The Nest was gone.
Where once there had been humming terminals and whispered strategy, now only scorched metal and fractured stone remained. The survivors—bloodied, dazed, grieving—had fallen back to a forgotten textile warehouse at the edge of the industrial district. The air still smelled of ash. Every movement hurt.
Kirion stood in the center of the dimly lit space, eyes fixed on a piece of torn fabric clenched in his fist—his daughter's scarf, singed at the edge. She had made it out. Barely. But others hadn't.
Ayo, limping and bruised, leaned against a support beam as he approached. "It wasn't just an attack," he said. "It was a message."
Kirion didn't respond at first. His silence was heavier than any speech he could have given.
"They think we're broken," he finally said. "But they've only taught us how far they're willing to go to protect their lies."
The resistance leaders—what remained of them—gathered that night. A few dozen, where once they had been hundreds. Faces etched with fatigue and grief. Yet in their eyes, something else burned: purpose.
Ayo dropped a datapad on the table. "We found something. Buried beneath a decoy server farm—off-books, almost too quiet. Government-grade encryption, but not under standard defense protocols. Deep intel storage. They call it Citadel Core."
Kirion's daughter stepped forward, sleeves rolled up, eyes wide awake despite the bruises. "It's more than a vault. It's a brain—an AI-enhanced system that tracks, predicts, and manipulates. They use it to anticipate our moves before we make them."
She paused, fingers tapping against her palm. "If we breach it, we don't just get intel. We decapitate their surveillance arm."
Murmurs erupted. Was it even possible?
Kirion raised a hand. "We've been playing their game. Running. Hiding. It ends now."
He leaned closer to the map laid across the table, eyes burning with resolve. "We hit the Citadel. A two-tiered strike—diversionary chaos on the surface, and an infiltration strike team underground. My daughter leads the digital breach. I lead the assault."
Someone asked the question that lingered in every mind: "What if we fail?"
"We've already lost homes, friends, pieces of ourselves," Kirion said quietly. "But we haven't lost our will. This mission isn't just about data—it's about momentum. If we don't make them bleed, we'll be bleeding forever."
Silence.
Then Ayo, voice dry, cracked a grin. "Guess it's time we turned predators on their own system."
A few tired chuckles. Then nods. Then purpose.
That night, blueprints were sketched, escape routes plotted, weapons counted. Codes were exchanged, and silent goodbyes spoken.
The Citadel mission would be a turning point—not just in the war, but in Kirion's soul. He wasn't just fighting for survival anymore. He was fighting for legacy. For his daughter's future. For truth.
They would not run again.
They would burn the lion's den down from the inside.