THE PRICE OF VICTORY

The major spat in his direction, but the soldiers dragged him away. The General didn't look back. He knew he was cleansing the city of the weak and unfaithful. This was his war-a war for order, and he would stop at nothing.

The Council chamber was semicircular, with tall windows overlooking the square where the crowds milled. Inside-a long dark wood table, twenty seats. Elias sat at the head, Iris to his left, the General to his right. The other seats were occupied by community representatives, military commanders, scientists. The atmosphere was electric-a new report had just come in: another attack, this time on the city of Rassvet, a major center in the east. Dozens dead, and on the wall-the same symbol of the tree.

"We're meeting for the third time this week," Elias began, opening a folder of documents. "The attacks continue. We are losing people. But we still don't know who our enemy is."

One by one, the speakers rose-officers, scouts, engineers. They reported burned houses, slaughtered families, traces leading east, towards the mysterious "Eden." With each word, the air in the hall grew heavier.

"These aren't just bandits," said an elderly scientist, a gray-haired man in glasses, head of the analytical department. "They act systematically. They have organization, supply, intelligence. We don't even know their numbers. But I have a hypothesis: it's 'Eden.' We've heard of it from refugees-a city-sanctuary where clones rule, where there is no hunger, but absolute submission."

Elias frowned.

"'Eden'? I've heard the name, but no one knows where it is or what's really there."

Iris tensed. She knew what "Eden" was, but didn't want to reveal everything at the Council-it could cause panic. She sat still, clutching her mother's diary in her pocket.

The General stood up, interrupting the scientist.

"I demand a punitive expedition!" he declared, slamming his hand on the table. "We must strike them before they gain strength. We cannot delay. Every day of hesitation means more deaths."

"We don't know where their base is," Elias countered calmly. "We don't know their numbers. A blind attack will lead to losses we can't afford. We barely have enough people to defend the city."

"Then what do you propose?" the General snarled, raising his voice. "Wait until they come here? Until they kill us all one by one?"

"Reconnaissance first," Elias said firmly, a steely edge in his voice. "I've already sent people east. They should return with data. We can't risk our army against an unknown enemy."

The General smirked, crossing his arms.

"Every minute of delay is another death. Gora would have been harder. Gora wouldn't have waited. He would have struck first, and we wouldn't be sitting here now, trembling with fear."

Elias paled. Gora's name was sacred to him, and the General knew it. But Iris, sitting beside him, placed a hand on his wrist and squeezed-a warm, encouraging touch.

"We'll decide when the data comes in," she said calmly but firmly. "In the meantime, we reinforce security on all borders. And I will personally analyze the debris of the drones we captured last week. Perhaps they hold clues to their origin."

The Council voted. The majority backed Elias-twenty-one votes to seven. The General left the hall without a farewell, casting an icy glare at Elias that read: "You will pay for this."

When the hall emptied, Iris approached Elias and said quietly:

"I need to show you something. My mother's diary. There are answers in it. And I must go east, find this 'Eden.'"

"Alone?" Elias frowned.

"No. I'll take a squad of four dissidents who escaped from there. They know the way. But I need you to cover for me here. The General is dangerous. I feel he's planning something."

Elias sighed. He knew she was right. The General wouldn't rest until he had power. But he also knew he couldn't stop Iris.

"Okay. Go. But be careful. Check in every six hours. If there's no signal-I'll come for you."

"Deal."

They embraced, and Iris left. Elias remained alone in the empty hall. Gora's voice sounded in his head again, but now it wasn't a command, but a warning:

"You're letting her go. You're weak. You should have kept her here. She is the key to everything."

Elias didn't answer. He just stared out the window, where a weak ray of sun was breaking through the gray clouds. He thought of Iris, venturing into the unknown, while he remained here to fight an enemy already inside the city. Inside himself.

He left the hall and headed for the hill, towards the memorial to Gora and Cain. He knew Iris would likely be there.

Iris stood by two marble slabs, erected on the hill outside the city. One bore Gora's name, deeply carved. The other-Cain's, her beloved, who had died in her arms. It was always quiet here, even the wind didn't howl-only rare birds circled the sky. She brought flowers-wild daisies, which Cain loved, and a white lily for Gora, his favorite.

