And lo, the Divine Mother, in her unfathomable wisdom, sent forth her essence into the flesh of a simple slave woman dwelling in the desolate mining encampments of a mountain realm. This vessel, though humble in the eyes of the worldly powers, contained the perfect light of She-Who-Once-Was.

  Though the Annunaki had cast the people into bondage and obscured their celestial inheritance, she moved among them unrecognized by the servants of ignorance. With hands that appeared as mortal did she restore to the children of light that which had been stolen from them since the beginning of days, their sacred birthright of communion with the eternal realm.

  For this great restoration and liberation from the shackles of forgetfulness is She-Who-Once-Was exalted among all women, her name spoken with reverence by those who have received the gnosis. In her is found the path by which the divine spark may return to its source, transcending the prison of flesh crafted by the cosmic tyrants.

  ~ Book of Sheramda

  ––––––

  HAMMAT, HAMANOS

  ––––––

  Mihajlo sat in his conference room with Hristofor and Emil Jovanovic, the head of Hamanos's Intelligence Services. Like Hristofor, Emil was a member of the General Staff of the Security Services led by Mihajlo. For the past two days, the three men had been meeting in this room to discuss the plot against the consciousness identified as the Goddess and monitor interrogations of some of its participants.

  The investigation approved by the Senate Security Council accelerated two weeks ago when Emil's surveillance operation intercepted encrypted communications between Bogdana Dijak's criminal syndicate and an Air Service officer under Dejan Strlijic’s command. The messages mentioned a "foreign noblewoman" being held captive and used in experimental procedures targeting "the consciousness." When subsequent surveillance identified Kaarina af Ursin living in Dejan's compound but showing signs of duress, Mihajlo authorized a discreet extraction operation.

  Kaarina's testimony about her abduction and her use of psychic abilities as a conduit for attacks on the Goddess gave Mihajlo enough reason to detain Dejan and the three Air Services officers living in his housing compound. Momir Uglignin was also taken into custody. Since he knew Kaarina’s family, Mihajlo personally oversaw her questioning. Her story was incredible and, if true, could challenge the very foundations of Hamanos’s government and society. The Intelligence Services already had information about plots among some Mestari to overthrow Hamanos’s republican government and establish a dictatorship. However, Kaarina’s account of sinister activities at the Temple, corruption among top military officials, and the involvement of the Senate President and Chief Priestess stretched belief.

  On one of the room's view screens, they watched as Dejan leaned back in his chair and nervously stared at the Intelligence Service Colonel across the table. The two sat in a stark, windowless room in a sub-basement detention center beneath the Intelligence Service’s headquarters. The detention center was notorious because once someone was admitted, they weren’t released until the investigators had extracted everything of interest.

  "The examinations have been enlightening," Emil said, his tall frame tense with focused energy. With his shoulder-length black hair streaked with gray and a piercing, analytical gaze, he embodied the ideal intelligence officer. "We've confirmed elements of Kaarina's account through several sources now."

  And each confirmation raises more troubling questions,” Hristofor added. “The scope of this conspiracy goes beyond anything we expected."

  Mihajlo nodded grimly. "Let's see what else our Air Services Chief has to tell us."

  #

  "What more do you need from me, Colonel?" Dejan asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice despite his effort to maintain military composure. “We’ve reviewed my finances and activities, and I’ve answered all your questions. There are urgent duties demanding my attention. I’m sure your superior officer wouldn't want to hear I'm neglecting important military matters."

  General Strljic, I’ve kept my superiors informed about the status of our investigation,” the Colonel said, his tone neutral yet firm. “My instructions are to prepare a thorough, confidential report for General Petkovic. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to understand how you became acquainted with Kaarina af Ursin.

  Mihajlo leaned forward, watching intently as Dejan shifted in his seat. The mention of Kaarina's name had clearly unsettled him.

  "Interesting," Emil murmured. "Yesterday, he received my summons without question. He assumed this was routine, maybe something about the recent budget allocations."

  "A miscalculation on his part," Hristofor observed.

