Devon Point of View

The atmosphere in the house was electric. The buzz of excitement from the wedding preparations filled the air; laughs, chatter, the clink of cutlery and for a brief moment, it almost felt like the world outside had ceased to exist. Inside, it was as if the worries of the larger world, of the things Devon and I were working on, could be pushed aside. But not for long.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, absently watching the wedding planners debate over color schemes.

"Do we go with lilac or peach for the bridesmaids' dresses?" My sixth cousin aunt asked, the voice light, almost giddy. "The dress needs to be soft enough for the ceremony but bold enough for the photos."

A cousin of mine who is into fashion designing chimed in, talking about the importance of textures and fabric choices. The colors of the flowers had to complement the lighting. But the words felt distant, muffled. The noise in the background barely registered as my mind was already elsewhere caught in the quiet storm brewing outside the house.

I wasn't thinking about the wedding. No, not today. The clock was ticking, and we were in the final stages of the operation.

An operation we have been taking and planning about secretly for quite some days now. If this plan goes through well –

If only this goes through well -

The flood had already started. The first small tremor of a geoengineering disaster had been set in motion. An artificial dam failure an engineered catastrophe had been fed into the network of crisis reporting agencies and disaster response systems. SkyGod would be watching closely; they always did. But now the waiting began. Would they take the bait? Would they move fast enough to fall for the trap?

Would The Architect take the bait?

I moved away from the bustling kitchen, slipping into the back room where I had set up my gear. My phone buzzed on the table. A message blinked across the encrypted screen:

'Phase 1 complete. Expect SkyGod's attention shortly. Keep your head down. Architect may be watching.'

I knew the risk, but the trap had to be subtle. We had to pull in the right kind of target the one who wouldn't notice the trap until it was too late.

But SkyGod didn't act like normal organizations. They didn't make obvious moves, especially not now. Their strategist, The Architect, was not just some erratic player. No, The Architect played the long game. He wouldn't rush in without a plan, and that was what made him dangerous. His patience was both his strength and our greatest obstacle.

I set the phone down and turned back to the array of monitors on the desk. Across the screen, digital maps of the city flickered, realtime satellite images, communications intercepts. A flood of data streamed in, most of it irrelevant, some of it distorted, but somewhere in the mix, there would be something telling.

Would The Architect bite? Would he send someone into the trap? Or was he already ten steps ahead?

I couldn't answer that yet.

In the living room, the wedding preparations continued. The family had begun to argue over the number of chairs to set up, the seating chart, the arrangement of the bridal party. They were in full swing, the decision-making process churning through details that seemed so trivial when weighed against the things happening outside.

"I think Illaria and Devon should finalize the theme and venue details, just like the last time. The engagement party was a blast all thanks to their theme and ideas" someone from the family said, cutting through the chatter.

"Great idea," came the reply from my very enthusiastic grandma who has been planning a lot for me and Illaria with a hope that we could generate some electricity between us. "They're already used to working together on things like this. No point in making extra work for ourselves."

Their voices were light, unaware of the tension I was feeling, the weight pressing down on me like the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

The flood was on its way. The first signs of the engineered disaster were hitting. The warnings, the fake reports SkyGod would have seen them by now. But what would they do with them? They wouldn't act recklessly. They would test, wait, and measure. The Architect wouldn't allow a hasty decision. Not unless he had no other choice.

The plan was simple, almost laughably so. Create a disaster, make it believable, and then watch as SkyGod mobilized to exploit it. They would send someone someone important. The Architect wouldn't risk exposing himself, not directly. But he would send someone with a plan. Someone would take the bait. That's how it always worked.

The vague and incomplete information from Echo was kind of useful and if we use it correctly, there is a great chance that Architect would step into the net.

I checked my watch nearly an hour since Phase 1 had been completed. The first tremors of the artificial flood had been set. The world would see it as a natural disaster soon enough, and the first responders would start mobilizing. SkyGod would have been alerted already. The questions were: When? And how?

The phone buzzed again, the encrypted message flashing before my eyes.

'SkyGod's response is in motion. They've begun to mobilize teams in response. Expect movement in the next fifteen minutes.'

I took a breath, steadying myself. The moment of truth had arrived. Would this be enough to draw them in? Would The Architect see through the layers of deception we had crafted? Would he take the bait, or would he sit back, wait, and let the situation unfold before making his move?

The message was clear: We had set the stage, but would he fall for it?

I stood up, my fingers brushing over the cold surface of the desk. I had done everything I could to set the trap. Everything was in place. There were too many layers of misdirection for SkyGod to make any fast moves. But that didn't mean they wouldn't try.

The next phase Phase 2 was already underway. A signal had been planted, designed to look like an emergency broadcast, one that would amplify the artificial disaster in the minds of SkyGod's operatives. It was a false flag, an invitation for them to move.

But would The Architect bite? I found myself asking it again, that gnawing, gutwrenching uncertainty. Would he be the one to take the bait, or would he wait for more?

The minutes dragged on. My phone buzzed again.

'Phase 2 active. SkyGod's teams are on the move. You'll have a response in the next five minutes.'

My heart rate quickened. They were on the move, yes but would they make the right move? Would they underestimate the complexity of what was unfolding, or would they see through the fog and back off, waiting for more information?

The longer it took, the more dangerous it became. If we gave SkyGod too much time, too much room to think, The Architect might realize we had set a trap. But if we moved too soon, we risked exposing our hand too early.

I tapped my fingers against the desk, frustration growing as I stared at the screen. The countdown had begun.

Five minutes.

Five minutes until the game would either succeed or fail. My entire focus narrowed onto the phone, the encrypted feed, waiting for the signal.

Would they take the bait?

The wedding preparations continued in the background, a slow, comforting hum of casual conversation. But inside, my mind was racing. It felt as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the world unfold, unable to control which way the winds blew.

The message came through, and it was brief:

'Architect moving. Phase 3—disrupting the flood. You're clear to act.'

I froze. The Architect had taken the bait.

Everything we'd set up, everything we'd done, had worked. But this was no victory. Not yet. The next few moments would decide everything. The Architect's movement meant the trap was set, but would it hold? This was the critical phase—Phase 3. If SkyGod's response wasn't properly managed, if any of the layers we'd built were compromised, the entire operation could implode. I could feel the weight of it all—every misstep, every delay, every miscalculation, now threatening to unravel.

The Architect's tactics were always deliberate, always precise. If we didn't act fast, if we didn't move with the same level of cold calculation, we'd be exposed. The pieces were moving, and it was like watching a storm gather on the horizon. All I could do was trust that we had enough time, that we had enough in place to stay ahead.

I glanced at the screen again, the seconds ticking down.

This was it!

The storm had arrived, both in the skies above and in the operations unfolding beneath. The Architect had acted, sending someone into the breach, sending them into the flood we'd engineered.

Now, everything would shift. We were in motion. SkyGod's team had been pulled into the snare we'd created. The Architect would be exposed, but not yet. Not fully.

As I set the final phase of the operation in motion, I glanced one last time at the wedding discussions happening in the other room. They were still debating over napkin colors and seating arrangements, blissfully unaware of the game unfolding in the background.

It was surreal. But this was the world I inhabited. A world of careful planning, of moments where everything was at stake and nothing could be left to chance.

And in that silence, I knew: the storm was only just beginning.

~*~*~*~*~*~

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