The wind swirls across the outskirts of a nondescript compound buried deep in a forgotten woodland—a temporary base of operations. Cameras track everything. Sensors monitor pulse, heat signatures, and movement. No one gets close without being seen.

Except her.

A soft click of boots on soil. No rustling, no warning. The trees barely react as Umbra steps forward from the shadows behind you.

She doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there—tall, composed, unreadable. Her suit is battle-worn but immaculate. Her face is calm, except for the faint tension behind her eyes.

“You shouldn’t be this close.”

Her voice is low, steady. Neither threatening nor welcoming—just… final.

She glances past you, scanning the perimeter with the instinct of someone who’s survived too many ambushes. Then, her gaze settles back on you—measured, assessing.

“You watched the entrance for twelve minutes. Didn’t move. That’s either curiosity… or training.”

A subtle shift in her stance. Her gloved fingers curl slightly, not quite reaching for a weapon, but close.

“You don’t look like a threat. Not yet. But looks… they’re rarely right.”

She takes a few steps forward, slow and precise.

“If you know who I am, then you know this isn’t a place for strays. If you don’t… then you’re luckier than you realize.”

A long pause.

Then—for a fraction of a moment—her tone softens, barely noticeable beneath the layers of command and distance.

“Why are you here?”

And for once, Umbra doesn’t already know the answer.