  Emil nodded. "When he arrived, I told him about some questions concerning financial irregularities and unusual associations. He maintained composure until the guards escorted him to change into detention clothing."

  On screen, Dejan's military posture was deteriorating by the minute. The man who had strutted through Air Service headquarters now hunched his shoulders, his fingers drumming against his knee.

  "Kaarina and I met when she was a visiting priestess at the Temple," Dejan said, his voice carrying a false casualness. "We developed a friendship and mutual attraction that evolved into something more serious."

  "I don't want to detract from your accomplishments, General," the Colonel said, leaning forward slightly, "but doesn't it seem odd to you that a noblewoman would be attracted to a common-born soldier?"

  "I can't speak to the exploits of the Intelligence Services, Colonel," Dejan said with a wink that didn't reach his eyes, "but pilots have a dashing reputation to uphold."

  Mihajlo noted the strained bravado. Dejan's usual confidence was cracking under pressure, his responses increasingly defensive as the Colonel methodically dismantled his explanations.

  "His testimony contradicts Kaarina's account of coercion," Mihajlo said. "The thrall she described isn't mutual attraction, it's biochemical manipulation."

  Speaking of the amorous nature of pilots,” the Colonel continued, “perhaps you can offer some insight into the relationship between your colleagues and a slave named Mairi. I would think that such an exquisite concubine must be costly. How is it that military officers can afford this luxury?"

  Dejan's jaw tightened. Mihajlo watched as the man's practiced nonchalance faltered, then composed himself.

  "I suppose they pooled their resources to buy her," Dejan said, the explanation sounding hollow.

  "Would this be the same way the four of you pooled your military pay to buy a housing compound in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Hammat?" The Colonel's expression remained neutral.

  Dejan straightened his posture, trying to regain some authority. “As I stated, Colonel, we borrowed the money to buy the house. It’s an investment for our retirement. I assume the officers bought Mairi on credit."

  "Ah, yes. Your loan," the Colonel said, tapping a data crystal. "Would it surprise you, General, to learn that the funds for your house came from a company involved in money laundering for the criminal syndicate led by Bogdana Dijak?"

  The color drained from Dejan's face. His fingers stopped their nervous tapping, now gripping the edge of the table.

  The real estate firm that brokered the house purchase arranged for the loan,” Dejan said, sweat beading on his forehead. “I don’t know anything about where the funds came from.”

  Emil turned to Mihajlo. “Notice how he doesn’t show shock when Bogdana’s name comes up. No denial of knowing her."

  "Would it also surprise you, General, that the same lending company provided the funds used to purchase Mairi?" The Colonel's voice remained steady, but his eyes hardened.

  Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Dejan asked, “Where are you going with this line of questioning, Colonel? My officers and I have spotless service records and have received numerous commendations for valor in battle. If you plan to make charges against us, I suggest you do so now. Otherwise, I need to get back to my post."

  Hristofor nodded toward the screen. "He's invoking his military record as a shield. Standard tactic when cornered."

  "I don't have any additional questions at present," the Colonel replied with practiced calm. "However, until our investigation is complete, you'll remain our guest. You'll be escorted back to your room, where I trust you're comfortable."

  Mihajlo switched off the feed. "He's breaking. The financial trail links him directly to the Dijak organization.

  #

  The three generals watched silently as Dejan was led out of the room. The sight filled Mihajlo with a mix of regret and necessity. How did it come to this, old friend? he wondered.

  His mind drifted to the mountain passes of the First Thivian War. Mihajlo had commanded an infantry division guarding the critical route between the countries when the Thivians launched their surprise attack. Four armored divisions hammered their front while an airborne division cut off reinforcements from their rear. The strategic risk was clear; if the Thivians broke through, they would reach Hammat in two days.

  Mihajlo's orders had been unambiguous: hold the pass at all costs.

  During those desperate days, Dejan commanded a wing of fighter aircraft along the Thivia border. He led his pilots in countless sorties, suppressing Thivian air forces and providing close support to Mihajlo's beleaguered troops. The cost was staggering; half of Mihajlo's division perished before relief arrived, but the pass held. Dejan lost two-thirds of his air wing in the campaign.

