with drugs that wiped their memory: they forgot who they were. Then, they were forced to relive their worst experiences — betrayal, the loss of loved ones. This process broke people, turning them into hollow shells, completely dependent on the Council.

There were whispers of individuals who had passed through the Citadel and returned to society. These were not employees but puppets of the Council — soulless marionettes stripped of any sense of self. Their eyes were empty, like bottomless chasms, and their souls had been torn out, leaving only their physical bodies to carry out the Council’s tasks.

Elira knew everything there was to know about the Council of Observers. She had seen how they operated, how they destroyed those who dared to cross the boundaries of what was permitted. But until recently, she hadn’t considered that she herself might become their target. Now, after finding the note with Renn’s name, she understood she was playing with fire. Every step she took, every word she spoke, could be used against her.

She sat in her office, staring at the holographic model of the city she was designing. Her thoughts were far away. She thought about the Council, the Citadel, and what awaited her if she were caught. But most of all, she thought about Cain. He was her friend, her anchor. But could she trust him? She knew he was smart and cautious, but she also understood that in Novoteria, no one was who they seemed to be.

Elira sighed and leaned back in her chair. She felt her mind tearing apart. On one hand, she wanted to continue her work, to live as she had before. On the other, she couldn’t ignore what she had found. The name Renn had become a key, unlocking a door to a world she had never dared to dream of. A world where she could be free.

But freedom in Novoteria was an illusion. And Elira knew that every step she took was being watched. She couldn’t afford a single mistake. One wrong thought, one careless word — and she would end up in the Citadel of Silence.

She closed her eyes and imagined the place. The Citadel. Its walls were high and impenetrable, like a fortress. Inside, silence reigned, broken only by the footsteps of guards and the faint moans of prisoners. It was a place where identities were erased. Where memory became the enemy, and thoughts became crimes. Elira knew that if she were caught, this would be her fate. Her mind would be wiped, her memories destroyed, and her body turned into a tool for the Council. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to be careful.

But how could she be careful when every step could be her last? How could she hide her thoughts when she was being watched even in her sleep? Elira didn’t have the answers to these questions. But she knew she had to find them. Otherwise, she would face a fate worse than death.

She opened her eyes and looked at the city model before her. This was her project, her creation. But now she saw it as something more. It wasn’t just a city — it was a prison, a prison she was helping to build. And she knew she had to do something. But what? A sense of helplessness overwhelmed her. Elira picked up the piece of paper with Renn’s name on it. She stared at it, as if hoping it would give her an answer. But the paper remained silent. The answers, she realized, she would have to find herself.

Chapter 4: Arkady’s Archive

Elira stood once again in front of Archive No. 17. For the entire week, the need to return had gnawed at her. Her heart pounded so loudly it seemed to echo through the deserted street. She glanced around, checking if anyone was watching her. The street was empty, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t being seen. Cameras could be hidden anywhere, and agents of the Council of Observers were masters of invisibility. She clenched her fists, feeling cold sweat trickle down her back. But it was too late to turn back now. She had already taken the first step.

The door was locked, but Elira knew that wouldn’t stop her. She pulled a small tool from her pocket — a device she had designed herself for situations like this. Compact and nearly invisible, it was powerful enough to bypass simple security systems. She inserted it into the lock, and after a few seconds, a soft click sounded. The door opened.

Inside, silence reigned, broken only by the creak of floorboards under her feet. The air was heavy, saturated with the smell of mold and dust. Elira stepped in cautiously, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. The archive was old and abandoned, but its walls seemed to breathe with history. She walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing as if the building itself were alive.

The rooms were in disarray, as if they had been hastily searched. Tables were overturned, cabinets smashed, papers scattered across the floor. Elira bent down and picked up a few sheets. They were covered in blueprints, diagrams, and notes she couldn’t immediately decipher. But she sensed their importance. She folded them and placed them in the bag she had brought with her.

