Veronica’s revelations were damning. The blinking lantern light created shadows, making the space feel oppressive.

  Rebecca stared at Veronica, her face pale, and her eyes wide. The initial shock of Alonso’s attack, the red-haired woman, and Ganjo’s flashback had been compounded by this new, intricate layer of conspiracy.

  "It is a labyrinth," she whispered, shaking her head slightly as if to clear it. "A cult disguised as a farm, funding a front for predatory real estate, all tied to the New Dawn Trust, and Hadic."

  The sheer, Byzantine complexity of the network, and the way every piece interlocked with such calculated malice, was what truly floored her.

  Ganjo let out a short, humorless chuckle. The sound was dry. He shook his head slowly with a dark look settling on his face, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  "Sad to say, Veronica, but at this point, nothing surprises me anymore."

  He paused, as he looked at the others.

  "Just another layer of the rot."

  Veronica nodded, acknowledging Ganjo's weary cynicism.

  "It shouldn't, Ganjo. Not for you. And frankly, it shouldn’t shock Rebecca, either."

  Veronica focused on Ganjo for a moment.

  "Because, as you well know, the Dasa Vech is deeply entrenched in this network as well. Regardless of whom you made the deal with, and I know he has a unique reputation, when you asked for protection, getting comfortable with them was never in your favor."

  Ganjo wanted to offer a sarcastic reply.

  Thank you, Captain Obvious. But what does a privileged woman like you know?

  He chose to keep his mouth shut, however. She had resources he…no, everyone could use.

  Veronica’s eyes flicked briefly towards the empty chair where Carl Winger had sat. It was a silent implication of Carl’s role.

  "They are not just beneficiaries of the Synoran Prosperity Initiative's acquisitions; they are active participants in this scheme."

  Olt, who had been listening intently, slowly pushed himself fully upright against the support column. He winced slightly from the lingering soreness in his ribs, but his focus was sharp, and his expression earnest. He looked directly at Veronica.

  "Ms. Guzman," Olt said, his voice steady despite the pain he still felt. "How do you know all of this? This network, the cult, the connections. It’s so hidden…so complex."

  He gestured vaguely with his uninjured hand, encompassing the unseen web Veronica had described.

  "Who are you? And why are you telling us all this?"

  Veronica looked at Olt. There was something unreadable in her eyes, perhaps respect for his directness, or simply assessment. She took a deep breath, her demeanor shifting. This was the core explanation, the reveal of the larger context.

  "Olt," Veronica began, serious and resonant, addressing the whole group but primarily Olt. "What you are seeing, what you have experienced, is not just local corruption. It’s a manifestation of an age-old shadow war."

  She gestured vaguely, implying a history that spanned the continent.

  "Across the continent, particularly in places like Uraan, where my origins lie, factions have been waging this war for generations. Johannes Bonvista, our system’s messiah, left behind a new world and with it conflict. The natural order of things, as you should know. A hidden conflict, fought in the shadows, manipulating governments, economies, and even individuals. Nothing new in the long trajectory of humanity, except that this time instead of nuclear weapons, artificial intelligence and science bringing us to the brink-it is literal metaphysical power."

  Veronica's tone became more grave.

  "If humans killed themselves for centuries in the Old World over religions and some belief in their divine right to rule, with nothing but their ego to validate that belief, imagine what the Aether did to their psyches? Imagine what the revelation of a higher creator did to those who are inclined to dominate? It didn’t bring humility, it didn’t bring perfection or peace to humanity. No, instead it became the proof to validate all the twisted things we do. In Uraan, there has always been a precarious equilibrium between these factions. A balance of power that, while often brutal, prevented total dominance by any one side."

  She looked around the warehouse, implying Synoro.

  "But, a few generations ago, this war finally made its way to Synoro. And here, the equilibrium has always been fragile. The balance was always in jeopardy."

  She looked directly at Rebecca, then Olt, then Ganjo.

  "Your father, Rebecca…Oliver was placed here, perhaps unknowingly, to maintain that balance in our favor.”

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  Veronica implied ‘our’ as her people.

  “His regime, for all its flaws, created a counterweight to leagues of degenerates and ego-maniacs.”

  She paused and took a deep breath, as her shoulders relaxed.

  “Synoro is a hotbed of resources,” Veronica added. “Nobody should know this more than you Synorans.”

  Veronica’s words reminded Rebecca of her conversation with Lydia. A conversation that taught her well the organized scheming and manipulation Hadic was capable of.

  “And it’s not just about abundant resources,” Veronica said, as her eyes opened wide with passion. “Indigo here grows wildly abundant, annually and is by far the best quality of the plant across the continent. This region is a dream come true for the wrong hands.”

  Her voice hardened, becoming more nuanced.

  "So you see, Oliver helped us keep all this in check. But with his death, the power vacuum it left was chaotic. And of course, the only one capable of controlling it was Hadic. It takes a special kind of psychopath to bring order. But even though he might have stabilized this place, he just opened the world up for chaos."