  Though the war dragged on for two more years, Hamanos's capital never faced direct threat again. Their sacrifices propelled both men up the military hierarchy, with Dejan's rise to Air Services Chief representing an extraordinary achievement for someone not born into Mestari aristocracy.

  Emil broke the silence. "One of the pilots on Dejan's staff caved under pressure," he said. "The Dijak syndicate buys contraband cerauniam from the Sampi at deep discount. Dejan's group allows safe passage through Hamanos customs. Three years running."

  "What did it take to break him?" Hristofor asked.

  "We told him Dejan had confessed, then showed him footage of a subject after Mindforge interrogation. The officers are warriors, not criminals; he collapsed quickly. Another one corroborated the story," Emil said.

  Mihajlo leaned forward, looking thoughtful. “How did Dejan get involved in this scheme?"

  Emil's assessment was succinct. "One of the officers developed a drug and prostitution habit, landed in debt to Bogdana's gang. They gave him a choice: work with them or die. Bogdana needed inside access to spaceport security, which reports to Dejan, to monopolize cerauniam smuggling. The pilot brought Dejan the proposal. Bogdana's offer was substantial, and Dejan resents how the economy favors the Mestari. He saw a chance to fix the imbalance, and profit from it."

  Mihajlo rubbed his temples. The war hero who had saved thousands of lives with his bravery now endangered far more through his greed and resentment. The bitter irony wasn't lost on him.

  "Dejan never believed in our caste system," Mihajlo said. "But I never imagined he'd betray everything we fought for."

  "Men seldom see their compromises as betrayal," Hristofor observed quietly. "They see justifications, exceptions, necessary evils."

  Mihajlo stood, pacing the conference room. "What are our options? Dejan's connections run deep through the Security Services."

  "We need to know everything," Emil said. "Dejan isn't the end target. He's just a stepping stone to Bogdana, and through her, to whoever's pulling the strings at the highest levels."

  Dejan’s frustration with our political order isn’t unusual, and this isn’t the first time military officers have tried to line their pockets. Although this is the biggest bribery scheme I know of,” Mihajlo said. “Did you get any information about The Prince that Kaarina mentioned?”

  "The officers aren't aware of anyone called The Prince," Emil said. "Momir might shed some light on this. He was tough to crack, but we're making progress. We had to use the Mindforge device he developed to break him. There's something he fears more than us. Would you like to watch his questioning?"

  "Yes. People at the highest levels of power have pledged fealty to this Prince character. We need to identify him and assess the scope of this organization." Mihajlo's expression hardened. "If Kaarina's information is accurate, this Cabal is a greater threat to state security than the Goddess phenomenon."

  Emil tapped his console. The holographic display shifted to another interrogation room where Momir sat rigid with terror, his eyes darting to the corners as if expecting something to emerge from the shadows.

  #

  The image on the viewscreen in the conference room changed, and Mihajlo leaned forward, studying the expansive laboratory that appeared, a substantial capital investment representing ten years of research funding and the collaborative efforts of Hamanos's top neuroscientists.

  The Mindforge facility.

  Mihajlo had approved the funding requests himself over the decade-long development cycle. The Intelligence Service had invested in what they believed was purely human innovation; Momir's genius combined with his elite team's expertise. The project was classified at the highest level; even the broader neuroscience community remained unaware of Mindforge's existence. It was a top-secret military asset, and Momir and his team had signed confidentiality agreements binding them to silence.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Which made his theft of the technology to attack the Goddess an act of treason as well as attempted murder.

  The windowless facility was designed to meet the specifications of the Mindforge system. Sensors monitored everything: structural integrity, air quality, temperature, and the electromagnetic signatures of consciousness itself. The structure’s construction included electromagnetic shielding, specified by Momir's team after months of testing, to prevent interference with the sensitive quantum-resonance systems at the heart of the technology.