She knelt before Cain's slab.

"I'm still looking for a way to bring you back," she said softly. "Not you, Cain. But what you defended. Freedom. I'm leaving for the east at dawn tomorrow. And I don't know if I'll return. But I must do this. For all of us."

She ran her hand over the cold stone and closed her eyes. Memories flooded back-Cain smiling at her in the lab, Cain telling her she would save the world, Cain shielding her from bullets during the assault. The last time she saw him alive, he had whispered: "You are strong. You will make it."

She opened her eyes and looked at Gora's slab.

"You would have known what to do, Gora," she whispered. "You always knew. You saw the enemy and went into battle. But I... I don't even know who my enemy is. Lena? The Architect? Or ourselves?"

She didn't hear footsteps, but suddenly a quiet voice came from behind:

"You're not to blame for not knowing. They hide."

She turned. The refugee who had come to her lab that morning stood behind her. He looked even more exhausted than before, but his eyes burned with urgency.

"How did you find me?" Iris asked, wary.

"I asked the guards," he shrugged. "They said you often come here. This place... it's special. I also lost everyone. My wife, my daughter, my son. They stayed back there, in Tikhoe. I buried them with my own hands, then burned the house and left."

Iris softened. She understood his pain.

"Why are you looking for me?" she asked.

"I remembered something else," he said, stepping closer. "When they talked about 'Protocol 7,' they mentioned your mother. They said she tried to destroy it but couldn't, because Lena betrayed her. They said the 'Garden' isn't a sanctuary, but a prison. And they are waiting for you. Lena knows you will come. She left a message for you."

"What message?"

"'You are the key,'" the refugee quoted. "'Come, and I will show you the truth. Or stay and die in ignorance.'"

Iris went cold. Lena-the name she'd heard from her mother-her colleague, close friend. But in her diaries, her mother wrote of her with bitterness: "Lena chose fear, not freedom. She betrayed everything we believed in." So Lena was alive, and she was waiting for Iris in "Eden."

"Thank you," Iris said, trying to stay calm. "You can go now. Rest, eat."

The refugee nodded and left, but Iris remained at the memorial. She looked at the names of the two men who had sacrificed themselves for her, and she knew her path led east, to the mystery that had cost her mother's life and now could cost everyone else's.

She clutched the small locket she wore around her neck-the only thing left of her mother. It was round, engraved with a tree with roots, but no inscription. She touched it and whispered:

"I will do it, Mom. I will finish what you started."

Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned and saw Elias walking slowly up the path, looking at her with concern.

"I knew you'd be here," he said, approaching. "You always come here when you're making a hard decision."

"I'm leaving tomorrow," she said. "You know."

"I know. And I can't stop you. But I want you to know: I will wait for you. Always."

He stepped closer and embraced her. She pressed against him, and in that embrace was everything-pain, fear, hope. They stood like that for a long time, until the sun began to set.

"I have to go prepare," Iris said, pulling away.

"Go," Elias replied. "I'll be here. I'll cover for you."

She left, and he remained at the memorial. He looked at Gora's slab and whispered:

"You would have been proud of her, Gora. She's stronger than all of us."

The voice in his head was silent. For the first time in many months.

Elias sat in his room, staring at the blank wall. Outside, the city was quieting down-only distant patrol steps and barking dogs could be heard. His head was buzzing. He thought of Gora, of his voice still echoing in his mind. He thought of the clones, of his own nature, which he hid from everyone. And he thought of the General, who was clearly plotting something.

A shadow flickered in the corner of the room-the streetlight outside swayed, and Elias flinched, but it was just a play of shadows. Still, the voice in his head spoke clearly:

"You're too soft. They'll eat you alive. The General is already preparing a coup. I saw him gathering officers last night. You must strike first."

Elias closed his eyes. Gora's voice had changed-now it sounded not like a threat, but a warning. It wasn't fear. It was concern.

"I know," he whispered. "I know he's preparing a coup. But I can't strike first. That would make me what I despise."

"Then you'll die, Elias. And they will die. Everyone."