  Veronica paused, letting the weight of this reveal sink in.

  "My faction represents those who wanted to follow the ways of Johannes Bonvista. Those who gave us a new world. We’ve been doing this for generations, since the time when people could still remember the Old World. We’ve managed to keep it afloat. We have built networks, gathered intelligence, identified the players, on all sides."

  She looked at Olt, intensely.

  "I know all of this because I am a part of this war. And we cannot allow Synoro to fall. You think you got it bad now, wait til they take over. The world will never be perfect, but it doesn’t have to be hell either."

  Olt stood firm, despite his soreness. He looked directly at Veronica.

  "Right…war…factions. I believe it. I’ve studied enough history to know it’s Human 101."

  He gestured vaguely.

  "That makes absolute sense to me."

  He took a breath, his voice gaining conviction.

  "But that wasn't my question."

  He pardoned himself again, a small, ingrained politeness contrasting with the gravity of his demand.

  "Pardon me, Veronica, but you haven't answered how you know all of this. This level of detail, about a hidden cult, about specific transactions, about people's relationships."

  Although his voice remained calm, his muscles were so tense it appeared as if he was about to scream.

  "I'm willing to help you…to fight. And do what needs to be done."

  He glanced at Ganjo, Rebecca, and Mariah.

  "We all are, I think."

  His left hand waved across the air stressing his words.

  "But I won't do it based on half-truths or hidden agendas. It's not about good or bad. I've seen enough to know things aren't that simple."

  He was referring to his Aether trip, the Egregore encounter, and the complexities of life.

  "It's about no lies. Don’t bullshit us. We don’t have the privilege for hypocrisy. Just tell us the truth.”

  Veronica watched Olt. She gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the sincerity and weight of his demand. It was a small, genuine smile. It wasn’t a predatory one, but one that hinted at respect for his integrity.

  "Truth," she murmured, testing the word. "A rare commodity in this war, Olt. And a dangerous one."

  She gestured for him to sit again, indicating the discussion was about to deepen.

  Veronica's demeanor shifted again, becoming pragmatic and direct. She began to explain how her faction operates.

  "When you’ve been doing this as long as my faction has," Veronica stated. "You inevitably form deep roots. Agents and assets embedded across the continent for decades. In governments, in corporations, in key families."

  That last detail explained the knowledge of long-standing connections like Hadic and Zachary Blake.

  She specified the focus on Synoro.

  "With the shift in power here, Synoro became a priority. Our local network was activated and intensified."

  She summed up their methods:

  "Like any good investigator, we like to follow the money. We leverage connections and turn assets. We conduct targeted infiltration. And we have history. Generations of collected intelligence, analyzed and cross-referenced."

  Veronica looked at Rebecca and Ganjo.

  "Oliver Nader built a formidable intelligence network here in Synoro. One that managed to keep Hadic's ambitions in check for decades."

  She paused, a rhetorical question hanging in the air.

  "Who do you think taught him how to do that? Who provided the initial framework, the methods, the connections? Hadic came after the fact, learning and adapting."

  Veronica framed her knowledge not as omniscience, but as a tool acquired through time, effort and sacrifice.

  "This information is not easily gained. It costs resources. It costs lives."

  She looked at Olt, acknowledging his demand for truth.

  "You want truth, Olt? This is the truth of how we fight. We gather information. We identify the levers of power. We find the weaknesses. And we exploit them." She concluded, "My knowledge comes from a network dedicated to exposing them. It comes from the shadows, gathered piece by piece. That’s the currency of war."

  Veronica turned and signaled Chloe, who was standing nearby.

  "Chloe, the file, please."

  Chloe approached, carrying a plain manila file folder. She handed it to Veronica.

  Veronica took the file and walked over to Olt, who was still sitting up. She offered him the file.

  "Considering Ganjo and the people he’d bring here, I knew I needed to provide more than just words. Brace yourself for what you’re about to see."

  Olt took the file, his hands trembling slightly. What came as he opened it was far worse than he could have imagined. The top photo was of a brutally murdered victim. Olt’s eyes widened in horror. He flinched, his breath catching in his throat, as he instinctively tried to close the folder.

  Before he could do so, Veronica stopped him. She took the top photo from the file, and walked over to Ganjo.

  "Ganjo, you recognize the method?"

  Ganjo flinched, seeing the photo. He tried to turn his head away, as a guttural sound escaped him.

  "Veronica, don't."

  Veronica's grip on the photo was firm. She held it in front of Ganjo's face, forcing him to look.

  "Hold it, Ganjo…look."

  Veronica looked from Ganjo's horrified face back to Olt, who was still staring at the file in his hands.

  "Olt," Veronica said with a chillingly, flat tone.

  "In all of these murder scenes, red hair was found."