The delivery truck bore the false livery of a legitimate art supplier, "Veridian Framing and Logistics." The irony of using the name closest to her truth was a small, cold pleasure Elara allowed herself.
Her target was Seraphina Kaelen's private studio, which occupied the entire top floor of a smaller, standalone Kaelen residence used solely for creative work.
Elara, dressed in the smock and thick gloves of a professional courier, carried a wide, shallow wooden crate. Inside, cushioned by foam, was the vial of ADO. She had formulated the deployment mechanism: a microscopic, cold-burning filament that would aerosolize the liquid over a period of thirty seconds, releasing the compound into the studio's pressurized air supply immediately after the door was sealed.
She was admitted by a junior security officer who merely checked her manifest against the studio's schedule. Her mission was simple: deliver the new shipment of custom-stretched linen canvases and collect the empty, discarded frames.
As she moved swiftly down the long, immaculate hallway leading to the studio, she felt the subtle, familiar shift in the air pressure—a sign that a high-ranking Kaelen official or security presence was nearby.
She rounded the final corner and froze, pressing herself into a decorative niche.
Commander Joric Tahl was inspecting the electronic lock on Seraphina's studio door, his finger running over the biometric reader. He was in uniform, looking methodical and dangerous. He was testing the integrity of the defenses.
Elara's mind accelerated, running simulations:
Retreat: Failure. The window of access would close. Wait: Too risky. Tahl might patrol the corridor indefinitely. Engage: Impossible. She could not speak to him now.
She took a deep, silent breath, forcing herself to merge with the shadow of the niche.
Joric finished his inspection, nodded to himself, and turned back down the hallway, walking toward Elara's position.
She lowered her gaze, willing herself to be an inanimate object. As Tahl walked past her, his presence was a heavy, warm weight in the cold hallway. He was close enough that she could smell the clean, metallic scent of his uniform.
Just another wall to observe, she told herself, holding the memory of her father's execution to steel her resolve against the sudden, distracting reality of Joric's physical presence.
He passed. Elara waited five seconds, then stepped out.
She reached the studio door, confirming Tahl was gone. She swiftly placed the crate inside the airlock chamber, pulled the vial from its foam casing, and triggered the filament. The ADO began its silent vaporization. She sealed the airlock, checked the passive monitors, and began her swift, professional retreat, carrying a stack of empty frames as a shield.
Just as she reached the main elevator, Joric Tahl reappeared from the adjacent stairwell, his datapad in hand. He stopped, recognizing the courier.
"Wait," he called out, his voice sharp.
Elara stopped, turning slowly. She had to play the role.
"Yes, Commander?" she asked, making her voice slightly breathless, mimicking the physical strain of carrying heavy frames.
Joric walked toward her. "I'm looking for a shipment log. A frame delivery. Did you see a package- a large, thin box- enter this quadrant recently? Something that might not be on the digital manifest?"
He wasn't suspicious of her. He was tracking another potential external thread.
"No, Commander," Elara replied, her heart a cold, steady drum. "I only brought the linen stretchers, and I'm taking the empties. Nothing else."
Joric studied her face for a moment, his professional scrutiny giving way to a flicker of that same unexpected, unsettling recognition she had felt in the Archives. He had seen the "Veridia" profile, and this nervous courier was nothing like it.
"Very well," he said, stepping back. "Continue your duties."
Elara walked to the service lift, her hands sweating inside the cotton gloves. She had faced the shield, concealed the weapon, and passed his inspection. The ADO was now circulating through Seraphina's private air, ready to strike her soul.
Elara knew that the memory of Joric Tahl's proximity would be the most difficult thing to manage now. He was a complication, a human warmth that threatened to melt the ice of her resolve. But the second stroke was clean. The silence was coming.