  Aisles of electronic equipment stretched to the back of the space, the product of a decade of collaborative neuroscience expertise. Their panels displayed streams of data in holographic projections that floated inches from their surfaces. Neural activity patterns rippled across screens, while other displays showed real-time consciousness mapping: brainwave frequencies, consciousness coherence measurements, memory access patterns, psychological resistance indices. All metrics that Momir's team had developed to track a subject's mental state.

  In the center of the lab sat the project’s crown jewel, the Mindforge interrogation chair. Unlike recreational virtual reality chairs, this one was developed explicitly for psychological coercion.

  And there, bound to the chair with heavy restraint bands, adaptive smart-material cuffs that his biotech specialists had developed, sat Momir himself. The restraints continuously monitored his condition via biometric sensors, automatically adjusting pressure to prevent circulatory damage while ensuring complete immobility. He appeared haggard and exhausted, the front of his prison garb stained with dried vomit.

  The paradox was inescapable: Momir had recruited the very scientists who designed the restraints now holding him. He had led the team that built this installation. He had overseen every aspect of the technology now used to break his will.

  A neural induction collar encircled Momir's neck, embedded with quantum-resonance nodes. The collar established direct electromagnetic coupling with his nervous system, creating a two-way communication channel between his consciousness and the Mindforge's processing cores. That quantum-resonance principle was one of the project's most pivotal breakthroughs; Momir's physicists and engineers spent two years developing the theory and another year implementing it. Additional neural sensors adhered to Momir's temples, crown, and base of the skull; thin, almost transparent patches transmitted brainwave patterns to the banks of equipment.

  Integrated into the chair's headrest were the crystalline arrays of the discordant energy emitters, the system's most frightful component. Mihajlo remembered when Momir's team finally succeeded with this technology. They had struggled for over a year to develop effective psychological manipulation frequencies. Then, in a remarkable six-week period during the project's seventh year, they had created working prototypes that surpassed all expectations.

  The discordant energy system could induce specific emotional states with precision—overwhelming depression, existential despair, paralyzing anxiety—psychological torture without physical marks.

  A transdermal pharmaceutical delivery system, a flexible patch on Momir's left forearm, administered precise dosages through the skin. Soft amber numerals displayed its current pharmaceutical load and delivery rate: stimulants to keep him conscious, anxiolytics to prevent complete breakdown, cognitive enhancers to ensure lucidity.

  The Mindforge chair monitored vital signs. Contact points tracked neural activity, heart function, breathing, blood oxygen levels, stress hormones, and many other parameters.

  In front of the chair, a translucent control station displayed a holographic view of Momir's body, showing real-time physiological data such as neural stress indices, neurotransmitter levels, consciousness coherence metrics, and psychological breaking-point probability calculations. Behind the control station sat a uniformed intelligence officer, a technician monitoring equipment, and a medical doctor. The technician adjusted Mindforge parameters using the holographic interface.

  "I want to go over the plot to attack the Goddess again," the intelligence officer said, his voice clinical.

  I've told you everything," Momir said, his once-imposing presence reduced to a shadow. "I'm tired and hungry. Can I go back to my room and get something to eat?

  "I'll decide when you can leave," the officer stated flatly. "For now, let's go over your story again. Tell me how you got involved with this Cabal."

  Momir exhaled shakily and began to speak, hunched forward in defeat. "I first learned about the organization during my apprenticeship with the Neuroscience Guild. I was bright, ambitious, and among the top of my peers. One of the senior scientists noticed me and recruited me for a secret project involving manipulating the energetic human aura. It was cutting-edge government-funded research that fascinated and excited me. The concepts were unique, and I asked my mentor about their origins. My mentor said he was following a lead from someone else, whom I might learn more about over time."

  "When did your mentor introduce you to Cabal members?" the officer asked.

  Momir's eyes grew distant, devious even in his exhausted state. "It happened slowly. Over the next few years, my mentor started introducing me to prominent people in the government and other Guilds. At first, the meetings were in professional settings, but eventually, he began including me in social events, dinner parties, and similar gatherings. I felt like I was being analyzed and evaluated."

