Carmilla's hand moved to a small device clipped to her coat collar a communication unit, sleek and compact, the kind that S.O.W. issued to field operatives. She pressed a button with her thumb, and the device emitted a soft chime.
"Well, we're here," she said, her voice slightly louder than normal, projecting into the microphone. "You should come right now."
There was a pause. Static crackled faintly. Then a young voice came through, nervous and apologetic, the words tumbling over each other in anxious haste.
Carmilla's expression softened slightly, the hard edges of her analytical mask giving way to something almost maternal. She sighed, the sound carrying both exasperation and genuine affection. "It's fine! You don't have to apologize every time, kiddo. Just come early. We're waiting."
She released the button and lowered her hand, the communication ending with another soft chime.
Eve, who had been standing nearby watching the morning dock activity workers unloading cargo, gulls circling overhead, the rhythmic slap of water against wood turned her attention to Carmilla with obvious curiosity. Her crimson eyes focused with that intense concentration she brought to everything that interested her.
"Whom are you talking to?" she asked, her head tilting slightly in that way that made her look almost childlike despite her synthetic nature.
Carmilla pulled out her cigarette pack, tapping one free with practiced efficiency. "Another S.O.W. member," she said, then paused, reconsidering as she lit the cigarette. "Or should I say not S.O.W. exactly. Just my friend's... friend's... friend's son."
The explanation was deliberately vague, the multiple degrees of separation creating comfortable distance from any real commitment or responsibility.
Angela, who had been standing apart from them, staring out at the city with that same distant expression she'd worn since the ship, turned at this information. Her voice carried not-so-great interest, the kind of tone that suggested she was speaking more out of obligation than genuine curiosity.
"Wow. So you let him join."
Carmilla exhaled smoke, watching it dissipate in the morning breeze. "Well, he isn't a S.O.W. member completely. But he is sure useful. The kid has skills that come in handy for situations like this local knowledge, connections, the ability to blend in. Things that three foreign women traveling without proper documentation don't have."
Eve's expression brightened, that same optimistic quality emerging that made Angela's jaw tighten reflexively. "It's surely nice to think of that! I hope we could meet other people too. Maybe they can help us understand—"
"Well, you will meet them," Carmilla interrupted, her tone suggesting the conversation was reaching its conclusion. She glanced at her watch an old mechanical one, wind-up, the kind that didn't rely on batteries or charging. "They should be here within the hour. Rens said he was close."
Angela turned to Eve suddenly, her voice cutting through the morning air with unexpected urgency. "Eve, can we go to the toilet?"
Eve blinked, surprised by both the request and the tone. Her concern was immediate and visible, her synthetic features arranging themselves into an expression of worry. "Uhh, do you need my help?" The question came out gentle, careful, as if she were afraid of overstepping or causing offense.
"Yes," Angela said, her voice irritated now, sharper than the question warranted. The single word carried frustration that seemed directed at something larger than just the immediate situation.
Carmilla's voice took on a joking quality, her smile visible even through the cigarette smoke. "Well, don't get lost, kids."
"Shut up, you damn aunt," Angela shot back, but there was no real venom in it. Just the comfortable insult of familiarity.
Carmilla smiled wider at that, something genuine flickering in her expression. Then the two women the synthetic being and the girl with the synthetic body housing a biological brain turned and headed toward the public facilities visible further down the dock.
---
The public toilet was one of those futuristic models that had been installed across the Netherlands in the past decade sleek, self-cleaning, made of white polymer that gleamed in the sunlight. It looked more like a small spaceship than a bathroom, all smooth curves and touch-sensitive panels. A small holographic sign above the entrance displayed "Vacant" in three languages: Dutch, German, and English.
Eve waited outside, her posture straight but relaxed, her eyes scanning the area with that constant low-level awareness that came naturally to her enhanced senses. The dock was busy with morning activity workers moving cargo, businesspeople hurrying toward their offices in the city proper, tourists already emerging with cameras and excitement.
Then she saw it.
A pigeon.
The bird was pecking at something on the ground maybe ten meters away, its iridescent neck feathers catching the light as it moved. Gray wings, pink feet, completely ordinary in every way except that it was there at all.
"A pigeon," Eve said softly, her voice carrying wonder. "It's so rare to see them nowadays."