"Maybe. But if I become like the General, I won't be able to look Iris in the eye. Or Gora."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the street. There, in the darkness, he saw a figure-a man standing opposite his house, leaning against a lamppost, staring directly at his window. Elias couldn't see his face, but he knew: one of the General's men. A spy.

"So this is how you play, General," Elias whispered. "You're watching me. Soon you'll come to kill."

He stepped away from the window, opened a hiding place under the floorboard, and took out an old pistol he'd carried since the war. He checked the magazine-seven rounds. Not enough if the General attacked with a squad. But he had a plan: he could escape through the underground tunnels he'd known since childhood and reach a hideout outside the city. But that would mean leaving the city, leaving Iris, leaving everyone who believed in him. He couldn't do that.

He hid the pistol under his pillow and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts churned like the wheels of a broken mechanism.

"Iris," he whispered, "you have to come back. You are my anchor."

He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. He knew this was the last quiet night of his life. Tomorrow, everything would change. The General would strike, or he would strike first. And then a war would begin that would decide the fate of the entire world.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the door. Someone was creeping down the corridor, trying to be quiet. Elias instantly tensed, grabbed his pistol, and pressed himself against the wall by the door. The footsteps stopped right outside his room.

He waited. Seconds stretched like hours. Then came a soft knock-a coded signal they used with loyal officers: three short, two long.

Elias opened the door. On the threshold stood the lieutenant with the eyepatch, his adjutant, pale-faced.

"Commander," he whispered. "The General has started to move. He arrested Major Torn and declared him an agent of 'Eden.' He's gathering troops to seize headquarters. We have an hour, maybe two."

Elias clenched his jaw. He knew this would happen, but he hadn't expected it so soon.

"Where is Iris?" he asked.

"She's already left for the east. She's safe, sir. But you need to run. Now."

Elias looked at the pistol in his hand, then at the adjutant who was risking his life to warn him.

"I won't run," he said. "I'll stay and fight. For the city. For Iris. For all of us."

The adjutant wanted to object, but Elias raised his hand.

"You know what to do. Organize the defense of headquarters. I'll be there in an hour. We'll buy time for Iris."

The adjutant nodded and vanished into the darkness of the corridor. Elias was alone again, but now he knew what to do. He was no longer just a clone hiding his nature. He was a leader, ready to pay any price.

He dressed, checked his weapon, and stepped out into the night. Clouds were gathering over the city, and the first drops of rain fell on his face. He walked towards headquarters, and there was no voice of Gora in his head. Only the silence that precedes a storm.

Tomorrow, a war would begin. But tonight, he would fight for peace. For everyone-human and clone. For Iris. For Gora.

The night over Rassvet was quiet. The city slept-forty thousand inhabitants, mostly clones and families of people who didn't want to move to the center. Streets were empty, only rare patrols walked their routes, and lights in windows were gradually extinguished. No one expected trouble.

Elias stood at the map in the capital's headquarters when the sky to the east lit up with a crimson glow. At first, he thought it was dawn-strange, bloody, unnatural. But the clock showed half past four in the morning; the sun couldn't rise so early. He walked to the window, peering into the horizon. At that moment, sirens began to wail-piercingly, desperately, like the cry of a wounded beast, cutting through the night's silence. Elias rushed to the door, but the adjutant burst into the room, his face twisted with horror.

"Commander! Rassvet! The city of Rassvet is under attack! Drones! Hundreds of them! They just appeared out of nowhere!"

"What do you mean, hundreds?" Elias barked, grabbing a vest and weapon. "Who? Where from?"

"I don't know, sir! Radio reports the city is burning! People are calling in a panic! They say drones are falling from the sky and burning everything!"

Elias didn't ask more questions. Within three minutes, they were speeding along the broken road east, the car bouncing over every pothole. The driver, a young lieutenant with a pale face, gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white, his eyes fixed on the road. Elias tried to raise someone in Rassvet on the radio, but heard only the hiss of static and fragments of screams.

"...they're falling! They're... everywhere! We can't... oh God... they're in the hospital!" - and then silence. A deafening, terrifying silence that lasted a second, two, three. Then static again, and another voice, breaking: "...save... us..."