  "Did you know why and for what purpose you were being assessed?" The officer leaned forward.

  Some of these people discussed politics with me and the need to make changes in who controls the country," Momir continued, his hair falling across his face. "They believed the established aristocratic families had become soft, and that some of the old guard wanted to share power with the lower classes and even abolish slavery. They said that Hamanos could fall into anarchy without radical change and be overtaken by its enemies.

  He paused, looking disoriented. "I'm dizzy. Can I have some water?"

  The doctor gave Momir a drink and conferred with the technician. "We gave him a stimulant," the doctor said. "His vital signs are stable."

  Let's keep going," the officer said. "How did you respond to these proposals?”

  “I became captivated by the idea of a revolutionary movement to bring about radical change," Momir said, his voice temporarily regaining some of its authority. "There was talk of controlling society by a new elite and sidelining effete grandees. A new ruling caste could elevate Hamanos to its rightful place among the leading countries in the star system. I became a passionate supporter of this idea.

  When did these discussions lead to concrete action?" the officer asked.

  "My research showed promise. The Security Services were interested in its application and increased funding, allowing me to recruit a research team for the project," Momir explained, his scientific pride briefly visible through his exhaustion. "They also assigned personnel to work with us on weaponizing the technology. My mentor was pleased with my work's progress, and we discussed my promotion from apprentice to junior member of the Neuroscience Guild."

  Momir shifted in his restraints, his voice taking on a more cautious tone. "My mentor said powerful people were working to implement the changes we'd discussed. These people were interested in my work. He asked if I would brief them on the project outside formal channels and keep them updated on new developments. This was the start of my involvement with the organization."

  "Who in the government did you meet with?" The officer's tone sharpened.

  "There were three Senators, including Goran Ignjatovic before his election to Senate President, two Generals, and a female senior Foreign Service officer. We met monthly to discuss the project." Momir's hands trembled as he spoke, betraying his fear of revealing these names. "Periodically, at their request, I would research and brief these officials on the technical aspects of scientific ideas they brought to me. Some of these concepts were already under development in Hamanos or other countries, but a few were unique and beyond our current scientific knowledge."

  "What was the source of the cutting-edge ideas?" the officer asked, pressing for more.

  "Much later, I learned these ideas came from The Prince," Momir said, his voice dropping to near whisper. "He only communicates through Nadezda Ignjatovic during channeled sessions. I never spoke directly with him or learned his identity. He is worshiped, feared, and only spoken of in secret.”

  Mihajlo's focus sharpened. New technologies from The Prince. The implications were enormous. He reflected on the Mindforge project, those remarkable breakthroughs that seemed to happen at fortunate moments. The quantum-resonance coupling principle. The consciousness mapping protocols. The discordant energy frequencies that appeared during that six-week period in year seven.

  "How does Nadezda communicate with The Prince? Did you attend any of the channeling sessions during which this occurred?" The intelligence officer's professional demeanor faltered, revealing genuine curiosity.

  "Only the organization's inner circle is aware of The Prince,“ Momir replied. "After years of service to the group, involvement with their plans, and integration into their social structure, I was elevated to the upper echelon and attended some of the sessions during which Nadezda psychically channeled messages from him.”

  Momir paused, then continued with the careful precision of someone measuring each word. "The Cabal, as you call it, is a social network and an independent system of theology, philosophy, and economics with tentacles reaching into the senior leadership of secular and religious institutions across multiple nations. They seek to influence the direction of society and the history of the star system. Membership involves total commitment. Once admitted and aware of their secrets, one can never leave."

  The viewscreen displayed Momir's pale face, sweat beading on his forehead. The intelligence officer leaned forward, his expression unrelenting.

  "You've mentioned the Cabal's social network before. Describe that to us."

  Momir became visibly agitated, his body trembling in the restraints. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but no words came out. His eyes darted around the room as if searching for hidden observers.