Her attention was drawn to a door at the end of the hallway. It was slightly ajar, and a faint light seeped through the crack. Elira approached it carefully and pushed it open. The room was small but chaotic. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, folders, and strange instruments. But her gaze immediately fell on a painting hanging on the far wall.

The painting was unusual. It depicted a city, but not like the ones in Novoteria. This was a city of light and color, with towering spires crowned by golden domes and streets filled with people. People who smiled, laughed, and lived. The sky above the city was a vivid blue, and the sun bathed everything in its warm glow. Elira froze, staring at the painting. She had never seen anything like it. It was a world she could only dream of.

But something about the painting was off. It hung crookedly, as if it had been put up in a hurry. Elira stepped closer and gently straightened it. As she did, she noticed a hidden niche behind it. Her heart raced. She removed the painting and peered inside.

In the niche lay a small, elegant wooden box, intricately carved. Elira picked it up, her fingers trembling slightly. The box opened easily, revealing three items: a strangely shaped key, a pencil sketch, and a book.

The key was made of dark metal, its form unusual, with intricate patterns she couldn’t decipher. The sketch depicted a building she had seen in the city but never paid much attention to. It was old and abandoned, but in the drawing, it looked majestic, almost alive. And finally, the book. On its cover was written: Arkady Renn. The Will of the Few.

Elira took the book in her hands, her heart skipping a beat. This was what she had been searching for. She opened the first page and began to read.

Elira sat on the floor of the archive room, Arkady Renn’s book resting on her lap. She had been reading for hours, oblivious to the passage of time. Every word, every sentence made her heart race. Renn wrote about freedom, about how a person could be more than just a cog in a machine. He wrote about the importance of preserving one’s individuality, even when the world sought to destroy it.

Her mind filled with new ideas, new questions. She realized she had found what she was looking for. But she also understood that this was only the beginning. The key, the sketch, the book — they were all part of something greater. And she needed to find out what that was.

She closed the book and placed it in her bag alongside the key and the sketch. She had to leave before she was discovered. But she knew she would return. Arkady’s archive had become more than just a place to her. It was the start of her journey.

Elira stepped out of the building, glancing around. The street was empty, but she felt eyes on her. She walked quickly toward her home, trying not to draw attention. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. She knew her life would never be the same. And she was ready for it.

When Elira returned home, she locked the door and turned on the light. Her apartment was the same as always: small, cozy, but impersonal. She placed the bag on the table and took out the book. She stared at it, feeling her heart swell with hope.

She knew she now had a choice. She could continue living as she had before, or she could follow the path Arkady Renn had opened for her. And she knew which one she would choose.

Elira sat at the table and opened the book. As she read, her resolve grew stronger with each page. She knew the road ahead would be difficult, filled with trials and losses. But she also knew this was her chance. A chance to change not only her life but the lives of everyone living in this gray world.

And she was ready to fight.

Elira spent the entire night reading the book. She couldn’t tear herself away from it, as if the words written by Arkady Renn were a spell she had fallen under. Each page seemed to open new horizons and illuminate the shadows of her own existence. «Freedom is not just a word; it is a state of mind,» she read, feeling a fire ignite within her. Renn spoke of the importance of preserving one’s individuality in a world where everyone sought to become part of a well-oiled machine.

Elira immersed herself in his thoughts, catching every note of protest against the gray monotony surrounding her. «We are all meant to be unique. To deny this is to deny ourselves,» echoed in her mind, bringing order to the chaos of her thoughts. She felt her mind filling with new questions about her place in the world. So many questions, so much uncertainty, but also so much hope.

Now, holding the book — the key to this new reality — Elira understood that her life was stretched between two choices: to remain in the quiet, safe gray world or to risk everything in search of something greater than mere existence. She realized that the path Arkady Renn had opened for her would require courage, inevitable trials, and losses, but it also promised new possibilities and freedom. And that was something worth fighting for.