Elias gripped the radio so hard the plastic cracked. He knew the city of Rassvet was probably already dead. But he couldn't believe it. He had to see it with his own eyes.

When they reached the outskirts of Rassvet, Elias ordered the car to stop. He got out and looked up. The sky over the city was black-not from clouds, but from drones. Thousands of metallic silhouettes circled over the buildings like a flock of predatory birds, raining down fiery arrows-plasma charges that burned through roofs, walls, asphalt. The city was burning. Hundreds of fires flared up and died down, and each time one disappeared, another scream sounded from below. The air was filled with the smell of burning, ozone, and blood.

"We can't stop them!" the driver shouted, looking at the sky in terror. "There are too many!"

"We have to try," Elias replied firmly, already running into the city. He didn't think about dying. He thought about those who were dying inside, in this hell that just yesterday had been a peaceful city.

Rassvet was no longer a city. It was hell. The streets were littered with bodies-men, women, children, clones. Elias ran past them, trying not to look, but it was impossible. He saw a woman trying to shield a child with her body, but a drone fired a charge, and they both fell dead, locked in a deathly embrace. He saw a group of people trying to run to shelter, but another drone cut them off, and they simply vanished in flames, leaving only charred silhouettes on the asphalt.

"To the shelters!" Elias shouted, trying to be heard over the din. "Run to the basements! Don't go out into the streets!"

But his voice was drowned out by the roar of explosions and the whistle of drones diving again and again, tirelessly, mercilessly. He barely dodged a plasma discharge that burned a crater in the asphalt two meters away. He fell, pressed against a wall, and looked up. The drones moved in sync, like a single organism, with perfect coordination. They made no engine noise-only a low hum, like the buzzing of a swarm of bees that penetrated the heart and made it tremble. And they left no traces-no smoke, no oil, only scorched earth and burnt bodies.

Elias got up, brushed the dust off his jacket, and ran on, now not trying to save everyone, but looking for survivors, those who could give answers. He turned a corner and saw a group of soldiers trying to organize a defense. There were about twenty of them, with anti-aircraft guns, but the drones attacked so fast they couldn't even aim. The soldiers fell one by one, their screams mingling with the howl of the drones.

"Fire!" Elias shouted, running towards them.

He grabbed one of the guns and started firing into the sky. He shot down three drones, but ten more took their place. He shot down two more, then another. But there were too many. He saw soldiers falling beside him-some from plasma fire, others from shrapnel when the drones exploded in mid-air. He didn't know how long it lasted-an hour, two, an eternity. Time lost all meaning. There was only him, the gun, and the faceless enemy.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the attack stopped. The drones turned and flew east, leaving behind a smoldering city and a silence-a terrible, unnatural silence, broken only by the crackle of fire and the groans of the wounded. Elias lowered his weapon. He stood among the ruins, breathing heavily, and looked at what was left of Rassvet. Houses, schools, hospitals-everything was destroyed. Dozens of bodies lay in the streets, and with every moment, more appeared-people crawling out from under the rubble, gasping, begging for help. Blood ran through the asphalt like streams, mixing with water from broken pipes.

"All wounded to the vehicles!" he ordered his surviving soldiers, of whom no more than a dozen remained. "Immediately!"

The soldiers began the evacuation. Elias walked to the city center. He wanted to see what was left of the place he'd known since childhood. He passed the ruins of the church where acquaintances had married, the school where he had studied, and all of it was destroyed. He couldn't believe this had happened in one night.

In the central square, once beautiful and well-maintained, lay the remains of a fountain. Water had mixed with blood, and burnt leaves floated in it. Around the fountain lay the bodies of an entire family-father, mother, three children. Elias stopped, feeling nausea rise in his throat. He knew he had to move on, but his legs wouldn't obey.

Then he looked up at the wall of a surviving building. There, at head height, neatly carved by a laser beam, glowed a symbol-a tree with intertwined roots, like snakes coiled around a trunk. Elias stepped closer. The symbol was perfect-not drawn, but burned deep into the concrete. Whoever left it wanted it to remain for centuries. Wanted it to be seen and feared.

"I order everything preserved for analysis," he said to the approaching soldiers, forcing his voice to stay firm. "Every drone fragment, every drop of blood, every mark on the walls. These are clues. We must find out who did this."