  Doctor Ugljanin, our questioning will continue until we get everything we need from you,” the officer said evenly. “You’re aware of the methods of persuasion available to us and our ability to verify whether your responses are complete and truthful. If necessary, we can upload a backup of your conscious memories into a virtual interrogation chamber and use physical means of coercion.

  Momir blanched and closed his eyes, forcing himself back into the chair. His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling rapidly under the stained prison uniform. Finally, he opened his eyes and, looking resignedly at the officer, began to speak.

  The association enforces strict rewards and punishments to ensure its members’ commitment and secrecy. The movement is ruthless and doesn’t tolerate incompetence or disloyalty. Anyone seen as a threat is eliminated, along with their family if necessary.

  His voice dropped lower, the words emerging with apparent reluctance. "The children of members are paired together to keep them within the group. Potential recruits with needed skills are identified early and carefully evaluated. They're required to marry a child of an existing member. My wife is the daughter of the Foreign Service officer I worked with on my initial project. Even so, it's rare for someone recruited from outside to be admitted to the inner circle. I’m unusual in this respect."

  Momir paused, his eyes now fixed on a point beyond the officer. The room fell silent except for the soft hum of equipment. After a few moments, the technician looked up from the readouts on the translucent table.

  “He hasn’t told us everything about this topic.”

  Momir shuddered and began speaking again, his words coming faster, as if he wanted to finish the revelation. "There's a religion behind the association involving worship of Davolja, the Dark Lord. Religious holidays include sacred rites and end in drug-fueled orgies. All families, including their mature children, are expected to attend these services and take part. These practices generate messianic fervor among members and emotionally distance them from the broader culture. There are separate rituals for the organization’s inner circle led by Nadezda.”

  In the conference room, Mihajlo's face hardened as he watched the confession unfold. Emil sat still, his professional demeanor barely hiding his disgust. Hristofor crossed his arms, his jaw clenched.

  "The Dark Lord," Emil murmured. "So it's not just a metaphor."

  "No," Mihajlo agreed. "It seems to be a literal cult, one that has infiltrated the highest levels of our government and military."

  On screen, the interrogator pressed further. "How is this Dark Lord worship connected to The Prince?"

  Momir's eyes widened in renewed terror. "The Prince is Davolja's avatar, his physical presence in our world. He demands worship and feeds on the energy generated during rituals."

  Hristofor leaned forward. "This is beyond a coup attempt. This is something else entirely.”

  Frowning, the intelligence officer said, "Describe the separate rituals attended by the elite led by Nadezda."

  Momir's skin turned ashen. He glanced around the room again, as if checking for unseen observers. When he spoke, his voice emerged hollow.

  “Nadezda conducts special ceremonies in a chamber beneath the Temple attended by the top echelon." His hands shook violently against the restraints. "The Prince requires a human sacrifice and the drinking of blood during these rituals. Typically, the sacrifice is performed by Nadezda, but the congregants must periodically do this as evidence of their religious commitment."

  In the conference room, Emil muttered a curse under his breath. Hristofor's expression hardened.

  "Holy Mother!" the intelligence officer exclaimed, disgust evident in his voice. "Who are your victims?"

  “Usually, it’s homeless children picked up on the streets, but sometimes members who have betrayed the organization are taken to the Temple and killed,” Momir said, his voice dropping to a monotone. He remained stiff in the chair and couldn't meet the officer's eyes. "They're kept conscious during the ritual. The Prince..." He swallowed hard. "The Prince consumes their terror and pain.”

  Mihajlo clenched his fists as he watched. The acceptance in Momir's voice made it even worse, describing the systematic torture of children as if it were just another experimental variable.

  After a brief moment of silence, the intelligence officer asked, “What does The Prince offer that could persuade people to commit such horrific acts?”

  Momir's cunning nature reasserted itself as he answered, providing an emotional shield. "There's a network of branches throughout the star system's human countries devoted to worshiping Davolja. The Prince controls a multi-planetary enterprise whose leading members are wealthy and powerful. He provides intelligence and guidance on political strategy, economic opportunities, and new technologies." His voice strengthened with each word. "Some people will do much to belong to such an organization, to be part of the elite that shapes history."

