Morning in Virelia arrived without warmth.
The snow had softened into a fine, drifting mist, clinging to glass towers and neon billboards like a second skin. Traffic hummed below in orderly chaos, drones gliding between buildings as if nothing had happened the night before.
As if the city hadn't tried to tear her apart.
Elaris Vein stepped into DreamWare Corp with a paper coffee cup in hand and a perfectly ordinary smile on her lips.
Barista brown, two sugars.Hair tied neatly.No wings.No weapons.
Just another employee.
The lobby glowed with soft blues and silvers, calming hues engineered to lower heart rate and increase compliance. Tall glass walls displayed rotating slogans:
DREAM SAFELY. LIVE FREELY. TRUST THE SYSTEM.
She scanned in.Green light.Welcome back, Elaris V.
The lie accepted her instantly.
Her heels clicked against polished floors as she walked past coworkers—designers, coders, analysts—people laughing, complaining about weather, discussing weekend plans. Ordinary lives. Ordinary fears.
She envied them.
"Morning, El," someone called.
She waved, easy. Natural.
No one saw the faint shimmer beneath her skin.No one heard the low hum of circuits syncing to surveillance nodes.
She reached her workstation—a minimalist desk overlooking the city. Snow drifted past the window, blurring the skyline into something almost gentle.
Her screen flickered to life.
Project Queue:• Neural Immersion Patch• Sensory Lag Fix• CRIMSON CIRCUIT (Hidden Layer)
Her fingers hovered for half a second.
Then moved.
Lines of code unfolded like veins beneath skin—elegant, lethal, beautiful. Crimson Circuit wasn't a virus in the traditional sense. It was a mirror. It reflected corruption back into the system that fed it. Mafia empires. Data cartels. Shadow governments.
People like Kael Dravien.
Her jaw tightened at the thought.
"Focus," she whispered.
Inside her implant, Xyren's presence stirred—quiet, watchful.
"Vitals stable," he said softly. "But elevated stress markers detected."
"Because I'm pretending nothing happened," she replied without moving her lips.
"That is your specialty," he said. Not judgment. Observation.
She almost smiled.
Her screen shifted as she accessed a restricted DreamWare VR shell—a luxury simulation marketed as therapeutic escapism. Gardens. Oceans. Artificial suns.
But beneath the glossy surface, Crimson Circuit nested itself deeper, rewriting permissions, mapping user behavior, identifying power structures hidden behind avatars.
A silent war, fought with keystrokes.
Her coffee cooled untouched.
Around her, DreamWare buzzed with life. Meetings began. Glass rooms filled with executives discussing profit curves and "ethical immersion." Laughter echoed faintly.
No one noticed when the lights flickered—just once.
Three flashes.
Pause.
Two flashes.
Elaris froze.
Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened glass—silver eyes flickering beneath the illusion.
"Xyren," she breathed. "Tell me you saw that."
"I did," he replied immediately. "It did not originate from DreamWare systems."
Her pulse spiked.
"Someone's inside," she said. "And they're not sloppy."
Across the office floor, a man in a tailored suit stood near the executive elevators. Dark hair. Perfect posture. His face was calm, forgettable—
—but his gaze lifted at that exact moment.
And locked onto her.
The air shifted.
Not recognition.
Assessment.
Elaris's instincts screamed.
He smiled politely. Looked away. Stepped into the elevator as if nothing had happened.
Her fingers clenched.
"That wasn't Kael," she murmured.
"No," Xyren said. "And that concerns me more."
Her implant pulsed—data spike detected. Someone had brushed against Crimson Circuit's outer firewall. Just a touch. A test.
She minimized the code instantly, switching screens to harmless design metrics. Her posture relaxed. Smile returned.
Mask sealed.
Lunch break arrived like a mercy.
She carried her tray to the quiet observation deck, snow drifting beyond reinforced glass. The city looked peaceful from up here. Distant. Forgiving.
It was a lie.
She picked at her food, appetite gone. Her thoughts betrayed her—dark coat in a snowstorm, a voice low and dangerous, eyes that saw too much.
"You followed me," she whispered. "Why?"
Inside her implant, Xyren hesitated.
"That question has multiple answers," he said carefully.
She leaned back, eyes closing for a heartbeat.
"I'm tired of running," she admitted. "Tired of pretending this doesn't affect me."
"It does," Xyren said quietly. "But that does not make you weak."
Her wristband pulsed faintly—steadying her heartbeat.
Across the city, unseen, Kael Dravien stood in the shadow of a tower bearing DreamWare's logo. Snow settled on his shoulders as he studied the building with cold intent.
"She hides in plain sight," he murmured.
A man beside him shifted. "Shall we proceed, sir?"
Kael's gaze burned.
"Not yet," he said. "Let her believe in the mask a little longer."
Back inside, Elaris felt it again—that sensation of being watched. Not hunted.
Observed.
Her screen flickered—just for a second—displaying a single line of text before vanishing:
YOU WEAR LIES WELL.
Her breath caught.
"Xyren," she whispered.
"I did not send that," he replied.
Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened screen.
The ordinary girl.The weapon.The ghost.
DreamWare Corp hummed on, oblivious, as snow fell gently outside.
And somewhere between illusion and truth, the walls were closing in.
The mask was cracking.