Soria stood in the cold alley, her breath fogging in the crisp air, eyes fixed on the crumbling tenement building just ahead. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled back tightly, highlighting the sharp angles of her face, yet softening her features with a quiet elegance. The dim light from the street lamps cast a subtle glow over her, illuminating the mix of strength and grace in her expression. She moved with fluid confidence, each step measured and purposeful. Despite the shadows that cloaked her, there was an undeniable presence about her—strong, yet undeniably feminine—her sharp gaze capturing every faint movement with poised precision.

The streets of Glenver were silent at this late hour, far from the bustle of its diplomatic districts. The sound of a distant car engine echoed through the narrow streets before fading into the night. She had been stationed here for over two years now, working as a Lead Intelligence Officer at the International Intelligence Agency (IIA), the investigative and intelligence branch of the Global Court of Justice (GCJ), tasked with uncovering threats to international stability and enforcing the court’s directives. It was a position she had once worn with pride. Tonight, however, the weight of her mission had grown heavier, her conviction less certain.

Soria paused for a moment, letting the cold seep into her bones. It was a bitter sensation, but it grounded her. The world around her had grown colder in more ways than one, and the distance she once felt between herself and the missions she carried out had expanded. Glenver, with its sleek architecture and aura of neutrality, had seemed perfect when she first arrived. It was everything she admired—a place where the law could be enforced without bias, where justice wasn’t manipulated for power. But now, standing here in the shadows, everything felt distant, as though the very foundation she believed in was crumbling beneath her feet.

Soria drew in a breath and let it out slowly, focusing on the task at hand. Keep your head in the present. Don’t get lost in this. She had always prided herself on her ability to compartmentalize, to push her doubts aside when necessary. But the doubts had grown louder in recent months—ever since the anonymous leaks had started.

The leaks were coming from multiple sources, but one source stood out among the rest. Soria didn’t know the identity behind these carefully placed revelations, but their presence felt sharper, more targeted—like a thread weaving through everything. It weighed heavily on her every action, every decision. The revelations, though fragmented and elusive, threatened to tear apart everything she believed in. Soria’s mind reeled at the thought. How could someone like this have so much information? How could any of it be true?

Several Months Earlier, the IIA Headquarters in Glenver, Astralis’ capital:

The high ceilings and pristine marble floors of the IIA had always inspired awe in Soria. From her early days serving her homeland, Verdana, she had regarded the IIA as the ultimate symbol of global security, where the pursuit of international justice and accountability was set in motion. As one of the most powerful international organizations, it was tasked with managing the world’s most complex threats—cross-border criminal networks, terrorism, and global corruption. But now, seated in one of its briefing rooms, a sense of unease clung to her.

It had started small—a tightness in her chest, a subtle shift in her perspective. She had begun to see things she hadn’t noticed before. The way intelligence reports glossed over inconvenient details. The careful handling of certain high-profile incidents. The more she paid attention, the more the cracks became visible, widening with every new anonymous revelation.

Verdana had always been a pillar of justice and democracy. Hadn’t it? For years, she had served as one of the Verdana’s top operatives, exposing criminal organizations and protecting the integrity of the government - at least, that’s what she had believed. The mission had always been clear—uphold justice, enforce the law, protect the innocent. But now, her mission was far more complicated. The corruption she was uncovering was woven deep into the very institutions she had been taught to trust. The leaks had revealed a disturbing truth—the extraction of Luxionite, a rare resource that was vital to the global economy, was at the heart of widespread human suffering and environmental destruction.

She couldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t. Verdana couldn’t be involved in something so deeply immoral. This has to be a fabrication. But even as she thought it, a chill ran down her spine. What if it wasn’t?

Soria’s mind reeled. The documents from the leaks seemed outrageous, like some grand conspiracy designed to smear Verdana’s reputation. They detailed the complicity of Verdana and allied governments in war profiteering, mass displacement, forced labor, and environmental devastation in regions where Luxionite was extracted. No. Verdana had always been involved in fair diplomatic discourse, ensuring ethical extraction of resources, safeguarding human rights, and maintaining peace and justice in their relationships with other nations. Soria had seen it herself. She had been there—on the ground, in those negotiations, in those places. Everything had been done legally, through proper channels. Right?

