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Kaos’ boots landed hard on packed dirt. Sharp, pissed wind shoved at the hollow spaces inside him. He let it. It could aid the slaughter in progress till everything was numb.

He made his way to the two-story frozen ghost. Wood gone gray… but not from rot. The lines were straight, and the trim held. But whatever purpose it once had, no longer mattered.

They climbed lopsided cement slabs, encountering the first signs of this female they were to secure. Metal sculptures twisted from scrap reached with bodiless limbs. A warning or greeting? Maybe both. Near the wrap around porch, shards of glass winked with early morning light, hung in patterns that mocked symmetry just enough to bother the eye.

Near the steps, wire wrapped the banister in looping symbols. Kaos paused. Not wire. The illusion of it. Dark lines had been burned into the wood, a sneaky attack on his dull human perceptions.

The steps on the porch took their weight without a single complaint. At the door, Kildare raised his fist and paused a breath before giving three, controlled knocks.

Kaos watched the door as wind whipped, snatching the air from his lungs as it went.

The latch clicked. The door opened.

Bright green eyes landed right on him with a look of expectancy. He held her stare, not bothering with his peripheral sight while her gaze poured out with data. Like a book spilling its details right into his brain. He sought to define the draw of her brows and startled part of her lips.

He was somehow familiar to her. That’s what her look meant.

“Forgive our early intrusion,” Kildare said, his words tearing her eyes from his. “My name is Kade King. This is my brother Kohl.”

Kohl. Right.

He took in her outfit, a full body apron made of drop-cloth covered in layers of secret color schemes she kept even from herself. Beneath it he spied a white gown, like she’d rolled out of bed and onto a canvas of wet paint.

“I’ve dreamed of this.”

Kaos lifted his gaze, finding hers on him again, digging for answers he didn’t have. Not yet.

“Hopefully that’s a good sign,” Kildare said, stealing her gaze back. “We run a firm called Trojan Horse that deals in narrative reconstruction, cultural targeting, and creative architecture. Your name reached us through people we trust. But it was your work that told us where to go.”

She tilted her head a little as if she were putting together a puzzle.

“You reach people,” Kildare said. “That’s what matters to us. We believe you can do more and are here to offer something built with you in mind.”

She regarded Kaos now, or Kohl. He was her second pressing puzzle. She took a step back and opened the door wider with a little nod and urgent, “Come in. I’ll put on tea.”

Kaos stepped inside behindKade. Heat met him at the threshold, and he spied a cast-iron stove in the corner of the room, flickering low.

Woodsmoke layered the air—soft, dry, clean. Beneath it ran wax, ash, and something else that didn’t give up its name.

“You look like you’ve come a long way,” she said from in a kitchen that seemed to serve more as an art studio. “You can sit, or you can stand. I won’t take offense either way.”

Her voice carried clarity. Each word delivered with purpose already set.

A wide table filled the center of the room—solid, scarred, built for use. Tools and materials covered its surface in quiet arrangement. Leather, wire, cloth, paint. Everything within reach.

She crossed to the stove, turned the dial, and reached for a kettle resting beside it. “All I have is lavender tea,” she said, turning on the tap and filling the kettle.

“Sounds perfect,” Kildare said, surprising Kaos.

She set the kettle on the stove and pulled three mismatched mugs from a shelf above the counter and placed them on a cloth pad. “You came to offer something,” she said, turning and leaning against the counter, tiny hands laced in front of her. “Go on then.”

Kade adjusted his stance. “Well, we’re targeting cultural collapse. Strategic isolation, division just thick enough to blur truth. All engineered, sustained and effective.”

She crossed her arms tightly, her gaze digging in like she searched for her place in the game. “And what kind of impact are you aiming for?”

Kade charged in with, “Change. At the very root.”

Kaos timed the tap of her index finger on her arm. “How exactly?”