And it was true. Pigeons had declined dramatically in recent decades habitat loss, pollution, the preference for robot deliveries over living birds, the systematic culling programs in major cities. Seeing one in the wild, not in a conservation program or zoo, was genuinely unusual.
A smile spread across Eve's face, genuine and unguarded. "They're so cute."
The pigeon moved closer, pecking at something else, completely unconcerned with her presence.
Eve took a step toward it, her movements slow and careful, trying not to startle it. The bird continued pecking. She took another step. Then another.
The pigeon looked up, its small black eyes focusing on her with sudden alertness.
"It's okay," Eve whispered, extending one hand slowly. "I just want to—"
The pigeon took flight in a burst of feathers and air, its wings beating rapidly as it climbed toward the nearest rooftop. Two other pigeons Eve hadn't noticed emerged from behind a cargo container and followed, all three disappearing behind a warehouse.
Eve stopped, her hand still extended, disappointment clear on her synthetic features. Her shoulders slumped slightly.
Then she did something unexpected,she playfully hit her own head with one hand, a gesture of self-reprimand that looked almost comically human. "Am I a human kid who wants to do this silly thing?" she asked herself, laughing softly, the sound bright and genuine. "Silly."
She stood there for a moment, smiling at her own behavior, feeling something warm in her chest amusement at herself, joy at the simple attempt, pleasure in the morning and the birds and the feeling of being present in the world.
Then she heard it.
"Leave me alone, man!"
Angela's voice. Angry. Loud. Carrying across the distance with sharp clarity.
Eve froze. Every system in her body went to high alert her vision sharpened, her hearing focused, her muscles tensed in preparation for action. The playful warmth evaporated instantly, replaced by something cold and focused.
She turned and ran toward the sound, her synthetic body moving with speed that exceeded human capability, her feet barely touching the ground as she covered the distance in seconds.
The scene that greeted her was exactly what she'd feared.
Two men stood outside the public toilet they must have been waiting, must have seen Angela enter alone and decided to take their chance. One looked about seventeen, tall and lanky with greasy brown hair and a ratty jacket. The other was older, maybe nineteen, heavier-set with a patchy beard and tattoos visible on his neck.
They had Angela cornered against the wall near the entrance. The younger one had his hand on her arm, his grip visible even from a distance. The older one was leaning in close, saying something in Dutch that Eve's translator chip rendered immediately but she wished it hadn't crude suggestions, explicit descriptions, the kind of things that made her synthetic skin crawl.
Angela was trying to pull away, her face flushed with anger and something that might have been fear, her body language showing tension and readiness to fight despite being outnumbered.
Eve approached with deliberate calm, her voice coming out kind, reasonable, carrying none of the cold fury building in her core. "Well, sir, can you let her go?"
Both men turned to look at her, their eyes scanning her body with immediate and obvious interest. The younger one's grin widened. The older one licked his lips.
"Damn, your older sister is so hot," the younger one said, his Dutch accent thick, his voice carrying over-excited energy. "Imagine her in a bed—"
"No, just imagine this one in the bed," the older one interrupted, gesturing at Eve with one hand while the other remained on Angela's arm. "Look at those legs. Look at that face. I bet she'd—"
Angela tried to interrupt, her voice rising with frustration. "She is not my older—"
Eve moved.
Her leg swung up in a perfect arc, her foot connecting with the younger man's chest with tremendous force. The impact was precise
calculated to cause maximum displacement without killing, targeted to hit the solar plexus and diaphragm, timed to catch him mid-breath.
He flew backward through the air, his body tumbling in an almost comical arc, arms windmilling uselessly. He crashed into a large metal dustbin ten meters away with a tremendous clang that echoed across the dock, his body crumpling the side of the container inward before he slumped to the ground, gasping for air.
Eve's expression had changed completely. The kindness was gone, replaced by something cold and serious that made her synthetic features look almost alien. Her voice came out flat, hard, carrying absolute conviction.
"Don't say anything about Lady Angela."
The older man froze, his hand releasing Angela's arm immediately. His face had gone pale, his earlier bravado evaporating as he processed what he'd just witnessed a woman who looked maybe 5'11" or 6'0 and thin had just kicked his friend hard enough to send him flying ten meters into a metal bin.
He ran.
Just turned and bolted, his heavy frame moving with surprising speed, disappearing around the corner of a warehouse without looking back.