But the documents showed something else. They showed wars fought over Luxionite. They showed children forced into labor, entire populations uprooted, displaced, their homes razed to make way for mining operations. Verdana’s name was tied to deals she had never heard of, agreements made behind closed doors. The more she read, the more it felt like a fabrication, perhaps manufactured by forces with a hidden agenda seeking to harm Verdana’s image.

But what if… what if it wasn’t fabricated?

The thought was a whisper at first, but it grew louder with every passing day. What if the leaks were true?

Soria couldn’t accept that the country she had served with unwavering loyalty for so long could be capable of such atrocities. Everything in the documents seemed beyond what she had ever known, far from the reality she had been taught and the truth she believed in. The idea that Verdana had turned a blind eye to suffering, or even enabled it for profit, seemed absurd.

Chief Investigator Jovak had been clear in his directives. “This anonymous source is no longer just a whistleblower. They’ve become a threat to everything we stand for.” His voice had been tight with frustration as he paced the room. “The latest leaks are tearing at the fabric of Verdana’s government and allies. If we don’t track them down soon, the consequences could be catastrophic—for Verdana, and for our global partnerships.”

Soria had remained silent, her sharp brown eyes focused as Jovak spoke. The leaks had exposed cracks within Verdana’s government, threatening its carefully cultivated image on the global stage. Even the IIA’s impartiality had been called into question, as Verdana’s influence loomed large.

Still, Soria couldn’t help but think that someone was orchestrating this chaos, pulling strings to undermine Verdana’s role in the world. Perhaps this anonymous figure was part of a larger conspiracy, seeking to weaken Verdana’s standing for reasons unknown. She had always believed in the transparency of Verdana’s actions—everything was supposedly done legally, through fair diplomatic agreements and relations.

The leaks had shaken Soria to her core, but she clung to her belief in Verdana’s ideals. The thought that her country could be involved in the very corruption it claimed to fight left her feeling betrayed, but she was determined to uncover the truth rather than succumb to doubt. This has to be a smear campaign, she told herself once more, clenching her jaw. Someone is trying to destabilize Verdana. No country is perfect, but this… this is too much.

“We need them found,” Jovak had continued, his tone harsher now. “The IIA cannot afford to let Verdana’s integrity be questioned. “The stakes are far too high—Luxionite isn’t just a resource, it’s the lifeblood of many nations. It’s the cornerstone of our global green transition. If this collapses, it could destabilize everything.”

Soria nodded, accepting the gravity of her mission. But even as she’d agreed, doubt had seeped into the corners of her mind. If it’s all a fabrication, why hasn’t Verdana been able to shut it down completely?

The initial leaks had caused a stir across social media platforms globally, scattered pieces of data slipping through the cracks of their secure systems. The anonymous figure—or perhaps a network—had carefully placed them where they would catch the most attention, just enough to make Verdana and the IIA uncomfortable. Though the authorities had swiftly taken the leaks down, scrubbing the data off the web, the public had already caught a glimpse, and murmurs were spreading. Verdana and its allied governments responded quickly, issuing multiple press releases and addressing the issue across all mainstream channels, assuring the public that the leaks were completely fabricated—an act of sabotage by foreign entities aiming to destabilize global unity and undermine Verdana’s leadership. But despite their efforts to control the narrative, time was against them. The fear was always the same: that another leak, of unpredictable scale, could happen at any moment—and this time, they might not be able to contain it.

The anonymous figures behind the leaks had been elusive—too elusive—and no matter how tightly Verdana’s agents closed the net, they slipped away. For months, Soria had been chasing this unknown source, each lead turning up only shadows and whispers. Tracking the IP addresses from the leaks had led to dead ends. The posters had been smart, using VPNs and proxies to mask their true locations. Each address traced back to various places around the globe. It was impossible to pinpoint the source. But one trace stood out from the noise, an IP address that led to Glenver itself.

Back to the present:

Soria moved cautiously toward the building, her frame blending seamlessly into the darkness. The tension coiled tighter in her chest. The streets were too quiet, the kind of silence that comes before something breaks. Her com device flashed with the coordinates she had been given—this was it.

Soria’s team had been called in the moment the link to Glenver had been discovered. The IIA couldn’t afford to waste any time. She had her doubts about the location, but it was the first real lead they’d had in weeks. If the source was still in Glenver, this could be the breakthrough they needed.

