The world is carved into Zones, each one operating as its own sovereign power. Official names exist, but only on paper—numbers have replaced them in everyday speech, a reminder that individuality bends to control. At the top of this hierarchy stand the Seven Major Generals, each the supreme commander of a Zone under the Grand Covenant Order. Their rule is absolute, their word as binding as law. They keep order through fear and precision, their influence cutting across borders like a blade.
EXT - ZONE 7: CALI'DUS
Erion slowed the pickup as he turned onto a narrow road. A private driveway — the kind that led to only one property. Going in head-on would be suicide.
At the far end, a set of towering gates rose from the ground like a fortress wall. Whoever built this place wanted isolation. He scanned the layout automatically, calculating angles, cover, and potential access points.
Plan one: cloak and reconnaissance. Always the safest first step.
He was about to reverse and pull out when movement caught his eye — a lone woman lingering near the gate. She was trying to peek through the gaps.
His first thought was of the desperate email.
Did she seriously come here alone?
Erion slid a GPS device from his pocket, tapped in his coordinates, and sent them to headquarters — standard procedure. The woman could easily get herself killed just standing there.
She looked young, maybe his age, maybe younger. Long curly hair framed her face, a simple yellow shirt and brown walking shorts making her stand out against the dusty backdrop.
He accelerated toward her. The moment he reached the gate, he lowered the window.
"Get in the car," he ordered.
Startled, she looked at him. "Are you from here?"
"No. In the car. Now."
Something in his tone got through to her. She climbed into the passenger seat, clutching a backpack.
"My friend is inside your farmhouse!" she blurted as the door shut.
"Obviously, I'm not from there. Are you the one who sent the email?" Erion kept scanning the area, eyes sharp for any sign of movement.
"Why did you call me? I need to—"
"I said, are you the one who sent it? I thought whoever broke through my security would be smart. Looks like you just got lucky." His voice was flat, unreadable.
She bristled, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. "I did send it! No one is helping me — what do you expect me to do?"
Then it clicked. He knew that face.
She was the girl from last night.
And judging by her expression, she didn't recognize him at all. Good.
"My friend is inside, we have to help her!" She grabbed his arm, pulling toward the gate.
The road here was a dead-end, the property surrounded by high walls. Oddly, no guards were stationed at the front.
"Are you part of The Order? Let's go inside now!" she pressed.
"Yes. My name's Erion. And no, we're not going inside. We call backup first." He reached for the comm unit in the console, fingers keying in a priority code.
"How do you even know she's in there?"
Evah pulled out her phone, swiping quickly. "I put a tracker on her. If the phone's out of town and shut off, it sends me the last known location."
His head turned toward her sharply. "You bugged her?"
"She knows! It's for her own safety."
"Stop assuming things," he replied coldly, though her explanation had caught his attention.
An alert blared from her phone. She silenced it immediately, shoving the screen in his face. "She's in there!"
He frowned. "How can you track a dead phone?" Even with Order tech, that was impossible.
"I rerouted twenty percent of the battery to a separate circuit. If it's off for more than thirty minutes, it pings me. Yuka never turns her phone off."
Girls are scary, he thought.
Or maybe just this girl.
"No, we can't waste time!" she said, tugging at him again.
She's right.
But it's still suicide.
"I've called backup. Calm down." He started speaking into the comm again—
Evah flung the door open and bolted.
"What the—" He stared at the still-locked passenger controls in disbelief.
"Next time, I'm locking you in," he growled, slamming the gear into park.
Too late. She was already gone.
Erion grabbed the silver-plated sidearm from the compartment — the one only a Major General was authorized to carry — attached the silencer, and stepped out.
If she got herself killed, this would be one hell of a report.