Chapter 12: The Kentofes Directive

The room was silent except for the soft hum of Julia’s laptop. On the screen before her, a manifesto unfolded—a chilling document that outlined Kentofes’ ambitions in stark, unapologetic terms.

Maria and Ikran stood behind her, reading over her shoulder. The words on the screen felt like a punch to the gut, each sentence revealing the organization’s vision for a “perfect” society.

“Directive One: Establish cognitive unity. Individual thought breeds dissent. Through Dunnorage, we will achieve harmony.”

Julia’s hand trembled as she scrolled down.

“Directive Two: Eradicate noncompliance. A unified society cannot function with anomalies. Identification and neutralization are imperative.”

Maria’s voice was barely above a whisper. “They’re not just trying to control people. They’re trying to erase them.”

Ikran’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t a manifesto. It’s a blueprint for a dystopia.”

Julia continued reading, her voice steady despite the turmoil building inside her.

“Directive Three: Consolidate influence. Governments, corporations, and media will align under a single directive. Divergence is counterproductive.”

Maria stepped back, her head spinning. “This is... this is insanity. They actually believe they can pull this off?”

“They don’t just believe it,” Ikran said grimly. “They’ve been planning this for decades. PRASASTI is only the beginning.”

Julia reached the final page, her breath catching at the signature at the bottom: “Dr. Fendi.”

Maria’s eyes widened. “Fendi... he signed this?”

“Look closer,” Ikran said, leaning in.

Below the bold signature was another name, written in smaller, almost hesitant script: “Sarah.”

Julia’s stomach churned. “They both signed it. Fendi and Sarah.”

Maria shook her head, disbelief written across her face. “But Sarah wanted to stop this. Why would she—”

“She didn’t,” Ikran interrupted. “She was forced. Look at the handwriting—it’s shaky, like she didn’t want to sign.”

Julia stared at the screen, her mind racing. The manifesto wasn’t just a plan; it was a weapon, one that Kentofes would use to justify their actions to those who dared to question them.

“We need to get this out,” Julia said, her voice resolute. “People need to see this.”

Ikran frowned. “It’s not enough. Kentofes will call it a fake, a smear campaign. We need more—proof that ties them to PRASASTI and the development of Dunnorage.”

Maria nodded, determination hardening her expression. “Then we go to PRASASTI. If they’re running this operation, the evidence has to be there.”

Julia hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She thought of her father, of the warnings he had tried to give her before his death. This was what he had been afraid of—what he had given his life to protect.

“Okay,” she said finally. “We’ll go. But we have to be careful. Kentofes won’t let us walk in without a fight.”

“They’ll be expecting us,” Ikran agreed. “But they won’t expect us to win.”

As the trio began planning their infiltration, the shadows outside the apartment seemed to grow darker, as though the city itself was holding its breath. Kentofes was watching, waiting, their grip tightening with every passing moment.

But for the first time, Maria, Julia, and Ikran felt something they hadn’t dared to before: hope.