Her pulse quickened as she approached the entrance to the building. As she neared the door, she could hear faint whispers in her earpiece. Team Ilvess had already secured the perimeter, agents posted at every exit. Team Tharion was ready to breach the building on her signal.

“Tharion in position,” a voice crackled in her ear. “No sign of movement from the second floor, but they’re in there.”

Soria pressed the button on her earpiece. “Acknowledged. Moving in now. Stay sharp.”

The door was slightly ajar. Soria slipped inside, her long legs carrying her soundlessly across the worn wooden floor. The musty air clung to her as she moved deeper into the building. It was far from the bright lights and order of Glenver’s center. These shadowy places had become familiar territory for Soria, but this time, her team was with her.

Her mind drifted back to her first days in the service of Verdana. She remembered walking into the courtroom as a new operative, the gleaming halls of the IIA filling her with pride. Back then, justice had seemed straightforward—good versus evil, law versus lawlessness. She had been so certain. But now, walking through the decaying, shadowy corridors of Glenver’s underbelly, it felt as though the world had shifted beneath her feet. This wasn’t just a mission to capture a criminal; this was a mission to protect the very essence of what she had believed in her whole life. But what if it’s all a lie? No, stop it. Stay focused. This is what they want—doubt. They thrive on it. They’re trying to destabilize you, your convictions, your beliefs.

Her hand instinctively moved to her sidearm, the cold metal a reminder of her role. You’re here to protect your country and global peace. Don’t forget that.

“Clear the east stairwell,” Soria whispered into her mic as she moved through the decayed hallways. Agent Calon, one of her trusted team members, was close behind her, scanning their six. Agent Ivelta was sweeping the rooms to her right, while Tharion’s leader, Darek, confirmed they had eyes on the rooftops, in case their target tried to escape that way.

The staircase creaked as Soria ascended, her well-trained body moving silently but swiftly. She had followed countless leads in the past few months, each one taking her deeper into the web of secrets and lies that had been exposed. Every time she got close, the source slipped away, leaving only questions behind.

“First and second floors are clear,” Ivelta reported softly, her breath calm despite the adrenaline. “Heading to the top.”

Reaching the top floor, Soria paused, her team fanning out behind her. The room at the end of the hall was lit faintly by a single bulb, casting long shadows against the walls. The door was half-open, the room beyond it still.

“Hold position,” Soria ordered. She moved forward cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. This elusive figure had been clever, outmaneuvering them at every turn. But tonight felt different. Tonight, there was a shift in the air.

Inside the room, there was nothing obvious—just the cold silence of an empty space.

Soria’s brow furrowed. She knew whoever was behind this was far too smart to leave behind anything obvious. But if the lead had brought them here, there had to be something.

She stepped toward the window, her sharp gaze scanning the surroundings outside. The faint glow of the city’s lights flickered in the distance, but nothing stirred. This is just another dead end. The thought echoed in her mind as she took in the empty room.

Her team had combed through every inch of the building, and there was nothing. No sign of anyone connected to the leaks. No trace of anything substantial. Another fake lead, another false location. It was disappointing, but by now, Soria had grown accustomed to it. The IP address had seemed promising at first, but now it felt like just another breadcrumb in the wild goose chase they’d been led on for months.

She turned back, ready to signal her team to wrap it up. This location, like the others, had been a distraction—nothing more.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention—a small piece of paper lying near the edge of the floor, half-covered in dust. It looked like an ordinary flyer, some random advertisement for a local business.

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At first glance, it was the kind of thing anyone would overlook. But as she knelt down to pick it up, her eyes caught something—there, in the lower corner of the flyer, barely noticeable, was a symbol.

It was small, almost hidden among the generic print. A simple mark, but it was enough to make Soria’s breath catch in her throat. For a brief moment, an ache bloomed in her chest, a deep, sudden pang that she couldn’t explain. Her hand tightened around the paper as her mind tried to process what she was seeing. She couldn’t place the feeling, not yet, but something about it stirred memories she hadn’t confronted in years.

Without a word, she slipped the flyer into her pocket, rising to her feet as she signaled to her team. “We’re done here. Let’s move.”

As they exited the building, the quiet unease in Soria’s chest hadn’t lifted. The mission was supposed to be straightforward, but this symbol—it felt personal in a way that unsettled her. Why now? What did it mean? She pushed the questions aside for the moment, but deep down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave it behind.

Her mission was far from over.