Gathering her thoughts, she closed the book and looked at the key and the sketch lying on the table. These objects weren’t mere trinkets; they had become symbols of her new understanding of life. «This is the beginning of something greater,» she realized, her heart racing. She had to find out what it meant.

Elira felt her resolve hardening. She knew there were countless unknowns ahead. But the contradictions and complexities didn’t frighten her — they inspired her. With the newfound power the book had given her, she decided: she would not only seek the truth but also embrace it. And perhaps, in this search, she would discover not only herself but also those waiting for her on this challenging yet extraordinary path to freedom.

Chapter 5: The Spark of Doubt

Elira Valtorn sat in her apartment, surrounded by a silence that now felt louder than any noise. On the table before her lay Arkady Renn’s book, the key, and the sketch. She stared at them, feeling her mind torn between fear and hope. Every word she had read in the book seemed to ignite something long forgotten within her, something she had carefully hidden even from herself.

«Man is not a cog in the machine,» Renn had written. «He is a creator, a maker, a source of light in a world of darkness. But that light fades when it is locked in a cage of fear and obedience.»

These words echoed in her mind, impossible to silence. She understood that everything had changed now. She could no longer simply go on living as she had before. Her world, which had seemed so solid and unshakable, was now cracking at the seams.

She picked up the key, feeling its cold metal. Its shape was strange, almost mystical, as if it belonged to another time, another world. The sketch she had found alongside it depicted a building she had seen in the city. It was old and abandoned, but in the drawing, it looked majestic, almost alive.

Elira knew this was no coincidence. The key and the sketch were part of something greater. But what? And how could she find out?

She stood and walked to the window. Outside was the same world as always. People in gray clothes walked the streets. Gray, faceless cars drove along the roads. Everything was the same, predictable, as it had always been.

But now she saw it differently. She saw how this world suppressed, how it destroyed everything that made a person human. And she knew she had to do something.

She returned to the table and opened Renn’s book again. This time, she wasn’t reading just to learn something new — she was searching for answers. Answers to questions she couldn’t even fully articulate.

«Freedom is not a right,» Renn had written. «It is a duty. A duty of everyone who recognizes their own worth. But to gain freedom, one must first free their mind from the chains that bind it.»

Elira understood that Renn wasn’t speaking of freedom in the physical sense. He was talking about freedom of thought, the freedom to be oneself. And she knew that was exactly what she had been missing.

She closed the book and placed it back in her bag. She had to act. She couldn’t just sit and wait. She needed to find out what lay behind the key and the sketch.

Elira stood by the window, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the curtain. Her thoughts swirled like a storm, refusing to let her rest. Arkady Renn’s book lay open on the table, the words on the page ringing in her mind like an alarm:

«Freedom begins with a question. A question you’re afraid to ask. But it is that question that becomes the spark igniting the flame of change.»

She sighed, feeling her heart beat faster. The sketch she had found in the archive no longer seemed like just an image — it was a key to something greater. The building in the sketch was familiar. It stood on the outskirts of the city, in a derelict sector where few ever ventured. It was an old structure, once a scientific laboratory, but it had stood empty for years.

Elira knew going there alone was madness. But she couldn’t remain in the dark any longer. She needed someone she could trust. And the only person who came to mind was Cain.

She clenched her fists, trying to suppress her doubts. Cain was her colleague, her… friend? She wasn’t sure. But Cain had always been there. He had helped her, supported her, even when she hadn’t asked for it.

«But can I trust him?» the thought nagged at her.

She remembered his words: «Elira, you know I’m always here to help. If you need anything, just say the word.»

His voice had sounded sincere, but there was always a shadow in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher. Was it her imagination? Or was he hiding something?

Elira closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. She knew the risks. If Cain turned out to be a Council agent, the Citadel of Silence awaited her. But if he was truly her friend, together they could unravel the mystery that might change everything.

She walked to the table and picked up the key. Its cold metal seemed to burn her fingers.

