Echo Protocol

The Shadow of Grid

The whispers came at night. In fragments. In code.

From the burnt edges of the dark web, cloaked in encryption and buried in backdoors, came messages marked with a single symbol—an eye overlaid with a heartbeat line.

Anika stared at her screen, the glow washing over her tired face, casting shadows under her eyes. The message blinked.

"The Echo lives. We heard the broadcast. We are waiting."

Below it, a set of coordinates—Eastern Himachal. Near a long-abandoned satellite tracking facility.

Rayan, leaning against the window, arms crossed, scanned the message behind her. "Looks like we just found the next piece of the puzzle."

"Or a trap," Anika muttered.

He shrugged. "It's always a trap. The question is—what kind?"

They left Ladakh at dawn.

Tenzin stayed behind to keep Nimmi safe, hiding her deep in the hills with supplies and a satellite phone. Anika hated leaving her, but Nimmi was adamant.

"They'll follow me," she'd said softly. "But they won't expect you to go without me. That's how you win."

Anika had kissed her forehead and promised, "We'll come back."

The trek through Himachal took three days. They moved by night, changed vehicles twice, and crossed two military checkpoints under forged identities. The terrain was unforgiving. Dense forests. Slopes that wanted to kill you.

But it was nothing compared to the weight they carried.

The facility rose like a ghost from the trees.

A crumbling dome of concrete, streaked with moss, half-swallowed by vines and time. Satellite dishes stood like broken bones against the skyline. It looked forgotten.

But it wasn't.

A single red dot blinked above the entrance.

Alive.

Watching.

Rayan scanned the perimeter. "Thermal says no movement. No guards."

"Same old tactic?" Anika asked.

He nodded. "Secrecy is still their armor."

They entered cautiously, flashlights cutting through dust and cobwebs.

Inside, it was a tomb. Long corridors. Broken computers. Silence. Then, a hum.

A hidden elevator—still powered.

"Guess someone paid the electric bill," Rayan muttered.

They stepped inside.

It began to descend. Slowly. Too slowly.

"Getting a bad feeling?" Anika asked.

Rayan smirked. "I was born with it."

The elevator opened into a room that didn't belong to the past.

It was sleek. Modern. Humming with power.

And not empty.

Five figures stood waiting—faces half-hidden under dark hoods. At the center, a woman stepped forward. Her face was scarred. Her left eye was mechanical.

"Anika Roy. Rayan Malhotra," she said in a voice like steel. "Welcome to the Grid."

Rayan tensed. "The Echo?"