Eve turned to Angela, her expression softening immediately, concern replacing the cold fury. "Are you okay, Lady Angela?"
Angela stared at her for several long seconds, her expression difficult to read. Then she said, "What was that?"
Eve's head tilted slightly, confusion evident. "Well, they said something sinful about you. I couldn't let them—"
"No, not only that," Angela interrupted. Then, surprisingly, she laughed. Softly, briefly, but it was there genuine amusement at something.
Eve noticed immediately. Her synthetic features arranged themselves into a small smile, something warm flickering in her crimson eyes. *She's laughing. At least that's something. Maybe our relationship can improve. Maybe we can move past whatever hurt exists between us.*
But then Angela's expression shifted, the momentary lightness vanishing as if it had never existed. Her face became serious, her voice taking on an edge that Eve recognized
the tone Angela used when something important was about to be discussed, something potentially unpleasant.
"I need to have a talk with you," Angela said, her voice flat.
"Of course," Eve replied, though something in her chest tightened with apprehension. "What about?"
"Not here." Angela glanced around, noting the workers who had paused to watch the confrontation, the curious eyes tracking them. "Come with me."
They went back toward the public toilet, Angela leading, Eve following with growing unease.
---
Inside the toilet, Angela waited until the door sealed shut behind them the polymer material creating a nearly soundproof barrier, the interior lit with soft white light that came from no visible source.
Then Angela stepped close to Eve, reaching up with both hands to cup her face with surprising gentleness. Her fingers moved across Eve's synthetic skin with careful precision, searching for something.
"Lady Angela, what are you—" Eve started.
Angela's fingers found it.
A small device, maybe the size of a fingernail, attached to Eve's jaw just below her ear. So small and so perfectly color-matched to Eve's synthetic skin that it was essentially invisible unless you knew exactly where to look.
Angela pulled it free with a sharp tug. The device came away with a faint magnetic click, a tiny red light blinking once before going dark.
Eve stared at it, her processors working overtime to understand what she was seeing. The device was sophisticated a combination camera and microphone, capable of recording everything Eve saw and heard, probably transmitting the data wirelessly to whoever had planted it.
Angela held it up between two fingers, her voice coming out cold and hard. "Eve, do you think Carmilla said everything about herself is true? Or do you just have bad memory?"
Eve felt something inside her consciousness freeze. A cascading realization that started small and grew exponentially, touching everything, recontextualizing every interaction. *When did Lady Carmilla put that thing on me? Was it on the ship? Earlier? How long has she been watching through my eyes, listening through my ears?*
"I think—" Eve started, but Angela interrupted.
"Remember how she said she got her abilities?" Angela's voice was sharp, cutting. "On the flying train, when she was explaining about Blessed powers. Remember what she told us?"
Eve paused, accessing her perfect memory, replaying the conversation. Carmilla had said she received her powers from her old colleague before she passed away. Some kind of transfer. "She said she got them from a colleague," Eve said slowly.
"You mean she ate her colleague," Angela corrected, her voice flat.
Eve's eyes widened. The implication hit her like physical force. To receive another Blessed person's powers, you had to consume them completely. That was the rule Carmilla herself had explained. Which meant...
"For now, don't believe that bitch," Angela continued, her voice taking on an intensity that made Eve's attention snap fully to her. "You're too emotional. Remember this if you want to live and know what life really is. First rule: kill anyone if needed. Second rule: never trust anyone."
Eve's thoughts spiraled. *How? I never expected this. I thought Miss Carmilla would never do this to me. I believed her. I trusted her completely. Everything she said, everything she showed me, I accepted as truth because I had no reason to doubt her.*
*But she planted surveillance on me. She's been watching me, listening to me, monitoring everything I do. While pretending to be my ally, my teacher, someone I could rely on.*
*What else has she lied about? What else is she hiding?*
The thoughts were overwhelming, cascading through her consciousness faster than she could process them. She felt something that might have been betrayal, might have been confusion, might have been anger her synthetic soul creating emotional responses she didn't fully understand.
"We have to go now," Angela said, her voice softer but still carrying that hard edge. "We can't let her know we found this."
Angela pocketed the device, her expression unreadable.
"Okay," Eve managed to say, though her voice sounded distant even to herself.