«This key is the beginning,» she thought. «But where does it lead?»

Her gaze fell on Renn’s book. She opened it to a random page and began to read:

«The true strength of a person lies not in their ability to obey, but in their ability to doubt. Doubt is not weakness. It is a weapon that tears down the walls of lies and opens the path to truth.»

Elira felt her resolve harden. She could no longer stand aside. She had to uncover the truth, no matter how terrifying it might be.

She grabbed her bag, placed the book, the key, and the sketch inside, and threw on her coat to conceal her findings. She needed to find Cain.

Cain Dronov was a tall man with a straight posture and sharp, stern features. His thick black hair was neatly combed back, accentuating his high forehead. His eyes were cold and piercing, as if reflecting an inner resolve and hidden thoughts. Despite his austere appearance, his gaze carried an intensity, as though he were perpetually searching for eternal secrets.

Cain’s past was shrouded in mystery. His biography was wrapped in layers of obscurity and vague circumstances. He always kept to himself, never revealing his past, even to those closest to him. Within him lay depths filled with dark reflections and a relentless quest for truth.

Cain’s habits were meticulous and disciplined. He was a man of minimalistic routines, preferring solitude and quiet contemplation. Every gesture he made seemed calculated and deliberate, carrying the same enigmatic energy as his gaze.

Cain sat in his apartment, staring at the wall. His thoughts were far away. He was thinking about Elira. She was… different. Not like the others. Her eyes always seemed to burn with an inner fire he couldn’t quite understand.

He knew she was hiding something. He had seen how she sometimes drifted into thought, her gaze becoming distant, as if she were somewhere far beyond this gray world.

«But what is she hiding?» he wondered.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He frowned. Who could it be? He wasn’t expecting anyone.

Cain walked to the door and opened it. Elira stood on the threshold.

«Elira?» he said, surprised. «What’s wrong?»

She looked agitated. Her eyes were bright, her lips pressed tightly together.

«I need to talk to you,» she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Cain nodded and let her in.

Elira sat on the edge of a chair, her hands clutching her bag. Cain watched her, trying to understand what was going on.

«What’s happened?» he asked again.

Elira sighed and opened her bag. She pulled out the book, the key, and the sketch, placing them on the table in front of Cain.

«I found these,» she said.

Cain frowned, looking at the items.

«What are they?»

«It’s… part of something bigger,» Elira said, struggling to find the words. «I don’t know what exactly, but I feel it’s important.»

Cain picked up the key, examining it.

«Where did you get this?»

Elira told him everything: about the abandoned archive, about Renn’s book, about her doubts and fears. She spoke quickly, as if afraid she might be stopped.

Cain listened in silence, his face unreadable. When she finished, he stared at her for a long time, as if weighing her words.

«Do you understand what you’re getting into?» he finally asked.

Elira nodded.

«Yes. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I need to know the truth.»

Cain sighed and leaned back in his chair.

«You’re risking everything,» he said. «If the Council finds out…»

«I know,» she interrupted. «But I can’t keep living in this world where everything is controlled, where there’s no room for… for something more.»

Cain looked at her, and something flickered in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before.

«Alright,» he said at last. «I’ll help you.»

Elira felt her heart skip a beat.

«Are you sure?» she asked.

Cain smiled, but there was no joy in it.

«No. But I can’t let you go alone.»

They stepped outside as the city sank into evening twilight. The air was cold, and Elira pulled her coat tighter. Cain walked beside her, his expression focused.

«Are you sure this building is the one in the sketch?» he asked.

Elira nodded.

«Yes. I remember it. It’s in the derelict sector.»

Cain frowned.

«It’s dangerous. There could be cameras, patrols…»

«I know,» she interrupted. «But we don’t have a choice.»

They walked in silence, careful not to draw attention. The streets were empty, but they knew they could be watched.

After a few minutes, they reached the building. It wasn’t exactly as it appeared in the sketch: old, abandoned. But it was unmistakably the same structure, its walls steeped in history.

