The Himalayan valley lay hushed in snow and suspicion.
The secret base of the Architects, tucked beneath frozen cliffs and shrouded by high-altitude mist, looked abandoned to the outside world.
But inside, the hum of machines and the flickering of cold light screens whispered of something darker—plans being made,
trust being tested, and one girl's message awaited like prophecy.
Nilgiris stood by the panoramic glass window of the command chamber, his breath fogging the surface with quiet anxiety.
His dark coat swayed lightly from the cold wind sneaking in through a poorly sealed vent.
He didn't care.
His eyes were fixed on the glowing orb in his hand—a tracker synced to Rhea.
No message.
Still.
The entire command team was getting restless. Even the coffee machine had started to groan in protest from overuse.
"Sir," murmured one of the junior agents, breaking the silence like a sneeze during meditation,
"It's been... a week."
"A week," Asher repeated dramatically, flopping onto a chair like he'd just returned from war.
"Do you know how long that is in spy years?
That's a millennium."
Nilgiris didn't respond.
He simply grunted.
"I mean," Asher continued, sipping cold coffee and not realizing he was slurping it like soup, "you'd think she'd at least send a thumbs up. Or a pigeon. Or a smoke signal. Anything."
Another agent chimed in, "She could've joined Jake and started a podcast by now."
But Nilgiris wasn't fazed.
He turned slowly, his voice calm but sharp like frozen glass.
"She knows the plan.
And more importantly, she knows how to act.
We don't rush talent."
Asher, never missing a chance to sound like a discount philosopher, nodded solemnly. "Like fine cheese, spies must be aged."
"No, Asher," Nilgiris snapped, "We are not talking about cheese. We are talking about infiltration. Subtlety. Long games."
"But cheese is subtle…" Asher whispered under his breath.
Nilgiris ignored him and stared again at the orb.
Still nothing.
The silence was now creeping under his skin. Not because of Rhea—but because of someone else.
Magira. The Elixr team.
The interstellar alliance they had once coordinated so precisely had gone quiet.
No commands.
No status updates.
Not even a passive-aggressive ping.
It was unlike them.
The Elixr weren't exactly warm and fuzzy, but they were consistent. And predictable.
This wasn't that.
Nilgiris clenched his fists behind his back.
"What are they planning?" he murmured.
Asher, who had taken the silence as an invitation to voice every thought in his head, leaned back in his chair dramatically.
"Maybe they just… don't need us anymore."
Nilgiris raised an eyebrow.
"Speak again, Asher. Just to hear how ridiculous that sounds."
"No, seriously," Asher said, sitting up.
"Think about it! They're aliens with tech that makes our best inventions look like microwaves from the 80s. They could destroy the world just by coughing in the wrong direction."
Another agent raised a finger.
"To be fair, Asher's got a point. They don't exactly need our help."
Nilgiris didn't appreciate the ganging up.
"Whether they need us or not is irrelevant," he said sharply.
"We are not here to play assistant.
We're here to lead.
To direct.
To execute."
He tapped the glass panel in front of him, and a map of Earth flickered up.
"Silence from Elixr means one of two things: either they've lost faith in our methods… or they're planning a move without telling us."
Asher sipped from his coffee mug that read "World Domination In Progress".
"Could also mean their alien WiFi's down."
Meanwhile, in Halewick…
Jake, the boy who once dreamed of saving the world with DIY gadgets and ramen-fueled coding marathons, was now floating on cloud nine.
He was in love.
Well, what he thought was love.
Rhea had infiltrated his life as smoothly as butter on toast.
She didn't barge in, she melted in.
Every day, she sat beside him in the tech hideout (read: Jake's garage with terrible insulation), eyes wide and innocent, listening to Jake explain the logic behind loops, encryption, and firewall layering like she was hearing a bedtime story.
"See this?" Jake grinned, pointing to his screen. "That's a digital handshake. It's how secure systems greet each other."
"Wow," Rhea whispered. "So polite."
He laughed.
She laughed.
Mike, in the corner, rolled his eyes so hard he almost dislocated something.
Jake didn't notice.
His head was spinning with affection and confidence.
In fact, Jake had started referring to Rhea as "part of the team," even though technically she hadn't passed a single coding test.
"She's got the spirit," he said.
Still, Jake wasn't completely naïve. He had not yet shared every secret. The Lighthouse, their most critical asset, was still mostly under wraps.
Mostly.
But Rhea was clever.
She didn't need a download of classified files. She pieced things together from conversations, diagrams on the wall, and Jake's enthusiastic oversharing.
One night, after a particularly long session where Jake had explained how their code repelled memory tampering, Rhea slipped out for a quick bathroom break.
Except she wasn't going to the bathroom.
She opened a secure channel on her communicator—disguised as a wristwatch—and whispered into it:
"First report. I've unofficially entered the Null Frank team. Jake is halfway under. He believes I'm one of them. Mike's harder to crack. He watches. Suspects. But I'll manage. Phase One complete."
She pressed SEND and smiled.
Back at Architect HQ – A Celebration and a Shiver
BEEP.
A message blinked onto the master screen at the Himalayan base.
Everyone froze.
Then they all stood at once.
"Message from Rhea," someone called out, and the room erupted in cheers.
One junior agent sprayed energy drink into the air like champagne. Another tried to play victory music but accidentally triggered an old spy documentary narration.
Nilgiris stared at the message with cold satisfaction.
"I told you," he said with a small smirk.
"She just needed time. Patience wins wars."
Asher fist-pumped the air.
"That's my girl! This is why we let her binge spy shows as training. She's in deep!"
But Nilgiris didn't join the celebration fully. He paced instead, his mind still gnawed by that uncomfortable silence from Elixr.
He muttered to himself, not loud enough for the rest to hear:
"Still no message from Magira. Why?"
"Why now, when our plan is finally in motion?"
That night, Nilgiris stood alone outside the base's upper deck, watching the icy wind sweep across the Himalayan cliffs.
Stars above. Earth below. And somewhere in between, a girl playing both sides.
His mind churned.
Was Magira watching them?
Judging?
Planning a separate mission?
Had the Elixr chosen another ally?
For once, Nilgiris didn't feel in control.
Asher joined him with two mugs of hot chocolate—he called it "spy fuel"—and stood beside him.
"Still thinking about the aliens?" he asked.
Nilgiris said nothing.
Asher sipped. "Maybe they've got something bigger going on. Like a galaxy-wide sale or space flu."
Nilgiris didn't laugh.
"I don't like silence, Asher," he said. "Not from enemies. And especially not from supposed allies."
Asher leaned over. "Then maybe it's time we made the next move."
Nilgiris nodded slowly.
"Yes. Begin scanning for Elixr activity. Satellite sweeps, coded transmissions, even electromagnetic irregularities. I want to know what they're hiding—and where."
Asher saluted with his hot chocolate.