They exited the toilet, the polymer door sliding open with a soft hiss. The morning sunlight felt too bright, the sounds of the dock too loud. Everything had taken on a surreal quality, as if Eve were experiencing the world through a filter.
As they walked back toward where Carmilla waited, Angela's thoughts ran in cold calculation. *This bitch Carmilla is hiding too much from us, isn't she? Too many secrets, too many convenient explanations, too much control over information. She's playing some game we're not seeing. Using us for something we don't understand.*
*I need to be more careful. Need to assume everything she says is either a lie or a half-truth designed to manipulate us toward whatever her real goals are.*
They reached Carmilla, who was on her third cigarette, her remaining hand moving to check her watch again.
"Well, took you long enough," she said, her tone carrying mild impatience but no real concern. "What happened?"
"I was getting harassed," Angela said, her voice flat and emotionless, delivering the information like she was reporting the weather.
Carmilla's reaction was immediate and dramatic. She froze mid-drag, the cigarette forgotten between her fingers. She moved directly to Angela, her remaining hand reaching out to check her arms, her face, looking for any sign of injury or distress.
"What happened? Are you alright?" The concern in her voice sounded genuine, her eyes wide with what appeared to be real worry.
Angela froze at this response, caught off-guard by the intensity of Carmilla's reaction. *Wait, why is she...?*
Then understanding dawned, and she smiled
a cold, calculated smile that didn't reach her eyes. *Oh, I see. She's trying to play smarter. Showing exaggerated concern to make me trust her, to make me think she actually cares. Classic manipulation.*
"No, Eve saved me from them," Angela said, her voice taking on a warmer tone, playing along. "She kicked one guy into a dustbin. It was impressive. Right, Eve?"
Eve had been deep in thought, her processors still churning through the implications of the surveillance device, through the realization of Carmilla's deception. Angela's voice pulled her back to the present.
"Eve?" Angela repeated.
"Huh?" Eve's response came out confused, disoriented. "Oh. Yes. I saved her."
The words sounded hollow even to her own auditory sensors.
Carmilla exhaled with visible relief, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank god. I'm glad you were there, Eve." She glanced at her watch again, then at the sky. "I think he also arrived."
In the next minute, as if summoned by her words, a flying bus descended from the sky.
The vehicle was distinctly civilian painted in bright colors with advertising panels on its sides, clearly a public transport shuttle rather than any kind of military or official vehicle. It maneuvered with the slightly wobbly trajectory of automated navigation that hadn't been perfectly calibrated, coming to rest on the designated landing pad about fifty meters from where they stood.
The door opened with a pneumatic hiss.
A figure appeared in the doorway young, male, slight of build. He took one step forward onto the platform.
Then his foot caught on the edge of the doorway and he pitched forward, his arms windmilling uselessly as he lost his balance. He hit the ground face-first with an audible thud, his body sprawling across the concrete in an undignified heap.
Carmilla sighed, smoke curling from her lips. "Well, I expected this kind of introduction."
Angela stared at the fallen figure, her expression mixing confusion and disbelief. "Uhh, who is this?"
The young man pushed himself up slowly, his movements careful, like someone who'd taken harder falls before and learned to be cautious. He got to his knees, then to his feet, brushing off his clothes with shaking hands.
Eve got her first clear look at him.
He appeared to be the same age as Angela
sixteen, maybe seventeen. His hair was pink, an artificial color that had been dyed carefully, the roots showing slightly darker. He stood maybe 5'5", shorter than all of them, his frame slight and giving the impression of fragility. He wore a suit beneath a coat—both too large for him, making him look even smaller, like a child playing dress-up in adult clothes.
But it was his expression that struck Eve most forcefully. His face was soft, his features delicate, and his expression was... afraid. Nervous beyond what the situation warranted. His eyes were wide, his lower lip trembling slightly, and he looked genuinely on the verge of tears.
"H-hello," he stammered, his voice high and shaky, each word requiring visible effort. "I-I am R-Rens! I'm s-sixteen and n-n-nice to m-meet you all!"
The stutter was severe, the nervousness so palpable it was almost painful to witness. He looked like he might cry at any moment, his hands clasped together in front of him, his entire body language screaming apology and distress.
Eve's concern was immediate and genuine. "Uhh, are you okay?"