Elira pulled out the key and approached the door. Her hands trembled slightly, but she forced herself to stay calm.

«Ready?» she asked, turning to Cain.

He nodded.

«Yes.»

Elira inserted the key into the lock. A soft click sounded, and the door opened.

They stepped inside, and the darkness swallowed them.

The interior of the building was silent, save for their footsteps. The air was heavy, saturated with the smell of mold and dust.

Elira turned on the flashlight she had brought. Its beam illuminated the peeling walls and broken furniture.

«What are we looking for?» Cain asked, glancing around.

«I don’t know,» Elira admitted. «But I feel it’s here.»

They moved deeper, exploring the rooms. In one of them, Elira noticed an old cabinet that looked out of place. She approached it and carefully opened it.

Inside was a folder filled with documents. Elira picked it up and began flipping through the pages.

«What is this?» Cain asked, peering over her shoulder.

«It’s… a project,» Elira said, her eyes widening. «A project for a new world order.»

She didn’t finish her sentence. Her attention was drawn to the last page. On it was written:

«Project Dawn. The Key to Liberation.»

Elira felt her heart pounding.

«We found it,» she whispered.

Cain looked at her, and something unfamiliar flickered in his eyes.

«What do we do now?» he asked.

Elira gripped the folder tightly.

«We need to learn more. This is just the beginning.»

She knew there was no turning back now. The spark of doubt that had ignited in her heart had become a flame. And she was ready to see it through to the end.

«Freedom is not a gift,» Renn had written. «It is a struggle. And only those willing to fight for it are worthy of it.»

Elira looked at one of the many pages of the project, feeling her mind fill with new ideas. She knew her life would never be the same. And she was ready for it.

Cain stood beside her, his face serious.

«We did it,» he said.

Elira nodded.

And in that moment, she realized that the spark of doubt that had ignited in her heart had become a fire no one could extinguish.

Part II: The Citadel of Silence

Chapter 6: Betrayal

The silence in the abandoned building was ominous, as if the very space held its breath, waiting for the inevitable. Elira and Cain stood amidst the ruins of the past, their faces illuminated by the dim light of a flickering flashlight that cast faint glimmers on the dust swirling in the air. On the table before them lay the documents of Project Dawn — a culmination of years of work, a key to something grand yet unknown. Elira felt her heart beating in sync with the ticking of invisible clocks, counting down the last moments of her freedom.

«We need to be careful,» she whispered, nervously flipping through the pages as if each one could become incriminating evidence. «If the Council finds out…»

«They won’t,» Cain interrupted, his voice calm but with a faint tremor that unsettled her. He had always been so confident, but now…

Elira looked at him, searching his eyes for the reassurance she desperately needed, but Cain was as inscrutable as ever. His cold, piercing gaze, once familiar, now felt dangerous, like a blade poised to strike. The shadow that flickered in his eyes made her heart race.

«Are you sure?» she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

«Yes,» he replied too quickly, too confidently. It made her realize there was more to his words than mere reassurance.

They continued to examine the project, but Elira couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. A sinister premonition grew with each passing minute, like a soundwave ready to crash down and shatter their fragile alliance. Cain, suddenly resolute, asked no questions, expressed no doubts; he simply followed her, a shadow warrior in the dimly lit ruins of the decaying building.

«We need to leave,» she decided, stuffing the folder into her bag. Her movements were quick and sharp; her instincts screamed for escape, but a sliver of hope still lingered.

Cain nodded, but a strange glint flashed in his eyes — something more than mere agreement.

«Yes, agreed,» he said. «But first…»

He didn’t finish. Suddenly, the door burst open, and men in black uniforms stormed in. Their faces were hidden behind masks, and they carried weapons that gleamed like cold blades waiting to strike. Elira froze, her heart stopping as if teetering on the edge of an abyss.

«Don’t move!» a voice barked, echoing off the crumbling walls, shattering the silence.