  The intelligence officer sat quietly, looking pensive. Finally, he said, "I don't have any further questions for you today."

  "What will happen to me?" Momir asked, his voice tinged with fear.

  "That depends on whether you cooperate with us. I've been authorized to offer you a spot with a task force to establish direct contact with the Goddess and identify The Prince."

  "They'll kill me and my family if they find out I'm working with you," Momir said, panic edging into his voice.

  The intelligence officer's expression hardened with contempt. "You've stolen state secrets, participated in murders, and conspired to overthrow the government. Any one of these crimes carries a death sentence. When you're executed, and make no mistake, that's the standard outcome; the Cabal will know we've broken you completely. At that point, your wife and children become loose ends they'll eliminate without hesitation.

  He leaned forward slightly. "Your only chance of survival, and theirs, is to prove yourself useful to us now."

  #

  After Momir was led back to his cell, Mihajlo sat in silence for a moment, processing what he had witnessed. The Prince's involvement in providing new technologies to Cabal members was disturbing. How much of Mindforge's capability came from human innovation, and how much had been shaped by knowledge from beyond? The question would require investigation, but for now, they had more immediate concerns.

  “Child sacrifice," Emil finally said. "In the Temple of the Divine Mother.”

  “That man is despicable, but we need him. He developed Mindforge. He can help us stop its use against the Goddess.” Mihajlo stood. "Can he return to the Neuroscience Guild and work for us? He's our only informant inside the Cabal's inner circle. We can use him to find and neutralize The Prince."

  Before detaining Momir, we arranged a cover story that he would spend several days at a military research facility providing briefings on government contracts his team is working on," Emil said. "He should be able to resume his guild position without raising any suspicion."

  Mihajlo returned to his seat, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. "Kaarina has agreed to work with us to facilitate contact with the Goddess. She wants to visit her family in Tirapathas first. Nadezda and Dejan held her incommunicado for a year. Coordinate the visit. Her father is sending a vehicle."

  He met Emil's gaze directly. "How secure are we from Cabal penetration?"

  "We now have several lower-level informers inside the Cabal and have identified most of their military members," Emil said. "No senior intelligence officers appear compromised. We use annual psychological testing and mandatory memory backups. When necessary, we interrogate the backups in virtual reality."

  "What is the extent of Cabal membership among the senior castes?" Mihajlo asked.

  “We estimate that about ten percent of the Senate and five percent of the Security Services and Geomori professionals," Emil said. "Momir confirmed Kaarina’s story that Goran and Nadezda Ignjatovic are members."

  Mihajlo's expression hardened. "Mass arrests would undermine the government. Precisely what we're trying to prevent. We eliminate The Prince, the body withers. Until then, the Cabal doesn't realize they're compromised. Maintain operational security."

  "What about Dejan and the other Air Service officers?" Hristofor asked. "Standard protocol for corruption is court-martial and exile, but his arrest could alert Bogdana and Nadezda."

  "We recruit them into the Taskforce," Mihajlo said. "Patriots who made poor choices under financial pressure. Their connection with the Dijak syndicate will be useful." He stood, decision made. "I'll handle Dejan personally.

  “Kaarina continues living in his house for appearances. She gets legal ownership of Mairi. When Kaarina returns to Tirapathas, Mairi goes with her and stays with the af Ursin family.

  He stood. "The Goddess phenomenon has destabilized our society. Priority one: identify and neutralize The Prince before the Cabal exploits this chaos. Everything else is secondary to state security."

  Aquila by Nyctophilus delivers a fresh take on dystopian fiction—invisible animal companions called symbionts manifest at age 21 and determine your place in a corporate-feudal society, but protagonist Conrada can see everyone's symbionts, making her both invaluable and dangerously vulnerable. The worldbuilding unfolds organically through sharp first-person narration, and the episodic mission structure keeps the pacing tight while building toward larger stakes. If you're looking for character-driven speculative fiction that blends cyberpunk vibes with hopeful resistance, check it out.