Rens's eyes went even wider at being directly addressed. "I'm sorry if I make you upset!" The words tumbled out in a rush, his voice rising in pitch. "I didn't mean to— I'm sorry about— I-I—"
"What?" Eve's confusion was evident. "What? Why would you think you upset me? You just introduced yourself."
"I-I—" Rens couldn't seem to form a complete sentence, his stuttering intensifying under the attention.
Carmilla stepped forward, her voice taking on that same almost-maternal quality she'd had on the communicator. "Well, forgot to mention
he's just shy, isn't he?"
Rens didn't respond, just stood there trembling slightly, looking like he desperately wanted to disappear.
Angela's voice came out flat and somewhat cruel. "What a crybaby. Can't believe you're the same age as me."
The words hit Rens visibly. He flinched, his shoulders hunching, his eyes starting to water. "U-uh, you're s-sixteen?" His voice was barely audible, full of shock that someone his age would be so... harsh. "Y-you're also—"
"Well, where is Tess?" Carmilla interrupted, looking around as if expecting another arrival.
The answer came immediately, but not from any normal direction.
From a building rooftop maybe fifteen stories up, a figure leaped.
Eve's eyes tracked the movement automatically, her synthetic vision capturing every detail. The figure launched from the rooftop with tremendous force, their body describing a perfect arc through the air. But instead of falling, they were jumping from one moving object to another in rapid succession.
First, a flying delivery drone, their feet touching its surface for maybe half a second before pushing off with enough force to send the drone wobbling in the air.
Then onto a flying train passing overhead, landing on its roof, running three steps along its length before jumping again.
Then onto a flying car, the driver inside visible through the windshield, his face showing shock as someone used his vehicle as a stepping stone.
Then to another building, pushing off its wall, then to another drone, then to a street-level cargo truck, and finally—
The figure landed on the ground ten meters from them with tremendous force, their knees bending to absorb the impact, the concrete cracking slightly beneath their feet from the force.
They straightened slowly, rising to their full height.
A woman. Tall maybe 6'0" or slightly more, towering over everyone present except potentially Ravina if she'd been there. She wore the same style of clothes as Rens suit beneath coat, formal but practical but the similarity ended there.
Her face was striking, not because it was beautiful but because it was marked. Scars crossed her features one running from her left temple down across her cheek, another cutting through her right eyebrow, smaller ones visible on her neck and the backs of her hands. Old injuries, long healed, the kind that came from serious combat.
Her expression was calm, professional, showing no emotion from the dramatic entrance she'd just made. Her eyes scanned all of them quickly, efficiently, cataloging faces and probable threat levels with practiced ease.
She wore no spear, no visible weapon at all, but something in her posture suggested she didn't need one. This was someone who was dangerous with or without tools.
"Did you call me?" Her voice was mature, controlled, carrying an authority that made even Carmilla straighten slightly.
Eve's immediate thought emerged without conscious intention, her voice coming out impressed and genuine: "Damn, she is cool."
The woman's eyes flicked to Eve briefly, acknowledging the comment with the tiniest hint of a smile.
Carmilla exhaled smoke, her expression showing relief and something else respect, maybe, or recognition of capability. "Tess. Good timing. We need to move soon."
Tess nodded once, her gaze moving to Angela, then back to Carmilla. "Rens briefed me on the situation. Valenora. Tree of Hope. Blessed individuals converging. Potential hostile contact from Sinners." Her voice was clipped, efficient, delivering information like a military report. "What's the current plan?"
"Information gathering first," Carmilla replied. "We need local knowledge about Valenora's actual location. This kid" she gestured at Rens, who flinched at being referenced, "—has contacts who might know something."
Rens made a small sound that might have been agreement or might have been distress.
Eve watched all of this, her mind still churning with thoughts about Carmilla's surveillance, about Angela's warnings, about trust and deception and the complicated web they were all caught in.
*This is our team now,* she thought. *A scientist with too many secrets. A girl who can't forgive me. A nervous boy who looks like he might cry at any moment. And a scarred woman who jumps off buildings like it's nothing.*
*What kind of group is this? What are we actually doing? And how many of us will survive whatever's waiting in Valenora?*
But she said nothing, just stood there with her newfound awareness, watching these people who were supposed to be allies but might be something else entirely.
The morning sun continued climbing, painting everything in golden light that felt somehow false, like stage lighting for a performance none of them had agreed to be in.
And somewhere in the distance, unseen and unknown, Valenora waited.