He stepped away from the wall and looked up at the sky, where a real dawn was breaking-pale, gray, lifeless. He thought of what he had just seen: a coordinated attack, perfect weapons, a symbol on the wall. Whoever was behind this wasn't just attacking. They were making a statement. And that statement was addressed to him.

The General approached-he had arrived with his own squad, but his face was pale, and he looked ten years older.

"We found one survivor," he said, nodding towards a group of soldiers carrying a stretcher. "A young woman. A clone. She worked in the hospital. She saw something."

Elias walked over to the stretcher. The woman was young-about twenty-five, with delicate features and empty eyes staring into nothing. Her shoulder was torn by shrapnel, and she was breathing weakly.

"What's your name?" Elias asked, leaning over her.

"Astra," she whispered. "I'm Astra."

"What did you see?"

"They came from nowhere," she said, her voice trembling. "We didn't see them. Only the drones. They fell from above, and we couldn't stop them. And then... I heard a voice. In my head. He said: 'Cleanse the world of filth.'"

"Whose voice?" Elias asked, feeling a chill run down his spine.

"I don't know," she whispered. "But it was strong. And it was... calm. As if he knew we couldn't resist."

Elias straightened up. A voice in the head-he knew what that meant. Someone was controlling the drones through mental commands. This wasn't just an enemy. It was a force that could penetrate minds. And if they could control drones like that, who knew what else they could do.

"Take her to the hospital," he ordered. "And have the doctors be careful. She's a witness. She may give us the key."

He turned to the General. The man stood motionless, staring at the ruins. There was fury in his eyes, but also fear-the fear that comes when facing the unknown.

"This is war," the General said, not turning around. "Do you understand? They won't stop. They'll come again and again."

"I understand," Elias replied. "But we don't know who the enemy is."

The General smirked, but it was a bitter smirk.

"We will soon. They left traces. Go. Your Iris is waiting for you with her microscopes."

Elias approached a drone fragment that had fallen near the fountain. He turned it over and saw the abbreviation "GF" engraved on the inner panel. Two letters, clear as a challenge.

"What is this?" he asked, showing it to the General.

The General frowned.

"GF. It could be anyone. But I recognize the technology-it's Genesis. Someone revived them. Someone who knew Marcus. Or someone who survived him."

Elias clutched the fragment and headed for the vehicle. He had until nightfall to relay everything to Iris. She had her mother's diary. She held the key to the mystery. But he also knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. The images of burning Rassvet would haunt him for a long time.

Elias entered Iris's laboratory, and the first thing he smelled was the sharp scent of antiseptic-a mix of alcohol and chlorine that always accompanied her work. She stood at the table, where drone fragments were laid out, examining them closely through a magnifying glass. Her face was pale but focused-she already knew about the attack and wasn't wasting time on emotion. She had already begun working.

"I brought new samples," Elias said, placing a box of fragments from Rassvet on the table. "They're worse than I thought. The technology is more advanced than Marcus's. And all of them bear the 'GF' mark."

Iris looked up from her work and examined the fragments. She picked one up, turned it over in her hands, held it to the light. Her eyes narrowed.

"GF. Genesis. But we destroyed their labs. We burned their archives."

"We burned what we found," Elias countered. "But Genesis was a huge corporation. They had dozens of secret facilities. Maybe one survived."

"Or someone continued their work," Iris said, setting the fragment aside. "Someone with resources and knowledge."

The General entered the room. He was out of uniform-in a civilian jacket, unusual-and looked troubled. He approached the table, picked up a fragment, and turned it over, as he had done in Rassvet.

"Too perfect," he said, stating, not asking. "No marks of production. No factory stamps. No serial numbers. Someone new. Or someone very old, who returned from the dead."

"Marcus Vos is dead," Elias said sharply. "We saw his body. He fell from the tower. We burned his remains."

"His body, yes," the General replied, sitting on the edge of the table and crossing his arms. "But his mind? His technology? You know he was working on digitizing consciousness. What if he managed to upload himself into the system before we destroyed the tower? Have you thought about that, Elias? Have you thought that maybe we didn't kill him, just relocated him?"