Halcyon District, Tavara – Private Intelligence Safehouse
The room was dimly lit, files scattered across a glass desk, screens glowing with encrypted data. Damien stood by the window, his reflection a ghost against the city lights. He had just returned from a high-level meeting with Tavara's finance moguls—every handshake there had a dagger behind it.
But tonight wasn't about business.
He stared at a photo on the screen—blurred, distant, but the face unmistakable.
"Klaus Virelli…" he muttered. "Still alive."
Klaus was a former intelligence agent turned rogue, thought dead in an international airstrike six years ago. He had been one of Damien's most trusted allies—until the betrayal in Rome. Damien's jaw tightened.
Just then, the door clicked softly.
Nora entered, still dressed in her deep green trench coat. Her heels barely made a sound, and the moment she stepped in, the air shifted. Damien looked up, studying her eyes—not her smile, not her presence—just her eyes. They were the only thing that never lied.
"I tracked the Halcyon records," she said, placing a file beside his laptop. "Medical shipments aren't adding up. Someone's rerouting them under a phantom company called Serpent X."
Damien didn't flinch, but inside, alarms blared. Serpent X was a ghost organization—the same one responsible for human experiments in Eastern Tavara. He had been digging for months. And now Nora had uncovered it, unknowingly stepping deeper into a minefield.
"You need to be careful," Damien said, tone unusually serious.
Nora tilted her head. "Worried about me, Commander?"
The word stung. He never told her about his military past. But Tavara's elite had a habit of whispering. She had either guessed… or knew far more than she let on.
He decided to test her.
"What do you know about Serpent X?"
"Not enough yet," Nora replied. "But I know they work with biotech firms out of Germany and fund a lot of medical trials off-record. Black budget stuff. And they're hunting people with special abilities."
Damien's pulse skipped. She was dangerously close to truths that could shatter her world.
"You ever think about walking away?" he asked quietly.
"From medicine?" she smiled. "Or from this?"
"This."
She paused, walked toward him, stopping just inches away. "Sometimes. But every time I see a child wake from a coma or a mother survive stage-four cancer… I remember why I can't."
Neither blinked.
Neither backed down.
Then—her phone buzzed.
One word flashed on screen: "Intercepted."
She grabbed it swiftly. "I have to go. A patient emergency."
"Need backup?"
Nora smirked. "I think I can handle it."
She turned to leave—but Damien noticed something fall from her coat pocket. A black jade pendant, etched with ancient sigils. He knew them. Cultivator seals.
His breath hitched.
She was one of them.
But he said nothing.
Only picked it up, tucked it silently into his coat pocket, and whispered after she left—
"So we're both hiding."